vecna | reverie overflow.

((ooc; from here))

[His brow raises, his smile goes lopsided.]

Am I not welcome in here? You can’t blame me for wanting to know more about—

[Everything, really.]

—this whole situation. The monsters that lurk in our heads. You must be hers. [A simple enough conclusion to make.] Are you dangerous enough to be kept under lock and key?

Depends who you ask. [ most of them you can't! they're all in solitary, forever! she seems to find this extremely amusing... and mildly annoying, too. ] I've been keeping to myself for a bit, you know? Nobody likes it much when I come around. Makes a girl feel lonely.

[ she skirts around him, checking out those laced hands behind his back ]

But you came to me.

[Henry turns his head, glancing at her over his shoulder as she circles around to his back. His hands remain clasped. He considers, just for a moment, the wisdom in keeping his back to her; but let her sniff about like a curious dog, he supposes.]

I was hoping to see what the fuss was all about. Right now, I don’t see much more than a restless soul stalking around in a fire.

Haha, ouch. [ all she's doing is standing juuuust outside of his peripheral, letting her presence do the work. it's heavy and smothering. ] Sometimes I brood.

[Quite heavy. Pressing in from all sides. Cloying, thick.

If she's going to remain out of sight, then Henry will press his gaze forward -- looks upwards towards that grand, vaulted ceilings.]

About being so very lonely?

[ the leaded windows have begun to blow out, tiny pops of glass ]

It's painful, isn't it? Being kept locked away somewhere awful, being treated like a monster. Never even get to see the sun or eat a decent meal. I'm a sensitive girl, me.

[Being kept locked away somewhere awful. Henry's brow knits together, though she cannot see it. He watches the windows crack with little bursts.]

It can be. [He spent much of his life in a prison of sorts. Now he's just in another one, standing within yet one more -- insofar as Ms Vaux's monster would say.]

I have a feeling she's not keen on letting you out. But... [He turns to face her again, a smile on his face once more.] We can talk awhile to pass the time. You're sure you won't share with me your name?

[ are you sure she can't see it? you're in her mind, Henry.

she's too close again, when he turns, and wreathed in smoke and embers. ]

Hmmm. Svetka.

[She likes invading personal space, this one. Well. He can't really judge.]

Svetka. I'm Henry.

[ torture is so much better from up close and personal. call it second nature to stand here. ]

Well. Henry... She's gonna be pissed at you when you get out. You wanna talk to me that bad?

In for a penny.

[He's already here. And besides, surely he can spin this more positively once he's out of her head.]

I'm here to talk for as long as you're willing. And I want to discuss this place -- this burning library.

[ cute. ]

What's so interesting about it?

[Finally, he unclasps his hands and gestures at their surroundings.]

Well, I can’t imagine it’s a very happy memory. What happened?

[ eyebrows up, the picture of innocence. and yet still so clearly not Sprezzatura—so why does she wear her shape? ]

Beats me. Something like... her parents burned it down, or she burned it down, or maybe she just got blamed for it... The whole building pretty much collapsed. [ the room groans, as if threatening to make true that claim ] You know how hard it is to manage that, when the whole place is crawling with magicians?

[Now that’s interesting. That’s a story waiting to be unraveled.

Keenly aware of structure of this place, how it protests against the fire, though.]

I don’t. But I’ll take your word for it.

These are all books on magic, though?

Were!

Were.

Important to her somehow, then. The loss of this place, I mean, or else it wouldn’t be so cemented in her memory. Maybe you wouldn’t have made this your hideaway.

[ ooh, sharp as a tack, this one. he'll be interesting.

with a cheerful scrunch, showing her very, very sharp teeth, ] I like it here. Tortures her.

[Very sharp teeth.]

And what did she do to earn your ire? Or is it all just for fun?

[ really?! she laughs, sheer fucking glee ] Ha ha!

Hey, do you know what an oni is? Ever heard of one?

[A reply like that? That laughter? It may as well have answered his question.

But he plays along. An oni. He has heard of it before somewhere. Read about it, perhaps, in days long past.]

A demon, isn't it? Of Japanese folklore. Giant, evil, murderous.

[ ///// oh, so he does know of her. her smile turns coy, but it's insincere—sly. ]

Aw, do I look giant to you?

Not at all. In fact, I'll point out the obvious -- you look just like Ms Vaux.

[And finally, a departure from his straight-backed stance. He leans forward, challenging her so-called coyness with some skepticism; not that he has to angle himself much, given how close she is.]

Why's that?

[ ah. perfect. she's going to jolt a hand up and grip his chin, almost inexorably, so she can murmur into the air by his ear: ] Because it bothers people. Hope that helps!

Edited (you didn't see that) 2022-07-30 05:53 (UTC)

[It’s the audacity of her grip that does it — the quickness, the force behind it, even if she doesn’t deign to grab tightly. But either way, Henry’s own hand reaches upward, latches onto her wrist. Fingers coiled tight.]

It tells me you’re sadistic for the sake of it. No greater meaning than that?

[Let go.]

[ eyebrows up ]

It's in my nature. Really! I've gotta put the screws to somebody, and I'm not exactly stretching my legs, here.

[ overall, the sense is not of a woman who is worried about that intense manner of reaction. no, she just wants to keep Sprezzatura down for as long as this guy's still in the "room". releasing his chin—one finger at a time. ]

You're saying you wouldn't mind it if I had a better reason?

[As her fingers peel away, so does his own grip, loosening in tandem. At some point, he’ll straighten again as his arm drops back down to his side, his whole demeanor coiling back into a pleasant state.]

I just think if you’re choosing violence, you should at least make it productive.

[(Henry is a hypocrite in many ways. One should take his idealizing with the appropriate grain of salt. He does not possess enough self-awareness, or the want for self-examination, to know otherwise.)]

That said, I can’t blame a girl for wanting freedom. I hate to see anyone caged up. Maybe I can talk to your host about it sometime.

[ but now she knows there's something else underneath that affable smile. she's gonna have fun torturing him. looking forward to it already... ]

For me? Would ya?

[ tiny shards of glass are raining down on them ]

[Oh, he's going to get glass in his hair at this rate. He holds up a forearm to shield his mismatched eyes from the glistening shower.]

Why not, Svetka? Maybe if she understood where you were coming from, she'd have a better chance of letting you out now and again. And it can't be much easier for her, either, keeping you boxed up like this. I bet you make a lot of noise when you want to.

[ the curl of her mouth is answer enough: a hint of menace ]

It almost sounds like you want an evil, murderous oni walking around.

Might help with everyone’s so-called rehabilitation.

[Wry. It would make about as much sense as anything else thus far.

In the end, that’s a non-answer.]

Well. I should leave before Ms Vaux gets too upset. See you around?

[ if you get her out, you're the first one she's going after. ]

Promises, promises. [ she takes a hand through her hair, scoring her scalp and her palm with the glass that has fallen over her. yeah. time to get going, before the lady of the house brings it all down. ] Don't be a stranger. If she doesn't call it quits with you first.

[ this is their FIRST MEETING ]

[THIS IS A NORMAL FIRST MEETING, ISN'T IT

Henry drops his arm, letting shards of glass tumble off of him.]

Don't worry about me. I'll figure something out.

[He's charming when he wants to be.

And like that, Henry severs the connection. Pulling himself out of her head is not nearly as ghost-like as his entry, given all that he's dredged up along the way; he's knotted up memory to bring to the forefront--moved items around in the figurative "room", so to speak--but they will settle back into their proper places. He does not need to linger to put things back where they belong.

But it's quick, at least. Suddenly, he's no longer surrounded by fire, but the breathable air of the motel lobby, seated in a chair across from Sprezzatura, still leaning forward as though he had not moved an inch at all. He blinks once, twice. Straightens, wipes at a warm feeling at his nose. (Bleeding already? How frustrating, this place neutering his powers so.)

Finally flicks his look up towards his companion.]

Hi.

[ Sprezzatura has also not moved so much as a fraction, though her eyes are wide and her jaw set, and hard. it takes every ounce of her focus to hold her exhausted, frayed mind together so Svetka doesn't burst out of her like she did with Reim. then she feels him leave, and she blinks herself back, takes a sharp, shuddery inhale, and instinctively draws a hand back to slap him.

—his nose is bleeding.

instead, hisses, ] Where did you go.

Edited (clarity) 2022-07-30 19:08 (UTC)

[He would've been slapped across the face were it not for his bleeding nose, the latter still eking crimson even after he's wiped it away. But Henry would have accepted it; would have played nice enough to take the sting across his face for his transgression, unasked for as it was.]

I spoke to the friend in your head. The oni... Svetka, wasn't it?

[And now that he's back, solid in reality, he feels as though that one trip into her mind had expended far too much energy, drained and tired. Like he's twelve all over again. His brows cinch.]

She's quite the character.

[ her heart is pounding, just white-hot fury and—fear. stupid. stupid woman. slams her hand down on the arm of the chair instead, clenching it tight. ]

Why did you think you could do this?

[He leans back, hand trailing up to his bleeding nose a second time, keeping it there for now. Obviously, he is not at all surprised by her anger, though he should at least feign some kind of distaste for it.]

I wanted to see what was there -- and I wanted to help.

[This is fifty percent correct.]

It's what I used to do, finding the hurt and trauma in other people's minds and resolving it for them. [Liberal application of the word resolve, but. True enough.] It was hard to see that burning library and turn away from it, and it was hard not to converse with the monster in your head. I understand if you're angry.

Has she hurt you before?

[ he disarms her instantly. this doesn't mean her anger fades; rather, it merely changes shape. he forced his way into the library? he was conversing with her? shoves herself back in her seat, upper lip pulled back in what can only be described as a sneer. ]

My god. Does it matter? [ she reaches into her breast pocket and produces a handkerchief, which she snaps sharply to unfold before holding out to him between finger and thumb ] Surely you are not so stupid as to go poking behind closed doors without asking.

[Even in her flaring, shifting anger, she shows him a kindness. Henry takes the handkerchief and brings it to his nose, stifling the already slowing flow.]

Mm.

[He says, the sight of which (handkerchief pressed to his face) may dull his serious intonation.]

It does matter. She was restless, eager to get out. Something like that can only be a strain on you. So maybe I overstepped boundaries trying to understand her motivations -- I know it's not much of an excuse, but I'll make it up to you later.

[ she either can't help or chooses not to stifle her scoff. oh, and she hopes he feels elucidated. she hopes the oni's motivations were worth the trouble that's going to come of seeking them out. ]

Oh, will you, now. [ pressing a thumb into the hollow above one eye, massaging. she has dark undereye circles, which he may not be surprised by now that he knows what's lurking inside. ] Henry. Mister Creel. Listen to me. You and I? We are never doing this again.

[Oh, Ms Vaux. He could slip in anytime he wanted — he could do so now, if he didn’t think he’d pass out after a round two of rummaging around in memory.

But he just dabs at his nose.]

I didn’t mean this.

[Another willing memory dive. No, he’s not that hopeful.]

[ laughs nervously ]

But I do. How will you make up to me? Hm? Unpry? She knows your face now.

I’m not afraid of confrontation, if that’s what you’re worried about. But I think, with time, she can be more managed.

Oh, do not talk to me about management, Mister Creel. I asked you to stop, and you walked in anyway and riled her up!

I’m not exactly sure what you think I did, other than speak with her. And only briefly.

Fine. I am still upset with you.

And I’m not asking you to be otherwise.

[His nose seems to have stopped its bleeding, so he drops his hand and folds the handkerchief up, as though it were not spotted with blood.]

Like I said. I’ll make it up to you. And I’ll bring this back, too, without my blood on it.

[ one brow arches, but she ultimately decides, nah, she's not going to Prestidigitate it clean, and she's not going to make it easy for him just because he takes a reasonable tone. he can wash it for her, and think about why he has to while he does it. she can only presume he is gearing up to leave her, now that she's riled up and angry with him, but before he goes, she has to make certain of one thing. ]

That was most invasive thing you could have done, Mister Creel. I hope you know that.

[ laughtrack.wav ]

[It absolutely

was not

but he will let her believe that.]

I won’t do it again.

[He stands, requiring a little more effort than usual, but manages without any incident.]

You probably want me out of your hair now. Good luck with the rest of your card.

[ crosses her arms, crosses her legs, and murmurs an acknowledgement. it's not a "no", so it's basically a "yes". ]

Another time, then.

((ooc; from here ))

[His brow scrunches, ever so slightly. He did not mean to cut with that remark; sometimes, he cannot help it.]

I didn't mean it like that.

[He offers the scroll back to her.]

We all have things we regret leaving unfinished.

[ didn't he? she can't tell anymore.

rolls the scroll back into a tube with the practiced ease of someone who's done this a thousand times. back into the overflowing bookshelf it goes]

I am going out of my mind without these things. I need to be engaged! I want to learn, for my power to grow.

[How many instances of magic are in that overstuffed bookshelf of hers? How many dangerous things just waiting to be unraveled...?]

Your options are limited in the prison. But you can try to learn from the others the same way you're trying to learn from me now.

[As much as she can garner from this one experience -- he isn't exactly sure how much she'll pick up, as assured as she was to make this technique her own.]

[ :) ]

Right! Tell me more. What is happening now? What are you doing to manage this?

[Ever eager to learn.]

Physically, you may as well be in a trance. And for me to remain focused, I might as well be, too. Any interruptions in the outside world on my end would sever this outright.

[Better hope nothing sneaks up on them in the canteen! It's probably fine.]

I'm in your head as much as you are in mine, going through memory... Though you did tell me to limit it to the observatory, so I haven't been privy to much.

[ meaning, this is more or less analogous to concentrating on a spell. her brow clears; she conjures her floating peacock quill and starts scribbling this down on a piece of scrap. it's that same unreadable language as her other works ]

And you standing here, is this "real"? If book fell on your foot, would it hurt? Would injury in here affect you out there?

That depends on what you consider “real.” Anything experienced here is valid. Pain, pleasure, all of it.

So for your example: yes, it would hurt. But I wouldn’t have a bruise on my physical body correlating to where you were clumsy enough to have dropped a book on me.

[There can be physical ramifications, of course. Of the murdery sort. But best not to address those when they do not apply.]

[ as if she's pursuing pleasure within her own mindscape when there's magic to be learned. well, that's a pleasure all its own. and it's the one she thrives from.

she does not drop a book on his foot. she DOES come over and squeeze his arm, experimental ]

This is not happening in physical space, but I cannot tell difference. You were right.

[Wow, hey… Henry retracts his arm, surprised at her boldness.]

Of course I’m right. I know how my own abilities work.

Impressed?

I hate to admit, but yes.

That’s high praise, coming from you. I’m glad I managed it somehow.

You are impressive, every last thing you have demonstrated. You are simply so intolerably casual about it.

What would you prefer? For me to brag about it, instead?

That appears to involve moving me about as you please. No.

[ #stillnotoverit ]

[Obviously.]

How long are you going to stay angry about that?

[It’s been like 2 days, Henry.]

Until you make it up to me. Naturally.

Now. Can one cast magic while in this state?

Isn’t that what I’m doing now?

[She can take that as a rhetorical question if she likes.]

You can cast magic in the context of this memory. You can do whatever you like in your own head — but the “real” you out there won’t be doing anything at all. Remember that.

[ so she's truly helpless, at the crux of it. don't think about it don't think about it don't think about it. but her skin cools a little...

finally she casts another look across the room, back towards the ?bed? in the corner, half-hidden.

...

why not. slinks over and crouches down, reaches underneath ]

In that case.

[Completely and utterly helpless. It’s not curse “magic” without siphoning away all control.

He follows, halting just a few steps behind.]

Keeping something hidden?

[Under her? Bed?]

[ grunts and summarily produces a hefty wine bottle. waggles it at him, one eyebrow raised ]

[Oh.

Mirrors her expression.]

Better than the cheap beer.

There are glasses in apothecary cabinet. Should you wish to partake.

[Shrugs and spreads his hands.]

Why not? I’m already here.

[Give him a moment to locate said cabinet and rifle around for two glasses. Clinking noises undoubtedly ensue.]

Top shelf, on left... [ trails off. he'll figure it out. in the meantime, she works the claw of her thumb into the cork and pops it ] If nothing I do in here could convince you to let me out, should you not wish it, then I suppose I ought to do my damnedest to endear, hm?

[ making light of something that absolutely terrifies her? more likely than you think. ]

[Top shelf, left. Henry procures two wine glasses, holding them gently by their stems.]

Hoping to loosen my grip on your mind through ingratiation is a new one.

[He could comfort her by saying that he does not intend to keep her as a prisoner in her own mind. But he doesn't.]

But wine's a good start if that's your plan.

[ why does he have to say it like that? her posture tightens microscopically when he does—these intermittent reminders that she's opened the door and it cannot be closed again. ]

Of course. Wine loosens everything, Mister Creel. And it is very good wine.

Edited 2022-08-21 05:35 (UTC)

[He returns with the glasses glittering in the light, offering one out.]

I trust your tastes over mine, Ms Vaux. Loosen away.

Mammon. How many times have I heard that?

[ it is a generous glass that she pours, once she's stood; the liquid a deep maroon, nearing purple. then she gestures for the other glass, to fill herself up.

sinks onto the edge of the. bed. sliding her one foot out in front to brace her, because she really is just perching there. it is almost completely closed-in and strewn with bits and bobs ]

You may sit, if you like.

[A shame that Henry nearly cannot appreciate the boldness of its color; since when he has he ever had a chance to share a glass of wine? With anyone? But he looks at it like an oddity all the same, his gaze appreciative in a distant way.]

Next to you?

[Glancing at the, ah, bed, it appears as though he may have to scoot and few odds and ends out of the way to make that a reality. If that’s where she meant.]

At desk.

[ that was a quick answer... ]

[It sure was.]

This lack of trust really wounds me, Sprezzatura.

[And yet it is spoken casually as he moves to the nearby desk—after imparting his other glass to her—and scoots out the chair, angling to take a seat facing her.]

[ the only people who sit on this bed are the ones she's taking to bed. accordingly, her brow arches, wordless. this is not that kind of memory. ]

How lucky, then, that it won't transfer to your physical body.

[His intentions aren’t even running close to that, ma’am. Henry seats himself, holding up his glass to inspect it again.]

But my mind might not survive the injury.

[But he just smiles, unbothered.]

What should we drink to?

[ that's why a woman's bed is her own! and that of her many belongings, too, apparently.

raises her glass to him ]

To knowledge.

[ duh. ]

[Do you even sleep on that bed, Sprezzatura?]

To secrets.

[He can raise his glass to that — the more enticing side of knowledge.]

[ when she remembers to sleep... ]

To secrets.

[ and she knocks the glass back, drinking easy but somehow not without her own elegance even so. Henry will find the wine to be strong and sweet, with a slight burning aftertaste]

[He takes a drink, too, and his own gesture is unpracticed but easy. It goes down smoothly at first, though the pleasant sting afterward is unexpected.]

Not bad. [His palate for wine is so unrefined that anything would have been either a plain "good" or "bad".] Do you save this for special occasions only?

[Given that it was hiding under her bed... Probably not, he assumes.]

[ arches her brow ]

I save for when I want it. It is not too terribly expensive.

[Arches his right back, amused.]

You could at least have lied to make me feel a little special.

Is that necessary?

And here I thought you were trying to endear yourself to me.

Oh, please, Mister Creel, I want you so badly to like me; please come drink my most expensive wine with me on my bed... You will never taste better than this bottle of Berduskan Dark.

[He laughs gently at her parodied attempt.]

See? That's not so hard. You can throw names of wines around all day and I wouldn't know the difference.

[ sniffs ] Tragic.

I know. I've been so deprived. But you get to enlighten me, even if it is only in your head.

Then by all means, this is very expensive wine, and you like it very much.

[And he takes another sip.]

Perfectly spoiled. I can't complain.

[ huffs a faint laugh. the idea of spoiling him... well, she did say she would refine his palate. this can be the first of many instances to come.

after a beat, she pushes from the bed and begins to fuss with the gramophone, filling the cramped room with the crackling, soft sound of music ]

[Even as he takes one more slow pull from his wine glass, his eyes track her as she moves to the gramophone, imbuing the air with music.

(Normally, he would not allow that, twisting the memory up to invalidate the very existence of the thing, but this is not a normal visit into someone's head -- nor is he certain the crooning music will present a problem at all.)

The question being: just how much does she enjoy the song playing right now?]

[ her gaze is lowered, watching the record gently spin, wine in hand, hair falling forward over her shoulders. she likes it; that's why she owns it. I wouldn't call it her favourite song, though. a dark, haunting sort of piece. ]

I don't suppose you dance.

["Liking" it is not quite substantial enough for this memory to start ripping at the seams, at least. In fact, he is not exactly sure how music would affect a contented memory at all; he has no experience in the matter.

Not that it matters. Her question has him raising his brows again.]

I can.

[There was not much dancing at Hawkins Lab, and maybe only a middling amount of it in the 50s as a child being humored by those around him. But does he have the knowledge of dancing nestled in his head somewhere, "borrowed" so kindly from someone else? Yes.]

Do you want to?

[ for now, it seems that the music simply... is. it adds to the memory itself—one she is not trying to escape from. shrugs, sipping at her wine... ]

Only wondering. [ she takes a breath, lets it out again ] "What kind of man is Henry Creel...?"

[Hm. Another final take of his wine, setting the glass down on the desk amongst its many papers. Then he stands, one hand gently beckoning her over.]

You brought it up, so dance with me and find out. And tell me what you manage to learn.

[ ooh girl, danger

she dumbly crosses over to him, still holding her glass ]

[Sprezzatura continues to make the best life choices. But it's just a dance -- what's the worst that could happen?

Reaches out to take her glass by the stem first, though, when she nears close enough. Amused-]

You can save the rest of that for after.

[If he manages to take it from her, he'll just place it down on the desk next to his own.]

[ feeling strangely exposed without it; something to occupy her hands and her thoughts that isn't Mammon, why did I bring him here? she ends up crossing her arms in front of her, tucking her tail down the opening of her boot ]

Do you intend for me to need to drink, after?

[Chuckles. Henry is all easy mannerisms and the indication of a shrug.]

No, I hope you won’t think I’m that bad of a dancer.

We will see.

[ after a strange beat, she straightens her posture and assumes—a leading stance? ]

[A leading stance? Well, if that’s her preference, this is not the time in which Henry will try to convince her otherwise.

So, he straightens, as well, except he seems to fall into the stance of following with much more nonchalance. Hand in hers; other hand slipping around her back.

Looks down at her expectantly, waiting for a new measure of music and... for her to get them started.]

[ straightening even more when his hand moves around her back. rather than meet that expectant gaze, she glances aside at their joined hands, assessing. a lich... she is truly insane. ]

Follow my lead.

[ murmured unnecessarily; he clearly does know this. but the song trails out, seaming into a new track, and she begins to pull him around the room. it is so cramped that it leaves very little room to dance, but fortunately, she isn't leading them in anything high-energy or complicated. ]

[His touch is warm today; his fingers are long, slender, and pale, such a stark contrast against the hue of her own skin where they meet. Henry’s grip is neither overly tight nor loose with disinterest, but simply committed to letting her lead as they move about the room to a new song.

It’s hardly a ballroom, there’s barely much clearance to take a full turn around the room, but thankfully this is not a blistering waltz. Just a basic slow dance, in which he is able to follow without issue. Not a single stumble yet.

Tries to catch her look with his own, curious.]

Your impression so far?

[ fuuuuuck but she has a thing about hands ]

[ she takes him to the curve of the telescope window, then turns them back towards the gramophone for another spin. ]

I am wondering how man who claims to have missed so much in life came to familiarity with ballroom dancing.

[Well. His hands are very nice.

Back towards the gramophone they go, its needle sometimes crackling gently in the wax.]

I wouldn't call this ballroom dancing.

[This is what teenagers manage in the gym of their school, dressed up for thematic dances that seem so very droll to him.]

Put me into a competition, and I'd fumble. But I was taught a little when I was younger.

[It's not false; he just never took to it, and it's not where he draws this skill from now. But Alice, she loved spinning about to slow songs, sweeping across the floor with an invisible partner. A silly, silly girl.]

Enough to impress you, I hope?

Edited 2022-08-21 22:45 (UTC)

Let us call it... satisfied.

[ she can't ascribe much better, being a woman weaned on soirees and parties and the many, many, many dances therein. she has real poise, even if their movements now are so simple; for a small woman, she still seems to command the room (though that's namely because Henry is allowing this), and where she oftentimes walks around with a hunch, she's straight-backed and prim now.

after a few more turns, she even dares to move to dip him. just to show off that she can. ]

Coming from you, I’ll take “satisfied”.

[And it’s clear from her own dancing that this is no effort for her. She has poise in the minute movements, the turns, where he does not — something garnered through what must be years of practice. He is led around the room as easily as though he were a shadow, she may as well command the music to her flow.

Henry even makes the mistake of opening his mouth to ply another remark, when it’s cut off—]

How long have you been da—

[—mid-dip, the height difference between them making it a very dynamic move, his blond hair sweeping back and his gaze nearly upside-down to view the observatory at large.

God, she is bold when she wants to be.]

I might need a drink after this.

Edited 2022-08-21 23:35 (UTC)

[ her dark, dark eyes are on him, making sure he doesn't look too displeased. she has her tail around his back to help support him, though her grip is sure and it doesn't appear to strain her much besides the sheer disparity in height meaning she has to hold him quite close.

that is still something of a discomfort ]

It is not that unpleasant.

[He doesn't look displeased at all, though perhaps vaguely caught off-guard, which might be something of a rarity for Henry who has done nothing but try to appear as put-together as humanly possible.

She is quite close, though, which means she should be able to catch his own two-toned gaze, both colors sharply bright.]

Who said anything about unpleasant?

[What an angle to be caught in; and yet he doesn't feel as though he will fall, held up sturdily by her own strength.]

Maybe I just need something to take the edge off the excitement.

[ Mammon, they really are... captivating. it's barely human.

tugs him back upright, after an elongated beat of simply holding him like that. ]

Then, at your leisure. Song is nearly over.

[Tugged right back up, his perfectly coiffed hair is now looking a little windswept (dance swept?), though he pays it no mind. Arches a brow.]

In that case, let me lead until the song's over. One more turn about the room.

[ it's not that nearly over, and she visibly hesitates. ]

I suppose I can allow this.

[ gently moves ... her hand, her pose ]

[Adjusts accordingly, as well— and when the tempo resets itself, it’s Henry’s turn to take the lead.]

I was going to ask — how long have you been dancing?

[Perhaps he lacks the same poise, but he guides them confidently around the small space.]

My lifetime, more or less. Soirees and high tea, remember?

[ she is a little less poised when he's leading; she clearly is not as accustomed to following... or else it's Henry himself that's the cause ]

And did you learn because you enjoyed it, or because it was a necessity?

[Near the desk they go, taking a turn back towards the center of the room. He does not mind leading — though perhaps this is no surprise — but Henry does not seem overtly hasty one way or another.]

For all those soirées.

I would have rather been playing outside, I suspect.

In that case, I hope I’m not continuing the trend of you being forced to dance with people you’d rather avoid.

...no.

[ the most reluctant mutter as he continues to turn her about the room ]

…Good. [He admits, simply, with a small smile, and though he could wheedle even more, Henry chooses not to.

One more turn about the room, nearing the window with the telescope and its grand display of the city, the moon with its tears.

Here, the song swells to a crescendo, which must certainly mean it’s ending — and where she had been bold enough to dip him, he extends his hand that remains clasped against hers, guiding her into a neat little twirl.]

[ oh, she's being twirled. if this were really what it seemed, her skirts would flare out around her legs, but the reality is, she's in her prison uniform, and so is he. the gesture itself still carries through, though; it makes her chest twinge with the strangest feelings of nostalgia and frustration. why is this one of the better dances she's ever had. ]

[They’re hardly dressed for the occasion, are they? Even within a memory, their prison garb reminds them of their situation, but at least the observatory, paired with its gramophone song, is distraction enough to enjoy the final touches of a dance.

The tune plays its last note, and he releases his grip, amused as the momentum of her twirl comes to a stop almost exactly timed with the end of the song.

Gestures at her, eyes approving.]

Perfect.

[ ACTUALLY BLUSHES, and scoffs, waving off the approval as she skulks past him to fetch her wine. ]

It would suffice, yes.

[Turns on his heel to follow her, but not quite as hastily.]

It could have been worse. I could have stepped on your toes.

[Oh, did he embarrass her?]

Yes, and you didn't. [ god this was dumb, she's so dumb. she grabs his glass first, then notices the lack of lipstick mark on the rim and sets it down again. swaps. ] You've done well. I will admit this.

[Reaching over to grab his glass. Definitely the one without the lipstick marks.]

Then why do you seem put out?

[ mumbled into her glass ] I am not put out.

[Okay, then a little more bluntly-]

Embarrassed? I’ll let you spin me next time if it helps.

Quiet, you.

[At least she’s not upset with him because he tried to one-up her! Great twirl or otherwise, he’s pretty sure her dip was more dynamically impressive.

Sips his wine.]

You were still the better dancer.

Ha! Of course. Buttering me up.

[ Sholmes was right. she does hate to take a compliment. ]

Only stating the truth. You have the advantage of practice. And upper body strength, apparently.

[ she brushes her fingers over her own bicep, somewhat self-consciously. tips some more wine into her mouth. ]

Well.

Take the compliment, Sprezzatura.

[She seems allergic to them, truly. Henry swirls what’s left of his wine.]

Was there anything else you wanted to do while we’re in here?

Ms Vaux. [ the correction is automatic, muttered because she doesn't believe he'll adjust anyway, and she follows it quickly with: ] No, nothing.

[ because anything else is not being entertained today, no matter how unexpectedly welcome this sojourn ended up. her heart aches already, missing it anew. ]

[Frustratingly, no, the correction will not stick. But less frustratingly, he is not inclined to keep her stuck in her own mind, and so—]

Then we return to where we were. Are you ready? Close your eyes.

[ is she ready? is she? she takes a short, soft breath but doesn't answer yet, instead passing one final look around her observatory, exactly as she left it. the room smells like wood smoke.

closes her eyes ]

...I suppose there we have it.

We can always come back to it.

[Another dive into memory, if she would have it.]

Some other time. For now, open your eyes.

[And just like that, they will be back. Sitting at the table amid the canteen, junk food still half-eaten before them, Henry with his elbows on the table and a trickle of red eking warmly down his nose. He smiles.]

Still with me?

[ if her lashes are a bit damp when she opens her eyes again... who's going to notice? the plants??? ]

Mm. Still with you...

[ kneejerk reactionary silence at that blood, but then she snaps into rigid motion and leans across the table so she can stem it with her sleeve ]

[Henry will notice. What else would garner his attention more?

But such observations are easily interrupted when she leans forward and catches his blood with the fabric of her sleeve. His brow furrows and he leans back instinctively, leaving red smeared just under his nostril.]

Don’t worry about the blood. It’s normal and more frequent here.

[Brings up a finger to touch that spot, instinctive.]

[ leans back, too; she plops back into her seat, nearly upending her terrible beer. ]

Oh. I... didn't mean...

[ to do that ]

It’s fine.

[He says, distantly. Drops his hand, rubbing blood between forefinger and thumb.]

Just a side effect. You’ll be seeing it often, I’m sure.

How do you feel?

[ queasy, she realizes. queasy and unimaginably melancholic; every atom of her aches for that place in her memory. not this prison. ]

I'm alright.

... thank you for taking me there.

[Just “all right”. Though Henry has never dealt in pleasant memories, he knows the weight they can hold. The long shadows they can cast in a mind.]

You’re welcome. It isn’t so bad, is it? Delving into memory.

[—though he does wonder, a bit belatedly, why he had humored her? Did he uncover anything of particular note, shadows crawling about, secrets hidden in every corner of the room?

...No. They looked out a telescope, discussed a fantastical city, drank wine, and danced to music. Not exactly his MO. Not exactly his aim. Well. Maybe it rebuilt a few planks of that burnt bridge between them.]

Mm.

[ she releases a very soft sigh, running her fingers over the bloodstain on her sleeve.

perhaps, she thinks, this is how it is for elves, who trance and dream of the past, of moments gone before--centuries and lifetimes separating them from things they can never return to again. ]

Did you like it?

[That is a strangely difficult question to answer, simple as it is. Maybe harder to be honest about — they had done little more than mundanities, but at least they had been sincere in her appreciation of them. No playing at false pretenses with her cheap wine and cramped space to dance to. No feigned appreciation for that impossibly large moon hanging in the sky.

Leaning back, considering her, he supposes he can allow a small accedence on his part. Some honesty. There’s no harm in it.]

I did.

[There.]

I liked seeing how you lived, too. What you surrounded yourself with. It speaks volumes for a person.

[ laughs softly, instinctively. she's got his approval, huh ]

Oh, Mammon.

[Quirks his lips at that response.]

What?

I am sure they are colourful volumes indeed.

It showed me that you were passionate about your work. That you practically lived for your studies.

And that you could have used someone to help you straighten up.

[ whaps him under the table with her tail ]

Hush. I had more important things.

[Wow! Thwapped at the knee, Henry scoots his legs further under his chair like it would make a difference.]

Like what? Where did you even sleep -- on the floor?

[ at her desk, usually... ]

I sleep in my bed! Move everything over.

[Uh-huh.]

That kind of mess wouldn’t have been allowed where I was from. That, or I would have been assigned to clean it up.

Oho! You are not coming within ten feet of my bed, sir.

Then make it more presentable for company if you're so protective of your mattress.

[It's not like he has purview over how her memories are already formed, so obviously, this is not a serious request.]

Perhaps you will find utter barren quality of my room in Basilisk more appealing.

Oh, did you want to dance in your actual room next time?

[ she can't take this ] N-Next time!

[suffer] You wouldn’t want to?

You do?

You can’t deflect my question with one of your own.

Did you not just hear me do so?

Ms Vaux, if you don’t want to dance again, just say so. There’s no need to go in circles about it.

Fine! It was fine! I would not mind dancing with you again. Are you happy? Did I say what you were so desperate to hear?

[Not that he particularly needs an ego boost, but he will consider that a victory.]

What you were so desperate not to admit, you mean. But yes.

[ stares at him with those unblinking violet voids of eyes for, like, several moments ] Indulge me, Mister Creel.

[Rests his elbows on the table again.] Hm?

Do you like me? Am I unbearably difficult woman?

[ their interactions vacillate so wildly back and forth that she sincerely can't tell ]

[Oh. Another difficult to answer question. There are so very few people in his lifetime that he’s met that Henry has sincerely liked.

But if one were to turn their assessment towards their past interactions—limited as they are so far—he cannot say he has been more displeased than intrigued. Amused, in his own way. Perhaps there is something about this prison that strips away at a person’s need to play at pretenses; he almost hates to call it refreshing.

But—]

Can both not apply? You have been difficult, but the circumstances of this prison aren’t easy.

Have I given you reason to think that I don’t like you?

[ her brows pinch and her expression hangs as she thinks, very sincerely, about bringing up the tantrum room again. or how his gaze had been like a knife's edge after she ordered him after her into the ocean.

but at last she grunts and rakes her clawed fingers through her hair. it'll have to do, for now. ]

I have difficulty telling these things.

[He would have spared such looks for anyone. She is not immune to them now, even if their newest interaction makes it a less likely prospect than before.

His smile is gentle, as always.]

You're assuming I'd hate you for throwing me into the ocean. That's not an unreasonable thought.

How comforting.

Well, I don't.

[ a strange tension leaves her; she rests her forehead on the heel of one hand, sighs until there's nothing left. ]

Spared for another day.

Believe me, it’s one of the least offensive things I’ve had happen to me.

[Not that he wants it to happen again MIND YOU.]

You worry often about what people think of you?

Appearances and impressions are everything in world of nobility.

[ and, having been discredited, expelled, ostracized... what people make of her is possibly the most important thing in her life now ]

Your mind will only get you so far if no one else will listen to you.

[Ah, so her world is not so fantastical at all. It has its ugly parts, just like his own.]

That sounds tiresome. I'm not nobility and I never was, but many things in my world are the same. So much importance placed on appearances.

It is in our nature to wish to be liked, regardless.

[ girl it's not in EVERYONE'S nature. ]

[Brows pinching, shaking his head.]

No. It isn't. That is something taught to you by the world. Putting on a mask of a stranger just to get by.

Hurm. I like to be liked.

Of course. But you shouldn't have to be someone else for that to happen. Don't you agree?

Of course I agree. I like woman I am.

[ even difficult, even angry, even vengeful to the point of insanity ]

I worked very hard to become her.

[Like he’s one to judge.]

Good. I wouldn’t have you any other way. Even at the expense of all your soirées and high teas.

[ again she dodges his glance, mumbling ]

I would be far poorer dancer.

More time spent studying your magics, though.

Ahhh. I am studying now. Professor.

[Chuckles.] That’s right. And what did you learn from this particular lesson?

[ that he seems to like being called "professor", for one ]

That I have to learn to be much, much subtler than I am.

[It’s amusing.]

It takes practice. Even for me, it did.

[Which means they’ll have to try it again sometime.]

Pah. I will be quick study.

It means you'll have to let me in again. Unless you want to try the other way around.

You've said already door is open. You could be there again, now, still--and would I know?

I wouldn’t do that. I’d tell you.

[ would he? ]

Oh. Polite man.

I have a feeling you'd not be too happy with me otherwise. I'm not risking that again.

[ ah, something she is utterly susceptible to ]

Good boy.

["Good boy". What a lark.]

You can just call me Henry, you know. I remember mentioning that when we first met.

"Good Henry" does not have same ring to it.

Then what about just Henry?

[ ffffffffffffffffine. ]

Henry.

[ :) ]

Good. Otherwise, you'll start to make me feel like my father.

Oh... Leery of aging, are we?

[He laughs.]

No. Just leery of the comparison.

[ handshake emoji ]

Ha! Mammon. What pair we make.

[parental problems!]

Nothing better to bond over, I say.

[He finds himself wishing he could tell her more, just the sort of pain he put his father through, but instead decides on-]

Even if my particular issues have been resolved, and the fire is still burning beneath yours.

[ not quite at the monologuing stage, huh, henry? ]

You pick your words so precisely.

[Perhaps he’s not sure their social link rank is there.]

How do you mean?

You are simply very good at what you choose to say. It seems effortless. You never stumble.

[He’ll take that as a compliment.]

Also something that takes practice, that’s all. It helps that I worked with children for a number of years; you get into the habit of knowing what you want to say before you say it. No one’s going to listen to an orderly who sounds like he’s bumbling through it all.

[ once again the oddity of that occupation strikes her. there are elements to how he talks that absolutely indicate it, though--that conscious choice of words, and many of his phrasings. his tone, when he isn't snapping at her. the even measure, his pitch. ]

How long did you say you worked with them?

Oh...

[His eyes glance up at the ceiling, as though trying to calculate the years. Twenty is how long he was there for. How long until Dr. Brenner gave up on him, decided that he could not control him, and made him work, instead?]

I'd say close to fifteen years, probably.

[ just what kind of study lasts fifteen years? ]

Mammon. Not insignificant.

[The kind where you can't leave.]

It was important work. Important to them, at least.

Do you want to know a secret?

[ of course she does.]

Mm.

[Naturally. Secrets appeal to her the same way they do to him.]

I couldn’t have left even if I wanted to.

...How so.

I told you that it was government research, didn't I? The kind that none of the administration wanted getting out. "Magic", as you call it, is not normal in my world. Those children, and myself, were secrets that were never allowed to take one step out of that laboratory.

[ was. were.

takes a deeper sip of this crappy beer]

And so...

[Was. Were.]

And so that gives you a little more context. I'm much more sheltered than I look. Living in the same place, with the same routine, day in and day out -- it isn't like I had a chance to accrue a lot of life experiences.

[Thus why he wouldn't know what wine is which. Why her city felt impossibly grand, with its fantastical locations. Why he was jealous of it, just a little.]

[ it sounds so stifling. she would go mad. ]

Well. Here you are now.

[Go mad, contain one's anger until it reached culminated in violence that was long overdue, same difference.]

Not much better, save for the company.

No offense to the children, of course.

But they are children.

[ unspoken: and I am so much more interesting and accomplished and intelligent than children ]

Talented children.

[The kids weren't that bad, save for the bullies.]

I am not arguing for my merits against children.

[Jokingly:] Something tells me you would.

Oh, shut up.

But you do love your merits, Sprezzatura.

Ms Vaux.

At this point, I haven’t earned a first-name basis?

I like to be called Ms.

Even by friends?

Of course.

[ Reim called her that. Miles called her that. hell, Theo called her Ms Vaux. ]

[Curious.]

Why the formality?

[ "My parents used my given name like disparagement." ]

Superiority complex, perhaps?

[Liar.]

Or inferiority, instead? Could be taken both ways, you know.

Inferior! Don't be ridiculous.

To make you feel more important. Ms Vaux. That’s all I mean.

[ well, fuck. this is actually worse. her brow ticks ]

Nonsense. But what is so wrong about feeling important?

Well, nothing, I suppose. But even between friends?

Do you think we're friends, Henry, or are you making point?

[He scoffs lightly, unoffended actually.]

You called me a friend earlier. Don't tell me you're detracting that now.

Ahh, I cause nothing but trouble for myself.

[Laughs.] But you don't deny it. That's good.

I'll continue calling you Ms Vaux if that's what you really prefer.

[No, he'll still slip a first name in there, at times.]

I do. Think of it as... [ hm. he's from the future, isn't he? ] Old-fashioned values.

[The irony of telling someone who grew up in the 40s/50s about "old-fashioned values".]

Of broken systems. [Oh, that slipped out-- But he just shakes his head, easy to slide off his shoulders as a joke.] All right. As you like it, Ms Vaux.

Thank you. Henry.

I want to find my book now.

Of course. That's important, too. Where do you think we should start?

There was nothing downstairs. Only remaining option is this floor.

[ or else her arcanabula just isn't here. ]

[Hm. Dredging through not-so-faraway memory.]

Wasn't there a door labeled "common areas", just before we found the canteen? That could be promising.

[ perfect! she forgot already, between the food and the memory ]

Oh, yes! Let us investigate at once.

[He nods in agreement, and wiping one more time at the remnants of blood beneath a nostril, stands to leave their junkfood behind.

OUT OF THE CANTEEN, BACK INTO THE HALLWAY. The door labeled "common areas" beckons.]

[ unlike him, she actually does stop to tidy up before abandoning the Canteen... somewhat. there's probably a garbage bin somewhere, right?

but once she joins Henry in the hall again, she's pushing through those doors with very little reticence, opening into the stark, somewhat rusty common area. ]

[HE’S NOT AN ORDERLY NOW, HE DOESNT HAVE TO CLEAN UP ANYMORE!!

The common area at least looks spacious, and well-lit. Henry moves past her to examine the area further. First item of interest: an old-timey box TV (that doesn’t look terribly old-timey for him.)]

Think they were kind enough to provide us with some entertainment?

[ she's heading straight for the etched doors. . . ]

Hm?

[Turns on the tv, but it only fills the room with crackling static for now — endless white noise.]

Hm, guess not.

[Glancing over to see if she’s found anything of interest.]

[ the sound makes her jump—like a cat ]

These doors—they are inscribed, like before.

[Just wait until a horror movie plays.

But for now, he strides over, leaving the tv buzzing.]

With our team names?

With our block monsters. See? Tsuchigumo. Phoenix. Basilisk.

[Upon closer inspection, the inscriptions are clear.]

Well, if there's one place where your things would have been left-

[Tilts his head to indicate the Basilisk doorway.]

You may as well find out.

[ gingerly she reaches out and strokes the carved basilisk head... and then opens the door.

inside are a bunch of beds arranged in a circle, and their respective nightstands ]

Aha.

[ does. does he follow her in. because... ]

[Of course he does. The door's open! He's curious! Why not. 8) ]

[ WHAM ]

[THE DOOR. RIGHT INTO HIS FACE.

The rare, sharp sound of surprise from Henry emanates from the other side of the door; otherwise she won't be able to see him unless she goes to see what's the matter. A shuffling noise, as he throws his foot back to keep from staggering backward, too. What the fuck.]

[ pivots and wrenches the door back open??? ]

[And there Henry stands, frowning deeply, a hand to his nose. BLEEDING FAINTLY. AGAIN.]

...

Did you walk into door?

[Snaps at her, edged with (again, rare) biting sarcasm-]

Yes, I forgot how doors work.

[Ah, rein it in, rein it in-

Gentler, still covering his nose:] ...It closed on its own.

[ eyebrows up

then arching ]

Hurm. I hold this time, come.

[He steps forward, leery of the door until she has a good grasp on it, halfway ready to use his powers to force it away in case it comes flying at his face again.

your dorm's door is rude!]

[ IT COMES FLYING AT HIS FACE AGAIN

i'm kidding. he steps through. ]

Good?

[HE MADE IT.

Drops his hand, nose smarting.]

Good now.

[ this handkerchief is getting work. she produces it with a flourish that seems a necessary component of the spell... or else she's just Like That ]

Why on Toril would door slam itself shut on you...

[Is someone tired of washing this handkerchief, yet? He takes it automatically, dabbing at his nose.]

I'm not Basilisk, remember?

I remember, but that would not have stopped you bef—ah. I see.

[A noise of acknowledgment, still a little sore (figuratively) from the door's insult.]

Your door must have thought I was an intruder. Let's make sure that doesn't happen again.

[ the door's got his number.

gracelessly going to fumble through the first nightstand ]

I do not imagine you will need to enter "Basilisk" for many reasons after this.

I may. You never know what could happen in this place.

[Watches her rifle about.]

[ there are things in here that don't belong to her, but neither to this prison. too new, too unique. this sparks a hopefulness in her, and she moves on to the next and down the line until she suddenly exhales sharply and clutches something to her chest ]

Mammon. Found it.

[Interest piques despite himself, he moves forward to get a better look.]

And all intact, too?

[ frantically rifling ]

Elsewise terrific fake.

[Casts his gaze about, even though this is hardly "his" assigned quarters.]

So then all of our odds and ends are collected in our rooms. You won't be the only one relieved.

[Oh, maybe he can change his clothes and get out of these prison stripes then.]

((from here))

Maybe I'm just trying to make an effort to understand you better. Why is that so offensive to you?

Edited 2022-10-16 00:39 (UTC)

[ she has no answer, can think of no excuse.

so she just ends up muttering, ] You want to know more about me. Fine.

Remember bingo, when we first meet? I took two men on same day for that game, because I needed release, [ ew ] and it burned in me, thinking Basilisk might lose to—more affectionate blocks. [ and they sure DID lose!! ] So I slept with two men, and I do this also because my lover was taken to solitary, and I was lonely. Then other friends, also, poof, anyone ever close to me. Again, again, one after another. And now these men I sleep with are fond of me, and men I can't have are fond of me, and you are fond of me, and it would seem my fucking oni is fond of me also!

[He listens, and more and more his brows raise. He had not realized how… chaotic her relationships had been (or had never been) — suddenly, things start to make even more sense, now couched in context.]

That explains your reaction that day in the diner.

[She knows what he’s referring to.]

Why don’t you just tell them you don’t want any of it?

[A moot point with the oni. Maybe not the rest. And Henry? Well, he’s just trying to navigate this purple thread, apparently.]

Because I hate to be alone! [ hands over her face ] Oh, my god!

So it's one or the other? Feast or famine?

[Honestly, he's ill-equipped to give her any advice -- if this even qualifies. How's he any better, navigating social complexities with actual sincerity?

Even so:] That's irrational, Sprezzatura.

Oh, shut up. You and your black threads.

[A scoff. Turning this around on him?]

What does that have to do with anything?

Oh! Now you are on your back foot! See? Not so fun to talk about, is it?

They're probably people from the lab. Or those who tried to stop me from getting home. I told you about being stuck; I never felt very happy about that.

[Honestly, this woman- turning it back on him because she's so allergic to talking about herself.]

[He did say he was going to be less difficult. Tells himself that he hold her he was half of the equation of them butting heads.

Tries- Tries a more helpful route. She makes it so hard.]

That doesn't matter. My point is, you wouldn't be alone, even if you changed every single one of your strings back to green. You remember what I told you?

You seem very reluctant to let me forget.

Isn't it some comfort?

It was so much simpler when people came, went, none of it mattered to me.

[That's the issue with this place, he thinks. Even some of his threads are changing color, beyond the one connected with Sprezzatura's.]

You're not unfeeling enough for that ever to have been a possibility. The passage of time is the real culprit, and even you can't stop that.

It was possibility! It used to happen all times, so often!

You mean back home? You weren't trapped with the same faces each and every day there, though, were you?

I was collegiate. My parents, social climbers. Of course I was.

That isn't the same. Did you like any of those people?

What question is this? Yes! Of course!

[ but she wasn't friends with them. ]

[Well, then they just pinpoint that threshold.]

Friends?

[That yellow skein of thread he isn't privileged with, apparently.]

Of course!

[ he can't disprove it. and more importantly, she can't disprove it. ]

Even if that's true, you can't compare home to here. Forced to play the Warden's games, forced to watch people come and go. It isn't the same. Of course you'd be more affected by it.

[ what you've just described is trauma bonding, Henry. you did it! you've broken Reverie down to its bare essentials! ]

It was so much simpler at beginning.

[You could always be sociopathic like him and just not care what happens to most people. That’s always a solution! (But even he has colored strings, now.)]

When everyone was a stranger? Of course.

The day when we all go home — which would be more of a comfort? That these strings will fade and corrode over time? Or that they’d persist?

I can't think that far ahead. It's too painful. You know I don't want that.

[ to lose everything she's gained ]

[To Henry, it just sounds like she doesn’t know what she wants.]

I think these— [Plucks at his black strings; strong, dark, reflecting light.] —are proof that stronger connections will persist, whether they’re good or bad.

So if you don’t want to lose them, really lose them, then you need to foster them while you’re here. And just accept you’ll lose the weaker ones, someday.

[ he'd be right. she takes a sudden, sharp breath and brushes her fingers beneath each eye. just a tiny sniffle, you know.

wry, ] No book ever made me feel so dumb.

[Long, string-laden fingers dip into his pocket. Henry still manages to pull out a rather familiar handkerchief, clean and folded, and offers it to her.]

People are more complicated than books.

[ but people wrote the books.

her face falls as she accepts the handkerchief back. always ending up having to be the bigger person, him. yeah, this is familiar. ]

That's why I surrounded myself in lore, not ...

[ love ]

[Don't give him too much credit. He is half of the argumentative equation, one hundred percent of the time.]

...Love? Affection?

[Strange words to roll off of his tongue. But he's filling in the blanks.]

If it makes you feel better, I've never been very versed in them, either.

[ tucks the kerchief into her palm, and just holds it like that ]

It looks as though that is changing.

[That is an odd thing to hear, so much that Henry does have to stare at the handkerchief just sitting in her palm for a moment as if to parse her meaning. But then it seems to register, and he glances away, not out of embarrassment, or agitation, or shame, but a strange, strange realization that maybe something’s shifted somewhere inside, so slight that he could not even perceive it happening.

Time truly is the enemy here.]

You think so?

[ she's no mind-reader. she doesn't know what that expression means. ]

Don't you?

[Guides his look back to her, purposefully chasing away the wrinkle in his browline, yet it remains.]

I don't know. [Twists his fingers to pull on his black strings without even really thinking about it. These must remain solid, or else too much has shifted, and it's ridiculous to think that they might up and disappear, but at least they haven't.] I think I understand a little better something you've said.

Edited 2022-10-19 04:04 (UTC)

Oh no? Which part?

That it was easier in the beginning. [But he hasn’t been here as long as her, so he clarifies:] That this place wheedles in and changes things.

[ that's so—

a frown pinches her brows; her eyes flick subtly down to look at the colours of his threads again. surely he must have a thread that bothers him, if he's saying that. red, or... purple...

but... ]

Because... you have acquaintances.

[Hers is the purple one. There are a few green strings that are straining to turn yellow, as though they were trying to mimic dying vines. He definitely does not have a red one.]

You say it like acquaintances are so easily afforded to anyone and everyone.

So why don't you sound happy about this?

[Because if his misanthropy is undermined, what was the point?]

Because people have always been disappointing to me, and except for you, I don’t want to be proven wrong.

[ do you even understand how unnerving that is to hear, Henry? the kind of artificial pressure that creates? the sense of being the one thing keeping another person on an even keel? how you can't disappoint even once, and you don't know literally any of the parameters of that to begin with? ]

Why? Why don't you want to be proven wrong?

[It’s either that, or he lies. Can’t have both — which is better?]

Because I’ve made decisions based on the idea that humans, and the lives they’ve made for themselves, are broken.

What kind of decisions? It cannot be too late to alter your perspective.

[ lol ]

[lmao. Glides over the first half of that.]

I don’t want to alter my perspective. That’s the point.

But you are advising me to alter mine!

[Good job, you found a point of hypocrisy, Sprezzatura!]

That isn’t the same thing.

Oh? Why not? I would love to hear.

Because you aren’t wanting to change because you’re afraid. Isn’t that right? Afraid of losing the people you’ve grown attached to here.

I refuse to think I’ve been wrong about everything all this time.

[Oh, it sounds awful just to say it. His mouth twists.]

That--you cannot frame mine as fear and yours as righteous choice! If I say I refuse to be hurt again, but you are afraid of being wrong, what then?

[This conversation has quite suddenly become unpalatable.]

Then I guess we're both stuck.

[ oh, she does not like to be looked at like that. draws up, her nostrils flaring ]

I suppose so.

[GOOD TALK.

Drawing up some of his sickly green-yellow threads, and there they are, slowly mottling with flecks of purple.]

[ her gut does a terrible wrench—she's done that, she's tainted that—but she doesn't say anything. ]

[Oh, no. He should thank her for this.

They twist in the light, shining their hues. He murmurs-]

We really do need to leave this place. As soon as possible.

[ fists up some of her own hair, close to the scalp ]

You were just saying to cherish my bonds—what just happened here??

[Mismatched eyes flick back up to her, sharp.]

And you were just telling me that you feel overwhelmed by the excess attention. I thought you’d agree with the realization that these are too many bonds, forced on us.

[ this conversation feels like it is absolutely wrenching her around. ]

Mammon, my god! How have we pivoted to completely opposite viewpoint we started with?

[Guess what, that's how he feels, too!]

You're misunderstanding. I'm not telling you what to do with yours.

[If she wants to let them flourish, then that's her decision. If she wants to let those strings strangle her, she can do that, too.]

But you've gone from—Mammon, nevermind. Whatever I've said to unsettle you so, just—put it from your mind!

Why does it suddenly matter to you whether I do or don’t?

Because you're only one who feels as complicated as I do about all this!

[Suddenly exasperated.]

You were hesitant to take my advice initially, and now that I've changed my tune, you want me to "put it from my mind" because of what? It's not what you really wanted to hear?

I don't know! I don't know! [ puts her thumb between her teeth, bites down, grinds it ] Mammon, I have to leave. We are just going to tear each other apart like this.

[Again, that's the issue. She doesn't know. And Henry, he is much less uncertain.]

Give yourself time to figure out what you do want, then, Sprezzatura.

I'm sorry. [ she can't believe how often those words now pass her lips ] Yes. I just have to figure some things out.

[ is he going to let her escape this time? ]

Edited 2022-10-23 23:15 (UTC)

[This time? Yes, this time, he'll let her go. This time, the conversation has unsettled something in him, too, and he'd prefer to leave it hanging, even if they leave it unresolved.]

All right.

[In fact, he's the first to walk away.]

(( from here ))

Let me guess. With no barrier, the monsters got through?

Correct. And damage was done.

So... do you mean to say people have mixed feelings on Solitary as a whole? You're not overflowing with members?

No. I meant what I said— blame goes to me. People take issue with my attitude, my plans, the fact I act knowing I can't promise a perfect plan. But someone's got to lead. I'm the someone.

What's wrong with your attitude?

[He seems a little amused by that; it does not have to be taken as a question in need of an actual answer.]

No matter what others might think, I'm interested. Do you have any further plans?

Sure. Before the whole, the whole prison swap shit happened, I was finishing organizing project grave-dig. And then we got hijacked away from the graves. I need to do roll-call, see who's still here, who's still ready.

[Grave-digging?]

Are you hoping to engage in some... grave robbery?

[You know, what or who is even buried there? He never thought to care.]

Grave investigation, sure. It's a major component of the plan. I can lay it out in whole, all three parts.

Three parts? Let's hear it.

Part the first, we establish a perimeter around the graveyard, so we don't have unnecessary causalities, interference.

Part the second, the diversion, and perimeter the second-half: we have people who will wreak raw destruction on the cellblocks new arrivals show up in, and block them off. We'll see what she'll do without a place to deliver her new inmates, and it should stop people from showing up in the graveyard mid-operation from below.

Part the third, the graves. As there was a little issue with zombies in the past, we're going to be careful not to fuck with the wards on the graves if possible, but we're going digging. We're seeing who or what is in there, human or monstrous, or if there's anyone there at all.

It's fact-finding and provocation. That's the current plan. The plan, as it stands.

[That's quite a plan. It sounds like controlled chaos, and poking at things that might awaken, or might not.]

I like it. If nothing else, it'll get under the Warden's skin.

What happens if you unearth something nasty, though?

We're posting guards. They can come running.

[His grin spreads a little. It sounds like the potential for chaos, for good or ill.]

I'd like to be privy to this, if possible.

We'll take you. Welcome aboard. You'll get a full run-down when we're closer to go time.

((from here))

Well, no, I don't like paying her compliments, either. But you have to admit that it is impressive, what she's done. Moving from dimension to dimension isn't an easy task -- imagine the energy needed to steal others away from theirs, and supplant them all into one spot.

If it is her own power that has done it. This realm is half a dream and the forms we wear here are too. I think it is more likely that she has taken advantage of the nature of this place and with only half understanding.

So you think she just stumbled onto this place one day? And happened to use it to her advantage?

[Well, that sounds. Familiar.]

I think she may have been a part of whatever this place used to be.

I didn’t consider that. I guess there’s no way to confirm it just yet, though.

…Well, anyway. Power like that is bound to lead to nothing good. Look at how tangled up you are. Do you still want me to work on a few strings?

Oh, if you do not mind. Please.

All right.

[He straightens. Any other weird strings floating off into the nowhere, or knotted up tightly?]

Thank you. I love my family, but a tangle like this is a little to clingy.

[The number of gold threads seems endless, but with will and effort they can be combed into order. though with all his hundreds of strings in all their colors, there's not a single black thread.

and there's a string for Henry buried in there! it's a nice leafy green, very new.]

[That is an inordinate amount of gold threads. Henry cannot imagine having this many connections, much less so many of them gold, but thankfully, that is not his problem.

Fortunately, Henry is a surprisingly neat and orderly man when presented with a need for organization. It takes a minute, but eventually, the strings are brought into order, fanning out in a wide variety of colors -- minus one.]

All this, and I don't see a strand of black.

[But hey, maybe Moon can move around now!]

[stretches his arms and straightens up, admiring being able to actually do that again]

Should there be black?

There doesn't have to be.

[Unlike Henry, who has several black strings fanning out from his fingertips, but the sort that lead out beyond reverie.]

I'm just impressed that you can know so many people without heavily disliking any of them.

["heavily disliking"]

You must be very personable, all the time.

Not all the time… Here, perhaps, but not at home. I can be quite intimidating.

[he fans his fingers, looking at his dozens of royal purple threads thoughtfully ]

Really… It may be that few people can afford to earn my dislike.

[That is a lot of purple, admittedly. There is still something to be said about none of them having transitioned to black.]

"Afford to"? What happens when you're not fond of someone?

If they are wise, they will banish themselves. In the worst cases, they are executed and devoured.

Edited 2022-10-21 14:03 (UTC)

Devoured?

[He sounds more curious than actually aghast.]

Edited 2022-10-21 14:53 (UTC)

Yes. One might also devour someone who challenges them for their rank. It signals that your foe was beneath you, that they were no better than prey against you.

That sounds only fair to me.

[There is nothing ironic about that statement. He just smiles mildly.]

Oh, but didn't you say you hadn't hatched yet?

I haven't. Why?

[he murders just fine as a dream??]

[You know, that's also not so far-fetched.]

You can devour people when you're still asleep? As a dream?

I can. My body is still an egg, but my mind is strong. I have been dreaming for millions of years.

That's impressive, being able to affect others in such a way even when you're asleep. It's almost like a kind of... astral projection.

Astral projection is an apt comparison. At least in my case, since I know I am dreaming. Most of my family have shorter dreams that forget our natures.

You mean that they forget who they are? What happens then?

They live a mortal life until they wake up, they realize they're dreaming, or that body is killed. They can go through a lot of dreams like that.

That must be jarring for them, to realize their existence is a dream in one. And that they aren't mortal. I can't imagine it's an easy adjustment for your siblings.

It can be difficult for the dream... But my siblings do not talk about their old dreams much anymore. Some have forgotten them entirely.

Maybe that's for the best. I don't think I'd be able to handle it very gracefully if the same happened to me.

I like my shallow way of dreaming better… but they were used to it. The dragons I rule over are the descendants of those dreams.

This might seem like a silly question, but are there many... humans in your world?

Humans? Yes. Most of them live inland, but I have many human citizens in my territories too.

Do they live in harmony with you and your siblings? Even though you’re clearly so much more powerful than them?

Oh, humankind does not what I am. And except for my brother, my siblings are out in orbit.

[Brow raising.]

Burrowed within... other planets?

My brother in Mars and my sister in Venus already hatched. Some were in the other moons, but mostly it is my sisters left now. They play in the asteroid belt or in Saturn's rings. Others orbit with the comets.

[Here, he chuckles, because imagining it is strangely whimsical.]

What a shame I can't see something like that.

A shame indeed. But if you see a shooting star, you can imagine it one of my sisters flying by. The largest look almost the same!

If I ever return to to Earth properly, then I'll try to remember that. It's been a long time since I've seen the night sky until this place.

Properly?

If we escape this prison, and I return to the point in time where I had been stolen from… It’s a long story, but the gist of it is pretty simple: I’m stranded in another dimension.

That is difficult… Is this a better place to be trapped, at least? There are some people who have joined Echidna so they do not get sent back to their original worlds.

Edited 2022-10-28 01:36 (UTC)

Does being on Echidna guarantee that?

[Huh.]

Being here is nicer. But I would still like to return; I was looking for a way to cross planes back to my original one. And I think I can manage it, with just a little more time.

It does not guarantee it, but they are not able to earn tokens…

But I wish you luck returning to your own plane. With all the travel we have seen here, it certainly must be possible.

((from here))

[Canned laughter definitely belongs here, somewhere.

Lightly, purposefully, he skews the tone a little humorous-]

In case I have another headache?

I mean, sure, but I can heal more than just headaches. And cast a whole lot of other spells...

Really? I just assumed all of your spells had to do with healing.

Ah, no... I mean, I get why you would assume that, but...

[ she takes a deep breath. ]

Where I'm from, we refer to what I do as druidic magic. It draws on nature and primal energies, the elements. So it manifests in many different ways - like healing, or producing fire, or shapechanging...

[Oh? That's interesting.]

Shapechanging? You mean transforming into something else?

[Doesn't care terribly much about the....fire part.]

[ he's valid, wild shape is way more fun ]

That's right! Mostly into animals. It's been pretty useful over the years, especially when I don't feel like drawing any attention.

[Well, also just not a big fan of fire for reasons.]

What sort of animals? Can you show me?

Edited (repeat icon...NEVER) 2022-10-18 14:24 (UTC)

Sure, I can show you! What's your favorite animal?

[ she's going to get (1) fun fact about henry out of all this if she can help it!! ]

[Brow raising.]

Spiders.

[If you can turn into a spider, Ori, you might actually turn this string a little yellow.]

[ She has never wanted to turn more into a spider than right now honestly. ]

Spiders. Got it!

[ Ori straightens her posture a bit - as if to ready herself for the change - only to pause. ]

Say... An itty bitty spider, or a big one?

[Oh, oh you’re just spoiling him, now.]

If you can manage a big one, I’d like to see it.

[ And with that, she nods with a smile, stepping back a few paces as her form begins to shift and change and darken, arachnid limbs emerging until there is no more tiefling in front of Henry - only a giant wolf spider, about the size of... well, a wolf. Flowers dot her body just as they do her hair when she's her usual self. It's very cool.

She can't talk while in this form (and maybe... that's better...) but even in the form of a spider, her face remains expressive as ever, and there's something expectant and hopeful about the way all eight of her little golden spider eyes look at him. ]

[The shift in Henry’s demeanor is almost immediate. He does not lose his carefully crafted veil of politeness, of course, but there is a keen fascination now cemented in his gaze, looking down upon Ori-now-turned-spider.]

That’s amazing.

[He steps closer, crouches down. He does not seem at all bothered by her overlarge arachnid features, meeting her many eyes. He’s almost, almost childlike.]

To be able to change into something so— different, just like that.

[ There are no words for her to offer in return, of course, only the ambient chittering of various spider limbs and fangs, but beneath it all, the tiefling is rather pleasantly surprised to witness this side of Henry.

She doesn't know that his politeness is of a constructed, crafted nature; but to see the barest hint of something else there in his eyes would have her tiefling self smiling just the smallest bit. As it is, though, she simply stays put and lets him observe and inspect. ]

[It is a side that is strangely more sincere, though perhaps difficult to tell for someone who could not see the facade to begin with. Either way, he just has to ask— how can he not?]

Can I touch one of your legs?

[Is that weird? Maybe it’s weird. But Henry has never feared handling spiders, and though she’s not a spider really, she’s just SO BIG, and he’s curious.]

I promise I won’t get you tangled up in more string.

[ Maybe it's a little weird, but certainly not a question Ori has never heard before. After all, she can turn into a great many things, and some of them beg the "can I touch" question more than others - but usually dinosaur form, not so much giant spider form.

She doesn't sense any ill intent on Henry's part - only curiosity. Though he's certainly asked her questions before, and she's happily obliged him, this feels a little different in a way she can't quite put a fuzzy spider leg to...

Speaking of which, she lifts one closer to him so that he can shake her spider hand! ]

[Henry grins; it reaches his eyes. Well, here’s a man-to-spider handshake, nice and polite and utterly fascinating. (She’s fuzzy and chitinous! Neat!) To his credit, the touch doesn’t linger — she’s still a tiefling beneath it all, and he retracts his hand soon after.]

Thanks. That’s practically made my day.

[Sincere? Back to faux politeness? They’re too intermingled now.]

[ It's likely a blessing that she's still a spider, lest Henry hear the soft laugh she would be giving to his reaction as a whole, if she were a tiefling. It's endearing, and I'm so sorry that she thinks this.

With his thanks, though, she feels it only proper to turn back into herself. It doesn't take long until Henry is faced once more with a purple-and-pink, beflowered tiefling with a smile on her face in place of a large, fuzzy spider. ]

Well, I'm glad! You're welcome, Henry.

Any more animal requests for the day?

[With that, he stands to his feet again, a quirking brow on his features.]

More? How can anything possibly top that?

[Uh-oh, what's this? The string, on his end, connecting himself and Ori together? It is straining to turn a very light, admittedly very sickly yellow -- but the change is present, if she's keen enough to catch it.]

[ she similarly gets up to her feet, and in doing so ~~perceives him so much~~ catches that minute shift in hues...

... but it's probably just the lighting out here.

in any case, she laughs and shrugs her shoulders. ]

Well, I can only turn twice a day, but... I can turn into a dinosaur?

[How dare she perceive him!!

Yes. Probably just the lighting. Surely.]

A dinosaur?

[Well, that's not as neat as a spider, but...] Okay, I'm curious. I'd like to see that.

[ she just. flashes him a thumbs up. ]

One dinosaur, coming right up!

[ same song, different tune. Her body changes shape until she's shifted into the form of a velociraptor, and much like when she had turned into a spider ~~that I totally didn't forget to write about~~, the strings remain tethered to appendages... This time, strung to tiny dinosaur claws. ]

[~~It's okay I just assumed the strings were still attached~~ This transformation is still as strange to see as the first one, and though this form doesn't encapsulate his obsession with the eight-legged, it's still surreally interesting. It's a dinosaur, after all. A predator, with sharp teeth and claws and probably quick on its feet. Henry can appreciate that, too.]

Just as amazing as the first time. [Well, nearly.] Those teeth look sharp.

[ It certainly is something of a jarring shift, to find someone as soft and kind as Ori turn into creatures for whom those same words might not carry true.

She cannot speak in this form, either, but she can hold out a tiny little dinosaur arm for him to touch, just as he had when she was a spider. ]

[He wants to ask just how many people she might have shredded to pieces with those teeth and claws, but that seems... like a question that should be phrased differently.

When she's able to talk again.

Henry reaches out, slipping his palm under those sharp claws. His mouth twists with strange appreciation.]

Sharp.

[ The answer to that question would certainly be... a nonzero number.

She's trying to be very careful so as not to accidentally pierce or even scratch his skin, and despite her appearance there's still something strangely friendly about her demeanor. It really is such a shame that she can't speak in this form, but she'll stay until he says his curiosity has been sated! ]

[Yes, it's strangely unmistakable that this is still Ori beneath the scaley exterior, a sort of friendly demeanor that Henry's come to define her by. He won't keep her in this form for long; he glances a little longer at those claws, at that scaled skin, before retracting his hand.]

At least everyone would be able to tell it's you, no matter what. I don't think flowers are a usual feature of dinosaurs.

[To the best of his knowledge.]

You can change back, now.

[ He gives his blessing, and she returns to her smiling, tiefling self. ]

Hah, good observation! I didn't always do that, but just as you said... It was difficult for folks to tell it was me.

Anyway, now you know one more thing about me. I can turn into any animal that I've encountered before!

And now you know my favorite animal.

[How quaint, an exchange of little personal details. Though it could be argued that Ori’s contribution was more notable than his.]

Why would you need to turn into a dinosaur, though? Have you ever had to fight something in that form?

[ It was, wasn't it? But it's nothing she's not used to - she tends to give and give and give, even if she never expects anything in return. ]

Sure, plenty of times. I have to admit, I haven't used that form in quite some time, though, now that I don't go adventuring as much... It almost felt nostalgic!

Something tells me you were more impressed by the spider than the dinosaur, though.

[He chuckles lightly. Maybe she'll win a bit more information if she turns the conversation towards spiders, though.]

They were both impressive. But... [He almost gives a casual shrug of his shoulders. Or at least the impression of one.] Spiders have always been a favorite of mine ever since I was younger. I'd always find some beneath the floorboards of my old family home, and keep them in glass jars for a time.

[ How... interesting (unverified)! ]

Is that so...? Have you taken to keeping spiders here, too?

[ Though, come to think of it... has she even seen any spiders around here?? ]

[He is definitely... interesting!]

No, I haven't. [If only because this thread takes place before I submitted a suggestion box request for him, which actually was a terrarium full of spiders. Please return to this query later.] The only ones I've seen already belong to someone else on Tsuchigumo.

[ Note to self: do a spider check again later. ]

Ah, speaking of... You're on a different team now, aren't you? How are you liking your new teammates?

That’s right, you noticed. I’ve been transferred to Unicorn.

I don’t really know my teammates all that well, though. Most of them are completely new to this place.

Oh, that's right... I met another fellow, he was one of the new arrivals. His name is Jack!

[ narrator voice: it is not. ]

[Jack? Jack? When did they have a Jack?]

Oh? I must have missed him. [ ??? Or... likely not. He remembers every name on the Unicorn team registry.] What's he like?

He's, um... He's got dark hair, and he's tall? Seems a bit grumpy—

Ah, don't tell him I said that.

[...Does she mean Alec?

She must.

Henry's lips quirk. That liar.]

Oh, wait. I think I know who you mean. The one who looks like it causes him physical harm to be nice.

[ She does, and yes, it's bad. ]

... Yes! Though I don't think I've seen him be particularly nice yet, so I wouldn't know about that last part. But it's alright!

[That small, subtle grin of his.]

Something tells me it'd take a lot to get under your skin, anyway. Even a person like him.

[ With an enthusiastic nod, she smiles proudly, resting threaded hands on her hips. ]

That's right! I've been told that I'm an endless well of patience! Which is good, because I've also been told that I can be frightening when I'm angry.

[ Which makes sense. Who would want to piss off a woman who can turn into a dinosaur? ]

[No one smart, that's who.]

I'm not sure I can even imagine you angry, Ori.

[Which Henry knows through personal experience means very little. Even the kindest faces can hold the deepest, most roiling anger.]

[ She huffs a little laugh. ]

Then, hopefully you never have to see me angry.

[ Likely wishful thinking, based on what they know about this place and its games, but a girl can dream... ]

((from here))

I'm told the "internet" doesn't really exist here, though. But you seem to be functioning-

[Glance down at the threads all caught in her wheels.]

-relatively fine.

Relatively.

[ snorts ]

I don't need the internet, though. Not technically. It just makes it easier for me to hop around. I could live in — do you have TVs where you're from?

[He nods.]

Oh, yes. I'm not that far back. The last I remember, it was 1986, if that gives you any reference.

Whoa. I'm from 202X.

[ that is one heckin' honkin' time difference ]

So yeah, I could live in a TV if I had to. Might even be able to move through the wires and cables.

[It absolutely is.]

So you just need something with... electricity?

Pretty much. Cool, right?

Versatile, for sure. If something happens to your current body, you can just hop into someone's phone.

[ wiggles her fingers ]

That's immortality, baby.

Proof of an electric soul. Or something like it.

((ooc; from here))

There’s no other solution. I have to change the world, because the world won’t change for me.

[Broken, broken, Henry Creel.]

Does this change things between us?

Edited 2022-11-11 17:31 (UTC)

[ "does this change things?"

she cannot bite back the incredulous laugh that bubbles out of her. misanthropic, violent, lying, unfeeling Henry Creel.

he kissed her. called them the same. ]

I don't know.

[She laughs and his brows pinch. He almost looks disappointed — would this not be the second time he’s tried to connect with someone, only for them to rebuff him? ~~after murder realizations, too~~

But her answer isn’t “no”. “I don’t know” still exists degrees away from that.]

And your willingness to help me, are you unsure about that too, now?

[ Sprezzatura is very steadfastly not looking at him. ]

...I am going to go home one day, and I will subject my family to fate worse than death.

[But his gaze doesn’t leave her face, even if he’s only provided the contours of her profile.]

I’m the last person who would talk you out of that.

[Maybe that’s the problem.]

But that doesn’t answer my question.

[ maybe that's the problem. here's another evasive answer: ] Have you ever—thought it may be your own outlook that is damaged?

["Damaged". Careful now. One should hate to think that word is meant to be applied to himself.]

Mine? What do you mean?

[ her head snaps up at last; she returns to herself. sense returns to her. ]

Your entire life has been defined by connivers. Liars. Very narrow lens, wasn't it? Only what they wanted you to see.

[Eyes meet hers, piercing.]

This was something I believed before the lab, Sprezzatura.

[But the lab did not help.]

[ a shudder wracks her ]

Then tell me how you are thinking you will change your world! By killing everyone in it?! Is it any wonder you feel so alone? You have convinced yourself of cruelty and monotony and dispassion, and yet you see something different here and it makes you just as angry!

[Is it possible to feel the white heat of screaming nerves and a cold numbness, all at once? Maybe.]

Of course it makes me angry.

[He leans in, his good palm flat against the disc.]

You think I want to be proven wrong? To learn that years and years and years of hatred was little more than misunderstanding? A narrowed focus? That the reason nothing feels right or welcoming or makes sense is because of me?

[ that scant movement has her shooting up and onto her back foot—like she's expecting him to retaliate with more than words. he's said they almost raised Basilisk. he's all but said he'll kill again. so what's stopping him, really? what's stopping him. ]

That is human condition, Henry. Get used to it.

[Eyes dart up to follow her retreat — what is she expecting? For him to hurt her?]

I don’t want to get used to feeling like the one piece of the puzzle that doesn’t fit.

[Looks at her hard, questioningly.]

What? Do you think I’m going to harm you?

[ if he was going to hurt her, she doesn't think a few feet would make a difference. his abilities... she wonders just what they could do to a person. ]

You must want to.

[It’s probably better that she doesn’t know. Her imagination is likely kinder.]

You’re like me. Haven’t I made that clear by now? Why would I want to hurt you just because you’re scared, just because you don’t understand?

[No. If he wanted to hurt her, he would have by now. He does not stay his hand for those he truly hates — she just far from qualifies.]

Why does it have to be me who doesn't understand?

Because I don’t know what you want me to do other than accept living in a world I’m unsuited for. If I can even return to it at all!

Edited (Wording ) 2022-11-12 06:44 (UTC)

No one is born knowing how to live in their world, Henry! You aren't alone!

That’s not true.

[His parents, ready to toss him aside. Eleven, who did the same. And now Sprezzatura, who looks like she may continue the trend.]

Look at you. I can see it on your face. You’re moments away from leaving, too.

[ he is so--

indescribably lonely. more than the white-knuckle anger, more than the roiling hate, he's still that child who was turned away by his family.

like her. ]

I'm not.

[Quiet. So, so quiet. How ridiculous that for all of his arguing, those two words seem to be the crux that he cannot shatter. The one piece of the argument that doesn’t unravel so easily.

The day has been too much. A part of it doesn’t even feel real. Henry loses his fire, now, sharp edges no longer as sharp, eyes cutting to the side as a palm raises to scrub at his face, then cards messily through his hair.]

It sounded like you were.

[The only measly retort he has. So much like a child, really.]

[ lord help any man who tries to argue with sprezzatura vaux... especially when he's already also broken and shattered ]

Well, I am not! I am not giving up on you, because giving up on you is same as giving up on me! I will show you, even if you do not want to see.

[Broken and shattered, uncertain how to feel, yo-yoing back and forth. One more instance of such cracks across his face, an almost unbelieving (appreciative? It's so hard to tell.) smile. Not all there, but far from facetious.]

Glad to see that thread hasn't severed. Even after everything.

[Their sameness, somehow still keeping them wound together.]

[ it feels so right-field for that to come back to the topic of conversation that she has no idea what expression to school her face into. ]

You say yourself: we are bound. For better or worse.

[It's okay, it'll swing right back to where they were. Case in point:]

For better or worse. In which case, since you're so sure that my perspective is the one that's wrong, you're in the best position to prove it to me.

[If she can.]

What are you going to do if I can't? Kill me?

You must think my anger’s on a hair-trigger, Sprezzatura. No. I wouldn’t kill you.

[ something worse? ]

I'd come back.

[He's capable of it. But no, not that either.]

I know. But that's not why.

Then I've nothing to lose.

[Other than learning that her way of looking at things is, like with everyone else's, wrong.]

You sound so confident. Is your stubbornness about this even for my sake, or yours? Would it be so bad to be proven wrong?

[ she is so tired. ] I don't know, Henry, would it?

[Well, at least they share that.]

It would make it easier.

[Going to try to stand, now.]

[ your leg! is still shattered! ]

Oh, Mammon's— [ fuck it, just. fuck all of this. she surges forward to plant a hand on his shoulder and hold him sitting, shoving her other hand into her pocket ] Sit.

[A dislocated shoulder does not hurt as much as a shattered leg, but it nearly does when someone’s pushing down on it.

IMMEDIATELY grimaces, but she does indeed keep him seated—]

Sprezzatura—

Ju—shite—will you stay put?!

[ taps through to purchase a fucking lovers card, sayonara token, and shoves it at his chest ]

Here.

[He's taking it on instinct, hand pressed to his chest to take the item, and doesn't realize what it is until it's balanced neatly between two fingers.]

Why are you giving this to me?

[Like, to heal, obviously. But is she already trying to prove her point-?]

Because you are direly hurt and I am who is standing in front of you and this is all I can do!

[

Fine.

Henry uses the card--the first time he's ever had to--watching it disappear in a show of flame. Immediately, his body language minutely changes; the tension from constant, harrowing pain easing from the line of his shoulders.]

[ there. ]

Now get out of here before you it is all wasted.

[Now he can stand, and to his full height at that, given there's no need to slouch with the pain, with a mangled leg.

He should probably thank her. But acknowledging anything shaped like gratitude feels like a personal betrayal at this very moment. While he considers that-]

What about you?

[ for a woman who so rarely thanks anyone herself, there is an expectation to her now to be thanked. but it doesn't happen, and she's aware enough at least to not make a fuss about it. ]

I have people to find.

[She does not get a thanks, ultimately. She is one of the few people who could—earnestly, as earnestly as Henry Creel can be—but today’s taken its toll.]

Don’t let me keep you.

[He’s already gazing out in the direction of where to go from here — away from the crash sites.]

We’ll talk again later.

Just run. Don't look back.

[Vecna doesn’t run, Vecna just disappears conveniently when someone isn’t looking.

He gives her one last lingering look before he turns and heads away.]

reverie overflow.

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