[He remembers the searing heat of flame eating away at every inch of his flesh as those children watched him burn. And he remembers, too, the feeling of buckshot embedding into his chest, again, and again. And then one final time, with such a force that sent him careening through shattered glass, and falling two storeys below.
And the anger, the indignity eating away at him.
He should land on the hard, cold ground of that other dimension, that dark soil mottled with vines. But he falls, and something unseen in the universe imperceptibly shifts, and then-
Wet sand. Warm and soft, beneath the side of his face. His hand. The feeling of water, lapping at his legs, waves rolling in and out... in and out.
Henry's eyes fly open. The flash of disorientation only lends to the furor, and this place is so, so warm. He doesn't even have the bandwidth to realize that his body is very much human, blond strands hanging messily across blue eyes, as he pushes himself up angrily and sees-
Well. What the hell does he see, exactly, along the wide expanse of this beach?]
[Tomorrow has changed into a new day. The windchimes sing softly even though there is no breeze or wind that flows through the house.
Amelia has a rather set schedule. Wake up early, have a quick breakfast, and head to school. And that morning, it appears she rushes through the kitchen and out the back door, not even sparing her strange prisoner a glance.
But about an hour later, she emerges from the hallway and notably wears different clothes compared to the ones she left in. Odd.
Magic hair strands plus paper dolls and the right spell equals extremely convenient doubles. Any events or information that happens to them goes back to the real body. Besides, she needs to assess the current situation. Glancing back and forth, she calls out.]
Mr. Creel. I need you to say it. And I need you to repeat after me.
[A couple of days have passed since the arrival of Henry Creel, esper and perhaps not a human. It's fascinating, really, how acclimated Amelia has become to a second body in the house. She had given Henry space to explore and learn about the town and its general surroundings instead of pushing the matter of getting him back to his world. The witch, upon reflecting on their long conversation, didn't know how he looked at the world around him besides it being a different kind of cage. After being in a laboratory for so long, it's hard to tell how warped one's worldview would be. Blackgale is her home and for her, she loves it very much; she would want a visitor to take a liking to it too.
That's why for today, she'll have him help and grant him, even more, leniency so that the town and its citizens can continue to thrive.
Right now Amelia is in her kitchen with one finger hovering over her house guest's forehead.]
"I promise I will not break your neck, spine, arms, or any other bones. I also promise to not throw objects telekinetically at your head or use you as target practice because you have been a very generous hostess and I would never think to—."
[And so, time passes. The days drag by. And Henry continues to live in a strange world that isn’t his — though that’s certainly nothing new.
He acclimates, still; a slow process when one’s last real lifetime experiences were ripped clean from the 50s, though Henry is at least clever enough to make it a smooth enough process for himself. A slow process. Time spent inside the house, reading, watching television. Time spent outside, sketching nature, finding spiders, wandering the town. Smiling politely and those who try to talk to them, practicing sliding on the peaceable mask that he once—and still does—wears with ease.
Eventually, though, he notices a difference. His powers are returning to their full capacity. Thoughts are so simple to glean. Illusions come to him easily. And memories? He wonders.
It’s late into the night when he decides to test them, after Amelia has already retired for the night. Henry sits on the edge of the bed of his own room, and waits for a few minutes. He can’t be sure if she’s already fallen asleep, or is still attempting to wind down, but in the end… It shouldn’t matter. He closes his eyes and delves into memory.
Maybe she’ll forgive him for it later, but Henry will deal with that when it comes.
He slips into her mind like a shadow. No fanfare, no dramatics.]
[As expected, the next few days are full of silence, solitude, and the occasional echo of whatever music Amelia has on when in proximity to Henry (it's a large variety, not just obnoxious pop, but classical music, hip hop, show tunes, acoustic guitar... it goes on). Her mind is completely guarded and it's only the occasional written note to let him know where she is at a given time.
Her face is impressively stoney and neutral in the meantime. Her students, notice this sudden change at school and assume it's an indication that they ought to behave despite the year being nearly done. At least Ms. Steinbeck is generous with granting study periods where it's basically her free pass to goof off.
Progress on Henry's case will be slow until Berna gets back to her.
And thus, it seems her guest will be resigned to a dull and stale time in this world and this boring town.
Maybe.
Turns out, probably not.
One late evening, the sound of glass shattering on the floor interrupts the icy peace of the house. From the back door wet foot prints dot the floor leading to the kitchen. The fridge is wide open and in front of it, scavenging inside is a tall and slimy... Something. Something blue-grey, with fin like appendages sprouting from it's head. Definitely not human.
Whatever it is, it's helping itself to the witch's food and recently purchased groceries. The cupboards where the cereal and snacks are kept fare no better. Most of it is eaten or spilled on the ground.]
Munch, crunch, munch.
[Yup. Big blue lizard man is raiding the kitchen. It is a very odd sight in the middle of Amelia's pristine and cozy home.]
Day-to-day life remains much the same in Blackgale, the summer weather sunny and bright and… well, sometimes a bit too hot for Henry to spend too much time outdoors. Though maybe that isn’t such a bad thing; in the wake of taking a trip down to the bottom of a lake, it’s hard for the cyclical nature of the days to appeal to him, especially when he’s always struggled with the concept before. What excitement is there to be had in a “normal” day in comparison? Not much, and so he finds himself overwrought with hours, seeking out something to shear away the minutes piece by baleful piece—
It’s not too hot today. He’s out in Amelia’s gardens.
And he has his sketchbook in hand, crouched down beneath the branches of a crepe myrtle that has blossomed a bright pink in the summertime. Henry’s clearly observing something nestled in between the thick stems, at an angle awkward enough to where he has to twist his body just-so to look back and forth between drawing and art subject. Likely a comedic sight for such a lanky, long-limbed man.
He doesn’t look away when footsteps approach, too fixated on the task at hand, sketching away with gestural lines across the bright white paper. But, being psychic and all, he can certainly sense a presence nearing.]
[Berna had gotten back to Amelia via a letter she finds under her pillow one morning. She was almost finished with the project the Emerald Witch had requested a while ago in order to aid her psychic roommate and to expect it by next week. That gives Amelia some relief. She wasn't putting it off on purpose but it does hit her how long Henry Creel has been living with her in Blackgale. When did he last arrive...? Late spring had given way to summer and he was still here under the same roof.
Considering where they started, Amelia supposes that they're actually getting along now. And after she helped fix the one spider in the garden for Henry, something else has changed though she wouldn't have been able to identify it at first.
Every now and then, she checks on the spider she magically repaired. It had moved to her roses, finding a sizeable gap that would camoflage it from birds and other predators. She makes sure to water around it but its shimmering, red-hair web is quite springy and resistant to any residual drops.
She's secretly glad that it's still around, the one spider she now truly likes.
One cool summer evening, Amelia sits at the kitchen counter reviewing her notes in her stuffed notebook. She flips through the pages idly before landing on the spread where she had at some point, written about Henry.]
Known Powers: Telekinesis, telepathy(?), memory diving (need to elaborate, can be done without notice, sound and music can block out)
Conclusion (for now): More than one ESP ability, dangerous, Collective would want to utilize. May ask about more later.
[A few days pass after the memory-sharing session. Amelia is very much the same... And not. While waiting on Berna, she's been fairly relaxed reading so, so many books. But she noticeably makes time in the morning to sketch with Henry. The magicked spider continues to live between the roses.
"Do you think it's gotten bigger?" she muses to Henry during one of those mornings. The spider does look a bit more like a beetle with its iridescent green-gold sheen. Whenever he happens to pass by it, the creature stays still as if expecting to be drawn.
The atmosphere around the witch's house is relaxed and comforting, each new day signaled by the windchimes.
During a weekend, Amelia's considering changing up the day's activities, but before she can tell Henry, the doorbell rings. She answers it and greets...]
Emil! C'mon in. I'm going to need you to take care of some chores today while we're both out.
[It's the golem boy with a sweet face and dark hair. His face is completely repaired since the last time that they saw him, with no crack or visible seam in place. He's looking back and forth, seeking out the psychic.]
"Hello, Miss Steinbeck! Is Mr. Creel awake yet?"
[The boy has a suitcase in hand for one reason or another. Hm.]
[And what does a mental break look like for Miss Amelia Steinbeck?
Inside the church, the Praying Man's posture is much more relaxed and his murmurs are less desperate and strained. He continues his prayers as is, the very picture of spiritual peace that spreads and blankets Ivory Church.
Amelia is laying facedown in the pew in front of him. She raises her finger in the air at Henry.]
One more minute.
[ She is a very powerful, intelligent, and most of all, graceful witch. VERY GRACEFUL.]
[And so the time comes. New clothes, new (hair)cut, new Henry Creel.
...Well, not really a new Henry Creel, but one that has been eased into accepting this outing as something he might look forward to, if only to indulge his curiosity of this town that has become something of a temporary, secondary home. ("Home." What a concept, and one that he, perhaps, has not realized remains bouncing around his head.)
As they approach, assuming there isn't already someone there to do so, he reaches out to hold the door open for her.]
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recluserose) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sunfloras2023-04-20 07:42 pm
it sends you spinning;
And the anger, the indignity eating away at him.
He should land on the hard, cold ground of that other dimension, that dark soil mottled with vines. But he falls, and something unseen in the universe imperceptibly shifts, and then-
Wet sand. Warm and soft, beneath the side of his face. His hand. The feeling of water, lapping at his legs, waves rolling in and out... in and out.
Henry's eyes fly open. The flash of disorientation only lends to the furor, and this place is so, so warm. He doesn't even have the bandwidth to realize that his body is very much human, blond strands hanging messily across blue eyes, as he pushes himself up angrily and sees-
Well. What the hell does he see, exactly, along the wide expanse of this beach?]
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there's no plan;
Amelia has a rather set schedule. Wake up early, have a quick breakfast, and head to school. And that morning, it appears she rushes through the kitchen and out the back door, not even sparing her strange prisoner a glance.
But about an hour later, she emerges from the hallway and notably wears different clothes compared to the ones she left in. Odd.
Magic hair strands plus paper dolls and the right spell equals extremely convenient doubles. Any events or information that happens to them goes back to the real body. Besides, she needs to assess the current situation. Glancing back and forth, she calls out.]
Good morning?
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grin and bear it;
[A couple of days have passed since the arrival of Henry Creel, esper and perhaps not a human. It's fascinating, really, how acclimated Amelia has become to a second body in the house. She had given Henry space to explore and learn about the town and its general surroundings instead of pushing the matter of getting him back to his world. The witch, upon reflecting on their long conversation, didn't know how he looked at the world around him besides it being a different kind of cage. After being in a laboratory for so long, it's hard to tell how warped one's worldview would be. Blackgale is her home and for her, she loves it very much; she would want a visitor to take a liking to it too.
That's why for today, she'll have him help and grant him, even more, leniency so that the town and its citizens can continue to thrive.
Right now Amelia is in her kitchen with one finger hovering over her house guest's forehead.]
"I promise I will not break your neck, spine, arms, or any other bones. I also promise to not throw objects telekinetically at your head or use you as target practice because you have been a very generous hostess and I would never think to—."
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careless in our summer;
He acclimates, still; a slow process when one’s last real lifetime experiences were ripped clean from the 50s, though Henry is at least clever enough to make it a smooth enough process for himself. A slow process. Time spent inside the house, reading, watching television. Time spent outside, sketching nature, finding spiders, wandering the town. Smiling politely and those who try to talk to them, practicing sliding on the peaceable mask that he once—and still does—wears with ease.
Eventually, though, he notices a difference. His powers are returning to their full capacity. Thoughts are so simple to glean. Illusions come to him easily. And memories? He wonders.
It’s late into the night when he decides to test them, after Amelia has already retired for the night. Henry sits on the edge of the bed of his own room, and waits for a few minutes. He can’t be sure if she’s already fallen asleep, or is still attempting to wind down, but in the end… It shouldn’t matter. He closes his eyes and delves into memory.
Maybe she’ll forgive him for it later, but Henry will deal with that when it comes.
He slips into her mind like a shadow. No fanfare, no dramatics.]
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once in a blue moon;
Her face is impressively stoney and neutral in the meantime. Her students, notice this sudden change at school and assume it's an indication that they ought to behave despite the year being nearly done. At least Ms. Steinbeck is generous with granting study periods where it's basically her free pass to goof off.
Progress on Henry's case will be slow until Berna gets back to her.
And thus, it seems her guest will be resigned to a dull and stale time in this world and this boring town.
Maybe.
Turns out, probably not.
One late evening, the sound of glass shattering on the floor interrupts the icy peace of the house. From the back door wet foot prints dot the floor leading to the kitchen. The fridge is wide open and in front of it, scavenging inside is a tall and slimy... Something. Something blue-grey, with fin like appendages sprouting from it's head. Definitely not human.
Whatever it is, it's helping itself to the witch's food and recently purchased groceries. The cupboards where the cereal and snacks are kept fare no better. Most of it is eaten or spilled on the ground.]
Munch, crunch, munch.
[Yup. Big blue lizard man is raiding the kitchen. It is a very odd sight in the middle of Amelia's pristine and cozy home.]
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1/2
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🥺
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📱 text interludes
tried to overcome my complications and my catches;
Day-to-day life remains much the same in Blackgale, the summer weather sunny and bright and… well, sometimes a bit too hot for Henry to spend too much time outdoors. Though maybe that isn’t such a bad thing; in the wake of taking a trip down to the bottom of a lake, it’s hard for the cyclical nature of the days to appeal to him, especially when he’s always struggled with the concept before. What excitement is there to be had in a “normal” day in comparison? Not much, and so he finds himself overwrought with hours, seeking out something to shear away the minutes piece by baleful piece—
It’s not too hot today. He’s out in Amelia’s gardens.
And he has his sketchbook in hand, crouched down beneath the branches of a crepe myrtle that has blossomed a bright pink in the summertime. Henry’s clearly observing something nestled in between the thick stems, at an angle awkward enough to where he has to twist his body just-so to look back and forth between drawing and art subject. Likely a comedic sight for such a lanky, long-limbed man.
He doesn’t look away when footsteps approach, too fixated on the task at hand, sketching away with gestural lines across the bright white paper. But, being psychic and all, he can certainly sense a presence nearing.]
...Busy right now.
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heart in a headlock;
Considering where they started, Amelia supposes that they're actually getting along now. And after she helped fix the one spider in the garden for Henry, something else has changed though she wouldn't have been able to identify it at first.
Every now and then, she checks on the spider she magically repaired. It had moved to her roses, finding a sizeable gap that would camoflage it from birds and other predators. She makes sure to water around it but its shimmering, red-hair web is quite springy and resistant to any residual drops.
She's secretly glad that it's still around, the one spider she now truly likes.
One cool summer evening, Amelia sits at the kitchen counter reviewing her notes in her stuffed notebook. She flips through the pages idly before landing on the spread where she had at some point, written about Henry.]
[Well. Better to ask now than never.]
Hey, Henry? Quick question if you don't mind.
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yeah i'm tagging you peak fate rp drama, what of it
Crawls back in here 💀💀💀
Wraps you up
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when you move, i'm moved;
"Do you think it's gotten bigger?" she muses to Henry during one of those mornings. The spider does look a bit more like a beetle with its iridescent green-gold sheen. Whenever he happens to pass by it, the creature stays still as if expecting to be drawn.
The atmosphere around the witch's house is relaxed and comforting, each new day signaled by the windchimes.
During a weekend, Amelia's considering changing up the day's activities, but before she can tell Henry, the doorbell rings. She answers it and greets...]
Emil! C'mon in. I'm going to need you to take care of some chores today while we're both out.
[It's the golem boy with a sweet face and dark hair. His face is completely repaired since the last time that they saw him, with no crack or visible seam in place. He's looking back and forth, seeking out the psychic.]
[The boy has a suitcase in hand for one reason or another. Hm.]
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not a real tag but i'm keeping it here
the real tagback
bless emil
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within your eyes;
Inside the church, the Praying Man's posture is much more relaxed and his murmurs are less desperate and strained. He continues his prayers as is, the very picture of spiritual peace that spreads and blankets Ivory Church.
Amelia is laying facedown in the pew in front of him. She raises her finger in the air at Henry.]
One more minute.
[ She is a very powerful, intelligent, and most of all, graceful witch. VERY GRACEFUL.]
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what a divine evening;
...Well, not really a new Henry Creel, but one that has been eased into accepting this outing as something he might look forward to, if only to indulge his curiosity of this town that has become something of a temporary, secondary home. ("Home." What a concept, and one that he, perhaps, has not realized remains bouncing around his head.)
As they approach, assuming there isn't already someone there to do so, he reaches out to hold the door open for her.]
Ladies first.
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