[She glances at him when he moves next to her but has no complaints. The fact that they can connect over their similar circumstances is not what Amelia expected to happen when she offered to let Henry into her mind this evening. But perhaps it was inevitable; she had a distinct impression that there was common ground the first time they had a proper conversation. She had dismissed it then, focusing instead on returning this wildcard back to his world.
Now? It's getting harder to push Henry away.
The other half of her face is in multiple pieces so when he drags them out for her, she takes them one by one and sorts them out on the floor next to her feet.]
... The passage of time felt the most cruel to me. I know that slow aging is a benefit; I take it as a blessing now. At the time though, knowing that I was already an adult, but stuck in the body of a child for who knows how long? It compounded the idea that I was never going to progress. I was always going to be stuck here and there was no one else to tell me otherwise.
[Henry's remark makes her smile despite everything.]
Well, I was scared of you... For my students. [Not necessarily for herself.]
[The half of her face, like putting a puzzle back together. Well. He'll watch and let her take care of the rest. It hardly seems his place to help her rearrange things into their proper places.]
I know. But I'm glad it was you who found me. Who knows where I might have ended up otherwise?
[He pauses, then continues.]
This place represents a prison, a trial. A long, long one. But in the end, you did escape it. You were strong enough to leave. I think that's impressive, Amelia. [But, he does wonder...] So your mentor won't ever put you through anything like that again, will he?
[And yet to him, there still seems to be a gap. Between that time period and the Amelia he knows.]
Didn’t that make you angry?
[He would be full of indignant rage. He is, from just his time in the lab, all those years stolen from him. But Amelia is too… well-adjusted, as he said, for that. No such bitterness he senses, roiling beneath. Is another piece of the story missing?]
Before he took me, he made it so that my parents gradually forgot my existence. They lived happily without any other children and were dead by the time I returned. There wasn't anyone else who mattered that remembered me either.
[There is a large gap between the Amelia Henry knows now and the one in this memory. Just how many broken pieces were there of this witch and how many times has she had to pick them up?]
And I was angry Henry. Angry, but battered down, overwhelmed by sudden freedom and anxious over abandonment. All I had was magic but it was never going to be enough to retaliate against the monster who gave it to me and taught me in the first place. But most of all, I was tired. So tired of having to focus all of myself on him and that included that anger.
[Amelia stands up still leaning against the bookshelf.]
... One more memory. And that's all for tonight.
[The sound of a windchime can be heard in the distance.]
[Henry keeps his own anger burning bright. He has a target in which he could easily destroy ten times over before remaking it completely: his own world. But maybe that's yet one more difference between them. He never grew tired, he never resigned himself to his fate, even when he had been trapped for seven years in that raw, hellish dimension. He would find a way back home and to make so many suffer, because it was only ever deserved -- the bad hand he was dealt so many times over in life had to mean something, in the end.
And it's not a fair parallel to draw when Amelia's ire was focused towards a man--a thing--in which she couldn't destroy. But the concept is just so alien to Henry. What is dealing with things in a healthy way? Never heard of her.
He doesn't know what to say to all of it. Not just yet. So he doesn't, rising to his feet instead.]
...All right. One more memory. What do you want to show me?
[When Henry stands up, Amelia takes his hand and starts leading him out the door of the alcove and downstairs to the entrance of the mansion.]
You'll see. It'll be short though.
[Amelia continues to retain her teenage appearance but as they reach the entrance, her clothing has changed from antiquated to modern — a loose green knit sweater and denim shorts. She wears her hair down this time.]
When I was finally able to leave, I ended up settling in Blackgale. For a while, I didn't involve myself in public life. Why would I? But something had to change. I was stagnant.
[He looks down at where their hands are linked as he's lead downstairs. How many times is that now? What a novelty, truly. Though he supposes there's no real reason to keep track. (Right?)]
And you did, obviously. Change, I mean. So what happened?
Someone unexpected came into my life. And for a while it was... I was...
[The witch has trouble finishing her sentence. Her hand is... Trembling? It's trembling in anticipation. Amelia hasn't traversed memories in this way although she will never forget the things that have happened to herself.
At the entrance, she pushes the door open. Instead of the snowy world, they were trapped in, it's the street in the nearby neighborhood that leads to Amelia's house. They're back in Blackgale. Most of the houses look newer, some trees are younger. Amelia herself is also sporting a backpack, heavy with textbooks.
She lets go of Henry's hand.]
This isn't an especially shocking memory or anything. I just happen to treasure it.
[And with that, the memory begins. Amelia, around the age of 50 treks down the sidewalk after a long day at school.]
Yet one more alien notion between them. So distant a concept that he, once more, doesn't know what to do with it, doesn't know what to say, other than to accept the memory as it plays out.
So, Blackgale again. Newer houses, younger trees than he recalls during his strolls through the town. Amelia's touting the student look, now, as the memory falls into place.
So, what's he do to, other than the follow? Henry does just that, quietly, seeing what will happen.]
[They're quickly approaching her home. The outline of it should be familiar to Henry but instead of a beautiful and peaceful front garden, it's overrun by dry grass and overgrown weeds, dandelions, and the walls are covered in vines. There is a severe lack of color with no flowers in sight. The neglect creates a heavy and sad atmosphere, very unlike the home that Amelia currently has, where her magic and mystery will shape it into a place of intrigue and comfort.
Memory-Amelia pushes the front gate open with her foot and walks up to the front door before pausing and frowning. The sound of digging can be heard faintly around the corner of the house. The young (looking) girl frowns and circles back to the source of the noise.]
Briar? What are you doing back here?
[The mysterious existence looks up at Amelia with clear eyes, blinking in confusion before lighting up with a smile.]
"Oh! Hi Amelia. Welcome home!"
["Briar" has a beautiful and youthful smile. His hair was long and tied back into a ponytail and though its hue could be read as blonde, there was a yellow-green shine in the sunlight, not unlike a spring leaf. Though he looked human, his presence was very "other" even in the witch's memories.
That mysteriousness is probably moot since the knees of his trousers are covered in grass stains and his hands and nails are caked with dirt. There's even a streak of dirt on his cheek, though it doesn't mar his looks He has a small shovel in his hand and a bunch of weeds in the other.
Memory-Amelia looks down at him irately.]
... Are you trying to weed the garden? [Briar nods, beaming.]
"Yeah! And... Oh! You have a friend with you!"
[He notices Henry of course and instead of caution or rightful suspicion about a strange lanky man following Amelia home... He waves at Henry.]
"Hello! You're the first visitor we've had in a while! Sorry, the garden isn't ready."
[No, this is definitely not the same house with love and care put into its appearance. Henry may recognize its shape, the immutable lines of a home's bones, but the lack of flowers is jarring. Any sense of it being a place of comfort is drained away; or perhaps has yet to exist.
Still, he follows. And when they find Briar, it isn't a stretch to put two and two together. This is the person she mentioned. Someone whose happy effusiveness isn't enough to banish the equal feeling of "otherness" from them.
Henry grins his usual grin.]
Hello. There's no need to apologize; I dropped in unexpectedly.
[Sort of.]
My name's Henry. [...] What are you trying to grow?
[Overly trusting? Maybe. Friendly to all? Absolutely. Briar waves the clump of weeds as he tells Henry of his plans.]
"Flowers! Lots and lots of them! Maybe roses like the ones at the park. Oh, or California poppies! I also think cosmo flowers would be great too. I read all about them in the gardening magazine the neighbor gave me."
[Or lack thereof rather. The boy looks expectantly at Amelia who's been stewing the entire time.]
"Do you wanna weed the garden with me, Amelia? You were looking at the flowers from the grocery store the other day so..."
[He looks shy, but hopeful while the witch just looks uncomfortable at the request.]
"... I thought you'd want your own to look at!"
... I have homework.
[Amelia marches back into the house and shuts the door loudly behind her. Briar... Looks dejected. Poor boy. He looks at Henry again.]
"Maybe I shouldn't have asked her right when she got home from school."
[Ah. Well. That's an interesting exchange, one that would cause a man a little kinder than Henry to feel some secondhand embarrassment and/or pity for the strange green-haired young man.
Still, he gives a shrug of his shoulders, offering at least a rueful half-smile.]
She seems like the type that has a lot on her mind all the time, so she may need some time to decompress.
...But I bet she'll come around. Who doesn't like flowers?
…I suppose you could, but do you think that’s such a good idea? Maybe it’s more suited to a two-day job. Who wants to be out here working in the middle of the night when you could be resting, anyway?
[His expression deflates... But then it picks up again and Briar drops to his knees again to chip away at the weeds with a mini-rake. He's determined if nothing else.]
"I'll keep at it until the sun goes down then."
[Through the living room window, Amelia can be seen watching Briar laboring away. She disappears from view while he continues conversing with Henry.]
"Do you like flowers, Henry? What else do you think we should plant?"
[This Briar sounds and acts rather simple so far but his presence feels strange and enchanted even in this memory. Early on, Amelia had no idea what to make of him when he emerged so suddenly, becoming part of her life. In the present, Briar isn't there anymore.
These memories of him are one of the few things she has left.]
[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.]
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sunfloras2023-04-20 07:42 pm
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Now? It's getting harder to push Henry away.
The other half of her face is in multiple pieces so when he drags them out for her, she takes them one by one and sorts them out on the floor next to her feet.]
... The passage of time felt the most cruel to me. I know that slow aging is a benefit; I take it as a blessing now. At the time though, knowing that I was already an adult, but stuck in the body of a child for who knows how long? It compounded the idea that I was never going to progress. I was always going to be stuck here and there was no one else to tell me otherwise.
[Henry's remark makes her smile despite everything.]
Well, I was scared of you... For my students. [Not necessarily for herself.]
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I know. But I'm glad it was you who found me. Who knows where I might have ended up otherwise?
[He pauses, then continues.]
This place represents a prison, a trial. A long, long one. But in the end, you did escape it. You were strong enough to leave. I think that's impressive, Amelia. [But, he does wonder...] So your mentor won't ever put you through anything like that again, will he?
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I... I didn't escape Henry.
[Her face is completed and the broken half is pushed back in. The whole of her expression is tired and resigned.]
I hit a wall ten years later and he just... He let me go back.
But there was nothing left to return to.
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Everything and everyone was… gone?
[And yet to him, there still seems to be a gap. Between that time period and the Amelia he knows.]
Didn’t that make you angry?
[He would be full of indignant rage. He is, from just his time in the lab, all those years stolen from him. But Amelia is too… well-adjusted, as he said, for that. No such bitterness he senses, roiling beneath. Is another piece of the story missing?]
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[There is a large gap between the Amelia Henry knows now and the one in this memory. Just how many broken pieces were there of this witch and how many times has she had to pick them up?]
And I was angry Henry. Angry, but battered down, overwhelmed by sudden freedom and anxious over abandonment. All I had was magic but it was never going to be enough to retaliate against the monster who gave it to me and taught me in the first place. But most of all, I was tired. So tired of having to focus all of myself on him and that included that anger.
[Amelia stands up still leaning against the bookshelf.]
... One more memory. And that's all for tonight.
[The sound of a windchime can be heard in the distance.]
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And it's not a fair parallel to draw when Amelia's ire was focused towards a man--a thing--in which she couldn't destroy. But the concept is just so alien to Henry. What is dealing with things in a healthy way? Never heard of her.
He doesn't know what to say to all of it. Not just yet. So he doesn't, rising to his feet instead.]
...All right. One more memory. What do you want to show me?
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You'll see. It'll be short though.
[Amelia continues to retain her teenage appearance but as they reach the entrance, her clothing has changed from antiquated to modern — a loose green knit sweater and denim shorts. She wears her hair down this time.]
When I was finally able to leave, I ended up settling in Blackgale. For a while, I didn't involve myself in public life. Why would I? But something had to change. I was stagnant.
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And you did, obviously. Change, I mean. So what happened?
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[The witch has trouble finishing her sentence. Her hand is... Trembling? It's trembling in anticipation. Amelia hasn't traversed memories in this way although she will never forget the things that have happened to herself.
At the entrance, she pushes the door open. Instead of the snowy world, they were trapped in, it's the street in the nearby neighborhood that leads to Amelia's house. They're back in Blackgale. Most of the houses look newer, some trees are younger. Amelia herself is also sporting a backpack, heavy with textbooks.
She lets go of Henry's hand.]
This isn't an especially shocking memory or anything. I just happen to treasure it.
[And with that, the memory begins. Amelia, around the age of 50 treks down the sidewalk after a long day at school.]
no subject
Yet one more alien notion between them. So distant a concept that he, once more, doesn't know what to do with it, doesn't know what to say, other than to accept the memory as it plays out.
So, Blackgale again. Newer houses, younger trees than he recalls during his strolls through the town. Amelia's touting the student look, now, as the memory falls into place.
So, what's he do to, other than the follow? Henry does just that, quietly, seeing what will happen.]
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Memory-Amelia pushes the front gate open with her foot and walks up to the front door before pausing and frowning. The sound of digging can be heard faintly around the corner of the house. The young (looking) girl frowns and circles back to the source of the noise.]
Briar? What are you doing back here?
[The mysterious existence looks up at Amelia with clear eyes, blinking in confusion before lighting up with a smile.]
["Briar" has a beautiful and youthful smile. His hair was long and tied back into a ponytail and though its hue could be read as blonde, there was a yellow-green shine in the sunlight, not unlike a spring leaf. Though he looked human, his presence was very "other" even in the witch's memories.
That mysteriousness is probably moot since the knees of his trousers are covered in grass stains and his hands and nails are caked with dirt. There's even a streak of dirt on his cheek, though it doesn't mar his looks He has a small shovel in his hand and a bunch of weeds in the other.
Memory-Amelia looks down at him irately.]
... Are you trying to weed the garden? [Briar nods, beaming.]
[He notices Henry of course and instead of caution or rightful suspicion about a strange lanky man following Amelia home... He waves at Henry.]
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Still, he follows. And when they find Briar, it isn't a stretch to put two and two together. This is the person she mentioned. Someone whose happy effusiveness isn't enough to banish the equal feeling of "otherness" from them.
Henry grins his usual grin.]
Hello. There's no need to apologize; I dropped in unexpectedly.
[Sort of.]
My name's Henry. [...] What are you trying to grow?
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[Overly trusting? Maybe. Friendly to all? Absolutely. Briar waves the clump of weeds as he tells Henry of his plans.]
[Or lack thereof rather. The boy looks expectantly at Amelia who's been stewing the entire time.]
[He looks shy, but hopeful while the witch just looks uncomfortable at the request.]
... I have homework.
[Amelia marches back into the house and shuts the door loudly behind her. Briar... Looks dejected. Poor boy. He looks at Henry again.]
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Still, he gives a shrug of his shoulders, offering at least a rueful half-smile.]
She seems like the type that has a lot on her mind all the time, so she may need some time to decompress.
...But I bet she'll come around. Who doesn't like flowers?
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[The boy looks around the front garden and gosh, there's a lot to do.]
[honey no]
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…I suppose you could, but do you think that’s such a good idea? Maybe it’s more suited to a two-day job. Who wants to be out here working in the middle of the night when you could be resting, anyway?
[Does he need that? Rest?]
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[His expression deflates... But then it picks up again and Briar drops to his knees again to chip away at the weeds with a mini-rake. He's determined if nothing else.]
[Through the living room window, Amelia can be seen watching Briar laboring away. She disappears from view while he continues conversing with Henry.]
[This Briar sounds and acts rather simple so far but his presence feels strange and enchanted even in this memory. Early on, Amelia had no idea what to make of him when he emerged so suddenly, becoming part of her life. In the present, Briar isn't there anymore.
These memories of him are one of the few things she has left.]
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.]
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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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