I actually am tentatively much happier with magi, now that there seems to be at least some stunted attempts at communication going on
Also I’m happy that Sinbad is thinking of his friends still, by trying to overwrite fate (even if he’s going about it completely the wrong way)
Because did he strike me as corrupt? Absolutely. Power-hungry? Yes. Someone who looked for his own interests above ethics? Certainly. A bit off his rocker? I mean.....clearly.
But not so much as someone who disregarded all the efforts of those who helped him, nor as a total misanthrope. So I’m glad to see motivations that are at least a little more human.
I’m also bitter about how magi turned from pretty complex and relevant politics into trite and forced Good vs Evil Boss Battle™ and I could fill up a book with why that bothers me
Do you ever think of Sinbad feeling responsible for the death of both his parents?? Because I think that’s the root of him thinking he has to do everything himself.
Like his dad died as a direct result of trying to protect Sinbad
and he had to care for his mother for a long time, something that already puts more responsibility and pressure upon kids who aren’t ready for it (even if esra was clearly a very loving mother). And THEN the one time he goes to do something for himself, at her urging, he comes back to her dying
And I’m sure he feels so guilty, even if it wasn’t his fault. Things like that in such early life stages do things to you.
with accompanying drabble because I can’t sleep anyway
Ja’far sighs deeply and slides further down into the water, relishing just a few moments, however brief, of quiet and relaxation after a long day. She hasn’t even had a full minute of blissfully meditative silence before she feels something touch her leg, and her eyes snap open. Before they can focus in the dim light, Ja’far is sitting up and spluttering, trying to keep water out of her mouth as the bath overflows and water sloshes onto the tiled floor. She grumbles as a weight settles on her hips and hair sticks to her exposed knees.
“Sin, get out.”
“Aw, come on.”
“You’ve got your own bath. Use it.”
“Why would I send someone to draw more hot water for my bath when you’ve already got some right here?”
“You don’t even fit.”
“Maybe I would fit if you’d let me buy you a bigger tub.”
“I don’t need a bigger tub.”
“Well, I do.”
“You have a bigger tub, Sin. In your own bathroom.” And it was rather expensive, if Ja’far recalls.
“But you’re not in it, so what good is it to me?”
“Good enough to clean yourself in, I’d imagine.”
“Ja’far, you’re no fun,” Sinbad declares.
“So you keep informing me--hey!”
Sinbad pushes at Ja’far’s shoulder despite her protests, forcing her to scoot over so that she can lie down and wiggle into the warm water. It isn’t very hard, since Ja’far isn’t exactly heavy even outside of water, but she still ends up with a few elbows and knees bumped on porcelain, for her trouble. In the end, as she usually does, Sinbad does get her way; Ja’far ends up half in her lap, arms pinned to her sides as Sinbad snuggles her forcibly.
“You’re lucky I like you, or you’d be dead right about now,” Ja’far gripes.
“Yeah, but you love me anyway.”
“Sometimes less than others,” she grumbles.
“No, all the time.”
“If you don’t let me go in the next thirty seconds, it’s going to be none of the time.”
Sinbad reluctantly relinquishes her grip, instead tipping her head over Ja’far’s shoulder to nose into damp hair. “I just missed you, is all.”
“You saw me this morning.”
“For like, forty-five seconds,” Sinbad argues.
“Maybe I’d have more time if someone didn’t give me so much work.”
“You give yourself at least as much as I do.”
Ja’far sniffs in annoyance. “I only do what needs to be done.”
“You don’t need to prove yourself to anyone, Ja’far.”
“I’m not trying to prove anything!” She smacks the foamy surface of the water irritably. “I came in here to have a few minutes of quiet, you know. After a very long and trying day,” Ja’far adds for emphasis.
“Fine, fine. I can be quiet.”
Because she’d been too soft to stop Sinbad earlier in this process, Ja’far accepts her fate as her own fault, and leans back against Sinbad’s chest to close her eyes once more, trying to resume a peaceful bath. But Ja’far is defeated in her attempts to relax once more, because she can feel Sinbad fidgeting, disturbing the water and the promised quiet. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing!”
“Nothing, my ass,” Ja’far grumbles, and slits her eyes open to glare at Sinbad for whatever mischief she is getting up to. As she does, she catches sight of her own reflection in a panel of glass, and spies the large pile of foam Sinbad has deposited on top of her head. “Lovely.”
“It’s a good look on you,” Sinbad says, with as much solemnity as she can muster. “Matches your hair.”
“I give up,” Ja’far sighs.
Sinbad presses a kiss to the side of her head. “Oh good. I was getting bored.”
“Why don’t you make yourself useful and actually clean yourself, then, instead of bothering me?”
“I’m not even that dirty.”
“Then why the hell are you in here?”
“I told you, I’m lonely.”
“And I told you, I just wanted some peace and quiet. But we don’t always get what we want, do we?”
Sinbad sighs against Ja’far’s shoulder, and leaves her alone for a few more minutes. “I can’t make out with you seriously with a foam hat, anyway,” she mutters.
“Well then you shouldn’t have put it there.” Ja’far sits up, despite Sinbad’s protests, splashes water over her hair, and clambers out of the tub.
Sinbad makes futile, grabbing gestures with her hands. “Come back, Ja’far.”
“No.”
“You can’t blame me for wanting you.”
Ja’far picks up her leg, hopping slightly as she towels herself dry, and neglects to answer.
“It’s been days, Ja’far. Weeks, months.” Sinbad knows she’s exaggerating, but insincere fits of dramatics often soften Ja’far to her cause.
“It’s hardly been months, Sin.”
Apparently now was one of those times when dramatics did the opposite, however.
“It sure feels like it’s been months,” she grumbles.
“Still no.”
“Ja’faaaar,” Sinbad whines.
“No, Sin. I mean it; I’m tired.”
“Please?”
“Do it yourself. While I can appreciate your desires, I really don’t have time to get all wound up. I have to get up early tomorrow.”
“You really don’t. There are plenty of other people to accomplish whatever you’re going to do so early in the morning.”
“Not to my standards.” Ja’far rubs the towel over her hair, then throws it over the rack.
“Your standards are absurd and you know it.” Before Ja’far can reply, Sinbad dunks her head under water and then sits up, climbing out of the water and grabbing the towel Ja’far had discarded.
“Forgive me for wanting your kingdom to have optimum resources.”
With that, Ja’far strides out of the bathroom, leaving Sinbad standing alone and dripping onto the floor. Deciding she is not going to achieve anything by remaining where she is, Sinbad wrings her hair as much as she can with the towel, pulling a tie from her wrist and heaping it on top of her head. As soon as she’s not completely soaking, Sinbad kicks her clothes into a corner and runs straight for Ja’far’s bed, flopping down against pillows and rolling up in the sheets.
Ja’far pauses from rummaging in her drawers to drag a hand down her face. “Sin, honestly. Stop acting like a child.”
“I was trying to act in a very adult fashion, but you turned me down,” she pouts.
Frustrated with Sinbad always turning her words around on her, Ja’far gives up on arguing, simply turning away to tug on soft, sleeping clothes. She makes sure everything is in order, outfit for the next day prepared, water on the nightstand, towels hung up, knowing that as soon as she gets into bed she is not going to be able to escape. Finally satisfied, she trudges over to her bed, trying to tuck herself into downy blankets as quick as possible in order to retain some independence. Her efforts are in vain, however, as Sinbad quickly has Ja’far tucked against her chest, limbs entrapping her.
“Forget working myself to death, you’re going to suffocate me first,” Ja’far complains.
Sinbad loosens her grip, but only barely. “Don’t pretend you don’t like it, I know you do. You’ll complain and complain, but you actually sleep through the night when you let me cuddle you, so I know it’s just for show.”
Ja’far grumbles incoherently.
“Yeah, yeah. Fuss all you like.” Sinbad twirls her fingers through Ja’far’s damp hair. A cuddle is better than nothing, and at least it will force Ja’far to rest.
After a few deep breaths, Ja’far relaxes in spite of herself. She’ll die before admitting it, but the added warmth and security of another person does soothe her raw nerves. “I’ll make time for you tomorrow.”
“Really? Because you’ve said that for the last week, at least. Then you just stand me up and leave me to drink on my own and go to bed.”
“I promise,” Ja’far relents. “I’m sorry, I’ve just been…”
“Busy, I know.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, just come eat dinner with me, tomorrow.”
“I can’t just….come later?” Ja’far is rather accustomed to eating at her desk, at this point.
“No, you can’t. If I don’t get you away from work early, I’m never going to get you away at all.”
“Fine, whatever.”
“Promise you’ll let me steal you away at a normal hour when normal people get off of work?”
“I promise,” Ja’far agrees. And if it comes out a bit pouty and childish, she decides it’s only returning the favor for Sinbad’s behavior.
Sinbad runs her ankle up and down Ja’far’s calf, craning her head down enough to kiss her hairline. “You know I only bug you because I love you.”
“I know,” Ja’far sighs.
“And because if I didn’t, you’d take your bath and go right back to reviewing those letters, forget to eat, and barely sleep.”
Ja’far scrunches her face disagreeably, frustrated at getting seen through so easily. “Don’t push it.”
