Well, it's less a wipe and more of suppression. You have to be a very powerful psychic to be able to take something away.
[She readjusts her glasses and turns to him fully.]
So you aren't totally wrong. If it was a faulty job, just the sight of you would have been a trigger to open the floodgates.
[As for his comment about her being "popular..."]
I won't go so far as to say that I'm a great teacher. I've much to learn when it comes to connecting and instructing each changing generation. But... It's nice. Being able to take part in a young person's life in a small way.
Good to know. Maybe someday I'll expand my own toolset.
[He says it like it's a joke, but it's very hard to tell with Henry and that smile of his. His psionic forte revolves around memories, pulling out the worst ones and making people relive them; but could he do the reverse if he tried, and erase them completely from the mind? He wonders. He's never had a reason to.
But that's a thought for later, maybe. Henry listens to her sentiment about being a teacher, quiet.]
Is it your hope that a part of you will remain with them, well into adulthood?
[Amelia could have mentioned offhandedly that memory suppression or erasure is a highly coveted skill within the esper commune but it's his latter question that makes her look contemplative.
It doesn't take much reflecting for her to nod in confirmation.]
I haven't thought of it that way in a while, but yes.
[She gestures to Henry so that they can start walking down a path that goes further into the park.]
When I was relatively younger I didn't know how to deal with people.
[There were reasons, of course, none of which she had any control over.]
Although, I suppose even as a child, I was considered introverted.
[He follows, walking alongside her, sketchbook still tucked beneath his arm.]
So was I.
[On both counts. Didn't know how to deal with people, introverted. In a way, not much has changed; he just wears a mask of politeness and personability better.]
There's nothing wrong with that. People generally aren't worth dealing with.
[Being a teacher can be very unforgiving, especially with the decks stacked so high against them constantly.]
But there are other days when I can't help but see the lives of the people around me as stories, each moment a blank page. And then sometimes I meet someone who has a full story that I would have never guessed without getting to know them.
[He sounds more surprised than offended. He cannot think that he's anything more than blank pages to her, especially when he's been keeping parts of his story under lock and key for now.]
Well, I don't know much apart from what you disclosed. From what you've told me, the pain of those experiences has probably cut you deeply to the core.
[It isn't difficult to realize the implications of being taken to a lab for his powers as a child and growing up into adulthood.
She's uncertain if any of what she's doing for Henry, in light of what she knows, is a good idea but her instincts as a witch are probably telling her it's a way to balance things out. Or maybe she's just trying to convince herself that.]
But even that aside, if there's anything I know about psychics, it's that they're born into this world with a crushing weight.
[Espers feel so much, they see and hear the thoughts and emotions of their fellow man too early in their lives. Others will relive the past or take on the pain of others, or be subject to future visions they cannot control, including the vision of their own deaths. Unlike witches whose magic helps create the impossible, and whose minds are shaped by arcane and otherworldly knowledge, the abilities of psychics take the whole of themselves in order to brandish their powers.]
A young woman that I work with, an esper, framed it as, being easy to rob yourself of joy.
[There is a long and lengthy pause before Henry bothers to reply. One that runs so long that it's a wonder if he will at all. The pain of those experiences has probably cut you deeply to the core.
She's not wrong about a lot of things. That, probably, is just as accurate as the rest, his time spent in HNL cementing many of his current character traits, good and bad. All the sharp, broken edges in him made even keener in those twenty years.
Just as she's right about psychics being born with a burden that's difficult to carry. How would life had turned out differently for Henry Creel if his powers hadn't manifested when he was twelve, if he could not delve into the minds of others and learn just how hypocritical so many were? How many masks they wore? Maybe his discontent would not have spiraled as it did; maybe he would have been able to carry through life, perhaps not always happy, but with the potential to grow. To meet people who would help him.
But so much of that is too... vulnerable to admit. For a man like him to even be aware of, having to turn that self-awareness inward, and that is not something that Henry is good at. He refuses to be.
And so-]
Really? I think that's strange.
[The way he says it, it sounds like he believes it.]
I've always thought of my powers as an advantage. A gift. The ability to see what people are really like. And maybe that led to others taking advantage of that power, but I'd still not trade it for anything.
[Amelia gives Henry a peculiar look after he replies to her.
The ability to see what people are really like.]
Well then. You wouldn't have advocated for getting your powers back if you disliked them.
[She decides to be casual about it as she usually is when deciding not to delve too deep into another person's words. They're here for something else right now.
As they approach the bridge built over the small pond, she stops and points.]
And there he is. Hiding in plain sight as it were.
[The man with the skull is dressed in a plain collared shirt and trousers and stands idly on the bridge right smack dab in the middle. It made sense— anyone who wanted to cross would have to pass him.]
[Being "put out for a while" doesn't sound very promising, but it probably wouldn't be worse than anything he's had to endure in the lab. :) Henry isn't as hesitant as he should be, but Henry Creel is so very rarely hesitant about anything, these days.
He flashes her one of his usual grins.]
Be be right back, then.
[You know, ideally.
Anyway, he wanders off towards the little bridge over the pond, a casual stride.]
[Amelia keeps her distance, sharp green eyes following Henry as he walks up to the creature...
When he's close enough, the man with the skull turns to face him, blocking the other man from crossing the bridge. The skull remains tucked under his arm by his side. Notably, his eyes are very, very dark, to the point where it looks like no light pierces them. Unlike Emil's obsidian golem eyes which have been designed to let a semblance of life and personality shine through, this creature's personality is less human and more hungry. For what? Who can say, except for suffering?
He doesn't offer just yet, however. He speaks to Henry with a placid tone.]
[He comes to a stop when the man blocks his path, not that he had much of a choice. Henry blinks at them, playing casual, playing innocent. He notices the strange eyes he has, how dark they seem. How there's something off about him in general already, something inhuman.]
Thirsty?
[-he asks, as if he doesn't already know where this is going.
Can Henry use his powers to gently sweep over this creature's mind? Get an idea of just what's really going on here?]
[The thoughts sound like words, almost human, but barely. The voice from the skull and its sloshing sludge contents that have a blue sheen in the light is harsh on the ears.]
[Oh, those thoughts. They would rake against the human mind, but Henry isn’t fully human anymore, despite the body. Is this weird eldritch-to-eldritch communication? How funny.
He’s no fool, though. While his mental defenses are already strong, he bulwarks them just a bit more, in case.
He returns a thought to the skull:]
Stop talking or I’ll shatter you into pieces.
[And then to the man:]
Before I think about drinking to cool me off, can I ask you a question first?
[While Henry holds the attention of the skull creature, Amelia has been casting misdirection charms around the bridge and pond so no stray park visitors can happen upon the supernatural confrontation. The witch glances over at them, too far to really hear what Henry is saying aloud.
She'll wait for now until she sees she has to intervene.
Both man and skull are silent, staring at the psychic for a long moment. The man's mouth opens to speak once again.]
"Why don't you have a drink? See if it agrees with you?"
[The skull vibrates in the man's hand and he holds it up, giving the impression that he's letting the thing glance around the park.]
"None of his children will drink. They know too much. They won't let us learn, they won't learn from us. So we learn from whoever accepts. But they're too weak to learn back.
You don't seem weak. You can drink."
[The skull is held out to Henry once again and the contents drip, down it's sides, black and slick like oil with a blue sheen. There is certainly a pull, stronger than ever trying to compel Henry. He's walking forward now, right up to his face.]
[He wants to remark that there is nothing that resonates in his head like that which would "agree" with him. Entities like this surely only want to overtake, to devour — Henry would know! In a way, he’s the same.
Thankfully, his mental barriers hold, even though he can feel the skull’s influence trying to claw at those steel walls he’s shored up in his mind. Little good that does when the man forcefully invades his space, pushing the awful-looking thing close to him, dripping with that equally awful-looking, oily liquid. It’s not enough to make Henry’s stomach turn—not much is, these days—but he does tilt his head away in distaste.]
No.
[And with that, a telekinetic push, hard, to make the man stagger away from him. He turns his head and smiles again.]
Maybe none of his “children” drink for a reason. How about you give the skull to me, instead, and let me deal with it? Whatever you’re going to accomplish, it’s not going to work now that I’m here.
[Time to see what this man “forcefully” does to make him drink, he supposes. Should be interesting.]
[The man staggers and the oily contents spill to the ground. Snarling, the man takes out a knife. At the same time, the skull opens its mouth and both of them speak at the same time in the guttural inhuman language. ]
[Amelia's voice cuts through its words. The creature lunges for Henry, knife in hand but finds himself bouncing back, immobilized by a circle of emerald green runes that had snaked its way unknowingly around him. Amelia is on the opposite side of the bridge, behind the monster. It turns around with its dark inhuman eyes and the skull shaking wildly in midair.]
[There we go, the barely-there polite facade of the man sliding off the moment Henry forcefully rejects him. He's nearly happy to see it -- the way that knife suddenly gleams in the daylight, and he can only think to himself: That's it?
But before he can make an effort to defend himself psionically, Amelia is prepared. The sharp point of the blade reflects off of shimmering green magic, and Henry actually laughs, light but a little more cruel than usual.
Seems like they've reached the point of no return. He's weirdly pleased that Amelia seems to be a woman who will do what it takes to get this done; just as she said she would.]
Both skull and man?
[He asks first, lightly, and probably a little ominously. But hey, if they don't wanna salvage this weird skull, either-]
[The man is bashing himself against the wards and staggering back every time. The contents of the skull spill some more and it appears to dissolve into smoke when it makes contact with her green magic.]
[Henry doesn't have to take very long at all. Even with his powers not at their full capacity, this part is easy: his focus becomes pointed, fixated on a certain part of the man's body. And then, with a tilt of his neck, the sound of bones snapping -- the man's, his neck cracking loud and hard.]
[The effect is instantaneous. Amelia's brow just makes the slightest furrow at the sickening crack of bone and the sight of the man's neck snapping at an angle. The skull drops and rolls away from the body as it falls, leaning against the erected barrier. The knife clatters on the wooden planks of the bridge.
The body is dead and useless but the skull is rolling back and forth and the oily substance is bubbling. If Henry tries to hone in on its thoughts there are no longer words, just gibberish.]
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sunfloras2023-04-20 07:42 pm
no subject
[She readjusts her glasses and turns to him fully.]
So you aren't totally wrong. If it was a faulty job, just the sight of you would have been a trigger to open the floodgates.
[As for his comment about her being "popular..."]
I won't go so far as to say that I'm a great teacher. I've much to learn when it comes to connecting and instructing each changing generation. But... It's nice. Being able to take part in a young person's life in a small way.
no subject
[He says it like it's a joke, but it's very hard to tell with Henry and that smile of his. His psionic forte revolves around memories, pulling out the worst ones and making people relive them; but could he do the reverse if he tried, and erase them completely from the mind? He wonders. He's never had a reason to.
But that's a thought for later, maybe. Henry listens to her sentiment about being a teacher, quiet.]
Is it your hope that a part of you will remain with them, well into adulthood?
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It doesn't take much reflecting for her to nod in confirmation.]
I haven't thought of it that way in a while, but yes.
[She gestures to Henry so that they can start walking down a path that goes further into the park.]
When I was relatively younger I didn't know how to deal with people.
[There were reasons, of course, none of which she had any control over.]
Although, I suppose even as a child, I was considered introverted.
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So was I.
[On both counts. Didn't know how to deal with people, introverted. In a way, not much has changed; he just wears a mask of politeness and personability better.]
There's nothing wrong with that. People generally aren't worth dealing with.
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[Being a teacher can be very unforgiving, especially with the decks stacked so high against them constantly.]
But there are other days when I can't help but see the lives of the people around me as stories, each moment a blank page. And then sometimes I meet someone who has a full story that I would have never guessed without getting to know them.
Like you.
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[He sounds more surprised than offended. He cannot think that he's anything more than blank pages to her, especially when he's been keeping parts of his story under lock and key for now.]
In what way?
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[It isn't difficult to realize the implications of being taken to a lab for his powers as a child and growing up into adulthood.
She's uncertain if any of what she's doing for Henry, in light of what she knows, is a good idea but her instincts as a witch are probably telling her it's a way to balance things out. Or maybe she's just trying to convince herself that.]
But even that aside, if there's anything I know about psychics, it's that they're born into this world with a crushing weight.
[Espers feel so much, they see and hear the thoughts and emotions of their fellow man too early in their lives. Others will relive the past or take on the pain of others, or be subject to future visions they cannot control, including the vision of their own deaths. Unlike witches whose magic helps create the impossible, and whose minds are shaped by arcane and otherworldly knowledge, the abilities of psychics take the whole of themselves in order to brandish their powers.]
A young woman that I work with, an esper, framed it as, being easy to rob yourself of joy.
no subject
She's not wrong about a lot of things. That, probably, is just as accurate as the rest, his time spent in HNL cementing many of his current character traits, good and bad. All the sharp, broken edges in him made even keener in those twenty years.
Just as she's right about psychics being born with a burden that's difficult to carry. How would life had turned out differently for Henry Creel if his powers hadn't manifested when he was twelve, if he could not delve into the minds of others and learn just how hypocritical so many were? How many masks they wore? Maybe his discontent would not have spiraled as it did; maybe he would have been able to carry through life, perhaps not always happy, but with the potential to grow. To meet people who would help him.
But so much of that is too... vulnerable to admit. For a man like him to even be aware of, having to turn that self-awareness inward, and that is not something that Henry is good at. He refuses to be.
And so-]
Really? I think that's strange.
[The way he says it, it sounds like he believes it.]
I've always thought of my powers as an advantage. A gift. The ability to see what people are really like. And maybe that led to others taking advantage of that power, but I'd still not trade it for anything.
no subject
The ability to see what people are really like.]
Well then. You wouldn't have advocated for getting your powers back if you disliked them.
[She decides to be casual about it as she usually is when deciding not to delve too deep into another person's words. They're here for something else right now.
As they approach the bridge built over the small pond, she stops and points.]
And there he is. Hiding in plain sight as it were.
[The man with the skull is dressed in a plain collared shirt and trousers and stands idly on the bridge right smack dab in the middle. It made sense— anyone who wanted to cross would have to pass him.]
no subject
Of course. And I’d be half as useful to you if I didn’t have my abilities, anyway.
[But back to business. He stops beside her, looking at the man in the distance.]
Waiting for someone to pay the figurative toll. I suppose this is my time to shine?
no subject
If I approach, he'll just disappear. Your chances are better.
And if he does offer you to drink from the skull, try to resist it. Whatever is in that skull will put you out for a while.
[She is aware of a particularly good healer but she can put off using his services for a while.]
Go ahead when you're ready then.
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He flashes her one of his usual grins.]
Be be right back, then.
[You know, ideally.
Anyway, he wanders off towards the little bridge over the pond, a casual stride.]
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When he's close enough, the man with the skull turns to face him, blocking the other man from crossing the bridge. The skull remains tucked under his arm by his side. Notably, his eyes are very, very dark, to the point where it looks like no light pierces them. Unlike Emil's obsidian golem eyes which have been designed to let a semblance of life and personality shine through, this creature's personality is less human and more hungry. For what? Who can say, except for suffering?
He doesn't offer just yet, however. He speaks to Henry with a placid tone.]
"Hello. Are you thirsty?"
no subject
Thirsty?
[-he asks, as if he doesn't already know where this is going.
Can Henry use his powers to gently sweep over this creature's mind? Get an idea of just what's really going on here?]
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[The man tilts his head and makes one gesture with his free arm.]
"It's a beautiful day. The sun shines and you've been walking for so long."
[And then he holds out the skull. There are definitely thoughts but it does not come from the man holding the object. It's coming from the skull.]
ጋዪጎክኡ ጮቹ ረቹፕ ጮቹ ፏዪዐሠ ነዐ ጮልክሃ ፪ዐጋጎቹነ ፪፱ፕ ጎ ርልክክዐፕ ፏዪዐሠ ረቹፕ ጮቹ ፏዪዐሠ ጋዪጎክኡ ጮቹ
[The thoughts sound like words, almost human, but barely. The voice from the skull and its sloshing sludge contents that have a blue sheen in the light is harsh on the ears.]
"Please. Have a drink."
ጋዪጎክኡ ጮቹ ረቹፕ ጮቹ ፏዪዐሠ ነዐ ጮልክሃ ፪ዐጋጎቹነ ፪፱ፕ ጎ ርልክክዐፕ ፏዪዐሠ ረቹፕ ጮቹ ፏዪዐሠ ጋዪጎክኡ ጮቹ
ጋዪጎክኡ ጮቹ ረቹፕ ጮቹ ፏዪዐሠ ነዐ ጮልክሃ ፪ዐጋጎቹነ ፪፱ፕ ጎ ርልክክዐፕ ፏዪዐሠ ረቹፕ ጮቹ ፏዪዐሠ ጋዪጎክኡ ጮቹ
ጋዪጎክኡ ጮቹ ረቹፕ ጮቹ ፏዪዐሠ ነዐ ጮልክሃ ፪ዐጋጎቹነ ፪፱ፕ ጎ ርልክክዐፕ ፏዪዐሠ ረቹፕ ጮቹ ፏዪዐሠ ጋዪጎክኡ ጮቹ
no subject
He’s no fool, though. While his mental defenses are already strong, he bulwarks them just a bit more, in case.
He returns a thought to the skull:]
[And then to the man:]
Before I think about drinking to cool me off, can I ask you a question first?
no subject
"Ask. I will answer."
ቹነየቹዪ? ክዐ ሃዐ፱ ልዪቹ ክዐፕ ⶴቹዪ ርⶴጎረጋ, ሃዐ፱ ልዪቹ ልክ ዐዪየⶴልክ...
no subject
He ignores it once the voice fades.]
Why is that skull of yours so noisy?
no subject
She'll wait for now until she sees she has to intervene.
Both man and skull are silent, staring at the psychic for a long moment. The man's mouth opens to speak once again.]
"Why don't you have a drink? See if it agrees with you?"
[The skull vibrates in the man's hand and he holds it up, giving the impression that he's letting the thing glance around the park.]
"None of his children will drink. They know too much. They won't let us learn, they won't learn from us. So we learn from whoever accepts. But they're too weak to learn back.
You don't seem weak. You can drink."
[The skull is held out to Henry once again and the contents drip, down it's sides, black and slick like oil with a blue sheen. There is certainly a pull, stronger than ever trying to compel Henry. He's walking forward now, right up to his face.]
"DRINK."
ጋዪጎክኡ ጮቹ ረቹፕ ጮቹ ጎክ ረቹፕ ጮቹ ፕልኡቹ ዪዐዐፕ ጎ'ህቹ ነዐ ጮ፱ርⶴ ፕዐ ፏጎህቹ
no subject
Thankfully, his mental barriers hold, even though he can feel the skull’s influence trying to claw at those steel walls he’s shored up in his mind. Little good that does when the man forcefully invades his space, pushing the awful-looking thing close to him, dripping with that equally awful-looking, oily liquid. It’s not enough to make Henry’s stomach turn—not much is, these days—but he does tilt his head away in distaste.]
No.
[And with that, a telekinetic push, hard, to make the man stagger away from him. He turns his head and smiles again.]
Maybe none of his “children” drink for a reason. How about you give the skull to me, instead, and let me deal with it? Whatever you’re going to accomplish, it’s not going to work now that I’m here.
[Time to see what this man “forcefully” does to make him drink, he supposes. Should be interesting.]
no subject
ጎቻ ሃዐ፱ ጋዐ ክዐፕ ጋዪጎክኡ ሠቹ ሠጎረረ ፕልኡቹ, ፪ረዐዐጋ ቻዐዪ ፱ነ, ፪ረዐዐጋ ፕዐ ልጋጋ ፕዐ ዐ፱ዪ ጋዪጎክኡ ቻዐዪ ሠቹ ሠጎረረ ረቹልዪክ ልክጋ ፕልኡቹ—
HENRY!!
[Amelia's voice cuts through its words. The creature lunges for Henry, knife in hand but finds himself bouncing back, immobilized by a circle of emerald green runes that had snaked its way unknowingly around him. Amelia is on the opposite side of the bridge, behind the monster. It turns around with its dark inhuman eyes and the skull shaking wildly in midair.]
ቹጮቹዪልረጋ ሠጎፕርⶴ ሃዐ፱ ቻጎረፕⶴ ሃዐ፱ ልክጋ ሃዐ፱ዪ ቻልፕⶴቹዪ ፕዐሃ ሠጎፕⶴ ፱ነ ፕⶴቹዪቹ ጎነ ጮዐዪቹጮዐዪቹጮዐዪቹጮዐዪቹ ቻጎረፕⶴሃ ቹጮቹዪልረጋ ፱ነጎክፏ ፕⶴጎነ ዐዪየⶴልክ—!!
[The witch stands her ground, coldly glaring at the creature, and crosses her arms.]
I think I've let you slip away one too many times.
[Then she calls to Henry.]
Do what you must. I'll clean up.
[Stone cold. She's a witch who will give no quarter, and give no inch.]
no subject
But before he can make an effort to defend himself psionically, Amelia is prepared. The sharp point of the blade reflects off of shimmering green magic, and Henry actually laughs, light but a little more cruel than usual.
Seems like they've reached the point of no return. He's weirdly pleased that Amelia seems to be a woman who will do what it takes to get this done; just as she said she would.]
Both skull and man?
[He asks first, lightly, and probably a little ominously. But hey, if they don't wanna salvage this weird skull, either-]
no subject
[The man is bashing himself against the wards and staggering back every time. The contents of the skull spill some more and it appears to dissolve into smoke when it makes contact with her green magic.]
But don't take too long.
no subject
[How one might act without the other.]
All right, then.
[Henry doesn't have to take very long at all. Even with his powers not at their full capacity, this part is easy: his focus becomes pointed, fixated on a certain part of the man's body. And then, with a tilt of his neck, the sound of bones snapping -- the man's, his neck cracking loud and hard.]
no subject
The body is dead and useless but the skull is rolling back and forth and the oily substance is bubbling. If Henry tries to hone in on its thoughts there are no longer words, just gibberish.]
𝟑ጎቻ𝟗𝟗𝟗𝟒;ቻረፏል𝟑;፪ልረዪፏረኡቻጮጮጮነ...ሠክፏረልቻኡጋፏቻፏⶴቻⶴፓ—...!!!
[Amelia walks to the bridge and gives Henry a nod of acknowledgement]
Good. It's better this way. Now as for this thing... Is there anything you can sense from it?
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