But Henry does not waste time in navigating through the fog, picking his way towards the sandy beach. The thickness of it does not prove to be an effort until the very last stretch, in which his vision is utterly obscured, and all he can do is hope that he stumbles across a distant figure, or visibility increases once again.
The first happens, naturally. When he finds Sprezzatura, he is practically almost upon her, and he has to stop his gait rather suddenly else he collide.]
[ she's having a moment of soulfully staring (probably) towards the water, through the fog, and this is how you greet her? he speaks, from way too close, and she gasps roughly and jumps, one hand flying to her breast ]
[Henry doesn’t startle at her reaction, though he does throw his hands up in an innocent gesture, relaying that he didn’t mean to catch her off-guard.]
I didn’t see you until you were right there. This fog is too heavy.
[They don’t have to worry about isolation, because it’s not like anyone could see them anyway.]
[It will certainly be interesting, trying to learn and be guided in this fog. Henry glances about, attempting to judge where they are on the beach; he hears the lapping of waves nearby, but beyond that, it's wholly obscured.]
Perfect weather for something to jump out, unnoticed. [Wry.] I think we'll be all right.
[Sometimes you spend seven years in the Upside Down and that is just where your mind goes.]
If you've made it up until now with the only thing surprising you being me, then I don't think there's anything to worry about. Maybe the weather will help us focus, keep away any distractions.
[Is he student #2 today? It seems as though she's keeping herself busy. Henry takes a step back to give her some room, though even at a few feet away, his form is already slightly opaque. Gone white-ish in the fog.]
[ if her brain is not occupied at literally all times she starts to go down crazy rabbit holes of obsession and regret. and neither of those serve her right now, so she's keeping busy. taking a moment to rake her gaze over him, obscured as he is. ]
You already harness some amount of talent. And so, we do not begin with theory and books. I want you to tell me again how you exert these powers.
[He clasps his hands behind his back like a good orderly, awaiting instruction. She may be able to note the pinch of his brows, though.]
I have more than one. [She knows that, by now. Delving into the mind, versus moving objects with it.] But if you mean moving things, then it's as I said before: it's all a matter of focus and knowing how to harness the energy of the mind, focusing it on a single object. In the end, it's all about willpower -- and the endurance to not break concentration.
[ the thumbnail, the claw, is irreparably cracked ]
For me, it is called "Weave". Fine threads of raw magic which blanket my planet. All spells are formed by manipulating this "Weave", and it is my willpower which makes it do what I wish. However, if it is not present, then I cannot cast.
[ is what she would normally say, except this isn't Toril, and the magic yet flows ]
There is more to it than strength of will only, for me. I can know precisely what to do, but if I cannot speak, yet wish to cast spell that requires verbal component, then... poof. Nothing.
[Her explanation is interesting, these restrictions, this source of magic called "Weave". Henry wonders if there was ever more unearthed in Hawkins Lab that he remained oblivious to; if their little scientific machinations ever uncovered something that Sprezzatura would find interesting, but he cannot relay.]
I don't need anything like that. Neither did any of the children who I oversaw at the lab, even if some struggled with their abilities more than others.
[So, it is not as simple as he makes it say. There is practice involved; and pure natural talent.]
I suppose the main obstacle is how easily I tire in this world compared to what I'm used to. The one time I delved into your mind, I had felt so worn once I returned.
[ she arches one of her own right back ] I am not having you move heavy objects. You can already do this. I am going to ask you to manipulate Weave, or whatever suffices for it here, to supplement what you can already do.
Hurm. [ does she like being called "instructor"? signs point hesitantly towards... yes. she likes it. ] I want you to reach for what you cannot see. Weave here—I will still call it "Weave", for simplicity—is different from at home, but I can still touch.
[ exhaling, she closes her eyes and begins to move her hands. it looks like she's playing an invisible harp. in this fog, it's difficult to see the moment her motions become more tangible, as though she has found the actual, physical strings instead of merely pantomiming at them, but it's there ]
If you can find it, instead of something physical like vase, then...
[Reaching for the Weave itself. Henry watches quietly, tracking the motions of her hands, and even in the fog, he can spot the minute difference in movement that implies, perhaps, that she has found something. Plucking at an invisible string.]
Then I'll try.
[He has no self-consciousness, as new as a concept this may be, reaching out with his left hand to seek this nebulous force she's described for him. Henry closes his eyes; a part of this still feels as though he's humoring her, but his effort is sincere enough.
He sharpens his focus. Seeks for that weft supposedly in the atmosphere between them, to find if anything catches in his fingers.]
[ releases the thread without drawing from it—observing Henry's attempt is the more salient matter. she draws closer, her eyes on his outstretched fingers. the way he moves his hand when he uses his power—it is nothing like how a wizard plucks at the Weave, and she's not certain he can find it without that finesse.
so she reaches out a hand to try to gentle how he holds his: softening the bend of his elbow and his fingers, if he allows it ]
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Consider finding your way to be lesson one, then.
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But Henry does not waste time in navigating through the fog, picking his way towards the sandy beach. The thickness of it does not prove to be an effort until the very last stretch, in which his vision is utterly obscured, and all he can do is hope that he stumbles across a distant figure, or visibility increases once again.
The first happens, naturally. When he finds Sprezzatura, he is practically almost upon her, and he has to stop his gait rather suddenly else he collide.]
Found you.
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—Mammon! Mister Creel, don't get so close.
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I didn’t see you until you were right there. This fog is too heavy.
[They don’t have to worry about isolation, because it’s not like anyone could see them anyway.]
It’s a miracle I found you at all.
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It has never been like this before. Like standing inside cloud.
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Perfect weather for something to jump out, unnoticed. [Wry.] I think we'll be all right.
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Why is that where your mind goes? Honestly.
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If you've made it up until now with the only thing surprising you being me, then I don't think there's anything to worry about. Maybe the weather will help us focus, keep away any distractions.
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Very well. I have already given some tutelage today; I thought we would start off little stronger with you.
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Start off a little stronger how?
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You already harness some amount of talent. And so, we do not begin with theory and books. I want you to tell me again how you exert these powers.
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I have more than one. [She knows that, by now. Delving into the mind, versus moving objects with it.] But if you mean moving things, then it's as I said before: it's all a matter of focus and knowing how to harness the energy of the mind, focusing it on a single object. In the end, it's all about willpower -- and the endurance to not break concentration.
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So there is nothing you reach out to in order to exert your willpower?
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Reach out to? Like what?
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For me, it is called "Weave". Fine threads of raw magic which blanket my planet. All spells are formed by manipulating this "Weave", and it is my willpower which makes it do what I wish. However, if it is not present, then I cannot cast.
[ is what she would normally say, except this isn't Toril, and the magic yet flows ]
There is more to it than strength of will only, for me. I can know precisely what to do, but if I cannot speak, yet wish to cast spell that requires verbal component, then... poof. Nothing.
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I don't need anything like that. Neither did any of the children who I oversaw at the lab, even if some struggled with their abilities more than others.
[So, it is not as simple as he makes it say. There is practice involved; and pure natural talent.]
I suppose the main obstacle is how easily I tire in this world compared to what I'm used to. The one time I delved into your mind, I had felt so worn once I returned.
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[Lifts a brow.]
But moving heavier objects may have the same effect.
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Still, accedence comes.]
If you think it’s possible. You’ll have to lead me through it.
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I can lead. Otherwise, I haven't yet decided how I might push your potential.
[ or whether she even wants to, but she elects not to share that ]
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I’m listening, Instructor Vaux. Tell me what to do.
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[ exhaling, she closes her eyes and begins to move her hands. it looks like she's playing an invisible harp. in this fog, it's difficult to see the moment her motions become more tangible, as though she has found the actual, physical strings instead of merely pantomiming at them, but it's there ]
If you can find it, instead of something physical like vase, then...
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Then I'll try.
[He has no self-consciousness, as new as a concept this may be, reaching out with his left hand to seek this nebulous force she's described for him. Henry closes his eyes; a part of this still feels as though he's humoring her, but his effort is sincere enough.
He sharpens his focus. Seeks for that weft supposedly in the atmosphere between them, to find if anything catches in his fingers.]
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so she reaches out a hand to try to gentle how he holds his: softening the bend of his elbow and his fingers, if he allows it ]
Do not force.
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