I've done plenty of research, for most of my life even. Don't go thinking you're the first telepath I've pulled the rug under.
[Amelia acquiesces regardless and leans her arms on the counter, tapping her fingers. Then she pauses and clears her mind.
One of the more effective ways to know if a telepath can hear or even see your thoughts was music. And Amelia has a very specific memory that she remembers from way back then...
Henry can see a somewhat fuzzy image. It's a television screen but not one of the modern flat screens he has seen around town in various shops that utilize them. It's older, chunkier and it sits in a living room with dated furniture. And on the screen, in black and white, there is a performance by a renowned musician.
[Music? Of course she opts for music. Yes, that is an effective way of either slicing right through his powers, or testing to see if he can pick up on it. In ways she doesn't quite realize, but he won't say anything the matter.
Since his abilities are not at 100 percent, Henry picks up a fuzzy image that never really sharpens. But he recognizes it, all the same. That's an older-style TV, one from his own era; and that's Nat King Cole singing, an artist he would actually know from when his father left the radio playing in the dining room from time to time, way back in old Creel House.
Henry's frowning the whole while, but amid these images and melodies, he murmurs-]
Music. Nat King Cole. Is this a memory?
[More than just a random image plucked from her head. It has the nostalgic sense of one, veiled over it like a fog.]
[For a brief moment she sets the task she was about to assign Henry because he's asking the correct question. She crosses her arms and does some quick math in her head.]
... I'm in my late 60s now.
[Whenever she reflects on her age that looming feeling about what lies ahead (if she even survives- her chances are decent) starts to fill her gut.
[He has no comment on whether or not it's a good song. Henry and music in general have a very complicated relationship.
But as for the rest, he seems to rake his gaze across her again; a second assessment. He supposes this must be what it's like to be imbued with magic, that it makes one live longer than the average human. That it makes them human no longer. How nice for her, honestly. He can hardly see it as a burden.]
...Technically. [And only because he's been torn from his proper era. Deposit him in this decade, and yes, he's Old.] But only technically. So witches age slower than the average human?
We do. It's all that magic we have as you probably have already guessed.
[How nice, how magical it is to be so long-lived. It's basically eternal youth with the exception that witches can go down like any human. Magic just helps bypass many difficulties.
And how very, very lonely it can be if they're not careful with the years they are privileged with.]
It's just one of a number of secrets I keep from my neighbors. Like how sometimes, we have irritating creatures that like to cause mischief or outright havoc in this place.
[Gently moving the topic back to the original purpose...]
[To him, it sounds wonderful. To be something more than human, to have power that might make one more resilient than before -- likely because that's exactly what happened to Henry during his stay in that other realm.
As for loneliness? Well. We don't even touch that subject.]
It must be a hard secret to keep, the more decades that pass.
[But you know, that's her problem, isn't it? They're moving on, and he senses it.]
Can I ask a question about that memory, though? Before we move on.
[He's glad he doesn't have to live in a human society to worry about such things. :) ]
That memory, that song. Why those specifically?
[He can't quite feel it without his powers properly at full capacity, but did they mean something to her? Something that existed so long ago must have stuck for a reason.]
[Amelia falls silent. Her mind is guarded and only whispers of her voice can be heard, asking herself how she'll say it, it's been so long now, it's still so...
(For a second he can see the smile of a beautiful person and it's for her as if she was the only one it was made for.)
To her own surprise, the witch answers easily.]
Well, like I said, it's a good song for one. I remember falling asleep to it on the radio.
[There's a pause as she glances at the window to look at her flower garden. When she speaks up again her voice is soft and reverent.]
And that boy existed. Long before I ever knew he did.
[Oh yes, he catches a glimpse of that face, the memory almost framing it as something ethereal. And he would pry, and prod, but Amelia offers something strangely straightforward and more honest than he would have expected.
Still, he asks, if only because memories such as these are always so interesting to him -- secrets kept close to the heart are always something Henry wishes to unearth. Powers or no.]
One doesn't need to read Amelia's mind to know that she will not speak further on the matter by the way her hands clasp tightly together, the short sigh, and the way she looks back at Henry, pulling back that calm and stolid composure.
"We need to get back on topic," her mind faintly whispers.]
If you don't mind, Mr.Creel. Our task at hand?
[And it's so quiet, the words so minuscule it could get lost with everything else since she's a witch whose mind is so singularly focused but...]
[Not human. But clearly important enough to her that she'll not talk about it much further; a fond remembrance that is still a point of precise pain. Interesting.
Her mind whispers to him the desire to move on. And then, such a small, small thought soon after -- and in it, he catches a name. Briar?
He'll hold onto this silently for now.]
...All right. I was just curious. You can't blame me, can you?
[Amelia reaches into her pocket to take out her small notebook (full of color tabs, and sticky notes) and her smartphone so she can bring up pictures of their creature feature.]
Our man of the hour, as I have said, carries around a skull and will approach a person of his choice and ask them to drink from it.
[While she flips through her notebook she slides her phone over to Henry so he can see the photos she's opened up. She's collected them from social media focused on the local area and from her own contacts. The creature does look like an innocuous man (the expression is sly and nasty, however) with an animal skull though it's not identifiable as an Earth one.]
If he asks, the person must accept. If you somehow break from the compulsion to drink the mixture, he will take blood from you instead. From my understanding, the skull drink will cause you to be sick for several weeks.
[Color tabs. Sticky notes. Very teacher of her -- some things have not changed over the decades.
He listens, then peers down at the phone, taking the opportunity to pick it up and look at the photos. (Such strange technology for his eyes, too.) This man seems normal enough, even if he wears a bothersome expression; animal skull he carries, notwithstanding.]
I don't recognize this kind of skull. [Then again, he wouldn't if it was truly an exotic animal; but Henry thinks he'd at least know the shape of it, distantly, even if it was.] But what a strange thing to ask people to do. So the question is: why?
[Though her cellphone is useful and Amelia is actually open to technology (it's another fun thing to study, she's a nerd) the old pen and paper method is comforting.]
The skull probably isn't of earthly origin.
And why? [Amelia scoffs and crosses her arms irately though it isn't because of Henry's question.]
I've dealt with creatures from outer worlds and although there's usually a reason for their patterns and activities among humans... Every now and then you'll have other beings who facilitate purposeless fear.
[And that might be the only point which makes it even more frightening.]
If he has a purpose, he isn't telling. I've tried approaching him directly but he's aware of who and what I am. He always slips away at the sight of me.
...I did throw a baseball at his head the first time so...
[Facilitating purposeless fear isn't always so bad; though he supposes the fear he always generated from a parallel dimension away definitely had its purpose.
He looks dubiously at her.]
You probably didn't make the best first impression. [Even Henry knows how critical it is to play nice until you absolutely need to drop the facade.] In that case, are you hoping that I'll be less susceptible to his influence?
[Henry's mental defenses are, unsurprisingly, stronger than most's.]
I wasn't thinking about how to make a good first impression when he was about to offer skull juice to a child.
[sure she had to disrupt the baseball game she was invited to at the park, but the team was very impressed by her arm strength even when they had no idea why she threw the ball]
I was thinking you'd be less susceptible and see what would happen if you took the skull. One of my theories is that it's not really the man doing the aforementioned actions but the skull itself.
[Fair enough, but now he has that rather amusing mental image playing in his head.]
And if he doesn't like me taking the skull? What then? Just what am I allowed to do, and what's off the table?
[Killing is such an easy option. Crushing the skull with his powers, too. But if he has to play by her rules, he wants to know where he stands in regards to violent action.]
It depends on where the confrontation takes place.
[Amelia flips through her notebook to land on the page where she's made a crude drawing of the skull man and scribbled down some notes.]
The most irritating thing about him is that he's been appearing in moderately crowded areas such as downtown or the park at peak hours. At least with the park we can isolate and deal with it as needed.
[And surprisingly...]
I would like to at least try and see if he can be bargained with or if he'll take blood by force if the drink isn't accepted.
But if he doesn't deviate from that action do what you must. When it comes to these creatures you do not let them push you around.
[Henry eyes the drawing for a moment, then once more looks up at her -- maybe a little vaguely surprised (clearly, she isn't messing around when it comes to these creatures causing mayhem, which is fine by him), but he still wishes to clarify. Because-]
But if you think the skull is the main culprit, then maybe the man's innocent. Lost in an illusion, or mentally manipulated.
[But hey. If she's cool with him killing him too if needed... then shrug emoji all around!]
You could check with your telepathy, couldn't you?
[He does bring up a good point although Amelia's opinion is that the man is just a shell. Neither Adam or Lien could face match him in their own databases which could mean the shell was an unknown person who was easy to puppet without anyone noticing.]
I'll be close behind you, by the way. You're helping me deal with this upfront but you're also another pair of eyes.
And I will intervene so you won't get hurt. You're not running on full power after all.
[He could. He's sure he could. But if the result is "yes, this is an innocent man under the influence" but he still tries to harm Henry... Well, he's taking that as full permission to do what's needed to defend himself. His expression, a very mild smile, reflects that.]
Thank you. [He says the phrase plainly, just automatically.] I'm sure I'll be fine, either way. The real trick will be getting straightforward answers out of the man before the situation resorts to violence.
But no way to find out until we try.
[And though this is mostly obligation to help him find a way home, color him... curious.]
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sunfloras2023-04-20 07:42 pm
no subject
[Amelia acquiesces regardless and leans her arms on the counter, tapping her fingers. Then she pauses and clears her mind.
One of the more effective ways to know if a telepath can hear or even see your thoughts was music. And Amelia has a very specific memory that she remembers from way back then...
Henry can see a somewhat fuzzy image. It's a television screen but not one of the modern flat screens he has seen around town in various shops that utilize them. It's older, chunkier and it sits in a living room with dated furniture. And on the screen, in black and white, there is a performance by a renowned musician.
"There was a boy, a very strange enchanted boy..."
Amelia is outwardly silent. Internally, her mind is fine-tuned as she gives the psychic this one allowance into her memory.]
no subject
Since his abilities are not at 100 percent, Henry picks up a fuzzy image that never really sharpens. But he recognizes it, all the same. That's an older-style TV, one from his own era; and that's Nat King Cole singing, an artist he would actually know from when his father left the radio playing in the dining room from time to time, way back in old Creel House.
Henry's frowning the whole while, but amid these images and melodies, he murmurs-]
Music. Nat King Cole. Is this a memory?
[More than just a random image plucked from her head. It has the nostalgic sense of one, veiled over it like a fog.]
no subject
It is. Do you know the title of that song?
[It occurs to her that she neglected to mention a prominent fact about herself as a witch but... Oh well. If he asks, she'll answer.]
Sounds like you were able to see and hear enough.
no subject
[He pauses, though, as though saying as much is a strange barb on his tongue, then continues.]
And of course. My powers in particular center around memory. Even stunted like this, I could pick up on images and sound without too much effort.
[But, then if that's a memory-]
That was a long time ago. I would have been a child back then. How old are you, exactly?
no subject
[For a brief moment she sets the task she was about to assign Henry because he's asking the correct question. She crosses her arms and does some quick math in her head.]
... I'm in my late 60s now.
[Whenever she reflects on her age that looming feeling about what lies ahead (if she even survives- her chances are decent) starts to fill her gut.
She wonders how Berna does it sometimes.]
Probably a little younger than you. Technically.
no subject
But as for the rest, he seems to rake his gaze across her again; a second assessment. He supposes this must be what it's like to be imbued with magic, that it makes one live longer than the average human. That it makes them human no longer. How nice for her, honestly. He can hardly see it as a burden.]
...Technically. [And only because he's been torn from his proper era. Deposit him in this decade, and yes, he's Old.] But only technically. So witches age slower than the average human?
no subject
[How nice, how magical it is to be so long-lived. It's basically eternal youth with the exception that witches can go down like any human. Magic just helps bypass many difficulties.
And how very, very lonely it can be if they're not careful with the years they are privileged with.]
It's just one of a number of secrets I keep from my neighbors. Like how sometimes, we have irritating creatures that like to cause mischief or outright havoc in this place.
[Gently moving the topic back to the original purpose...]
no subject
As for loneliness? Well. We don't even touch that subject.]
It must be a hard secret to keep, the more decades that pass.
[But you know, that's her problem, isn't it? They're moving on, and he senses it.]
Can I ask a question about that memory, though? Before we move on.
no subject
[She has a feeling this current visage she has will be her permanent one. At Henry's question she nods.]
And sure. What about?
[Amelia's a little curious; she thought it was a fairly straightforward memory (without going into detail about anything else).]
no subject
That memory, that song. Why those specifically?
[He can't quite feel it without his powers properly at full capacity, but did they mean something to her? Something that existed so long ago must have stuck for a reason.]
no subject
(For a second he can see the smile of a beautiful person and it's for her as if she was the only one it was made for.)
To her own surprise, the witch answers easily.]
Well, like I said, it's a good song for one. I remember falling asleep to it on the radio.
[There's a pause as she glances at the window to look at her flower garden. When she speaks up again her voice is soft and reverent.]
And that boy existed. Long before I ever knew he did.
I learned a lot from him.
no subject
Still, he asks, if only because memories such as these are always so interesting to him -- secrets kept close to the heart are always something Henry wishes to unearth. Powers or no.]
Was he magic, like you?
no subject
[Briar was pure magic, plain and simple.
One doesn't need to read Amelia's mind to know that she will not speak further on the matter by the way her hands clasp tightly together, the short sigh, and the way she looks back at Henry, pulling back that calm and stolid composure.
"We need to get back on topic," her mind faintly whispers.]
If you don't mind, Mr.Creel. Our task at hand?
[And it's so quiet, the words so minuscule it could get lost with everything else since she's a witch whose mind is so singularly focused but...]
no subject
Her mind whispers to him the desire to move on. And then, such a small, small thought soon after -- and in it, he catches a name. Briar?
He'll hold onto this silently for now.]
...All right. I was just curious. You can't blame me, can you?
But you can continue now.
no subject
Our man of the hour, as I have said, carries around a skull and will approach a person of his choice and ask them to drink from it.
[While she flips through her notebook she slides her phone over to Henry so he can see the photos she's opened up. She's collected them from social media focused on the local area and from her own contacts. The creature does look like an innocuous man (the expression is sly and nasty, however) with an animal skull though it's not identifiable as an Earth one.]
If he asks, the person must accept. If you somehow break from the compulsion to drink the mixture, he will take blood from you instead. From my understanding, the skull drink will cause you to be sick for several weeks.
no subject
He listens, then peers down at the phone, taking the opportunity to pick it up and look at the photos. (Such strange technology for his eyes, too.) This man seems normal enough, even if he wears a bothersome expression; animal skull he carries, notwithstanding.]
I don't recognize this kind of skull. [Then again, he wouldn't if it was truly an exotic animal; but Henry thinks he'd at least know the shape of it, distantly, even if it was.] But what a strange thing to ask people to do. So the question is: why?
no subject
The skull probably isn't of earthly origin.
And why? [Amelia scoffs and crosses her arms irately though it isn't because of Henry's question.]
I've dealt with creatures from outer worlds and although there's usually a reason for their patterns and activities among humans... Every now and then you'll have other beings who facilitate purposeless fear.
[And that might be the only point which makes it even more frightening.]
If he has a purpose, he isn't telling. I've tried approaching him directly but he's aware of who and what I am. He always slips away at the sight of me.
...I did throw a baseball at his head the first time so...
no subject
He looks dubiously at her.]
You probably didn't make the best first impression. [Even Henry knows how critical it is to play nice until you absolutely need to drop the facade.] In that case, are you hoping that I'll be less susceptible to his influence?
[Henry's mental defenses are, unsurprisingly, stronger than most's.]
no subject
[sure she had to disrupt the baseball game she was invited to at the park, but the team was very impressed by her arm strength even when they had no idea why she threw the ball]
I was thinking you'd be less susceptible and see what would happen if you took the skull. One of my theories is that it's not really the man doing the aforementioned actions but the skull itself.
no subject
And if he doesn't like me taking the skull? What then? Just what am I allowed to do, and what's off the table?
[Killing is such an easy option. Crushing the skull with his powers, too. But if he has to play by her rules, he wants to know where he stands in regards to violent action.]
Going to assume you'll frown at killing.
no subject
[Amelia flips through her notebook to land on the page where she's made a crude drawing of the skull man and scribbled down some notes.]
The most irritating thing about him is that he's been appearing in moderately crowded areas such as downtown or the park at peak hours. At least with the park we can isolate and deal with it as needed.
[And surprisingly...]
I would like to at least try and see if he can be bargained with or if he'll take blood by force if the drink isn't accepted.
But if he doesn't deviate from that action do what you must. When it comes to these creatures you do not let them push you around.
no subject
But if you think the skull is the main culprit, then maybe the man's innocent. Lost in an illusion, or mentally manipulated.
[But hey. If she's cool with him killing him too if needed... then shrug emoji all around!]
no subject
[He does bring up a good point although Amelia's opinion is that the man is just a shell. Neither Adam or Lien could face match him in their own databases which could mean the shell was an unknown person who was easy to puppet without anyone noticing.]
I'll be close behind you, by the way. You're helping me deal with this upfront but you're also another pair of eyes.
And I will intervene so you won't get hurt. You're not running on full power after all.
no subject
[He could. He's sure he could. But if the result is "yes, this is an innocent man under the influence" but he still tries to harm Henry... Well, he's taking that as full permission to do what's needed to defend himself. His expression, a very mild smile, reflects that.]
Thank you. [He says the phrase plainly, just automatically.] I'm sure I'll be fine, either way. The real trick will be getting straightforward answers out of the man before the situation resorts to violence.
But no way to find out until we try.
[And though this is mostly obligation to help him find a way home, color him... curious.]
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[sometimes she says things so seriously it has to be a joke... But she's kind of serious... ๐ฅฒ]
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