[It’s her reaction that finally strikes something a little deeper than musing over the sameness—and some of the differences—between them. The way she sounds lost to the slow crawl of time, that moment of vulnerability… Henry so often usually revels in the despair of others, in them feeling what he’s felt before, but this time, her words needle in a bit deeper.
Is this… empathy??
And this strange sensation all but colors his greeting to the Witch King, whom he suspected would appear at least once in this memory. Henry remembers him clearly; there’s no surprise on his features.
His smile is thin.]
I think I can stay for however long I like. [This is a memory!! You can’t rush him out.] Do you really give her much time to take a break? The mind latches onto lessons better after a long rest.
[The teacher's foot scrapes across the grass in a half-circle. In response to the psychic's question, he looks up raising his brows.]
I suspect she takes plenty of breaks in between while I'm away. It's been what, two months now? Three??
[Amelia who's gritting her teeth mutters something like, "Five." The With King brightens up and nods.]
Ah, yes, I've given her plenty of space. I don't hover like I used to when she was a tiny thing or in her terrible teens. After all, Amelia's a big girl now! Well. She has been for a long, time at this point. Huh.
[For a moment, even he's lost in momentary thought about the passage of time for his student.]
When she doesn't have trouble getting past the front door, I'd imagine. But with shoddy work like this...
[He answers so breezily, implying that she's been through several escape attempts. The man makes one tap on the floor and the grass that Amelia took great pains to create disappears into the wooden grain.]
... What kind of teacher would I be if I let her go with such subpar casting?
[Amelia's looking at her shoes, trying to avoid his attention now that he's talking with Henry... But no luck. The memory continues visitor or not.
The Witch King turns his attention to her. He leans down to look at her face, smiling and his voice is neither disappointed nor cruel, but neither is it concerned or comforting.]
Amy? Have you been hit another wall? That's been happening more often.
[Next to Henry, she's gripping her hands so hard, her nails are digging into her knuckles. But she nods.]
I'm... I can read the texts. Not quickly but I'm trying not to rush anything. But the results just haven't been what I wanted. I know I need to clear my mind, but...
[But the anxiety of hitting a plateau has been affecting her. The isolation and lack of visitors have twisted her insides with each passing minute, each hour, each month, each year, and now how long has it been?]
[Oh, he knows the problem without Amelia having to say much of anything at all. What lies beneath, the things she either isn't saying or remains unaware of herself.
Henry knows this is a memory and one that will continue on its track unless he steps in to derail it completely. He doesn't wish to do that, but there's still a part of him that wants to fling a passive-aggressive remark in, all the same.]
She needs more company. [He offers his opinion, whether or not it's asked for.] You know, the kind that doesn't come here with the intent to kill her.
[Amelia looks up when Henry interjects and she seems equal parts confused, grateful, and then fearful as she glances over at the Witch King who has straightened himself up.
It's hard to tell what it would have been like if Amelia had at least one other person or more for company. Maybe she would be more well-adjusted or it wouldn't have taken her as long. But the Witch King is a creature who creates standards that either change with the flip of a coin or he adheres to them out of his alien stubbornness.
Which is why he smiles at Henry while gently taking Amelia by the wrist, tugging her towards him.]
Oh, that was one of the ordeals she's endured so well though. I'm very proud of her for that. So if nothing else, all I'm asking her to do is to sharpen her focus with the material that's been gifted to her! She doesn't need any other distractions.
[He looks at Amelia who's watching her teacher and biting her lower lip.]
Remember Amy? The magic you have is a gift and I want you to shape it! It's been thirty years or so now? You may not feel like it but you're getting somewhere. You don't even have to worry about body decay! You're most fortunate and you really should be appreciative of the changes I've made to you.
[His student freezes at the realization of how much time has passed. The Witch King looks at Henry again while she wrestles with that confirmation.]
Well, if you're going to stay, you'll get to see how I help my precious student when she's in a rut. The problem is that she's thinking too hard and agonizing over too many details. Thus, I will give her one problem to solve.
[Thirty years? At least a decade more than how long he was trapped in a lab, plus some change. And how casually her mentor drops the bomb for Amelia to wrestle with it as he drones on and on.]
One where she can only think about one thing instead of too much.
[The Witch King lets go of Amelia's wrist and solely turns his attention to her. She takes one cautionary step back, absolutely uncertain about where this is going to go.]
Now then! Amy, be a good dear and ʄǟʟʟ ǟքǟʀȶ.
[There's an utterly alien quality in the tone of his voice and it reverberates through the room. The effects are immediate; something clatters on the ground and Amelia cries out in shock. One of her arms has literally fallen apart as if she's been cut up like meat. There's no blood splatter or viscera, but her sleeves are ripped and the flesh from within stays contained and pulsing, the life still flowing through it.
When she tries to protest, the Witch King, continues, blatantly speaking over her.]
I'll be giving your eyes a rest from reading, dear. For your current assignment, I'm going to ֆƈǟȶȶɛʀ ʏօʊʀ քɨɛƈɛֆ — [The power of his words causes her other arm to crumble into various sizes including half of her face. Amelia's too shocked, to react, too stunned at this lack of sensation and this unnatural damage to her body.]
— And you're going to put yourself back together. Can't very well think about anything else when you're not fully yourself!
[This was Amelia's teacher — a creature of flighty and cruel whims who during this time treated his only student with cavalier harshness. He expected nothing less than for her to pull herself out of the pits he dug for her, never mind her mental state, never mind her damaged heart.
And before she can make another sound, the Witch King waves his hand over her and it's her legs that go into pieces next. Amelia lays on her back, an armless, legless torso with only half a face. He acknowledges Henry briefly as her other body pieces start to move further apart (to make it more challenging).]
If she can't survive this, who knows what kind of bad people will do to her in the future?
This is the kind of memory that Henry harvests when he delves into someone's mind. The trauma and pain and shock, twisted up and utilized as a weapon. With one like this, Amelia literally falling apart before his own eyes, he'd not even have to change a thing. She's giving him a knife that he could carve into her heart with, without even a second thought.
And yet he doesn't think of it in those terms for even a second.
He thinks of the lab. Everything that happened there, how he'd watch the children suffer the same way he had suffered. Those in power getting away with the same thing, viewing others as tools; the cycle continuing in numbers inked on skin. It had made him so angry.]
Bad people like you?
[Henry says with a toxic politeness.
He can't help Amelia. He knows that. This is a memory. But he can control a memory, and put it on pause, and ask to the Amelia who must be here, at least to some extent--the present one--a very baffling question, to the room as a whole:]
Amelia, why are you showing this to me, specifically?
Edited (not the same icon!) 2023-07-10 18:30 (UTC)
[She speaks through the armless and legless torso. The Witch King leaves having finished giving Amelia her assignment. Like his entrance, there are no dramatics. That was just how he was to her back then and how he is now.
When he's completely gone Amelia stays silent and closes her one eye to concentrate. Eventually, some of the nearby body parts are drawn back to her and within a minute (it took longer, even more time in the reality of the past) she has reformed one arm and both legs. The witch pushes herself up with the single arm and crawls to a nearby bookshelf to rest her back against it.
She avoids looking at Henry.]
I remember this specifically because it didn't hurt, believe it or not.
Edited 2023-07-10 23:15 (UTC)
just probably some weird body horror for the next few tags
[He disagrees lightly, shaking his head. It's surreal to watch her put herself together, even knowing that her magic allows for such unbelievable things. Maybe the addition of her lucidity makes it feel surreal even for a man who is used to traversing through memory.
She's still missing an arm, isn't she? Henry is going to lift it up--or rather, its pieces--with his telekinesis and drift it towards her.]
It doesn't have to be physical pain for it to hurt. [He knows this quite well.] What he put you through is cruel. I'm surprised you came out half as well-adjusted as you are.
[An ironic statement from one Henry Creel, who did not "escape" from the lab very well adjusted at all, but that's not the point.]
[Amelia scoffs but there's a smile in there somewhere.]
You wouldn't be the first to tell me that.
[The arm he returns to her is missing the pinkie finger but she murmurs her thanks as she takes it and reattaches it to her shoulder. Only half of her face is missing now. Resting her hands on her lap she turns her gaze back to the window where the snow continues to fall though less violently this time.]
To answer your question properly, I showed you this moment specifically because you've been curious about the Witch King. There were other things he's done some probably a little worse even before this but...
[Amelia shrugs.]
I just wanted you to see that I know what it's like to be confined as well. It's not the same, I know. The cruelty of humans is worse in some ways than someone that's just a monster.
That and now you also know why there are very few things I'm frightened of in the present.
[In a twisted way, the Witch King has made sure that his student became fearless. It was trial after trial by fire and she had to put out so many flames and live with the burns she could afford.]
[Henry deigns to move closer and... sit next to her, if she'll allow it, drawing his legs up. His casts around for the other half of her face in the meanwhile -- surely she wants that back, too?]
No, it's not the same. But in some ways, it is. The days that meld into each other, the passage of time becoming harder and harder to discern. And the captors, trying to make their subjects grow stronger by any means possible. The director of the lab was a little similar to your Witch King, too, at least because he pretended to care while hurting everyone, anyway.
[But... That and now you also know why there are very few things I'm frightened of in the present.]
You're right, this clears up that and then some. An angry psychic burning up on the beach was nothing in comparison, right?
[She glances at him when he moves next to her but has no complaints. The fact that they can connect over their similar circumstances is not what Amelia expected to happen when she offered to let Henry into her mind this evening. But perhaps it was inevitable; she had a distinct impression that there was common ground the first time they had a proper conversation. She had dismissed it then, focusing instead on returning this wildcard back to his world.
Now? It's getting harder to push Henry away.
The other half of her face is in multiple pieces so when he drags them out for her, she takes them one by one and sorts them out on the floor next to her feet.]
... The passage of time felt the most cruel to me. I know that slow aging is a benefit; I take it as a blessing now. At the time though, knowing that I was already an adult, but stuck in the body of a child for who knows how long? It compounded the idea that I was never going to progress. I was always going to be stuck here and there was no one else to tell me otherwise.
[Henry's remark makes her smile despite everything.]
Well, I was scared of you... For my students. [Not necessarily for herself.]
[The half of her face, like putting a puzzle back together. Well. He'll watch and let her take care of the rest. It hardly seems his place to help her rearrange things into their proper places.]
I know. But I'm glad it was you who found me. Who knows where I might have ended up otherwise?
[He pauses, then continues.]
This place represents a prison, a trial. A long, long one. But in the end, you did escape it. You were strong enough to leave. I think that's impressive, Amelia. [But, he does wonder...] So your mentor won't ever put you through anything like that again, will he?
[And yet to him, there still seems to be a gap. Between that time period and the Amelia he knows.]
Didn’t that make you angry?
[He would be full of indignant rage. He is, from just his time in the lab, all those years stolen from him. But Amelia is too… well-adjusted, as he said, for that. No such bitterness he senses, roiling beneath. Is another piece of the story missing?]
Before he took me, he made it so that my parents gradually forgot my existence. They lived happily without any other children and were dead by the time I returned. There wasn't anyone else who mattered that remembered me either.
[There is a large gap between the Amelia Henry knows now and the one in this memory. Just how many broken pieces were there of this witch and how many times has she had to pick them up?]
And I was angry Henry. Angry, but battered down, overwhelmed by sudden freedom and anxious over abandonment. All I had was magic but it was never going to be enough to retaliate against the monster who gave it to me and taught me in the first place. But most of all, I was tired. So tired of having to focus all of myself on him and that included that anger.
[Amelia stands up still leaning against the bookshelf.]
... One more memory. And that's all for tonight.
[The sound of a windchime can be heard in the distance.]
[Henry keeps his own anger burning bright. He has a target in which he could easily destroy ten times over before remaking it completely: his own world. But maybe that's yet one more difference between them. He never grew tired, he never resigned himself to his fate, even when he had been trapped for seven years in that raw, hellish dimension. He would find a way back home and to make so many suffer, because it was only ever deserved -- the bad hand he was dealt so many times over in life had to mean something, in the end.
And it's not a fair parallel to draw when Amelia's ire was focused towards a man--a thing--in which she couldn't destroy. But the concept is just so alien to Henry. What is dealing with things in a healthy way? Never heard of her.
He doesn't know what to say to all of it. Not just yet. So he doesn't, rising to his feet instead.]
...All right. One more memory. What do you want to show me?
[When Henry stands up, Amelia takes his hand and starts leading him out the door of the alcove and downstairs to the entrance of the mansion.]
You'll see. It'll be short though.
[Amelia continues to retain her teenage appearance but as they reach the entrance, her clothing has changed from antiquated to modern — a loose green knit sweater and denim shorts. She wears her hair down this time.]
When I was finally able to leave, I ended up settling in Blackgale. For a while, I didn't involve myself in public life. Why would I? But something had to change. I was stagnant.
[He looks down at where their hands are linked as he's lead downstairs. How many times is that now? What a novelty, truly. Though he supposes there's no real reason to keep track. (Right?)]
And you did, obviously. Change, I mean. So what happened?
Someone unexpected came into my life. And for a while it was... I was...
[The witch has trouble finishing her sentence. Her hand is... Trembling? It's trembling in anticipation. Amelia hasn't traversed memories in this way although she will never forget the things that have happened to herself.
At the entrance, she pushes the door open. Instead of the snowy world, they were trapped in, it's the street in the nearby neighborhood that leads to Amelia's house. They're back in Blackgale. Most of the houses look newer, some trees are younger. Amelia herself is also sporting a backpack, heavy with textbooks.
She lets go of Henry's hand.]
This isn't an especially shocking memory or anything. I just happen to treasure it.
[And with that, the memory begins. Amelia, around the age of 50 treks down the sidewalk after a long day at school.]
Yet one more alien notion between them. So distant a concept that he, once more, doesn't know what to do with it, doesn't know what to say, other than to accept the memory as it plays out.
So, Blackgale again. Newer houses, younger trees than he recalls during his strolls through the town. Amelia's touting the student look, now, as the memory falls into place.
So, what's he do to, other than the follow? Henry does just that, quietly, seeing what will happen.]
[They're quickly approaching her home. The outline of it should be familiar to Henry but instead of a beautiful and peaceful front garden, it's overrun by dry grass and overgrown weeds, dandelions, and the walls are covered in vines. There is a severe lack of color with no flowers in sight. The neglect creates a heavy and sad atmosphere, very unlike the home that Amelia currently has, where her magic and mystery will shape it into a place of intrigue and comfort.
Memory-Amelia pushes the front gate open with her foot and walks up to the front door before pausing and frowning. The sound of digging can be heard faintly around the corner of the house. The young (looking) girl frowns and circles back to the source of the noise.]
Briar? What are you doing back here?
[The mysterious existence looks up at Amelia with clear eyes, blinking in confusion before lighting up with a smile.]
"Oh! Hi Amelia. Welcome home!"
["Briar" has a beautiful and youthful smile. His hair was long and tied back into a ponytail and though its hue could be read as blonde, there was a yellow-green shine in the sunlight, not unlike a spring leaf. Though he looked human, his presence was very "other" even in the witch's memories.
That mysteriousness is probably moot since the knees of his trousers are covered in grass stains and his hands and nails are caked with dirt. There's even a streak of dirt on his cheek, though it doesn't mar his looks He has a small shovel in his hand and a bunch of weeds in the other.
Memory-Amelia looks down at him irately.]
... Are you trying to weed the garden? [Briar nods, beaming.]
"Yeah! And... Oh! You have a friend with you!"
[He notices Henry of course and instead of caution or rightful suspicion about a strange lanky man following Amelia home... He waves at Henry.]
"Hello! You're the first visitor we've had in a while! Sorry, the garden isn't ready."
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sunfloras2023-04-20 07:42 pm
no subject
Is this… empathy??
And this strange sensation all but colors his greeting to the Witch King, whom he suspected would appear at least once in this memory. Henry remembers him clearly; there’s no surprise on his features.
His smile is thin.]
I think I can stay for however long I like. [This is a memory!! You can’t rush him out.] Do you really give her much time to take a break? The mind latches onto lessons better after a long rest.
no subject
[The teacher's foot scrapes across the grass in a half-circle. In response to the psychic's question, he looks up raising his brows.]
I suspect she takes plenty of breaks in between while I'm away. It's been what, two months now? Three??
[Amelia who's gritting her teeth mutters something like, "Five." The With King brightens up and nods.]
Ah, yes, I've given her plenty of space. I don't hover like I used to when she was a tiny thing or in her terrible teens. After all, Amelia's a big girl now! Well. She has been for a long, time at this point. Huh.
[For a moment, even he's lost in momentary thought about the passage of time for his student.]
no subject
[News which is wholly unsurprising, given how long he knows Amelia’s lifespan is.
Still, despite his smile, he cannot help but sound vaguely unimpressed at this Witch King’s… everything. Power or no.]
And how long will it take before she’s a proper witch? One that can leave here?
1/2
[He answers so breezily, implying that she's been through several escape attempts. The man makes one tap on the floor and the grass that Amelia took great pains to create disappears into the wooden grain.]
... What kind of teacher would I be if I let her go with such subpar casting?
[Amelia's looking at her shoes, trying to avoid his attention now that he's talking with Henry... But no luck. The memory continues visitor or not.
The Witch King turns his attention to her. He leans down to look at her face, smiling and his voice is neither disappointed nor cruel, but neither is it concerned or comforting.]
Amy? Have you been hit another wall? That's been happening more often.
no subject
I'm... I can read the texts. Not quickly but I'm trying not to rush anything. But the results just haven't been what I wanted. I know I need to clear my mind, but...
[But the anxiety of hitting a plateau has been affecting her. The isolation and lack of visitors have twisted her insides with each passing minute, each hour, each month, each year, and now how long has it been?]
... I'm thinking too much. I know.
no subject
Henry knows this is a memory and one that will continue on its track unless he steps in to derail it completely. He doesn't wish to do that, but there's still a part of him that wants to fling a passive-aggressive remark in, all the same.]
She needs more company. [He offers his opinion, whether or not it's asked for.] You know, the kind that doesn't come here with the intent to kill her.
no subject
It's hard to tell what it would have been like if Amelia had at least one other person or more for company. Maybe she would be more well-adjusted or it wouldn't have taken her as long. But the Witch King is a creature who creates standards that either change with the flip of a coin or he adheres to them out of his alien stubbornness.
Which is why he smiles at Henry while gently taking Amelia by the wrist, tugging her towards him.]
Oh, that was one of the ordeals she's endured so well though. I'm very proud of her for that. So if nothing else, all I'm asking her to do is to sharpen her focus with the material that's been gifted to her! She doesn't need any other distractions.
[He looks at Amelia who's watching her teacher and biting her lower lip.]
Remember Amy? The magic you have is a gift and I want you to shape it! It's been thirty years or so now? You may not feel like it but you're getting somewhere. You don't even have to worry about body decay! You're most fortunate and you really should be appreciative of the changes I've made to you.
[His student freezes at the realization of how much time has passed. The Witch King looks at Henry again while she wrestles with that confirmation.]
Well, if you're going to stay, you'll get to see how I help my precious student when she's in a rut. The problem is that she's thinking too hard and agonizing over too many details. Thus, I will give her one problem to solve.
no subject
And what problem is that?
[He doubts it's anything kind at this point.]
cw: body horror
[The Witch King lets go of Amelia's wrist and solely turns his attention to her. She takes one cautionary step back, absolutely uncertain about where this is going to go.]
Now then! Amy, be a good dear and ʄǟʟʟ ǟքǟʀȶ.
[There's an utterly alien quality in the tone of his voice and it reverberates through the room. The effects are immediate; something clatters on the ground and Amelia cries out in shock. One of her arms has literally fallen apart as if she's been cut up like meat. There's no blood splatter or viscera, but her sleeves are ripped and the flesh from within stays contained and pulsing, the life still flowing through it.
When she tries to protest, the Witch King, continues, blatantly speaking over her.]
I'll be giving your eyes a rest from reading, dear. For your current assignment, I'm going to ֆƈǟȶȶɛʀ ʏօʊʀ քɨɛƈɛֆ — [The power of his words causes her other arm to crumble into various sizes including half of her face. Amelia's too shocked, to react, too stunned at this lack of sensation and this unnatural damage to her body.]
— And you're going to put yourself back together. Can't very well think about anything else when you're not fully yourself!
[This was Amelia's teacher — a creature of flighty and cruel whims who during this time treated his only student with cavalier harshness. He expected nothing less than for her to pull herself out of the pits he dug for her, never mind her mental state, never mind her damaged heart.
And before she can make another sound, the Witch King waves his hand over her and it's her legs that go into pieces next. Amelia lays on her back, an armless, legless torso with only half a face. He acknowledges Henry briefly as her other body pieces start to move further apart (to make it more challenging).]
If she can't survive this, who knows what kind of bad people will do to her in the future?
good LORD cw; mention of child abuse
Terrible.
This is the kind of memory that Henry harvests when he delves into someone's mind. The trauma and pain and shock, twisted up and utilized as a weapon. With one like this, Amelia literally falling apart before his own eyes, he'd not even have to change a thing. She's giving him a knife that he could carve into her heart with, without even a second thought.
And yet he doesn't think of it in those terms for even a second.
He thinks of the lab. Everything that happened there, how he'd watch the children suffer the same way he had suffered. Those in power getting away with the same thing, viewing others as tools; the cycle continuing in numbers inked on skin. It had made him so angry.]
Bad people like you?
[Henry says with a toxic politeness.
He can't help Amelia. He knows that. This is a memory. But he can control a memory, and put it on pause, and ask to the Amelia who must be here, at least to some extent--the present one--a very baffling question, to the room as a whole:]
Amelia, why are you showing this to me, specifically?
cw; body horror cont.
It's odd, you know.
[She speaks through the armless and legless torso. The Witch King leaves having finished giving Amelia her assignment. Like his entrance, there are no dramatics. That was just how he was to her back then and how he is now.
When he's completely gone Amelia stays silent and closes her one eye to concentrate. Eventually, some of the nearby body parts are drawn back to her and within a minute (it took longer, even more time in the reality of the past) she has reformed one arm and both legs. The witch pushes herself up with the single arm and crawls to a nearby bookshelf to rest her back against it.
She avoids looking at Henry.]
I remember this specifically because it didn't hurt, believe it or not.
just probably some weird body horror for the next few tags
[He disagrees lightly, shaking his head. It's surreal to watch her put herself together, even knowing that her magic allows for such unbelievable things. Maybe the addition of her lucidity makes it feel surreal even for a man who is used to traversing through memory.
She's still missing an arm, isn't she? Henry is going to lift it up--or rather, its pieces--with his telekinesis and drift it towards her.]
It doesn't have to be physical pain for it to hurt. [He knows this quite well.] What he put you through is cruel. I'm surprised you came out half as well-adjusted as you are.
[An ironic statement from one Henry Creel, who did not "escape" from the lab very well adjusted at all, but that's not the point.]
no subject
You wouldn't be the first to tell me that.
[The arm he returns to her is missing the pinkie finger but she murmurs her thanks as she takes it and reattaches it to her shoulder. Only half of her face is missing now. Resting her hands on her lap she turns her gaze back to the window where the snow continues to fall though less violently this time.]
To answer your question properly, I showed you this moment specifically because you've been curious about the Witch King. There were other things he's done some probably a little worse even before this but...
[Amelia shrugs.]
I just wanted you to see that I know what it's like to be confined as well. It's not the same, I know. The cruelty of humans is worse in some ways than someone that's just a monster.
That and now you also know why there are very few things I'm frightened of in the present.
[In a twisted way, the Witch King has made sure that his student became fearless. It was trial after trial by fire and she had to put out so many flames and live with the burns she could afford.]
no subject
No, it's not the same. But in some ways, it is. The days that meld into each other, the passage of time becoming harder and harder to discern. And the captors, trying to make their subjects grow stronger by any means possible. The director of the lab was a little similar to your Witch King, too, at least because he pretended to care while hurting everyone, anyway.
[But... That and now you also know why there are very few things I'm frightened of in the present.]
You're right, this clears up that and then some. An angry psychic burning up on the beach was nothing in comparison, right?
no subject
Now? It's getting harder to push Henry away.
The other half of her face is in multiple pieces so when he drags them out for her, she takes them one by one and sorts them out on the floor next to her feet.]
... The passage of time felt the most cruel to me. I know that slow aging is a benefit; I take it as a blessing now. At the time though, knowing that I was already an adult, but stuck in the body of a child for who knows how long? It compounded the idea that I was never going to progress. I was always going to be stuck here and there was no one else to tell me otherwise.
[Henry's remark makes her smile despite everything.]
Well, I was scared of you... For my students. [Not necessarily for herself.]
no subject
I know. But I'm glad it was you who found me. Who knows where I might have ended up otherwise?
[He pauses, then continues.]
This place represents a prison, a trial. A long, long one. But in the end, you did escape it. You were strong enough to leave. I think that's impressive, Amelia. [But, he does wonder...] So your mentor won't ever put you through anything like that again, will he?
no subject
I... I didn't escape Henry.
[Her face is completed and the broken half is pushed back in. The whole of her expression is tired and resigned.]
I hit a wall ten years later and he just... He let me go back.
But there was nothing left to return to.
no subject
Everything and everyone was… gone?
[And yet to him, there still seems to be a gap. Between that time period and the Amelia he knows.]
Didn’t that make you angry?
[He would be full of indignant rage. He is, from just his time in the lab, all those years stolen from him. But Amelia is too… well-adjusted, as he said, for that. No such bitterness he senses, roiling beneath. Is another piece of the story missing?]
no subject
[There is a large gap between the Amelia Henry knows now and the one in this memory. Just how many broken pieces were there of this witch and how many times has she had to pick them up?]
And I was angry Henry. Angry, but battered down, overwhelmed by sudden freedom and anxious over abandonment. All I had was magic but it was never going to be enough to retaliate against the monster who gave it to me and taught me in the first place. But most of all, I was tired. So tired of having to focus all of myself on him and that included that anger.
[Amelia stands up still leaning against the bookshelf.]
... One more memory. And that's all for tonight.
[The sound of a windchime can be heard in the distance.]
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And it's not a fair parallel to draw when Amelia's ire was focused towards a man--a thing--in which she couldn't destroy. But the concept is just so alien to Henry. What is dealing with things in a healthy way? Never heard of her.
He doesn't know what to say to all of it. Not just yet. So he doesn't, rising to his feet instead.]
...All right. One more memory. What do you want to show me?
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You'll see. It'll be short though.
[Amelia continues to retain her teenage appearance but as they reach the entrance, her clothing has changed from antiquated to modern — a loose green knit sweater and denim shorts. She wears her hair down this time.]
When I was finally able to leave, I ended up settling in Blackgale. For a while, I didn't involve myself in public life. Why would I? But something had to change. I was stagnant.
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And you did, obviously. Change, I mean. So what happened?
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[The witch has trouble finishing her sentence. Her hand is... Trembling? It's trembling in anticipation. Amelia hasn't traversed memories in this way although she will never forget the things that have happened to herself.
At the entrance, she pushes the door open. Instead of the snowy world, they were trapped in, it's the street in the nearby neighborhood that leads to Amelia's house. They're back in Blackgale. Most of the houses look newer, some trees are younger. Amelia herself is also sporting a backpack, heavy with textbooks.
She lets go of Henry's hand.]
This isn't an especially shocking memory or anything. I just happen to treasure it.
[And with that, the memory begins. Amelia, around the age of 50 treks down the sidewalk after a long day at school.]
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Yet one more alien notion between them. So distant a concept that he, once more, doesn't know what to do with it, doesn't know what to say, other than to accept the memory as it plays out.
So, Blackgale again. Newer houses, younger trees than he recalls during his strolls through the town. Amelia's touting the student look, now, as the memory falls into place.
So, what's he do to, other than the follow? Henry does just that, quietly, seeing what will happen.]
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Memory-Amelia pushes the front gate open with her foot and walks up to the front door before pausing and frowning. The sound of digging can be heard faintly around the corner of the house. The young (looking) girl frowns and circles back to the source of the noise.]
Briar? What are you doing back here?
[The mysterious existence looks up at Amelia with clear eyes, blinking in confusion before lighting up with a smile.]
["Briar" has a beautiful and youthful smile. His hair was long and tied back into a ponytail and though its hue could be read as blonde, there was a yellow-green shine in the sunlight, not unlike a spring leaf. Though he looked human, his presence was very "other" even in the witch's memories.
That mysteriousness is probably moot since the knees of his trousers are covered in grass stains and his hands and nails are caked with dirt. There's even a streak of dirt on his cheek, though it doesn't mar his looks He has a small shovel in his hand and a bunch of weeds in the other.
Memory-Amelia looks down at him irately.]
... Are you trying to weed the garden? [Briar nods, beaming.]
[He notices Henry of course and instead of caution or rightful suspicion about a strange lanky man following Amelia home... He waves at Henry.]
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