[He must be a bright spot in a dark time, he thinks, Briar's demeanor making this clearer and clearer to him. No wonder this is a precious memory. Since this young man isn't in her life any longer, he assumes that this is all she has: memories.]
I'm... not actually very knowledgable about flowers. A crepe myrtle? [Lol.] I guess that's not a flower though, is it?
[He chuckles, catching glance of Amelia's disappearing form in the window at a distance, but opts to say nothing on that matter. Instead, he continues.]
"A crepe myrtle... Oh! Those are really nice. There's definitely enough space for it."
[He's able to pull out a bunch of weeds before looking at Henry and nodding.]
"Go ahead. What's on your mind?"
[Briar had a way of letting others know he was truly listening; he pauses the weeding, sits on his knees, and angles his body so that he's giving his full attention to the psychic.]
[The boy makes a soft, "Hm," pressing the back of his hand to his mouth in contemplation.]
"That's a really good one."
[After another pause, he points to the sky briefly and sets down his finger.]
"I'm from somewhere beyond. Amelia says the easiest thing to call me is alien... I'm also called a "Flower." But I remember being on Earth for the longest time. I was sent here by something else. Planted here."
[Briar rests his hands on the grass and looks up at the sky.]
"I was just sleeping and dreaming. Waiting. And then the Witch King found me."
[Nodding in confirmation, Briar smiles, glancing at Henry's way again.]
"Mm-hm! You see, Flowers that come from the beyond, aren't supposed to be here. My real purpose isn't so... So I think he was about to get rid of me or he wanted Amelia to instead."
[Either Briar would have kept his purpose to himself or maybe Amelia is giving the memory pause. It's hard to say at this point. The boy chuckles and stands up to wipe away some grass on his shirt.]
"But she accidentally gave me this form instead! Funny how things work out, huh?"
[And with little choice, the witch kept the boy by her side, an accidental companion after so many decades of loneliness. Briar is looking at the dirtied palms of his hands, contemplating. And suddenly, he asks Henry a question, something more enigmatic in regard to Amelia.]
[His real purpose is what? Oh, how tempting it is to try to wrench that little piece of information free, but that would... once again be overstepping his bounds, his promise to see only what Amelia allows. And so. He grins and bears it. Fine, then.]
Yes. A happy accident, right?
[Oh, he imagines the Amelia of this memory hardly knew what to do with a young man flower-thing that was so bright and happy all the time.
The question almost catches him off-guard, and Henry tilts his head.]
...I wonder. I think after all she's been through, it's difficult not to feel helpless in some ways. Or alone. She's bound to be harder on herself as a result. What do you think?
[Briar was so bright, so happy, so alive, and more importantly of all, so willing to approach the uncertain when Amelia all but wanted to lay down and give up.
The Flower shakes the dirt off of his hands.]
"She called me a simpleton for this, but... When I see that she's unhappy, it makes me want to change that."
[He smiles with no malice. It's pure, it's genuine, there's nothing else to it. And what he says next, echoes Amelia's words not so long ago in the flourishing garden as she passed the healed spider to Henry's hands.]
[Words that strike him for how familiar they are. Amelia said something similar to him, during the spider incident, didn't she? Suddenly, it's even clearer how Briar's influence pressed upon her very being, but also--
He wonders. Does he seem like the kind of person, like Amelia is in this memory, who needs this kind of consideration doled out to him?]
I think you do make her happy.
[Or else this wouldn't be such a precious, coveted memory, would it?]
"You're right, Henry. I'm pretty good at waiting so that won't be a problem!"
[Before he can continue, the front door opens and Amelia appears. She's changed her clothes into a long-sleeved shirt and overalls. She has a basket full of gardening tools. Briar blinks at her in surprise. He tries to speak up, but she curtly interrupts.]
If we're going to do this, you need to do it right. Put on gloves, wear a hat...!
[Amelia tosses said items to Briar who catches and almost drops them. She turns to Henry and takes out a packet of seeds.]
Poppies. The soil's poor so they're the best we can do for now. Hold onto this while we work.
[Bossy... But Amelia does roll up her sleeves, puts on some gloves, and starts hacking away at the weeds more effectively than Briar. He blinks, smiles, and looks at Henry, with an expression that says, "Look! She's here!" He joins her in no time.]
[And then there's Amelia, coming out from the house, changed appropriately into clothes made for getting one's hands dirty -- literally.
What's he to do than to take the packet of seeds obediently, caught off guard by her bossiness (if only because she's appeared so suddenly; present!Amelia still has a streak of this, sorry girl), and blinking owlishly.]
Yes, ma'am.
[A little jokingly. But he gives Briar a look complete with a raised brow, and a little shrug.
Seems like Amelia wasn't as unwilling as she appeared to be.]
[She remembered this being one of the small turning points in her relationship with Briar. Before, Amelia had kept a wide berth, unsure of the Flower's true nature and suspicious of his benevolence and innocence. And as the days wore on and the mundanity of a school routine proved to do little to improve her state of mind...
Briar was just. There. Ready to learn, ready to settle down and focus on a small project to improve her home (their home), ready to greet her after a long day...
They remove the weeds together for a while. They converse — mostly Briar talks, Amelia gives short answers — and in no time as the sun begins to dip, a large portion of the garden is clear. Amelia stands up wiping her forehead.]
Well, that's enough for today. We'll take care of another portion of the garden tomorrow.
[Briar jumps on his feet, sweaty, but accomplished.]
"I'm glad we got so much done! We'll be able to plant lots of flowers in no time. It's going to look so beautiful in the future."
[He stands in front of Amelia and looks her straight in the eye, his smile radiant.]
"Do you think that will make you feel happy, Amelia?"
[. . . ]
"Amelia?"
[Amelia turns to Henry with her head bowed. In the distance, the windchime chimes softly again, this time a low echo throughout the whole memory. She whispers to Henry, her hair covering her face as she keeps her head low.]
... We can leave now.
[Because now she's in pain. This hurt more than remembering her parents, more than recalling the cruel teachings of the Witch King. Everything is so vivid, he's right there and looking at her like she mattered. Briar stands there quietly and then he nods with a gentler look.]
Please, Henry. There's nothing else.
"... I understand. You have to go back now right?"
[The cruelest thing about Briar, for all of the goodness he brought into her life, was that he was able to say goodbye more easily than she ever was.]
[And so they work on the garden, and Henry can see how this would eventually turn into a lasting connection. Briar is just unreserved enough to chip away at Amelia's opposite nature, and with time, he can imagine how he might have gotten her to come out of his shell.
And for Henry? It's like watching the fledgling bond between two people start to form, a concept that is, once again, alien to him. He watches it critically the way a researcher would, inlaid with curiosity — and uncertain how such a thing would ever apply to him. (Ironically, unknowing that it already has, once; when Amelia saved that single spider in the garden.)
The sun threatens to slip over the horizon. They’re done. Henry watches the exchange, having no reason to interrupt, until Amelia turns to him, and the wind chimes echo.]
…Of course. We can leave now.
[He’s looking at her, though, closely. Interesting. This loss is where the real pain is, isn’t it? That time spent with the Witch King, even undergoing such harsh training as losing pieces of her body, do not compare to a kind memory in which she gets to see a precious individual standing there are though he were truly real. Here and present.
Henry usually does not utilize memory in this way. But he knows of its potency, and he can see its effects on the shadows across Amelia’s face.]
Briar. [He says to the young man.] Thanks for letting us visit. It’s getting late, and I have to go now. I know that your garden will turn out beautiful when you’re done with it.
[Already, the memory begins to blur around the edges, like a watercolor painting beginning to fade. Henry is drifting them out, though he gives just a few seconds of time for either individual to exchange a goodbye, should they wish to.]
"You're welcome! It was great meeting you too Henry. Thanks for keeping us company."
[She needs something to hold onto, anything, anyone — her fingers reach out just barely grasping at Henry's wrist. Her mouth opens up to speak but no words come out. She can't even turn around to face him.
But Briar does it for her, smiling and waving them off. The sunset blazes behind him and it makes him glow.]
"Goodbye! I'll see you again someday!"
🌹🌹🌹
[The windchime sings next to her ear and Amelia wakes up, not with a start but with a shudder. She feels a tear streaking down her cheek as she sits up. And then another as her chest squeezes after waking up from that dream. It stuns her in place, like nothing else could until she bites her lip to gather her bearings.]
... Henry? That... Sorry, that took longer... I lost track of time.
[Goodbyes are like a knife to some people. He wonders how kindly this one cuts into her as they fade away and the windchime sings.
He opens his eyes. They're both awake. Where Amelia had grapsed him before, now they remain apart, in the same spots where they began the memory-dive. Amelia looks as though she's been frozen in place, and Henry tracks the tears that run down her cheek.
He lifts his hand to below his nose, testing for warmth there. No nosebleed. All the while, he's mulling over what to say.]
It's fine.
[He's bad at this. Trying to dance between fascination and some showing of empathy, even if the latter is awkward in his hands. Softy-]
[And the irony becomes a full circle with Amelia needing the tissue box instead. Wordlessly she pulls the box towards her and takes a piece to rub her eyes and the fallen tears away.]
... Truth be told, I wasn't planning on going there.
[But since she let him in, aware that he was in her mind, Amelia was also present and it was so peculiar to traverse familiar lanes. It was inevitable perhaps, that she would want to see if her memories would make him appear with clarity.
He was still alive and well in her bleeding heart.]
Before you ask, yes, he's gone for good. [Rip off that band-aid first.]
[Proof that Henry is not used to dealing with this, to doling out comfort: it doesn’t even cross his mind to offer her the tissues, not she’s already claimed the box for herself.
He pauses, giving this a moment. So Briar is gone — yes, he could have assumed that himself, given the grief she’s unearthed and put on display.]
[The thanks settles strangely in him. So much of this entire experience has felt like just that: strange. Where Amelia and him share in the same experiences, he is satisfied. She understands. Where they differ—in regards to emotion and that deep connection with someone else so critical in their lives—he cannot quite wrap his mind around.
He tilts his head at her. She can’t talk about it right now, and that’s not unexpected. The memory is raw. Henry’s powers really are so realistic-seeming that it borders on frightening, but then again, he’s never used them in such a way before. Guided willingly through.]
Even though it hurt?
[His question is simple, almost child-like in the way he seeks to understand.]
[The differences between them now are very stark but she had suspected that from the beginning. But maybe it was better this way, where he could just observe and let her be free to feel.
She nods.]
Yes. I won't ask you to do that again. It's enough to know that even though he's physically gone, he won't die as long as I'm alive to remember him.
[And she'll stay alive using the magic he's given her to make herself happy and to make others around her happy as well.]
[And he means that. It is likely the furthest thing she wants to humor now, but... in the future, such memories might employ their siren call once more.]
Amelia, if there's one thing I can say for certain, it's that our memories make us who we are. Our memories are our pasts, and we're nothing... but a result of that.
[For good or ill.]
Briar's never left you.
[Just like his parents and sister has never left him. Papa, too. The children in the lab still rest there in the folds of his mind. He is an accumulation of all their parts as much as they are of his.]
[Amelia looks surprised and touched at Henry's offer. And the words that follow are just uncharacteristically tender that it makes her heart seize and her green eyes well up with tears again. She shakes it off turning to the side so he doesn't have to look.
The witch had been living as if Briar had left. That the spaces that he occupied including within her felt vacant and worse off than before. The witch who had barely grown up despite her age felt abandoned once again.
But he had never left her empty-handed. He drew people into her life, good people who knew and understood her and didn't want to live in mourning.
She never expected after Briar's passing that a stranger from another world would help remind her of this. After several seconds, Amelia manages to speak apologetically.]
I don't suppose it was in your plans this evening to make an old woman cry.
[And there she is still; Amelia Steinbeck, a no-nonsense witch who continued to have a heart despite all the bad hands dealt to her.]
[Henry speaks only what he believes to be true, and possibly from a perspective of man who could twist it up to view it in a negative way. (The past never leaves. The trauma always remains. But the good things, too, are facet he doesn't always recognize: the memories that are precious hold on just as tightly. It's why music circumvents his powers so easily -- because they are often tied to exactly that. Good memories.)
Still, he meant what he said. Briar will go nowhere. He is ingrained in her, now, and if she takes that as comfort? All the better for it, he supposes.
His grin turns rueful.]
No. But my powers tend to do that. They make people emotional.
[It's not wrong.]
Maybe it didn't go exactly as you planned, but thank you for sharing that part of yourself with me. I'll have to return the favor someday.
Only if you wish to. And if you're comfortable enough.
[Maybe it could have gone unsaid, but for two people who have had their boundaries disrupted, the consent was a good thing to depend on and an indicator of where they now stand compared to before.]
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recluserose) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sunfloras2023-04-20 07:42 pm
no subject
I'm... not actually very knowledgable about flowers. A crepe myrtle? [Lol.] I guess that's not a flower though, is it?
[He chuckles, catching glance of Amelia's disappearing form in the window at a distance, but opts to say nothing on that matter. Instead, he continues.]
Do you mind if I ask you a strange question?
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[He's able to pull out a bunch of weeds before looking at Henry and nodding.]
[Briar had a way of letting others know he was truly listening; he pauses the weeding, sits on his knees, and angles his body so that he's giving his full attention to the psychic.]
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What are you, exactly? You're not human, right?
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[After another pause, he points to the sky briefly and sets down his finger.]
[Briar rests his hands on the grass and looks up at the sky.]
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Sent by something else... for what?
[And he lowers his gaze, frowning a little. The Witch King is not a name he was sure would find its way into this memory, too.]
And are you saying the Witch King gave you to Amelia?
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[Either Briar would have kept his purpose to himself or maybe Amelia is giving the memory pause. It's hard to say at this point. The boy chuckles and stands up to wipe away some grass on his shirt.]
[And with little choice, the witch kept the boy by her side, an accidental companion after so many decades of loneliness. Briar is looking at the dirtied palms of his hands, contemplating. And suddenly, he asks Henry a question, something more enigmatic in regard to Amelia.]
no subject
Yes. A happy accident, right?
[Oh, he imagines the Amelia of this memory hardly knew what to do with a young man flower-thing that was so bright and happy all the time.
The question almost catches him off-guard, and Henry tilts his head.]
...I wonder. I think after all she's been through, it's difficult not to feel helpless in some ways. Or alone. She's bound to be harder on herself as a result. What do you think?
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The Flower shakes the dirt off of his hands.]
[He smiles with no malice. It's pure, it's genuine, there's nothing else to it. And what he says next, echoes Amelia's words not so long ago in the flourishing garden as she passed the healed spider to Henry's hands.]
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He wonders. Does he seem like the kind of person, like Amelia is in this memory, who needs this kind of consideration doled out to him?]
I think you do make her happy.
[Or else this wouldn't be such a precious, coveted memory, would it?]
Or you will. Eventually. Be patient with her.
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[Before he can continue, the front door opens and Amelia appears. She's changed her clothes into a long-sleeved shirt and overalls. She has a basket full of gardening tools. Briar blinks at her in surprise. He tries to speak up, but she curtly interrupts.]
If we're going to do this, you need to do it right. Put on gloves, wear a hat...!
[Amelia tosses said items to Briar who catches and almost drops them. She turns to Henry and takes out a packet of seeds.]
Poppies. The soil's poor so they're the best we can do for now. Hold onto this while we work.
[Bossy... But Amelia does roll up her sleeves, puts on some gloves, and starts hacking away at the weeds more effectively than Briar. He blinks, smiles, and looks at Henry, with an expression that says, "Look! She's here!" He joins her in no time.]
no subject
What's he to do than to take the packet of seeds obediently, caught off guard by her bossiness (if only because she's appeared so suddenly; present!Amelia still has a streak of this, sorry girl), and blinking owlishly.]
Yes, ma'am.
[A little jokingly. But he gives Briar a look complete with a raised brow, and a little shrug.
Seems like Amelia wasn't as unwilling as she appeared to be.]
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Briar was just. There. Ready to learn, ready to settle down and focus on a small project to improve her home (their home), ready to greet her after a long day...
They remove the weeds together for a while. They converse — mostly Briar talks, Amelia gives short answers — and in no time as the sun begins to dip, a large portion of the garden is clear. Amelia stands up wiping her forehead.]
Well, that's enough for today. We'll take care of another portion of the garden tomorrow.
[Briar jumps on his feet, sweaty, but accomplished.]
[He stands in front of Amelia and looks her straight in the eye, his smile radiant.]
[. . . ]
[Amelia turns to Henry with her head bowed. In the distance, the windchime chimes softly again, this time a low echo throughout the whole memory. She whispers to Henry, her hair covering her face as she keeps her head low.]
... We can leave now.
[Because now she's in pain. This hurt more than remembering her parents, more than recalling the cruel teachings of the Witch King. Everything is so vivid, he's right there and looking at her like she mattered. Briar stands there quietly and then he nods with a gentler look.]
Please, Henry. There's nothing else.
[The cruelest thing about Briar, for all of the goodness he brought into her life, was that he was able to say goodbye more easily than she ever was.]
no subject
And for Henry? It's like watching the fledgling bond between two people start to form, a concept that is, once again, alien to him. He watches it critically the way a researcher would, inlaid with curiosity — and uncertain how such a thing would ever apply to him. (Ironically, unknowing that it already has, once; when Amelia saved that single spider in the garden.)
The sun threatens to slip over the horizon. They’re done. Henry watches the exchange, having no reason to interrupt, until Amelia turns to him, and the wind chimes echo.]
…Of course. We can leave now.
[He’s looking at her, though, closely. Interesting. This loss is where the real pain is, isn’t it? That time spent with the Witch King, even undergoing such harsh training as losing pieces of her body, do not compare to a kind memory in which she gets to see a precious individual standing there are though he were truly real. Here and present.
Henry usually does not utilize memory in this way. But he knows of its potency, and he can see its effects on the shadows across Amelia’s face.]
Briar. [He says to the young man.] Thanks for letting us visit. It’s getting late, and I have to go now. I know that your garden will turn out beautiful when you’re done with it.
[Already, the memory begins to blur around the edges, like a watercolor painting beginning to fade. Henry is drifting them out, though he gives just a few seconds of time for either individual to exchange a goodbye, should they wish to.]
no subject
[She needs something to hold onto, anything, anyone — her fingers reach out just barely grasping at Henry's wrist. Her mouth opens up to speak but no words come out. She can't even turn around to face him.
But Briar does it for her, smiling and waving them off. The sunset blazes behind him and it makes him glow.]
[The windchime sings next to her ear and Amelia wakes up, not with a start but with a shudder. She feels a tear streaking down her cheek as she sits up. And then another as her chest squeezes after waking up from that dream. It stuns her in place, like nothing else could until she bites her lip to gather her bearings.]
... Henry? That... Sorry, that took longer... I lost track of time.
no subject
He opens his eyes. They're both awake. Where Amelia had grapsed him before, now they remain apart, in the same spots where they began the memory-dive. Amelia looks as though she's been frozen in place, and Henry tracks the tears that run down her cheek.
He lifts his hand to below his nose, testing for warmth there. No nosebleed. All the while, he's mulling over what to say.]
It's fine.
[He's bad at this. Trying to dance between fascination and some showing of empathy, even if the latter is awkward in his hands. Softy-]
I... doubt that was a memory you wanted to rush.
no subject
... Truth be told, I wasn't planning on going there.
[But since she let him in, aware that he was in her mind, Amelia was also present and it was so peculiar to traverse familiar lanes. It was inevitable perhaps, that she would want to see if her memories would make him appear with clarity.
He was still alive and well in her bleeding heart.]
Before you ask, yes, he's gone for good. [Rip off that band-aid first.]
It's been more than ten years now.
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He pauses, giving this a moment. So Briar is gone — yes, he could have assumed that himself, given the grief she’s unearthed and put on display.]
Can I ask what happened?
[He asks, haltingly.]
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No. I can't. Not now anyway.
[That would feel too sudden and too raw right after he had said goodbye. Amelia manages to somehow...]
But, Henry? Thank you. I really mean it.
[... She manages to thank him yet again. It's even more remarkable that it's for something that has caused her real pain.]
It was... It was wonderful to see him like that again. To experience that day.
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He tilts his head at her. She can’t talk about it right now, and that’s not unexpected. The memory is raw. Henry’s powers really are so realistic-seeming that it borders on frightening, but then again, he’s never used them in such a way before. Guided willingly through.]
Even though it hurt?
[His question is simple, almost child-like in the way he seeks to understand.]
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She nods.]
Yes. I won't ask you to do that again. It's enough to know that even though he's physically gone, he won't die as long as I'm alive to remember him.
[And she'll stay alive using the magic he's given her to make herself happy and to make others around her happy as well.]
no subject
[And he means that. It is likely the furthest thing she wants to humor now, but... in the future, such memories might employ their siren call once more.]
Amelia, if there's one thing I can say for certain, it's that our memories make us who we are. Our memories are our pasts, and we're nothing... but a result of that.
[For good or ill.]
Briar's never left you.
[Just like his parents and sister has never left him. Papa, too. The children in the lab still rest there in the folds of his mind. He is an accumulation of all their parts as much as they are of his.]
no subject
The witch had been living as if Briar had left. That the spaces that he occupied including within her felt vacant and worse off than before. The witch who had barely grown up despite her age felt abandoned once again.
But he had never left her empty-handed. He drew people into her life, good people who knew and understood her and didn't want to live in mourning.
She never expected after Briar's passing that a stranger from another world would help remind her of this. After several seconds, Amelia manages to speak apologetically.]
I don't suppose it was in your plans this evening to make an old woman cry.
[And there she is still; Amelia Steinbeck, a no-nonsense witch who continued to have a heart despite all the bad hands dealt to her.]
no subject
Still, he meant what he said. Briar will go nowhere. He is ingrained in her, now, and if she takes that as comfort? All the better for it, he supposes.
His grin turns rueful.]
No. But my powers tend to do that. They make people emotional.
[It's not wrong.]
Maybe it didn't go exactly as you planned, but thank you for sharing that part of yourself with me. I'll have to return the favor someday.
no subject
[His offer to return the favor makes her smile.]
Only if you wish to. And if you're comfortable enough.
[Maybe it could have gone unsaid, but for two people who have had their boundaries disrupted, the consent was a good thing to depend on and an indicator of where they now stand compared to before.]
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[He shrugs a shoulder.]
But we can wait on that. First... [Here, he actually reaches out and gently, gently taps her forehead.]
You need to rest your mind. I might have done the heavy lifting, but yours is the one that went through the wringer.
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