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He doesn’t really need the candles to see in the dark of his room, but Taako likes the ambience. Whispering softly, he lights them one by one before sending them up to float effortlessly above the table. He cracks his knuckles and waves his fingers. He isn’t really used to writing by hand yet--he usually allows mage hand to do his bidding--but this is too important to him not to do himself.
So, Taako picks up the glittering pen, frowns, and taps a finger to it. The ink fades from blue to purple. Satisfied, Taako puts it to a clean page and begins to write. His handwriting has always been a little messy, but he doesn’t let it keep him from scrawling lines late into the morning. About how he and Magnus totally burned Leon in Elvish earlier that day, and how they actually made their audience of Johann laugh at it. About how Angus was making magic and cooking progress (although, the cooking was proving much slower--it just wasn’t the kid’s calling, not that he’d ever tell Angus that). About how he caught Killian and Carey making faces at each other from across the icosagon. Anything he remembers about his day, he writes down.
It started last Candlenights, when Lucretia gifted them all empty journals with their names on them. She looked at them with a weird sort of reverence that Taako didn’t understand placing on inanimate objects, but he thanked her and promised he’d use it.
That week, he’d found Merle’s still-empty journal beneath a few mismatched plant pots in their common room.
Taako knows Magnus writes in his once a week, tiny entries about the dogs they saw planetside, or about the particularly difficult training session he’d had. All in all, it isn’t often that Taako sees Magnus writing in his journal. Not that anyone ever sees Taako journaling, because he only ever does it when everyone is asleep.
Which is why the soft knock on his door startles him enough to leave an ugly purple smear across the line he was writing. He sighs, prestidigitates it away, and wills the door open. Magnus is standing there sheepishly.
“Sorry to bother you, I didn’t realize you were busy--”
“Don’t worry about it, Mags,” Taako cuts him off, smiling softly. “What can I do for ya?”
Magnus’ fists clench around the blanket in his hands. “I, uh. Couldn’t sleep,” he finishes lamely. “Can I hang out in here for a bit? I don’t… wanna be alone right now.”
Instead of giving an answer, Taako picks up the pen and journal and tosses them onto the bed. He pats the space beside him as he makes himself comfortable on top of the bedspread. A grateful look washes over Magnus’ face, and he clambers into the bed beside Taako.
“Thanks. Whatcha working on?”
“Oh, this? Just writing about today, you know the drill.”
He’s certainly caught Magnus’ interest. “Wouldn’t have pegged you as the journaling type.”
Taako doesn’t really have a reply to that, so he shrugs. He wouldn’t have really pegged himself as a journaler, either. Magnus is looking over his shoulder now.
“Can I read it?”
“Maggie, my dude, didn’t anyone ever teach you looking at a lady’s private diary is incredibly rude?” He teases, but he’s shifting so that he’s leaning against Magnus. The journal rests, one cover on his knee, other on Magnus’. The look Magnus shoots him is hopeful, and he snorts before gesturing to the journal. Magnus snatches it eagerly and begins to read.
He watches Magnus’ eyes trace line after line of today’s entry, watches the quirk of his lips as he reads about himself and Merle and even Brad, who they’d run into today for a brief moment. And yet, here he was in the journal entry, too. Magnus begins flicking through older entries. “Wow, Taako, this is pretty thorough, huh? Do you do this every day?”
Taako shrugs again. “Gotta do something. You all could really benefit from meditation, you know. Three hours a night and you’re ready to go, none of that sleeping crap.”
“Says the guy who takes naps, like, every day.”
“That’s different,” he giggles, pushing at Magnus’ arm. “Naps are an important part of the daily Taako routine.”
“You know, sleeping really isn’t all that bad,” Magnus says, a little softer.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Why don’t you show me, big guy?”
And Magnus laughs, closing the journal with a gentle motion. Taako lets the candles finally burn themselves out. Magnus’ blanket barely covers the both of them, so Taako allows himself to scoot a little closer, and it’s enough hint for Magnus to wrap his arms around him. Something--fondness, or some kind of nostalgia maybe?--tugs at the corners of Taako’s lips. There’s something so familiar and easy in the way their bodies fit together, something Taako cannot bring himself to quite understand, like there’s cotton in his brain instead of what might explain the wave of calm he’s feeling right now.
But in Magnus’ arms, he doesn’t find himself overthinking this. It’s just warm and comfortable.
And maybe sleeping isn’t all that bad, after all.