[No, he seems like an anomaly, even in memory. But Henry finds it easy to put up a friendly front, and as always, his smile is warm.]
No, she isn't.
[His eyes track over to little Amy and her book, which hides her face in an almost comedically obvious way. Yes, they're being noticed; or at least, this man is. Henry is less a participant and more an observer unless he decides to change this on his own accord. Right now? He's choosing not to fiddle with old memories, letting them play out as they should.
[He makes grand animated gestures with his arms and hands as he rambles away.]
Now humans have always been around long before I decided to claim this as home. Fascinating, absolutely fascinating creatures! They make for a fantastic point of reference.
[References for what? He doesn't elaborate.]
You'd think they'd be incredibly dull, something to swipe away before they burn each other alive— Which, by the way, I won't let that happen, I would like to keep this around for as long as possible— but you see, as long as you sprinkle a bit of this, a bit of that, they'll take it away and run with it!
[He's so... Gleeful. If the light was able to pass through his eyes, they'd be shining with that of an enthusiast who is able to give a passionate spiel on their treasured topic.]
And all I have to do is sit back and watch. It's great fun, you see.
[Is it just Amelia's perception that shapes how this man is acting? Perhaps. But he had always been like this.]
Lately though, I feel the urge to take on a new creative endeavor.
[He wonders. Memories change depending upon who's doing the remembering. Either this man has a love for dramatic gesticulating, or Amelia just remembers him this way, in an almost unflattering manner.
Maybe it's both?
His brows pinch a little.]
Sorry, you'll have back up a little for me. You're not human...?
[Henry interrupts immediately, smiling. :) He can be rude, too.]
There's a difference between implying you're not human and actually expounding on that idea. No, you're just telling me what you think about humans in general, not what you are. I'm curious. Your... enthusiasm will make more sense if you explain.
[The man strokes his chin feigning deep contemplation. Amy's green eyes peek over the top of her book still staring at him, trying to figure out why she's the only one who can see him and none of the other park visitors or her parents can as people pass him and Henry by, not even looking at his gaudy appearance.]
Unfortunately, I don't have a "what" for you, young man! Will a "who" suffice instead? The "what" has always been, "not human." I don't even have a, "what" for myself if I were to be completely honest!
[Hopefully, Henry is starting to get a small inkling of why Amelia gets in a bad mood because of this figure...]
[That would be a trashfire of a thread and clearly it should happen someday.
But for now... Yes. This man's personality, contrasted with Amelia's? He can see where the frustration would churn and roil. This has to be the person she was talking about; or rather, refused to talk about during the incident with the skull.
Interesting.]
Fine. Then not "what." [Whatever. Henry can't quite say "what" he is, either, not anymore. Perhaps a better question would simply be to get a feel of this man's intentions, his abilities. He makes them sound not insubstantial, and contrasted with the memory from the skull? This is a not-man with a long, long reach.
There is something sudden in how the sunlight shifts in a different direction, the tension in the air tightening as if two invisible fingers just pinched and pulled an unseen string. The world in her memory tilts although she would have never been able to explain how it felt. The little girl stands up hugging her book and looks back and forth trying to parse the imperceptible change.]
I do love curious souls.
[The air is charged with energy and as it glides over Henry, Amy, and the other visitors, colors in the environment jump around; black and white like a television screen, red flowers become impossibly violet, and then back, clouds suddenly dot the perfectly blue sky crawling through it like eerie bugs instead of a natural force.
Amy is looking at the ground and white roses bloom in a circle around her. Her eyes widen and she kneels down again to examine the blossoms, enchanted by the sheer magic. When everything around them settles back to the way it was, only the roses remain as evidence of any tampering.
The man is turning his attention back to her. His smile never leaves his face and with no scruples and no hesitation, he starts towards her leaving Henry behind, long hair trailing behind him.
[The world shifts and changes. The colors dart around, everything is eerie and off, and Henry knows that this man is the source of it. Reality warping on a whim. This is the kind of power that Henry has over someone's mind; but this "Witch King"--or so he declares, as he begins to walk off--can simply apply this same kind of manipulation to the world?
He thinks about what the redheaded entity had said earlier. That he's claimed this world as his. That humans are so very interesting to him.
Henry's lips quirk, humorlessly, despite the usual curve of politeness it often imitates. At least the vista's back to normal now, minus the flowers that Amy's been left with.]
She's just a plaything to you, isn't she.
[But it's just a murmur. He doesn't expect a reply, not when the other has already walked off. But Henry will follow, just to see what happens now.]
[And so the scene plays out before Henry, the turning point in Amelia Steinbeck's life.
When the Witch King walks up to the child, she's already standing up, hugging her book for comfort as she stares cautiously at him. When he stops in front of her, Amy is ready with her demanding questions.]
How did you do that?
"Oh? So you noticed, didn't you? Very good."
I noticed but no one else did. That means you wanted me to see you show off!
[Smart girl. Not smart enough for what happens next. Chuckling, the Witch King squats down to her level, and his crimson hair drapes across his shoulders and back.]
"It's just a little magic. Nothing more, nothing less."
Magic...? Oh... [Although her brow wrinkles, Amy is quick to accept his words at face value. She just saw her world move around after all and the roses were still there. The stranger seems charmed by her reactions but his placid smile could mean anything at this point. He plucks one white rose out of the ground and holds it out to her.]
"Would you like to learn?"
Learn what?
"Some magic of course. You can do everything I just did if you really wanted."
[The white turns to golden yellow with pink-edged petals. Amy gasps and nearly drops her book.]
"I'll ask you again and properly this time." [He places the changed rose in her hair. One rose turns into two and then three and to her delight, her hair becomes decorated with them and she laughs at the ticklish sensation.]
"Do you want to become a witch?"
[It's such an innocent but loaded offer. How could anyone resist, much less her, a child who was already beginning to be bored by her everyday mundane life? Amelia spins around, her book forgotten and as the Witch King patiently awaits her answer, she spots Henry and points to her crown of flowers excitedly.
Would you look at this? Isn't this amazing? Isn't this wonderful?
Her emerald green eyes are so bright and overwhelmed by this discovery, handed to her directly on a golden platter.]
[As he watches this transpire, all he can think to himself is this: Not only does he think she's a plaything, but an easily manipulated one. And when Amy smiles at him, pointing to the crown of flowers adorning her head, all he can do is tilt his head and smile back encouragingly. This has already happened; there's no changing the past.
(And who is he to criticize, who is he to feel indignant at her upcoming plight? The shudder at the sea change in her life that he's viewing now? Henry considers his own motives to be less flippant and more necessary than this man's, but he can see himself doing much the same. It's easy to appeal to a child's sense of wonder; he learned that long, long ago back in the lab.)]
You look very pretty.
[Is all he has to offer her. Isn't it wonderful?
Of course. All things gilded in gold are pretty on the surface, even if they rust in the middle. What did she trade for magic? This life? Her family?
[Before she can say thank you to Henry, the Witch King's voice gets her attention again.]
"Well?"
[The girl pauses looking unsure once again.]
I... I want to learn magic. But I still have to go to school... [Surprisingly there's no protest on his part.]
"True! School is essential. There's plenty of time after school. Ah, but I should think you'll have to make more time for it as you grow older. No need to double up in the future."
[That should have been her first clue. But she lights up instead.]
So you'll be my teacher? You'll teach me all the magic and how to be a witch? [The Witch King stands up, smiling down at her pleasantly. Even then, his dark eyes intimidated her and his friendly smile balanced it.]
"Mm. Yes. Yes, you'll become such an interesting witch, my dear. We can start as soon..."
[He's interrupted by her parents calling for Amy. In the distance, they're waving her over to join them for the picnic. They do not see her newly self-appointed teacher.]
"Our lessons begin soon Amelia."
[His statement is punctuated by the sound of... A wind chime?
The Witch King gives Amelia a pat on the head. The girl looks confused now, trying to focus on three things all at once; her parents, her teacher, the wind chimes, her name being called, her parents, teacher, the visitor with blonde hair and blue eyes, what was she doing here again, she needs to go back, her father is calling her, she has to go back...!
The wind chime keeps singing, the sound of metal tubes increasing in its distress. The little girl tries to start off in the direction of her parents and she whispers.]
I wanna go back. I have to go back.
[Removing her flower crown, Amy begins to walk away but the Witch King, this memory version of her teacher that is beginning to twist and distort, has grabbed her by the face, forcing her to look into the darkness of his eyes.]
"You've accepted my offer. You can never go back."
[The child can barely whimper. Her eyes look at Henry, imploring—
And then the wind chimes overwhelm and take over.]
[The entire house is filled with the shrillness of her wind chimes, trying to awaken their witch who has overslept.
And awaken she does with a start. One wind chime had traveled to her bedroom, floating above her face and it tingled as if murmuring with worry. The witch tries to collect herself, steady her heartbeat, and breathe. What time was it? It's a weekend at least but that's the least of her worries.
What just happened in her dreams?
The wind chimes begin to die down leaving behind their soothing murmurs but they won't silence themselves since they also have a guest who needs to wake up.]
[The dream takes a turn. It all twists ominously; and Henry knows that this might be the outside influence of her mind, rather than what happened beat-by-beat, but even this knowledge is just as vital as the rest.
After all, meeting her eyes with his own, there's nothing he can do. He's almost sorry for her. Her life has begun its change at someone else's behest, and no doubt she'll find herself stuck on this path she's agreed upon, when she was too young to agree upon anything. You can never go back.
Trapped, in a way, like he was.
But then the memory slips away, and the chimes ring out.
...He opens his eyes. How long has it been? Henry's still seated at the edge of his bed, and his limbs feel sore from keeping this position for so long. He raises a hand to his nostril, feeling the slightest warm wetness there. A small amount of blood, eking.
A smile cracks across his face. Back to normal, it seems. Still, those windchimes... Are they still singing after he's "awoken"?]
[The clock in his room reads about ten minutes until ten o'clock. Not terribly late for a weekend, but for Amelia it may be. There's a wind chime that also hovers over Henry and when he awakes, it chirps and tingles its greetings and flies away back to the ceiling in the living room.
In the hallway, he can hear the sound of the witch's door creaking open but she doesn't step out. There's a muffled noise, of her slumping down against the wall instead.
All is silent now and an uneasy peace washes over the house.
Amelia is sitting against the wall, running a hand through her hair, trying to compose herself. But her thoughts are jumbled and confused; lingering in that memory of her parents, her father who held her in his arms when he returned, the unconditional love that she held onto for all those years as proof that someone valued her during those dark, dark times.
It was supposed to be a comforting memory but the vividness and clarity of that time was so blinding as a dream. She feels drained. The longing that she thinks she's tamped down comes back as the grief that never really disappeared.]
... Give me five minutes more Only five minutes more... Let me stay...
[Her voice floats down the hallway and stops as she stands up. When she makes it to the kitchen, Amelia takes a deep breath and starts making some coffee. She clears her mind. A new feeling takes over.
There are embers of irritation that are slowly turning into a fire.]
[Welp. He doesn't know if Amelia will be aware of his presence in her head, because all of it could simply be passed off as a dream. The easiest way to go about this is... to admit to nothing, to play dumb, to go about the morning as usual. He looks at the clock; almost ten. Even if it's a weekend, that's late, even for Henry.
So he dresses for the day, makes himself perfectly presentable from head to toe, and emerges from his room (did he hear her voice just a minute ago?) to walk down the corridor. He's guided into the kitchen where he assumes she is, the scent of coffee catching in his nostrils.]
Smells good. But it's a late start to your morning today, isn't it?
[Amelia is busying herself by cutting up some bread for toast. Her thoughts are focused on the task at hand but her words cut to the chase.]
The disabling rune has faded away.
[The serrated knife cuts through the thick crust. There's no follow-up from her, she just waits for Henry to reply as she puts the slices on the tray making no eye contact with him.]
[He stands quietly at the entrance to the kitchen, hands clasped behind his back. He listens to the faint, faint sound of her knife cutting through the bread.]
[She moves to the fridge next to take out the accompaniments; butter, jam, cheese for a more savory option, and sets them on the counter. The oven beeps, and the preheating is completed.]
It was always on a time limit. I neglected to mention it.
[Her voice is even and controlled. It has the air of a matter-of-fact teacher who is bidding her time before getting deeper into the depths of the students' mishaps.]
So last night would have been when it disappeared.
[She neglected to mention it. Oh, he doubts that. He thinks she purposefully did not mention it, maybe to keep him a little "tamer" for as long as possible while she could.]
Oh?
[girl he ain't admitting to shit,]
Really? I guess I do feel a little different today. Like a restraint's been lifted from my mind. [A small shrug.] I should go around town, see if I can pick up on more thoughts than usual.
[The sound of a ceramic mug cracking interrupts Henry. It had been sitting on the counter but broke on its own all of a sudden.
Or rather, someone is barely keeping their temper at bay and her magic that is linked to the house is acting up in tandem with her emotions. She finally turns to look at him directly. Arms crossed, green eyes ablaze, she isn't going to play games.]
Henry Creel. Did you dive into my memories last night without asking permission?
[The crack resonates throughout the kitchen. He glances at the mug, now with a fissure through it. He'd be more surprised if his own powers haven't done similarly more than once, though he supposes it's proof of her mood -- not particularly good. She's cottoned on.
The jig is up. He could deny further, but what's the point, now?
He should feel more guilty about this than he does.]
Well. It was either you or a complete stranger off the street. You interest me more.
[One of the wind chimes rings deeply and ominously, like a warning. Amelia is tapping her finger in the crook of her elbow and she continues to look at Henry unblinkingly. Even more unnerving is the shift in grain and color of her wooden cupboards, the shuddering of her bookshelves in the living room, and the whispers of her wind chimes.
The floor beneath Henry will not feel as solid and sturdy. The magic that the witch emits is palpable; it always has been but she's kept it under wraps until now.
When she speaks up once again, her voice is low and her question direct.]
[Another shift in the air. The way the house groans, the windchimes angry. Oh, she's definitely upset, and her magic is thrumming through the atmosphere, practically cloying.
And yet, somehow, this still feels like a challenge to Henry. Since when has he needed permission? The only time he's had his abilities dampened, or given permission to use them, is in the lab. Restricted, restrained, treated like a thing rather than a person. Amelia's been far more gracious to him, yes, but he was still limited, and now she wants him to ask permission?
It's not like he tore through her mind, twisting up memories to make them worse. He was just an observer.]
No.
[No getting around that. But.]
But I don't like being told what I can and can't do. When I can and can't do it. It's just a little peek behind the curtain, Amelia. I just wanted to see inside; what it looked like without you trying to obscure... any of it.
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sunfloras2023-04-20 07:42 pm
no subject
No, she isn't.
[His eyes track over to little Amy and her book, which hides her face in an almost comedically obvious way. Yes, they're being noticed; or at least, this man is. Henry is less a participant and more an observer unless he decides to change this on his own accord. Right now? He's choosing not to fiddle with old memories, letting them play out as they should.
He turns his attention back to the new face.]
Off me? Sure, if you want.
no subject
[He makes grand animated gestures with his arms and hands as he rambles away.]
Now humans have always been around long before I decided to claim this as home. Fascinating, absolutely fascinating creatures! They make for a fantastic point of reference.
[References for what? He doesn't elaborate.]
You'd think they'd be incredibly dull, something to swipe away before they burn each other alive— Which, by the way, I won't let that happen, I would like to keep this around for as long as possible— but you see, as long as you sprinkle a bit of this, a bit of that, they'll take it away and run with it!
[He's so... Gleeful. If the light was able to pass through his eyes, they'd be shining with that of an enthusiast who is able to give a passionate spiel on their treasured topic.]
And all I have to do is sit back and watch. It's great fun, you see.
[Is it just Amelia's perception that shapes how this man is acting? Perhaps. But he had always been like this.]
Lately though, I feel the urge to take on a new creative endeavor.
no subject
Maybe it's both?
His brows pinch a little.]
Sorry, you'll have back up a little for me. You're not human...?
no subject
[Well, he's honest, or memory him anyway.]
I've confided my very personal thoughts and you couldn't pick that up? I thought I was being very upfront!
[He is, however, condescending in a particularly irritating manner.]
Anyways, as I was saying—
no subject
There's a difference between implying you're not human and actually expounding on that idea. No, you're just telling me what you think about humans in general, not what you are. I'm curious. Your... enthusiasm will make more sense if you explain.
no subject
What, you say? What indeed. Hm.
[The man strokes his chin feigning deep contemplation. Amy's green eyes peek over the top of her book still staring at him, trying to figure out why she's the only one who can see him and none of the other park visitors or her parents can as people pass him and Henry by, not even looking at his gaudy appearance.]
Unfortunately, I don't have a "what" for you, young man! Will a "who" suffice instead? The "what" has always been, "not human." I don't even have a, "what" for myself if I were to be completely honest!
[Hopefully, Henry is starting to get a small inkling of why Amelia gets in a bad mood because of this figure...]
no subject
But for now... Yes. This man's personality, contrasted with Amelia's? He can see where the frustration would churn and roil. This has to be the person she was talking about; or rather, refused to talk about during the incident with the skull.
Interesting.]
Fine. Then not "what." [Whatever. Henry can't quite say "what" he is, either, not anymore. Perhaps a better question would simply be to get a feel of this man's intentions, his abilities. He makes them sound not insubstantial, and contrasted with the memory from the skull? This is a not-man with a long, long reach.
Little Amelia doesn't stand a chance, does she?]
Then who are you?
no subject
And then he smiles.
There is something sudden in how the sunlight shifts in a different direction, the tension in the air tightening as if two invisible fingers just pinched and pulled an unseen string. The world in her memory tilts although she would have never been able to explain how it felt. The little girl stands up hugging her book and looks back and forth trying to parse the imperceptible change.]
I do love curious souls.
[The air is charged with energy and as it glides over Henry, Amy, and the other visitors, colors in the environment jump around; black and white like a television screen, red flowers become impossibly violet, and then back, clouds suddenly dot the perfectly blue sky crawling through it like eerie bugs instead of a natural force.
Amy is looking at the ground and white roses bloom in a circle around her. Her eyes widen and she kneels down again to examine the blossoms, enchanted by the sheer magic. When everything around them settles back to the way it was, only the roses remain as evidence of any tampering.
The man is turning his attention back to her. His smile never leaves his face and with no scruples and no hesitation, he starts towards her leaving Henry behind, long hair trailing behind him.
But he does answer Vecna's question.]
Witch King.
no subject
He thinks about what the redheaded entity had said earlier. That he's claimed this world as his. That humans are so very interesting to him.
Henry's lips quirk, humorlessly, despite the usual curve of politeness it often imitates. At least the vista's back to normal now, minus the flowers that Amy's been left with.]
She's just a plaything to you, isn't she.
[But it's just a murmur. He doesn't expect a reply, not when the other has already walked off. But Henry will follow, just to see what happens now.]
no subject
When the Witch King walks up to the child, she's already standing up, hugging her book for comfort as she stares cautiously at him. When he stops in front of her, Amy is ready with her demanding questions.]
How did you do that?
"Oh? So you noticed, didn't you? Very good."
I noticed but no one else did. That means you wanted me to see you show off!
[Smart girl. Not smart enough for what happens next. Chuckling, the Witch King squats down to her level, and his crimson hair drapes across his shoulders and back.]
"It's just a little magic. Nothing more, nothing less."
Magic...? Oh... [Although her brow wrinkles, Amy is quick to accept his words at face value. She just saw her world move around after all and the roses were still there. The stranger seems charmed by her reactions but his placid smile could mean anything at this point. He plucks one white rose out of the ground and holds it out to her.]
"Would you like to learn?"
Learn what?
"Some magic of course. You can do everything I just did if you really wanted."
[The white turns to golden yellow with pink-edged petals. Amy gasps and nearly drops her book.]
"I'll ask you again and properly this time." [He places the changed rose in her hair. One rose turns into two and then three and to her delight, her hair becomes decorated with them and she laughs at the ticklish sensation.]
"Do you want to become a witch?"
[It's such an innocent but loaded offer. How could anyone resist, much less her, a child who was already beginning to be bored by her everyday mundane life? Amelia spins around, her book forgotten and as the Witch King patiently awaits her answer, she spots Henry and points to her crown of flowers excitedly.
Would you look at this? Isn't this amazing? Isn't this wonderful?
Her emerald green eyes are so bright and overwhelmed by this discovery, handed to her directly on a golden platter.]
no subject
(And who is he to criticize, who is he to feel indignant at her upcoming plight? The shudder at the sea change in her life that he's viewing now? Henry considers his own motives to be less flippant and more necessary than this man's, but he can see himself doing much the same. It's easy to appeal to a child's sense of wonder; he learned that long, long ago back in the lab.)]
You look very pretty.
[Is all he has to offer her. Isn't it wonderful?
Of course. All things gilded in gold are pretty on the surface, even if they rust in the middle. What did she trade for magic? This life? Her family?
Was it not worth it?]
1/2
"Well?"
[The girl pauses looking unsure once again.]
I... I want to learn magic. But I still have to go to school... [Surprisingly there's no protest on his part.]
"True! School is essential. There's plenty of time after school. Ah, but I should think you'll have to make more time for it as you grow older. No need to double up in the future."
[That should have been her first clue. But she lights up instead.]
So you'll be my teacher? You'll teach me all the magic and how to be a witch? [The Witch King stands up, smiling down at her pleasantly. Even then, his dark eyes intimidated her and his friendly smile balanced it.]
"Mm. Yes. Yes, you'll become such an interesting witch, my dear. We can start as soon..."
[He's interrupted by her parents calling for Amy. In the distance, they're waving her over to join them for the picnic. They do not see her newly self-appointed teacher.]
"Our lessons begin soon Amelia."
[His statement is punctuated by the sound of... A wind chime?
The Witch King gives Amelia a pat on the head. The girl looks confused now, trying to focus on three things all at once; her parents, her teacher, the wind chimes, her name being called, her parents, teacher, the visitor with blonde hair and blue eyes, what was she doing here again, she needs to go back, her father is calling her, she has to go back...!
The wind chime keeps singing, the sound of metal tubes increasing in its distress. The little girl tries to start off in the direction of her parents and she whispers.]
I wanna go back. I have to go back.
[Removing her flower crown, Amy begins to walk away but the Witch King, this memory version of her teacher that is beginning to twist and distort, has grabbed her by the face, forcing her to look into the darkness of his eyes.]
"You've accepted my offer. You can never go back."
[The child can barely whimper. Her eyes look at Henry, imploring—
And then the wind chimes overwhelm and take over.]
no subject
And awaken she does with a start. One wind chime had traveled to her bedroom, floating above her face and it tingled as if murmuring with worry. The witch tries to collect herself, steady her heartbeat, and breathe. What time was it? It's a weekend at least but that's the least of her worries.
What just happened in her dreams?
The wind chimes begin to die down leaving behind their soothing murmurs but they won't silence themselves since they also have a guest who needs to wake up.]
no subject
After all, meeting her eyes with his own, there's nothing he can do. He's almost sorry for her. Her life has begun its change at someone else's behest, and no doubt she'll find herself stuck on this path she's agreed upon, when she was too young to agree upon anything. You can never go back.
Trapped, in a way, like he was.
But then the memory slips away, and the chimes ring out.
...He opens his eyes. How long has it been? Henry's still seated at the edge of his bed, and his limbs feel sore from keeping this position for so long. He raises a hand to his nostril, feeling the slightest warm wetness there. A small amount of blood, eking.
A smile cracks across his face. Back to normal, it seems. Still, those windchimes... Are they still singing after he's "awoken"?]
no subject
In the hallway, he can hear the sound of the witch's door creaking open but she doesn't step out. There's a muffled noise, of her slumping down against the wall instead.
All is silent now and an uneasy peace washes over the house.
Amelia is sitting against the wall, running a hand through her hair, trying to compose herself. But her thoughts are jumbled and confused; lingering in that memory of her parents, her father who held her in his arms when he returned, the unconditional love that she held onto for all those years as proof that someone valued her during those dark, dark times.
It was supposed to be a comforting memory but the vividness and clarity of that time was so blinding as a dream. She feels drained. The longing that she thinks she's tamped down comes back as the grief that never really disappeared.]
... Give me five minutes more
Only five minutes more...
Let me stay...
[Her voice floats down the hallway and stops as she stands up. When she makes it to the kitchen, Amelia takes a deep breath and starts making some coffee. She clears her mind. A new feeling takes over.
There are embers of irritation that are slowly turning into a fire.]
no subject
So he dresses for the day, makes himself perfectly presentable from head to toe, and emerges from his room (did he hear her voice just a minute ago?) to walk down the corridor. He's guided into the kitchen where he assumes she is, the scent of coffee catching in his nostrils.]
Smells good. But it's a late start to your morning today, isn't it?
[Hi.]
no subject
The disabling rune has faded away.
[The serrated knife cuts through the thick crust. There's no follow-up from her, she just waits for Henry to reply as she puts the slices on the tray making no eye contact with him.]
no subject
Straight to it, then.]
It has. How'd you guess?
[He stands quietly at the entrance to the kitchen, hands clasped behind his back. He listens to the faint, faint sound of her knife cutting through the bread.]
no subject
It was always on a time limit. I neglected to mention it.
[Her voice is even and controlled. It has the air of a matter-of-fact teacher who is bidding her time before getting deeper into the depths of the students' mishaps.]
So last night would have been when it disappeared.
no subject
Oh?
[girl he ain't admitting to shit,]
Really? I guess I do feel a little different today. Like a restraint's been lifted from my mind. [A small shrug.] I should go around town, see if I can pick up on more thoughts than usual.
no subject
Or rather, someone is barely keeping their temper at bay and her magic that is linked to the house is acting up in tandem with her emotions. She finally turns to look at him directly. Arms crossed, green eyes ablaze, she isn't going to play games.]
Henry Creel. Did you dive into my memories last night without asking permission?
no subject
The jig is up. He could deny further, but what's the point, now?
He should feel more guilty about this than he does.]
Well. It was either you or a complete stranger off the street. You interest me more.
no subject
The floor beneath Henry will not feel as solid and sturdy. The magic that the witch emits is palpable; it always has been but she's kept it under wraps until now.
When she speaks up once again, her voice is low and her question direct.]
Did I give you permission? Yes or no?
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And yet, somehow, this still feels like a challenge to Henry. Since when has he needed permission? The only time he's had his abilities dampened, or given permission to use them, is in the lab. Restricted, restrained, treated like a thing rather than a person. Amelia's been far more gracious to him, yes, but he was still limited, and now she wants him to ask permission?
It's not like he tore through her mind, twisting up memories to make them worse. He was just an observer.]
No.
[No getting around that. But.]
But I don't like being told what I can and can't do. When I can and can't do it. It's just a little peek behind the curtain, Amelia. I just wanted to see inside; what it looked like without you trying to obscure... any of it.
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Are you serious?]
Are you serious?
[oh and she asks that aloud, how consistent
Amelia starts pacing back and forth throwing her arms in the air.]
The hell kind of reasoning is that?! Telepaths, I swear to god...!
[not her first rodeo as already established, though the memory diving is definitely new and uncomfortable territory]
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