[And he says it like he means it, like this is a man who would do precisely that when he thinks he's being treated unfairly. Even if Amelia does have a point.
He strains in his magical shackles again, but despite his stubbornness, he's definitely not getting out of these.]
That's not what I meant. What did you do to my body? Why am I like this again? You think this is some kind of joke?
[Well, he definitely means it. That means extra effort will have to be put into being extra vigilant. Emil stands behind Amelia glancing worriedly back and forth between Henry and her while holding onto his eerie broken body part. Henry's insistence on getting an answer about his body makes the witch's brow furrow.
So the implication was he wasn't human before appearing on the beach? And he said 'again' which means originally human, then not, and back. That's... Something to think about. Amelia's glad she didn't turn him over to any of the esper communes now.
She shakes her head.]
That, I don't have an answer to. Mostly because we've just literally met and I know nothing about you. There's no joke to be made if I'm completely devoid of any contexts.
[She wants context? Sure, that’s a reasonable request, but Henry scoffs.]
You can’t tell me I’ve arrived in a completely different world, in an old body, for no reason at all. Someone or something is responsible, and you haven’t given me reason to believe that it wasn’t you.
[Zero trust!!]
If the veil between worlds could be torn that easily, I would have done it well before now. So I know it’s not me.
[Before Amelia can snap back impatiently ("I think at this point, it's obvious this is a different world!" or something to that effect), it's actually Emil who speaks up.]
"Um. Sir?"
[He steps out from behind the witch and while the witch blinks she doesn't stop him.]
"Do you have magic golems like me where you're from? "
[He holds up the portion of his crystalline head for emphasis. Both smooth black eyes blink at Henry for emphasis. The golden red light in the gem's interior pulses like a heartbeat.]
"If it's a yes, then maybe the lines aren't that well defined. If it's a no... Then I think that means you're somewhere different."
[...
Amelia pats Emil's (undamaged) head. He's trying to help, poor thing.]
[Poor Emil. He actually flinches at Henry's outburst and clutches his part to his chest.]
...
[Amelia silently takes it and puts Emil's head back together. There's still a noticeable crack through his face and forehead and his hairline is a little off, but he can be fixed with no problem. His sad face, however?
Well, Amelia will take on Berna's wrath either way. She urges the golem to take refuge in one of her rooms. When the young man leaves, Amelia turns to Henry again.]
... The veil of this world has always been rather thin. Whether it's by design or just how it is...
[Her voice this time, is solemn.
She does think it's on purpose; her teacher treats this reality as an open playground, taunting others to try and take it and see if they're any match for his children and his magic.]
Otherwise... Why you're here? Why you're back in a body you say you aren't supposed to be in? I don't know why. I don't have that answer. But I do know this; first, I am not at fault.
Secondly, illogical things happen and there's nothing you can do about it.
[She would know.]
If you want to blame me, fine. You're confused, you're furious, and you want to be in control. But I am quite possibly the worst opponent you can try and vent your anger on.
[His jaw sets. The anger is far from abating, but at least Henry’s no longer yelling, only now speaking in low, dangerous tones since poor Emil left.]
Is that right?
[Henry’s hardly wary, the warning not enough to dissuade him, but before he responds, he turns over what she’s said in his mind. The veil of this world, particularly thin? Thin enough that holes are punched in it even when his target was never to arrive here, but in Hawkins?
It sounds so obscenely absurd, but now there’s talk of magic, and golems, and Henry is far from unfamiliar with strange things existing in strange worlds. Even in his own world, he is an anomaly. Why should this be different? This isn’t a matter of disbelief, but pure irritation directed at all of his plans now uprooted.
So she’s right about one thing: he feels no sense of control over any of what’s happening. Just one more instance of a loss of freedom, in a lifetime full of it.]
Whoever you think you are, I don’t care. If you’re going to keep me tied up, you’re not going to win me over.
[She doesn't say anything at first. Then she shrugs.]
Well. I don't think your problems will be solved by killing me or anyone else in this world if I unbind you.
[She had considered undoing the runes around his wrists, torso, and ankles as long as the rune that disabled is active. But he's also very rude and angry and she's had a long day and the writer's workshop is almost over and she needs to get ready for the high school graduation ceremony, recommendation letters, next year's curriculum, and ahhhhhhhhhhhHHHHhhhh.
The witch rubs her temple with one palm. Sets it down. Looks at the man.]
My name is Amelia.
[First things first.]
Amelia Eva Steinbeck. Sure, you don't care. Fine. Okay. That's out of the way.
I care about what your name is. I'm not going to be saying, "you" this whole time.
[More silence. Then she nods after making an internal decision in her head.]
Alright, then Henry.
[The witch rubs her hands together and begins to write in the air. The arcane script begins to appear with the same green glow as the ones that currently bind Henry. When she finishes, the shimmering runes expand and sink to the floor, stretching out from the kitchen, through the large living room that they're currently standing in, and into the front garden.
The sound of windchimes echoes in the house. They were hanging above Henry's head since they decorate most of the living room ceiling but they were quite silent up until now. Several chimes of various designs reposition themselves around the man and a few reinforce the barrier outside.
It's a very elaborate boundary. One Amelia can freely move back and forth in but will keep him within the perimeters she has just set. If Henry tries crossing the boundary he will simply be blocked by an invisible wall.
And after deliberating the magic fasteners around Henry's wrists, ankles, and torso glisten and then blink away.
He can move. But no powers. Not yet, probably not for a while. Amelia takes a few strategic steps back just right outside the barrier she made to see what Henry does.]
[The magic dissipates around his limbs, freeing him; and while it proves to make him appear less like a prisoner, Henry isn't dumb enough to think this still isn't the case. While not fluent in spellcraft, he remembers where that shimmering green started and ended, and he has a distinct feeling those are the not-so-figurative bars of his newfound cage.
Henry stands, head craning up to look at the windchimes above. They seem to have a life of their own, and his brow cinches together to pair with his deep, displeased frown. All of this is such a different brand of fantastical than he's used to -- which is saying plenty since he's been stuck in a hellish, untamed dimension for seven years.
He turns to look at her, but he doesn't approach. At least this is a marked improvement over his demeanor at the beach, but there's probably a sense that that is just roiling under the surface, instead.]
[Amelia on her part, will not be letting her guard down around Henry for a second. Her green eyes follow him as he stands and examines her windchimes and she keeps her gaze when he looks at her. When he asks his question she intertwines her fingers together and is the very image of poised and composed.]
I'm a high school teacher.
[Not that he would remember during his rampage on the beach. It probably wasn't the best time to establish that.]
[A high school teacher by day, witch... all the rest of the time? How droll, he thinks to himself, utterly sardonic.
She's right to keep an eye on him. Right now, he's like a caged animal. (Or an angry eldritch cat liable to hiss and look for a way to sneak out.) But her magic that disables him holds on steadfast, so without his abilities, he really is little more than a lanky, blond, six foot human man, nothing terribly special about him.]
So that's what all this is?
["This" equates to everything. Her magic that bound him, the one that keeps him from accessing his powers. The windchimes overhead. This large cage she's keeping him in, which is a cage all the same. Henry tilts his head and chances a single step in her direction.]
[Amelia nods although there's a sarcastic and patronizing air to it.]
Yes. That is the idea.
[She doesn't move from her spot even as he takes a step.]
In this world, magic is broadly speaking a way to impose your will upon reality and make the impossible, possible. Espers or those with psychic-related powers also exist alongside magickind. What you displayed back on the beach is similar if not outright the same as what they do. Or at least the very powerful ones do anyways.
[So of all the universes Henry Creel has landed in, he had to encounter the one with an extremely powerful witch who could upend her own reality.]
[The thing is, that's the kind of power that entices Henry. The kind that he searches for, wields, to make the world... change for him. It's like what he found in that other dimension, though that could hardly be called magic, but it had changed so much. Enabled him to do so much.
He steps closer, reaching out with a hand to test the barrier she must be behind.]
So there are other psychics here? [He scoffs.] Of course there are.
How long do you intend to keep me trapped in this place, Amelia the Witch?
[The barrier will not hurt him; she made sure of that much. The sensation is akin to putting your hand on a warm lamp that has yet to turn hotter and it does buzz beneath his palm.]
Espers are rather plentiful. The scale of power varies among them, however. [And she just happens to periodically hire their most powerful esper for random jobs.]
I don't want to keep you for too long.
[He's a lot calmer now though and speaking to her semi-normally? She thinks so anyway.]
But for now, it's day one. You're probably feeling rather raw, Mr. Creel. This is my house and I am allowing you your personal space in the kitchen, living room, and the whole garden. You won't be able to walk past the gate or to the hallway.
[Sure, he's speaking "normally", but that normally is also tinged with its own sardonic twist. Henry hates, hates, hates cages and prisons. He has spent too much of his life in them to appreciate the leeway she's now giving him.]
What's in the hallway?
[If things are hidden from him, then Henry always wants to know. Secrets compel him. Yes, even now.]
[She is irritated because she's giving him so much leeway and he's too wrapped up in his own feelings to understand that. There's no way she could currently read into why he would see it as a negative regardless.]
As for the hallway, there are bedrooms and bathrooms. [And she keeps it at that.]
I was thinking of giving you a room but after you threatened my life I wasn't feeling as amenable to the idea.
Anyways. It's been a long day. I need to make some calls and we can talk tomorrow if you're willing.
[Because he cannot see this as generous. He was given his own room in a lab. He was given space to roam. He was given people to speak to, a job to do. But he could not leave; just like he cannot leave this place. What's the difference, other than this is her home? At least she's confirmed that.]
I don't believe that.
[About bedrooms and bathrooms. No, there's a reason he can't go down the hallway; there's no way a witch's home, someone who uses magic, has a completely mundane house with mundane rooms.]
I want a change of clothes before you go.
[He is wearing... all white. White button down, white trousers. His shoes are black, though; they'd be neatly polished if they weren't covered in sand. All of him would be, actually.
This uniform means something to him, clearly, and he does not like it. And yes, he's making demands like he's in any position to do so.]
[Amelia eyes him up and down. Yes, the all-white outfit and the sand on his shoes would not do trekking all over the living room like that, not after Emil worked so hard to clean the house.
But the stubborn-as-hell teacher in her says:]
Say "please."
[he'll find some new clothes either way after she's gone]
[Absolutely nOT. He's more likely once his mood has defaulted back to the usual? But now? Now he's still living off the fumes of his previous implosion of anger.]
[(Not only will there be clothes when he turns around there's also some pillows and a comfortable quilt. The couch can be folded out as well if he bothers to figure it out.)]
Good night Mr. Creel. Think over what you would like to do that does not involve wringing my neck and we'll talk tomorrow.
[...]
And if we are able to work something else, you won't have to stay here. That will depend on you and the impression you leave on me.
[Oh, but it's so tempting. Wringing her neck, that is.
Still, this is a wise choice. Henry may be discontent and believe that he will remain angrily so, but he needs time to let his thoughts settle. To let them churn, to find an angle to approach this with. To approach her with.
He needs time to tamp down that anger and turn it into his usual mask of civility, an item that had slipped off and shattered upon his arrival.
He hasn't turned around yet to notice the items she's left for him, not just yet.]
Then we try again tomorrow. Since I have no choice in the matter.
Though you've demonstrated that basic courtesy is not your current forte, I would implore you to at least apologize to Emil. He's done nothing wrong and was concerned for your well-being when he saw your wounds before they patched themselves up.
[Right now? He is not inclined to apologize to anyone, but we'll see where he's at tomorrow. One's mileage may vary when it comes to... sincerity, though.]
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sunfloras2023-04-20 07:42 pm
no subject
[And he says it like he means it, like this is a man who would do precisely that when he thinks he's being treated unfairly. Even if Amelia does have a point.
He strains in his magical shackles again, but despite his stubbornness, he's definitely not getting out of these.]
That's not what I meant. What did you do to my body? Why am I like this again? You think this is some kind of joke?
no subject
So the implication was he wasn't human before appearing on the beach? And he said 'again' which means originally human, then not, and back. That's... Something to think about. Amelia's glad she didn't turn him over to any of the esper communes now.
She shakes her head.]
That, I don't have an answer to. Mostly because we've just literally met and I know nothing about you. There's no joke to be made if I'm completely devoid of any contexts.
no subject
You can’t tell me I’ve arrived in a completely different world, in an old body, for no reason at all. Someone or something is responsible, and you haven’t given me reason to believe that it wasn’t you.
[Zero trust!!]
If the veil between worlds could be torn that easily, I would have done it well before now. So I know it’s not me.
no subject
"Um. Sir?"
[He steps out from behind the witch and while the witch blinks she doesn't stop him.]
"Do you have magic golems like me where you're from? "
[He holds up the portion of his crystalline head for emphasis. Both smooth black eyes blink at Henry for emphasis. The golden red light in the gem's interior pulses like a heartbeat.]
"If it's a yes, then maybe the lines aren't that well defined. If it's a no... Then I think that means you're somewhere different."
[...
Amelia pats Emil's (undamaged) head. He's trying to help, poor thing.]
no subject
I know it’s another world!
[He snaps, ice-like furor again, at poor Emil who doesn’t deserve Henry Creel’s wrath.]
I’m not an idiot! I can see this is someplace where I’m not supposed to be, not the world that I care about returning to!
[He wants to use his powers to tear everything apart. Good thing he can’t.]
I want to know why that is!
no subject
...
[Amelia silently takes it and puts Emil's head back together. There's still a noticeable crack through his face and forehead and his hairline is a little off, but he can be fixed with no problem. His sad face, however?
Well, Amelia will take on Berna's wrath either way. She urges the golem to take refuge in one of her rooms. When the young man leaves, Amelia turns to Henry again.]
... The veil of this world has always been rather thin. Whether it's by design or just how it is...
[Her voice this time, is solemn.
She does think it's on purpose; her teacher treats this reality as an open playground, taunting others to try and take it and see if they're any match for his children and his magic.]
Otherwise... Why you're here? Why you're back in a body you say you aren't supposed to be in? I don't know why. I don't have that answer. But I do know this; first, I am not at fault.
Secondly, illogical things happen and there's nothing you can do about it.
[She would know.]
If you want to blame me, fine. You're confused, you're furious, and you want to be in control. But I am quite possibly the worst opponent you can try and vent your anger on.
no subject
Is that right?
[Henry’s hardly wary, the warning not enough to dissuade him, but before he responds, he turns over what she’s said in his mind. The veil of this world, particularly thin? Thin enough that holes are punched in it even when his target was never to arrive here, but in Hawkins?
It sounds so obscenely absurd, but now there’s talk of magic, and golems, and Henry is far from unfamiliar with strange things existing in strange worlds. Even in his own world, he is an anomaly. Why should this be different? This isn’t a matter of disbelief, but pure irritation directed at all of his plans now uprooted.
So she’s right about one thing: he feels no sense of control over any of what’s happening. Just one more instance of a loss of freedom, in a lifetime full of it.]
Whoever you think you are, I don’t care. If you’re going to keep me tied up, you’re not going to win me over.
no subject
Well. I don't think your problems will be solved by killing me or anyone else in this world if I unbind you.
[She had considered undoing the runes around his wrists, torso, and ankles as long as the rune that disabled is active. But he's also very rude and angry and she's had a long day and the writer's workshop is almost over and she needs to get ready for the high school graduation ceremony, recommendation letters, next year's curriculum, and ahhhhhhhhhhhHHHHhhhh.
The witch rubs her temple with one palm. Sets it down. Looks at the man.]
My name is Amelia.
[First things first.]
Amelia Eva Steinbeck. Sure, you don't care. Fine. Okay. That's out of the way.
I care about what your name is. I'm not going to be saying, "you" this whole time.
no subject
He looks at her, bright blue eyes piercing, letting silence fall between them.]
Henry. Henry Creel.
[Fine, she’s won that much from him, even if it is like pulling teeth.]
no subject
Alright, then Henry.
[The witch rubs her hands together and begins to write in the air. The arcane script begins to appear with the same green glow as the ones that currently bind Henry. When she finishes, the shimmering runes expand and sink to the floor, stretching out from the kitchen, through the large living room that they're currently standing in, and into the front garden.
The sound of windchimes echoes in the house. They were hanging above Henry's head since they decorate most of the living room ceiling but they were quite silent up until now. Several chimes of various designs reposition themselves around the man and a few reinforce the barrier outside.
It's a very elaborate boundary. One Amelia can freely move back and forth in but will keep him within the perimeters she has just set. If Henry tries crossing the boundary he will simply be blocked by an invisible wall.
And after deliberating the magic fasteners around Henry's wrists, ankles, and torso glisten and then blink away.
He can move. But no powers. Not yet, probably not for a while. Amelia takes a few strategic steps back just right outside the barrier she made to see what Henry does.]
no subject
Henry stands, head craning up to look at the windchimes above. They seem to have a life of their own, and his brow cinches together to pair with his deep, displeased frown. All of this is such a different brand of fantastical than he's used to -- which is saying plenty since he's been stuck in a hellish, untamed dimension for seven years.
He turns to look at her, but he doesn't approach. At least this is a marked improvement over his demeanor at the beach, but there's probably a sense that that is just roiling under the surface, instead.]
What are you supposed to be, exactly?
no subject
I'm a high school teacher.
[Not that he would remember during his rampage on the beach. It probably wasn't the best time to establish that.]
And I am also a witch.
no subject
She's right to keep an eye on him. Right now, he's like a caged animal. (Or an angry eldritch cat liable to hiss and look for a way to sneak out.) But her magic that disables him holds on steadfast, so without his abilities, he really is little more than a lanky, blond, six foot human man, nothing terribly special about him.]
So that's what all this is?
["This" equates to everything. Her magic that bound him, the one that keeps him from accessing his powers. The windchimes overhead. This large cage she's keeping him in, which is a cage all the same. Henry tilts his head and chances a single step in her direction.]
You're a witch casting... magic?
no subject
Yes. That is the idea.
[She doesn't move from her spot even as he takes a step.]
In this world, magic is broadly speaking a way to impose your will upon reality and make the impossible, possible. Espers or those with psychic-related powers also exist alongside magickind. What you displayed back on the beach is similar if not outright the same as what they do. Or at least the very powerful ones do anyways.
[So of all the universes Henry Creel has landed in, he had to encounter the one with an extremely powerful witch who could upend her own reality.]
no subject
He steps closer, reaching out with a hand to test the barrier she must be behind.]
So there are other psychics here? [He scoffs.] Of course there are.
How long do you intend to keep me trapped in this place, Amelia the Witch?
no subject
Espers are rather plentiful. The scale of power varies among them, however. [And she just happens to periodically hire their most powerful esper for random jobs.]
I don't want to keep you for too long.
[He's a lot calmer now though and speaking to her semi-normally? She thinks so anyway.]
But for now, it's day one. You're probably feeling rather raw, Mr. Creel. This is my house and I am allowing you your personal space in the kitchen, living room, and the whole garden. You won't be able to walk past the gate or to the hallway.
no subject
[Sure, he's speaking "normally", but that normally is also tinged with its own sardonic twist. Henry hates, hates, hates cages and prisons. He has spent too much of his life in them to appreciate the leeway she's now giving him.]
What's in the hallway?
[If things are hidden from him, then Henry always wants to know. Secrets compel him. Yes, even now.]
no subject
[She is irritated because she's giving him so much leeway and he's too wrapped up in his own feelings to understand that. There's no way she could currently read into why he would see it as a negative regardless.]
As for the hallway, there are bedrooms and bathrooms. [And she keeps it at that.]
I was thinking of giving you a room but after you threatened my life I wasn't feeling as amenable to the idea.
Anyways. It's been a long day. I need to make some calls and we can talk tomorrow if you're willing.
no subject
I don't believe that.
[About bedrooms and bathrooms. No, there's a reason he can't go down the hallway; there's no way a witch's home, someone who uses magic, has a completely mundane house with mundane rooms.]
I want a change of clothes before you go.
[He is wearing... all white. White button down, white trousers. His shoes are black, though; they'd be neatly polished if they weren't covered in sand. All of him would be, actually.
This uniform means something to him, clearly, and he does not like it. And yes, he's making demands like he's in any position to do so.]
no subject
But the stubborn-as-hell teacher in her says:]
Say "please."
[
he'll find some new clothes either way after she's gone]no subject
I'll deal with the sand.
no subject
[(Not only will there be clothes when he turns around there's also some pillows and a comfortable quilt. The couch can be folded out as well if he bothers to figure it out.)]
Good night Mr. Creel. Think over what you would like to do that does not involve wringing my neck and we'll talk tomorrow.
[...]
And if we are able to work something else, you won't have to stay here. That will depend on you and the impression you leave on me.
[She doesn't like being trapped either.]
no subject
Still, this is a wise choice. Henry may be discontent and believe that he will remain angrily so, but he needs time to let his thoughts settle. To let them churn, to find an angle to approach this with. To approach her with.
He needs time to tamp down that anger and turn it into his usual mask of civility, an item that had slipped off and shattered upon his arrival.
He hasn't turned around yet to notice the items she's left for him, not just yet.]
Then we try again tomorrow. Since I have no choice in the matter.
no subject
[And one more thing.]
Though you've demonstrated that basic courtesy is not your current forte, I would implore you to at least apologize to Emil. He's done nothing wrong and was concerned for your well-being when he saw your wounds before they patched themselves up.
no subject
Tomorrow is a new day.
[Facetiously.]
We'll see.