[She's thorough. Her sketching might be more gestural than his, but her notes aside each drawing is a neat touch. Almost makes it into a diagram, in a way.
He squats down next to her now that they've come upon the Scorpion Hurdle.]
Why do you say that? It's a little more complicated, but it still has eight legs. [He says liltingly, teasingly, knowing it's not so simple.] Try, and if you need help, I'll guide you.
It sure is scorpion-shaped. A little bit. Henry's lips twist, but he's not mean enough to laugh outright at her valiant effort, so clearly is she trying to do well.
Okay, that's not true. He is mean enough to, but he has enough self-awareness to keep that amusement tamped down for now. Besides, he intends to keep his promise.]
Here, try this instead...
[He scoots a little closer, leans in to the side just close enough so he can reach over and clasp his hand around her fingers, gently guiding her pencil along where the ridges of the scorpion should fall, more evenly than before.]
Henry's hand over her own startles her but only internally. She allows herself to be guided but wills herself to focus on the very tip of the pencil lead and the marks on the paper instead of whatever this was.
Don't make it weird Amelia Eva Steinbeck.
She watches the changes he makes and nods.]
Okay. I think I see it now. Can I try it on my own again?
[And why would she! There was nothing odd going on there.
He smiles though. He has to tease a little:]
Besides the fact that your scorpion still looks like it’s wearing oven mitts, you mean. But it is an improvement. You should refine that talent of yours.
She can't stop the flush in her cheeks. Talent? As iiiif. But she struggles to retort because she doesn't want to fling his words away. They're benign which is what Amelia is bad at going against when it comes to teasing.
She'll opt to bow her head so her bangs cover her face and she taps the end of the pencil against her forehead, muttering.]
I only doodle for notes. I'm not trying to be good at it.
[Oh, is she blushing? The teasing has hit its mark. Henry can't help but feel a little self-satisfied upon seeing that, but at least she's right — this teasing is benign coming from him.]
I’m just saying you could be.
[If she wanted to. But he supposes she doesn’t always have the time to wander out into her backyard and doodle spiders. Henry does it because he enjoys the company (yes, of spiders), but also because there is so little else that appeals to him right now. The hot weather is so contracting to a lichy eldritch man.]
Assuming you don’t have other hobbies that get in your way. Like… [Hazarding some guesses here:] Your gardening and… reading? If not, you could spare some time out here with me.
[And he's inviting her to his personal activity too? It's a day of firsts between them. She seriously considers his offer and then... Yeah, she nods.
After all, she of all people has time in the world to pick up a new skill.]
I may visit friends and there's the matter of you going back, which by the way I should have an update soon... In the meanwhile, this might be nice. I'll have a reason to wake up early again. [Since it's cooler in the morning and Henry can handle that. Amelia straightens herself and looks at him expectantly.]
[Well, why not? He doesn't need anyone to speak about spiders with, but it's a novelty if he does. And Amelia still interests him in a way that makes him compelled to at least offer; he wouldn't be terribly put-off if she said no.
But she agrees, and he stands and half-turns, expecting her to follow him to the next spider. (He notes the possible update on the state of being sent back home, but they can loop back around to that.)]
You have friends?
[...Henry at least realizes how rude that might have come out, and for once, he did not mean to phrase it backhandedly.]
[... A very good question to ask. Her shoulders comedically slump as she follows Henry in their continued search.]
Well... I already have mentioned in prior conversations I'm not easy to be with even as a friend. But against all odds Henry, yes. Yes, I do have a few.
There's Berna for one, another witch. She's the one helping me regarding you by the way. She's much older, much more experienced, and... Probably difficult in her own way.
[She answers way too quickly. But she has a reason!]
... Well, our personalities are different. She's a few centuries older than I am and with age comes idiosyncracies.
But I've always been of the opinion that when individual magickind hit the three digits in age, they become incorrigible. I know that's rich coming from me, but as you know, I was human before becoming a witch. I can sort of say that because I'm looking from the outside.
[Another tell that Amelia's getting accustomed to Henry; at least obliquely referring to her past in a casual way.]
[A few centuries. All that time to learn more, to accumulate more power. He wonders just how different in many things this Berna is to Amelia.
In between two flowering shrubs, he leads her to another spider on its web. This one's big, black and bright yellow. And this time, he actually reaches out for it, casually extending a hand and nudging it into awareness with a finger. Gently.
It seems Henry doesn't have many issues handling spiders, either, if that's his intent.]
And she wasn't? Human, I mean.
[Yes, he notes the way she talks about her past today, even in a roundabout manner. That's good, right? Some manner of progress. Maybe he can ask a little more later.]
She was the first to offer her hand in friendship. I wasn't as amenable at the time. If anything, I was stubborn about being left alone.
[She keeps her attention on the spider even sketching out Henry's hand it's sitting on.]
Well. I suppose it would be interesting if you met her. But I can warn you ahead of time that she's consistent when categorizing the people she meets into two groups: Like and dislike.
[It goes unsaid which group Henry doesn't want to be in. At his latter question the pencil pauses. But she nods again.]
I am.
[And she leaves it at that. Gotta draw that last leg for the spider after all.]
[He just needs to figure out how to ask. Diving straight into her head last time didn't help; in that way, he was being insidious. Sneaky, when he shouldn't have. Is straightforwardness the route to take this time?
He wonders. Then he rolls the dice.]
So... Can I ask why do you think that is? That man I saw in your memories, he chose you, didn't he?
[She finishes her sketch and the pause that follows is drawn out. A small breath escapes her as she hugs the sketchbook against her chest. Reluctant.
Adam was the one who told her that it helps to speak of her past with detachment but not necessarily with apathy; she shouldn't invalidate her own pain.
Henry is lucky in his rolling of the metaphorical dice. It also helps that after silently mending the gap during their trip beneath Blue Moon Lake, Amelia feels a lot more willing to speak truthfully or at least frankly.
She said it herself; it didn't have to be a challenge.]
[He supposes the risk was worth taking. An answer comes, though it's a brief one. He has to strain to read between the lines, but it's given freely and that's... something.
He tracks her gaze over to the red roses, bright in the sun, still cupping the spider close.]
Just at random? [Or rather, a pet project? A kidnapping. Well, he's been there before, too.] To see what a human witch could do?
To clarify, it was a gradual kidnapping. And yes, it was random. It didn't have to be me.
[Slowly, slowly, she was drawn away from her family and her potential life as a natural human. So enchanted she was with her new ability to create phenomena that she didn't notice that her mother and father started to forget; her existence to them became transient.]
The Witch King is a creature of impulse and curiosity. He gives himself a premise and runs with it regardless of who is affected at the other end.
[The bitterness in her voice sneaks in. It's also getting warmer so she starts moving to the shade of one of the trees.]
[He can hear that bitterness creeping in like a shadow. No doubt she felt like her life was toyed with and the potential of being normal thrown away like it were an afterthought; but moreover, she was an experiment. Much like he was, in a way.
He doesn't respond at first. A cloud shuffles its way out of the sun above, and the rays are warmer as the time drags forward. It's a little uncomfortable for Henry, so he turns to gently ease the spider back onto its web.]
Like all of those who meddle with things they shouldn't, eventually, he may come to regret it. [Still, that man with the bright red hair... He must be very powerful, indeed.] What is he?
[Amelia waves her hand so that the shade of the tree stretches and extends to cover them both. She casts magic so flippantly sometimes.]
He just told me to figure it out myself. This was basically his instructional style during my time with him; throw me into the middle of a problem and figure it out from there.
[And sometimes she barely, just barely survived those situations.]
From what I've gathered... He may be the reason why witches and magic exist at all.
[That’s a curious thought, isn’t it. Disturbing, too, though Henry does find it more fascinating than not.
Still, somehow, this manages to drag a bit of empathy out of him — so small that it does not sound in his tone, but rather, the manner of things he says.
(Also, thanks for the shade.)]
So then he did train you. But it sounds like it was all trial by fire.
My… [Papa. No.] The director of the lab I lived in and your Witch King might have gotten along, you know. Sometimes it felt that way to me, too.
And there was no getting out of that arrangement, no matter what I wanted.
Edited (Icon… and wording lol) 2023-06-30 23:54 (UTC)
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sunfloras2023-04-20 07:42 pm
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He squats down next to her now that they've come upon the Scorpion Hurdle.]
Why do you say that? It's a little more complicated, but it still has eight legs. [He says liltingly, teasingly, knowing it's not so simple.] Try, and if you need help, I'll guide you.
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I'll give it a try though.
[And there is An Attempt. It's... Something. Vaguely scorpion shaped. With clubs instead of claws.]
...
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It sure is scorpion-shaped. A little bit. Henry's lips twist, but he's not mean enough to laugh outright at her valiant effort, so clearly is she trying to do well.
Okay, that's not true. He is mean enough to, but he has enough self-awareness to keep that amusement tamped down for now. Besides, he intends to keep his promise.]
Here, try this instead...
[He scoots a little closer, leans in to the side just close enough so he can reach over and clasp his hand around her fingers, gently guiding her pencil along where the ridges of the scorpion should fall, more evenly than before.]
Don't worry about it being too perfect right now.
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Henry's hand over her own startles her but only internally. She allows herself to be guided but wills herself to focus on the very tip of the pencil lead and the marks on the paper instead of whatever this was.
Don't make it weird Amelia Eva Steinbeck.
She watches the changes he makes and nods.]
Okay. I think I see it now. Can I try it on my own again?
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After a moment, Henry pulls his hand back, nodding.]
Of course. See how you do now.
[He'll watch.]
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Amelia refines the lines they went over with some sharper edges and more confident strokes. The scorpion looks much more acceptable now.]
There we go. It won't win any awards but it's a lot better. Thank you, Henry.
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He smiles though. He has to tease a little:]
Besides the fact that your scorpion still looks like it’s wearing oven mitts, you mean. But it is an improvement. You should refine that talent of yours.
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She can't stop the flush in her cheeks. Talent? As iiiif. But she struggles to retort because she doesn't want to fling his words away. They're benign which is what Amelia is bad at going against when it comes to teasing.
She'll opt to bow her head so her bangs cover her face and she taps the end of the pencil against her forehead, muttering.]
I only doodle for notes. I'm not trying to be good at it.
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I’m just saying you could be.
[If she wanted to. But he supposes she doesn’t always have the time to wander out into her backyard and doodle spiders. Henry does it because he enjoys the company (yes, of spiders), but also because there is so little else that appeals to him right now. The hot weather is so contracting to a lichy eldritch man.]
Assuming you don’t have other hobbies that get in your way. Like… [Hazarding some guesses here:] Your gardening and… reading? If not, you could spare some time out here with me.
no subject
After all, she of all people has time in the world to pick up a new skill.]
I may visit friends and there's the matter of you going back, which by the way I should have an update soon... In the meanwhile, this might be nice. I'll have a reason to wake up early again. [Since it's cooler in the morning and Henry can handle that. Amelia straightens herself and looks at him expectantly.]
So? Next spider then.
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But she agrees, and he stands and half-turns, expecting her to follow him to the next spider. (He notes the possible update on the state of being sent back home, but they can loop back around to that.)]
You have friends?
[...Henry at least realizes how rude that might have come out, and for once, he did not mean to phrase it backhandedly.]
I mean, who are your other friends?
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[... A very good question to ask. Her shoulders comedically slump as she follows Henry in their continued search.]
Well... I already have mentioned in prior conversations I'm not easy to be with even as a friend. But against all odds Henry, yes. Yes, I do have a few.
There's Berna for one, another witch. She's the one helping me regarding you by the way. She's much older, much more experienced, and... Probably difficult in her own way.
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[It makes sense that there’s more than one, of course, and yet this thought doesn’t really strike him properly until now.]
Is it required for all witches to be “difficult”?
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[She answers way too quickly. But she has a reason!]
... Well, our personalities are different. She's a few centuries older than I am and with age comes idiosyncracies.
But I've always been of the opinion that when individual magickind hit the three digits in age, they become incorrigible. I know that's rich coming from me, but as you know, I was human before becoming a witch. I can sort of say that because I'm looking from the outside.
[Another tell that Amelia's getting accustomed to Henry; at least obliquely referring to her past in a casual way.]
cw; spider photo
In between two flowering shrubs, he leads her to another spider on its web. This one's big, black and bright yellow. And this time, he actually reaches out for it, casually extending a hand and nudging it into awareness with a finger. Gently.
It seems Henry doesn't have many issues handling spiders, either, if that's his intent.]
And she wasn't? Human, I mean.
[Yes, he notes the way she talks about her past today, even in a roundabout manner. That's good, right? Some manner of progress. Maybe he can ask a little more later.]
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[She watches as Henry beckons the spider to his hand and looks down at the sketchbook to start sketching.]
Berna's one of the longest-lived I've ever met. She's seen a lot as you can imagine. I was surprised I managed to befriend her.
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[He turns, cupping the calm spider in his hand, held out for her to get a better look at while she draws.]
Maybe I can meet her someday. But... this means you're a unique case, right?
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She was the first to offer her hand in friendship. I wasn't as amenable at the time. If anything, I was stubborn about being left alone.
[She keeps her attention on the spider even sketching out Henry's hand it's sitting on.]
Well. I suppose it would be interesting if you met her. But I can warn you ahead of time that she's consistent when categorizing the people she meets into two groups: Like and dislike.
[It goes unsaid which group Henry doesn't want to be in. At his latter question the pencil pauses. But she nods again.]
I am.
[And she leaves it at that. Gotta draw that last leg for the spider after all.]
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But it's still an opening.]
I see.
[He just needs to figure out how to ask. Diving straight into her head last time didn't help; in that way, he was being insidious. Sneaky, when he shouldn't have. Is straightforwardness the route to take this time?
He wonders. Then he rolls the dice.]
So... Can I ask why do you think that is? That man I saw in your memories, he chose you, didn't he?
Henry rolled a nat 20...
Adam was the one who told her that it helps to speak of her past with detachment but not necessarily with apathy; she shouldn't invalidate her own pain.
Henry is lucky in his rolling of the metaphorical dice. It also helps that after silently mending the gap during their trip beneath Blue Moon Lake, Amelia feels a lot more willing to speak truthfully or at least frankly.
She said it herself; it didn't have to be a challenge.]
You could say I was chosen.
[She turns her gaze to her red roses.]
It was a kidnapping.
the irony of that is too real
He tracks her gaze over to the red roses, bright in the sun, still cupping the spider close.]
Just at random? [Or rather, a pet project? A kidnapping. Well, he's been there before, too.] To see what a human witch could do?
no subject
[Slowly, slowly, she was drawn away from her family and her potential life as a natural human. So enchanted she was with her new ability to create phenomena that she didn't notice that her mother and father started to forget; her existence to them became transient.]
The Witch King is a creature of impulse and curiosity. He gives himself a premise and runs with it regardless of who is affected at the other end.
[The bitterness in her voice sneaks in. It's also getting warmer so she starts moving to the shade of one of the trees.]
no subject
He doesn't respond at first. A cloud shuffles its way out of the sun above, and the rays are warmer as the time drags forward. It's a little uncomfortable for Henry, so he turns to gently ease the spider back onto its web.]
Like all of those who meddle with things they shouldn't, eventually, he may come to regret it. [Still, that man with the bright red hair... He must be very powerful, indeed.] What is he?
no subject
[Amelia waves her hand so that the shade of the tree stretches and extends to cover them both. She casts magic so flippantly sometimes.]
He just told me to figure it out myself. This was basically his instructional style during my time with him; throw me into the middle of a problem and figure it out from there.
[And sometimes she barely, just barely survived those situations.]
From what I've gathered... He may be the reason why witches and magic exist at all.
no subject
Still, somehow, this manages to drag a bit of empathy out of him — so small that it does not sound in his tone, but rather, the manner of things he says.
(Also, thanks for the shade.)]
So then he did train you. But it sounds like it was all trial by fire.
My… [Papa. No.] The director of the lab I lived in and your Witch King might have gotten along, you know. Sometimes it felt that way to me, too.
And there was no getting out of that arrangement, no matter what I wanted.
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