[With a thoughtful hum, Amelia taps her fingers across the counter. At least Henry was alright with confirming the nature of his powers. They were potent and yes, he was actually very, very, dangerous. Pair that with a personality that appeared agreeable on the surface but with streaks of misanthropy simmering beneath the surface and the witch is led to the silent conclusion that yes, the Esper Collective wouldn't have handled Henry Creel delicately.
Not that she handled him delicately either, but. Yeah, c'mon he's been behaving which is probably more than he would have done with too many pairs of distrustful eyes.]
... I guess what I found most interesting was that you... Talked to me in my memories. I only vaguely recall parts of it but it was like you were actually there back then.
[Very dangerous. There was a reason Papa stifled his powers for years in the lab during his long stint as an orderly. But it's fine! Amelia's taking care of him now, right? And he hasn't gone on a murder spree, so surely that counts for something.
He fills his glass, speaking over the sound of running water.]
That's the fun part, isn't it?
[Fun for who, Henry.]
When I dive into someone's memories, it's not strictly just viewing what's happened in the past. I can interact with them to a certain extent. I can change them however I like. In your case... I was a presence you could speak to in your recollections.
It works both ways, too. I could bring you into my memories, and you'd be able to say hello to... my younger self, for example. Hold a conversation with him.
[Her mind is bursting with curiosity about how and even why that works but instead of asking about the intricacies and inner workings of that ability, Amelia finds herself asking:]
What did you think? About what you saw from me?
[... Yes, she was mad at him for looking into her memories without permission. But apologies had been exchanged and Amelia, who does not get the opportunity to talk about her memories as a child a lot can't help but wonder.]
[He shuts off the faucet, turning and bringing the glass to his lips for a sip. His brows arch over the rim.]
You were a precocious child, weren't you.
[He teases. But then a little more seriously-]
I think... that if things had turned out differently and you hadn't ended up becoming a witch, you still would have been a woman with plenty of achievements under her belt. That vigor and curiosity you had when you were younger, well, I don't really think much of it has faded now.
[If things had turned out differently... Amelia thinks about what would have happened if she hadn't fallen into the Witch King's hands. Henry may very well be right. She had loved learning from her father and a medical track wouldn't have been so far-fetched since she did her best to interpret the medical texts he had even as a child, even if the diagrams and advanced vocabulary went over her head.
Amelia leans against the counter and even at an angle he should be able to see her smile ever so slightly.]
The schoolteacher I had at the time wasn't very appreciative of how I was above my reading level and overcorrecting her instruction. Upon retrospect, I understand her point of view especially now that I'm in a similar position.
[She lets out a huff of breath though.]
That said, she should have just moved me up a grade level.
[Schools have changed so much over the years and upon enrolling in high school, Amelia remembers how much she had to adjust and learn about just being in a different education environment after decades of...]
... Henry?
[She turns to face him fully now, her expression thoughtful.]
[Fair enough. Consent and permission -- the things that Henry do so loves to ignore when it comes to using his powers.]
Lately, I want to do my best to avoid a witch's wrath.
[A joke, if partially true. He still believes Amelia is far more useful to him when she's not angry at his decisions to invade minds, and as of late, her company has been relatively pleasurable; a true rarity where humans are concerned. Why would he wish to upend that he gets the sense, oh-so-slowly, that she might open up to him a little more with the passage of time?]
...Well, in that case, to answer your question: yes. I would like to see more of your memories. Whatever you're willing to share with me.
But he can't help the way his eyes light up at the mention of delving into an old memory of her instruction under that strange entity. So, not only is she willing to let him walk about in her mind, but she's offering up the years of her life in which he's the most interested in learning about?
You'll spoil him, Amelia.]
As simple as you like. We don't have to go through... years and years of memories. You can just focus on one if that's easier.
[The frustrating thing about being taught by the Witch King was that it was either too simple or overly complicated. Amelia sits there quietly, combing through her memories to see which one sticks out to her the most at the moment. Then she nods.]
I have one. Oh, but before we start...
[She looks up at her ceiling and beckons one of her windchimes to unhinge itself and float down next to her head.]
I'll have this little guy ring when I want it to end. We shouldn't spend a whole evening on it.
[Ah, her ever versatile and trusted windchimes. It's not surprising she'd find a way to utilize them, though he's not quite sure he expected a glorified alarm clock.]
Sure. That should work just fine.
Although... make sure you're comfortable before we begin. It's going to leave us both in a trance-like state during the process, and there's no getting around that part.
[But he'll go sit next to Amelia, taking up the cushion beside her.]
[But maybe it might be easier to just close her eyes regardless. She readjusts the pillow so that it makes her lower back comfortable and tucks some of her hair behind her ear.]
... Oh and of course, this.
[She reaches over to where the side table is and grabs the tissue box. It's held out to Henry expectantly.]
[Henry's voice is oddly soothing and Emerald Witch finds herself willing to let down all her defenses. Her mind untangles itself and she combs through one of the many memories she has of those lonely, dark, and dangerous years with the Witch King...
In the deepest part of her heart, she wonders what would have been different, if there was a visitor like Henry Creel in her younger years...]
⏪⏪⏪
[She lived in a world of white.
Or rather, that's what's outside the window. This is a mansion in the middle of nowhere. The flurry of pure white snow flies and swirls outside and obscures the view but everything inside is kept pristine, dry, and warm. The interior of the dwelling is a mixture of non-modern styles, Gothic, Victorian, some hints of Art Deco. One of the unifying features within was the tree trunks and branches that are embedded throughout the walls or snaking around pillars and light fixtures. And then there were the bookshelves that lined the walls of so many of the rooms that one would mistake each area as its own library instead of a place to live in.
And so this was the world she lived in. Snow, a magical mansion, and books.
In one of these alcoves, a girl who appears to be sixteen years of age can be found. The girl is dressed in a white silk blouse and a long dark skirt. Her red hair is tied up into a loose braid. Large glasses sit on the bridge of her nose, slightly lopsided and she sits on the sofa, staring outside the window with a blank expression and a book open on her lap.
At the sound of someone approaching, her voice cuts through the silence and is sharp, biting, and most of all, tired.]
[In he goes into her memory, slipping in like a shadow. And when he opens his eyes, he's met with a fantastical sight. This mansion is like something out of an old, gothic tale; imagery strengthened by the vines coiling here and there across the bookshelves, clotting up all empty spaces.
He treads forward, gazing about with curiosity. The windows are just a blinding sheen of white and snow. But when he finds someone here--Amelia, much younger, her voice surprisingly biting--his focus directs itself solely on her and just her.
Henry pretends at being unassuming, like he's used to. He clasps his hands behind his back and cinches his brows.]
Kill you? No, of course not. I'm just a visitor. Why would you say that?
[A younger Amelia whips her head around and stares at Henry with her green eyes full of distrust and caution. But because he is just a visitor in this memory, someone who blends and becomes part of its fabric her guard drops and she sighs heavily, while laying across the couch.]
Because that's what he did for a period of time. Yes, let's pull a random individual from somewhere and tell them to defeat his special apprentice to gain their freedom. Or he'd create something from whole cloth and it'd stalk me throughout this place and—
[Amelia stops when she realizes she's just ranting. The book on her legs is moved to cover her face and she just lays there like a melodramatic teenager.]
[Ah, the advantage of his powers. To simply be accepted as a presence that should be here, even if the reality is truly the opposite. Henry doesn't move any closer just yet.]
Oh. You mean your mentor. He sounds like... a difficult kind of teacher.
[To say the least. Methods of "teaching" that might as well be playing a game.]
No, don't worry. I'm not here for anything like that. I just wanted to take a look around; you don't mind the company, do you?
[Her harsh voice has softened. Green eyes look over from the top of the book at Henry and the look in her eyes is complicated. Hopeful, but hopeless. Relieved, but in pain.]
... If you want. [She sits up to make room for him and she buries her face in her knees, sighing tiredly once again. The closed book is used to gesture at the empty spot next to her.]
You can sit for a bit. Or you can go wherever and look around.
[Her next words are muffled as she wraps her arms around her legs and buries her face even more deeply.]
[He pauses, taking in those words. Young Amelia, at least in this memory, seems so... defeated. Tired. The spark of her stubbornness is still there, but it feels muted.
Finally, he moves to sit next to her.]
I'll sit. I'd rather talk to you than wander around for now.
[His eyes sweep across her once more.]
If it's any consolation... I don't want to leave. But even if I do, can't you come with me?
[That makes her look up again. Amelia purses her lips as if trying to decide how to answer Henry's question.]
... I tried already. But I don't know where I am. I thought maybe it was Antarctica or one of the Poles, maybe even Russia. You know, because of all the snow.
[She looks outside again.]
Even so, I tried. What's a little snow to a witch, right?
[There's a weak chuckle and a shake of her head.]
Maybe it just means I'm not good enough. I can't even escape effectively with all the magic I've learned so far. You'd get to leave unscathed though.
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sunfloras2023-04-20 07:42 pm
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[With a thoughtful hum, Amelia taps her fingers across the counter. At least Henry was alright with confirming the nature of his powers. They were potent and yes, he was actually very, very, dangerous. Pair that with a personality that appeared agreeable on the surface but with streaks of misanthropy simmering beneath the surface and the witch is led to the silent conclusion that yes, the Esper Collective wouldn't have handled Henry Creel delicately.
Not that she handled him delicately either, but. Yeah, c'mon he's been behaving which is probably more than he would have done with too many pairs of distrustful eyes.]
... I guess what I found most interesting was that you... Talked to me in my memories. I only vaguely recall parts of it but it was like you were actually there back then.
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He fills his glass, speaking over the sound of running water.]
That's the fun part, isn't it?
[Fun for who, Henry.]
When I dive into someone's memories, it's not strictly just viewing what's happened in the past. I can interact with them to a certain extent. I can change them however I like. In your case... I was a presence you could speak to in your recollections.
It works both ways, too. I could bring you into my memories, and you'd be able to say hello to... my younger self, for example. Hold a conversation with him.
[If Henry allowed it, of course.]
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[Her mind is bursting with curiosity about how and even why that works but instead of asking about the intricacies and inner workings of that ability, Amelia finds herself asking:]
What did you think? About what you saw from me?
[... Yes, she was mad at him for looking into her memories without permission. But apologies had been exchanged and Amelia, who does not get the opportunity to talk about her memories as a child a lot can't help but wonder.]
no subject
You were a precocious child, weren't you.
[He teases. But then a little more seriously-]
I think... that if things had turned out differently and you hadn't ended up becoming a witch, you still would have been a woman with plenty of achievements under her belt. That vigor and curiosity you had when you were younger, well, I don't really think much of it has faded now.
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[If things had turned out differently... Amelia thinks about what would have happened if she hadn't fallen into the Witch King's hands. Henry may very well be right. She had loved learning from her father and a medical track wouldn't have been so far-fetched since she did her best to interpret the medical texts he had even as a child, even if the diagrams and advanced vocabulary went over her head.
Amelia leans against the counter and even at an angle he should be able to see her smile ever so slightly.]
The schoolteacher I had at the time wasn't very appreciative of how I was above my reading level and overcorrecting her instruction. Upon retrospect, I understand her point of view especially now that I'm in a similar position.
[She lets out a huff of breath though.]
That said, she should have just moved me up a grade level.
[Stubborn to the end, our Amelia.]
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Something tells me the schooling system was a little different in our decades than it is now.
I was too good of a student, too. But of course that still wasn’t enough.
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... Henry?
[She turns to face him fully now, her expression thoughtful.]
Do you want to see more?
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More? Of your memories?
[A beat.]
I thought you didn’t want me in your head.
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[Amelia changes position, putting her hand on her hip instead.]
With permission is a different story. I'm stubborn but it doesn't mean I can't redraw my boundaries.
And lately, you've been adhering better to mine.
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Lately, I want to do my best to avoid a witch's wrath.
[A joke, if partially true. He still believes Amelia is far more useful to him when she's not angry at his decisions to invade minds, and as of late, her company has been relatively pleasurable; a true rarity where humans are concerned. Why would he wish to upend that he gets the sense, oh-so-slowly, that she might open up to him a little more with the passage of time?]
...Well, in that case, to answer your question: yes. I would like to see more of your memories. Whatever you're willing to share with me.
no subject
Now that they're in agreement Amelia moves to the living room, motioning for Henry to do the same.]
You've been curious about what my instruction under the Witch King was like so I'm willing to share a memory from there.
[She takes a seat on one end of the large sofa.]
Almost forty years... There's a lot you could wade through but let's keep it simple.
no subject
But he can't help the way his eyes light up at the mention of delving into an old memory of her instruction under that strange entity. So, not only is she willing to let him walk about in her mind, but she's offering up the years of her life in which he's the most interested in learning about?
You'll spoil him, Amelia.]
As simple as you like. We don't have to go through... years and years of memories. You can just focus on one if that's easier.
no subject
I have one. Oh, but before we start...
[She looks up at her ceiling and beckons one of her windchimes to unhinge itself and float down next to her head.]
I'll have this little guy ring when I want it to end. We shouldn't spend a whole evening on it.
no subject
Sure. That should work just fine.
Although... make sure you're comfortable before we begin. It's going to leave us both in a trance-like state during the process, and there's no getting around that part.
[But he'll go sit next to Amelia, taking up the cushion beside her.]
no subject
[But maybe it might be easier to just close her eyes regardless. She readjusts the pillow so that it makes her lower back comfortable and tucks some of her hair behind her ear.]
... Oh and of course, this.
[She reaches over to where the side table is and grabs the tissue box. It's held out to Henry expectantly.]
We can't forget about the nosebleeding.
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For after. I’m not going to sit here with a tissue stuffed up my nostril, you know.
[tho that would be hilarious]
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[She is... Very grandma...
Amelia settles back into her original position. Her windchime murmurs as it hovers beside her and her eyes close.]
I'll see you there, Henry.
[Memory-Amelia will anyway.]
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[If fastidious Henry Creel is okay with his own nosebleeds, then there’s no need to worry.
But he says nothing else. Gives her a moment to settle and get ready.]
Relax… and just let me in.
[And he closes his eyes… And slips into her memory.]
no subject
In the deepest part of her heart, she wonders what would have been different, if there was a visitor like Henry Creel in her younger years...]
[She lived in a world of white.
Or rather, that's what's outside the window. This is a mansion in the middle of nowhere. The flurry of pure white snow flies and swirls outside and obscures the view but everything inside is kept pristine, dry, and warm. The interior of the dwelling is a mixture of non-modern styles, Gothic, Victorian, some hints of Art Deco. One of the unifying features within was the tree trunks and branches that are embedded throughout the walls or snaking around pillars and light fixtures. And then there were the bookshelves that lined the walls of so many of the rooms that one would mistake each area as its own library instead of a place to live in.
And so this was the world she lived in. Snow, a magical mansion, and books.
In one of these alcoves, a girl who appears to be sixteen years of age can be found. The girl is dressed in a white silk blouse and a long dark skirt. Her red hair is tied up into a loose braid. Large glasses sit on the bridge of her nose, slightly lopsided and she sits on the sofa, staring outside the window with a blank expression and a book open on her lap.
At the sound of someone approaching, her voice cuts through the silence and is sharp, biting, and most of all, tired.]
Are you here to kill me?
no subject
He treads forward, gazing about with curiosity. The windows are just a blinding sheen of white and snow. But when he finds someone here--Amelia, much younger, her voice surprisingly biting--his focus directs itself solely on her and just her.
Henry pretends at being unassuming, like he's used to. He clasps his hands behind his back and cinches his brows.]
Kill you? No, of course not. I'm just a visitor. Why would you say that?
no subject
Because that's what he did for a period of time. Yes, let's pull a random individual from somewhere and tell them to defeat his special apprentice to gain their freedom. Or he'd create something from whole cloth and it'd stalk me throughout this place and—
[Amelia stops when she realizes she's just ranting. The book on her legs is moved to cover her face and she just lays there like a melodramatic teenager.]
Ugh. Why am I even talking?
no subject
Oh. You mean your mentor. He sounds like... a difficult kind of teacher.
[To say the least. Methods of "teaching" that might as well be playing a game.]
No, don't worry. I'm not here for anything like that. I just wanted to take a look around; you don't mind the company, do you?
no subject
No.
[Her harsh voice has softened. Green eyes look over from the top of the book at Henry and the look in her eyes is complicated. Hopeful, but hopeless. Relieved, but in pain.]
... If you want. [She sits up to make room for him and she buries her face in her knees, sighing tiredly once again. The closed book is used to gesture at the empty spot next to her.]
You can sit for a bit. Or you can go wherever and look around.
[Her next words are muffled as she wraps her arms around her legs and buries her face even more deeply.]
You'll just leave like everyone else.
no subject
Finally, he moves to sit next to her.]
I'll sit. I'd rather talk to you than wander around for now.
[His eyes sweep across her once more.]
If it's any consolation... I don't want to leave. But even if I do, can't you come with me?
no subject
... I tried already. But I don't know where I am. I thought maybe it was Antarctica or one of the Poles, maybe even Russia. You know, because of all the snow.
[She looks outside again.]
Even so, I tried. What's a little snow to a witch, right?
[There's a weak chuckle and a shake of her head.]
Maybe it just means I'm not good enough. I can't even escape effectively with all the magic I've learned so far. You'd get to leave unscathed though.
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cw: body horror
good LORD cw; mention of child abuse
cw; body horror cont.
just probably some weird body horror for the next few tags
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