[Every day, his strength returns to him. He feels more like himself, the legions that had blighted his skin now leaving only, perhaps, the faintest of scars in their wake. And even those have dimmed substantially, just faint lines of white amid his already pale complexion, as time trudges on.
And so, where does that leave them all? To return to their daily routines in the Settlement, falling back in step with the usual cycle? Mundanity to veil them all over again? It would seem so. Henry spent time gardening, of all things, when he first arrived in this world -- and now here he is, hands pressed into the loam of the earth to tend to the things that grow this season, with the enthusiasm of a man who is obligated more than he is entranced by the task itself.
Work to be done in exchange for his privilege to live on these lands. That's all it really is. More roteness for all.
His head turns when someone speaks to him. He stands, walking over with a somewhat placid expression, trying his best to not wipe his hands on his pant legs.]
[ Claire doesn’t recognize this young man. But no mind, if he’s living here, then he’s someone she should get to know anyway. ]
I think—well, watch.
[ Claire repeats her actions from before and indeed, a sprout pushes instantly up through the soil. She looks satisfied and then turns her gaze to her company. As long as he saw it too, then she knows there isn’t anything playing tricks with her mind. ]
This is the first magic I’ve ever done. That is what this would be, isn’t it?
[ It isn’t like any other magic she’s seen so far, and so feels the need to check. ]
[Henry watches as she urges a little green sprout to poke through the soil, and when he meets her gaze again, his brow is arched. A peaceable kind of surprise, one that isn't necessarily insincere, despite his Everything.]
I can't imagine what else it would be. And given the nature of this world, picking up a magic trick here and there isn't impossible.
[He crouches down on the opposite side, tilting his head to look at the little sprout.]
Now, then... [A tilt of a small smile, eyes flicking up to meet her gaze.] If only you could kill all of the weeds, too.
[ She’s pretty delighted with herself, and she plants another in her row. It seems she can’t prod it further along than a sprout, at least for now.
His comment about the weeds is granted a smirk. ]
Well, that would make things too easy. Can’t have that.
[ In fact, she wishes she could appeal to whatever granted her this magic, to suggest the idea. She’s still meeting his eyes when she begins brushing dirt off of her hands. ]
[He watches as yet one more pushes up from the ground, just a small and barely significant thing. But magic is magic; strange abilities are strange abilities. They're to be appreciated, and even Henry can bring himself to feel a curiosity that isn't just put on for show.]
No, we can't.
[A little wry, but airy enough. Henry returns his gaze to her.]
My name's Henry. I guess you could call me something similar. [Picking up silly little magic tricks here and there thanks to Horizon visits or perhaps otherwise very traumatic experiences. It's all fine here.] I haven't seen you around. Are you new new?
We don't have anything like this in my world, either. Not exactly.
[This statement is only valid if Henry carves away the fact that psychics, and hellish, alternate dimensions (? he thinks? he cannot be sure.) exist in his little pocket of the universe, so far away from here. But it is technically a truth. No need to muddy the conversation up with complications just yet.
Idly, a little weed poking out nearby catches his attention, and he reaches over to pluck it up by the stem, forefinger and thumb vicing around it.]
No. Imagine being one of the people who disappeared.
[Wry. But he smiles pleasantly all the same.]
Regardless, I suppose I should be saying, somewhat belatedly: welcome to Solvunn.
[He speaks from very unfortunate experience! Only recently has he been able to function somewhat normally after his stint as a Pit Person, held captive and practically experimented upon against his will. Only recently have the malformed legions on his skin disappeared, leaving faint scarring in places, but little more.
But let them not linger on that. Henry tosses the newly-plucked weed away, banished away from the garden.]
What is it you like about this settlement? [Rogue Elders and archaic religious practices aside. He's curious. To him, it's still very... rote. And the goats are a terrible pain.]
[ Claire's features immediately soften into something gentler. ]
I'm sorry Henry, I didn't realize.
[ She pauses only for a moment, genuine in her empathy, to try and figure out how to ask if he's still injured without sounding patronizing. But by the time she figures it out he's asked a question, and so she puts a pin in it.
The first answer that comes to mind makes her scoff a little. ]
Certainly not the religion.
[ It wasn't before things went to hell because of Jocelyn, and it definitely isn't any more endearing to her in the aftermath. ]
No, I suppose this is what most kept the homesickness at bay. I was on my way home with my husband after we'd been at sea nearly two years. You've no idea how much I was looking forward to the Scottish Highlands after that.
[ Nevermind that recent developments mean she knows they're in America, not Scotland where she thought she they would be. In the backwoods of North Carolina, no less.
[His expression is unchanging as she offers her condolences, and he’s more than happy to move on for now. He doesn’t need anyone’s pity, as kind and gentle as it might be; he has enough anger about it to feed him for a long, long while and that is more than satisfactory for him.
So now. Talk of more pleasant things. Well, vaguely so. Certainly not the religion, she says, and he thinks the “religion” here is intriguing, though he can understand why Solvunn’s fervor regarding it settles unwell with some.
But he listens as she talks about homesickness. About a place he has no frame of reference for, that sounds just as fantastical as Abraxas to a man who lived in a bubble for most of his life.]
Two years? That’s a long time to be at sea.
[He can’t imagine the necessity behind that.
As for her question, it’s something of a loaded one. He hasn’t told anyone the full tale, and he’s not sure he intends to anytime soon. But she gets the truth, or at least a part of it, where the other part is nicely hemmed away for ease of conversation.]
My circumstances are strange. [the player thusly tries not to make a joke about the canon title] But I was kept… prisoner, for a very long while, somewhere underground. I was summoned here at the tail-end of an escape attempt.
Our nephew was kidnapped. [ Claire still can't quite wrap her mind around the fact that it all led back to a woman she owed her life to. Instead, Claire killed Geillis and now, here she is. ] We weren't exactly sure where he was being taken to, but we followed as common a trade route as we could. We did find him, in the end.
[ And that's all that matters, really. At Henry's answer, any lingering thoughts she has about Jamacia fall away. ]
Well, I suppose on the one hand, you've escaped. On the other, you're in another prison. A nice one, if you ignore the last few weeks, but a place we can't leave nonetheless.
I'm sorry to hear that. It sounds... stressful, to say the least. But I am glad that you found him.
[The thing with Henry is, no, he isn't really sorry to hear it. He's sure it was stressful, in a way he cannot relate to, and he is ambivalent about her finding her nephew. But this is hidden beneath the surface easily enough. Said just as simply as breathing.
But at the part about prisons, and this world still being one despite all the so-called freedoms it allows, then yes. He looks at her with a spark in her eyes; she's the first whose said as much aloud, and he can't help but agree.]
You're right. And we never asked to be here. Not that prisoners ever ask to be imprisoned. [But at that, he tends to the garden a little more, shrugging his shoulders.] Some like it here, though. They don't see it for what it is, maybe.
[ Stressful doesn't cover it, but there's no need to go into the grisly details. Claire's second murder is under her belt, and she'd rather not think about it. So, she's glad to move on to the finer details of Abraxas. ]
There are some I might understand being happy to arrive here. Someone who's died, I suspect, might take being here over the alternative. But we're nowhere special, it's simply another place with conflict.
[ Working on digging under a weed to pull it out by the root, she pauses, glancing at Henry as he gardens. ]
Perhaps for others it's easier not to think of at all. There are no bars and locks after all, and all of our needs are met, above and beyond in some cases. I think that makes it difficult for some.
[ For her part, she isn't judging anyone who would rather be stuck, but she doesn't understand it either, outside of her one exception. ]
[His true feelings on the matter are ugly. His whole life felt like it was kept behind the bars of a prison, at least in some figurative way. It’s what makes him so angry; what keeps that anger still roiling in him even if it isn’t flaring. He doesn’t care what others think, he doesn’t care what their preferences are. If they’re foolish enough to find comfort after being stripped of the agency to choose to be here—and thus the ability to choose to leave—then what does it matter?
He doesn’t reply at first, stringing words together in his head to sound more pleasant. He rips out a weed with his hands again, dirt staining beneath his fingernails. Beside that, a few more pop out of the ground almost idly, using his abilities in a rather casual manner that only this place has ever allowed. But even Henry cannot give this world credit for that.]
I feel just as trapped as before. No, there aren’t any bars or locks, and we’re being taken care of. And this place is more than just white walls all day long.
[Like the lab.]
But there’s still expectation. The days start to bleed together. [A horrible feeling.] We’re still deprived of choice, in a way.
[ Claire gives him the space to think; while she couldn't possibly know what's going through his mind, in her own it's a challenging question, she knows. Instead, she watches with fascinated interest at his weeding, at how they seem to simply pop right out of the ground. It makes the corners of her mouth lift just as he begins to answer, and she looks at Henry as it fades. ]
You know, I have a feeling some might call us pessimists. I prefer to think I haven't lost sight of the situation. There's no use complaining about it most days, or raging about it to others as it won't change anything, I've learned that lesson other places.
[ She spent a day or two confined to the room she was kind enough to be allowed to stay in at first. Hoping Jamie would somehow find her, waiting to wake up, hoping the next time she opened her eyes a concerned Scot would be staring down at her. She'd raged in her own quiet way at the unfairness of being separated from him again and questioned everyone she could about leaving. In the end, what good had it done? ]
My calm isn't complacency, but I don't see another choice at the moment. I can do what I enjoy. [ She gestures at the garden at large. ] I've learned and seen things I know I wouldn't have otherwise, met people who don't even live in my world, so for that I have to be a bit...grateful isn't the right word.
[ She isn't grateful, glad, or delighted to be here. But these opportunities have been unique. ]
I suppose I'm fascinated. Happy to have the experience of meeting people and discovering things, and to know what it is to have a bit of magic.
[Pessimist? Maybe. Though he prefers being called a realist, one who doesn't bother sugar-coating the true state of their situation.
The weeds continue to gently pop out of the ground, and they move on their own to a little pile off to the side. All the while, he looks at her while she speaks, turning her words over in his mind.]
Grateful, no. But fascinated? Maybe I can bring myself to agree with you there.
[And, despite the kind facade he often puts on, Henry does mean that. Within this prison, there's at least plenty that grasps his attention; the magic of this world, the other Summoned, things he would never have experienced otherwise -- even if not all of them are pleasant. Yes, fascinated is a good descriptor for it, even if he cannot bring himself to truly ever feel like this is a life, or a place, where he can be settled and content.]
It's like something out of a book, isn't it? This place with its magic. And the other Summoned, hailing from other worlds.
[ Henry's careful with his words and to her surprise, reminds her of Jamie. It's odd, the things that will remind her of him, but she realizes he's the same way: his words require thought and surety before he says them. Claire, on the other hand, has only just started to learn to think before she speaks. ]
It's exactly like some sort of twisted fairytale. Magic, I've learned, can be available in all sorts of worlds, I suppose that part is familiar to some. It's the concept of those other worlds that I can't quite wrap my mind around. The U.S. only just sent a man to the moon, and here I am in the company of people from planets and stars I've never heard of.
[ Even the weeds Henry's pulling will have their use, and she picks through them, taking the stems and leaves from some and putting them in the basket beside her. ]
I can't say I've seen much wildlife I'm not familiar with, but before I could explore the woods in-depth, people began going missing. Once I find a willing partner, I'll go foraging.
[ It seems wiser to go in pairs versus alone, even if Jocelyn is out of the picture. She couldn't have been working alone. ]
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no subject
And so, where does that leave them all? To return to their daily routines in the Settlement, falling back in step with the usual cycle? Mundanity to veil them all over again? It would seem so. Henry spent time gardening, of all things, when he first arrived in this world -- and now here he is, hands pressed into the loam of the earth to tend to the things that grow this season, with the enthusiasm of a man who is obligated more than he is entranced by the task itself.
Work to be done in exchange for his privilege to live on these lands. That's all it really is. More roteness for all.
His head turns when someone speaks to him. He stands, walking over with a somewhat placid expression, trying his best to not wipe his hands on his pant legs.]
What is it?
[Pretend at curiosity, or concern. This is fine.]
no subject
I think—well, watch.
[ Claire repeats her actions from before and indeed, a sprout pushes instantly up through the soil. She looks satisfied and then turns her gaze to her company. As long as he saw it too, then she knows there isn’t anything playing tricks with her mind. ]
This is the first magic I’ve ever done. That is what this would be, isn’t it?
[ It isn’t like any other magic she’s seen so far, and so feels the need to check. ]
no subject
I can't imagine what else it would be. And given the nature of this world, picking up a magic trick here and there isn't impossible.
[He crouches down on the opposite side, tilting his head to look at the little sprout.]
Now, then... [A tilt of a small smile, eyes flicking up to meet her gaze.] If only you could kill all of the weeds, too.
no subject
His comment about the weeds is granted a smirk. ]
Well, that would make things too easy. Can’t have that.
[ In fact, she wishes she could appeal to whatever granted her this magic, to suggest the idea. She’s still meeting his eyes
when she begins brushing dirt off of her hands. ]
I’m Claire. New magic user, apparently.
no subject
No, we can't.
[A little wry, but airy enough. Henry returns his gaze to her.]
My name's Henry. I guess you could call me something similar. [Picking up silly little magic tricks here and there thanks to Horizon visits or perhaps otherwise very traumatic experiences. It's all fine here.] I haven't seen you around. Are you new new?
no subject
We don't have anything like this in my world, at least that I've ever seen. But then, there's plenty about the world I don't know.
[ Like, for example, that you can touch a rock and get tossed 200 years in the past. His question has her pondering, then shaking her head. ]
No, not new new. I'd only been here for a week or two when people began disappearing.
[ Was it even that long? She can't remember, it seems like it happened close together. ]
Not very comforting when adapting to a new home.
no subject
[This statement is only valid if Henry carves away the fact that psychics, and hellish, alternate dimensions (? he thinks? he cannot be sure.) exist in his little pocket of the universe, so far away from here. But it is technically a truth. No need to muddy the conversation up with complications just yet.
Idly, a little weed poking out nearby catches his attention, and he reaches over to pluck it up by the stem, forefinger and thumb vicing around it.]
No. Imagine being one of the people who disappeared.
[Wry. But he smiles pleasantly all the same.]
Regardless, I suppose I should be saying, somewhat belatedly: welcome to Solvunn.
no subject
I know a bit of what they went through, and I'd rather not.
[ Exhaling, Claire smiles at the greeting that is late but welcome. ]
Thank you, Henry, it's appreciated. I quite like it here, rogue Elders and archaic religious practices aside.
no subject
[He speaks from very unfortunate experience! Only recently has he been able to function somewhat normally after his stint as a Pit Person, held captive and practically experimented upon against his will. Only recently have the malformed legions on his skin disappeared, leaving faint scarring in places, but little more.
But let them not linger on that. Henry tosses the newly-plucked weed away, banished away from the garden.]
What is it you like about this settlement? [Rogue Elders and archaic religious practices aside. He's curious. To him, it's still very... rote. And the goats are a terrible pain.]
no subject
I'm sorry Henry, I didn't realize.
[ She pauses only for a moment, genuine in her empathy, to try and figure out how to ask if he's still injured without sounding patronizing. But by the time she figures it out he's asked a question, and so she puts a pin in it.
The first answer that comes to mind makes her scoff a little. ]
Certainly not the religion.
[ It wasn't before things went to hell because of Jocelyn, and it definitely isn't any more endearing to her in the aftermath. ]
No, I suppose this is what most kept the homesickness at bay. I was on my way home with my husband after we'd been at sea nearly two years. You've no idea how much I was looking forward to the Scottish Highlands after that.
[ Nevermind that recent developments mean she knows they're in America, not Scotland where she thought she they would be. In the backwoods of North Carolina, no less.
That is exactly too much to dwell on. ]
How did you find your way here?
no subject
So now. Talk of more pleasant things. Well, vaguely so. Certainly not the religion, she says, and he thinks the “religion” here is intriguing, though he can understand why Solvunn’s fervor regarding it settles unwell with some.
But he listens as she talks about homesickness. About a place he has no frame of reference for, that sounds just as fantastical as Abraxas to a man who lived in a bubble for most of his life.]
Two years? That’s a long time to be at sea.
[He can’t imagine the necessity behind that.
As for her question, it’s something of a loaded one. He hasn’t told anyone the full tale, and he’s not sure he intends to anytime soon. But she gets the truth, or at least a part of it, where the other part is nicely hemmed away for ease of conversation.]
My circumstances are strange. [
the player thusly tries not to make a joke about the canon title] But I was kept… prisoner, for a very long while, somewhere underground. I was summoned here at the tail-end of an escape attempt.no subject
[ And that's all that matters, really. At Henry's answer, any lingering thoughts she has about Jamacia fall away. ]
Well, I suppose on the one hand, you've escaped. On the other, you're in another prison. A nice one, if you ignore the last few weeks, but a place we can't leave nonetheless.
no subject
[The thing with Henry is, no, he isn't really sorry to hear it. He's sure it was stressful, in a way he cannot relate to, and he is ambivalent about her finding her nephew. But this is hidden beneath the surface easily enough. Said just as simply as breathing.
But at the part about prisons, and this world still being one despite all the so-called freedoms it allows, then yes. He looks at her with a spark in her eyes; she's the first whose said as much aloud, and he can't help but agree.]
You're right. And we never asked to be here. Not that prisoners ever ask to be imprisoned. [But at that, he tends to the garden a little more, shrugging his shoulders.] Some like it here, though. They don't see it for what it is, maybe.
no subject
There are some I might understand being happy to arrive here. Someone who's died, I suspect, might take being here over the alternative. But we're nowhere special, it's simply another place with conflict.
[ Working on digging under a weed to pull it out by the root, she pauses, glancing at Henry as he gardens. ]
Perhaps for others it's easier not to think of at all. There are no bars and locks after all, and all of our needs are met, above and beyond in some cases. I think that makes it difficult for some.
[ For her part, she isn't judging anyone who would rather be stuck, but she doesn't understand it either, outside of her one exception. ]
Where do your feelings come down on the matter?
no subject
He doesn’t reply at first, stringing words together in his head to sound more pleasant. He rips out a weed with his hands again, dirt staining beneath his fingernails. Beside that, a few more pop out of the ground almost idly, using his abilities in a rather casual manner that only this place has ever allowed. But even Henry cannot give this world credit for that.]
I feel just as trapped as before. No, there aren’t any bars or locks, and we’re being taken care of. And this place is more than just white walls all day long.
[Like the lab.]
But there’s still expectation. The days start to bleed together. [A horrible feeling.] We’re still deprived of choice, in a way.
no subject
You know, I have a feeling some might call us pessimists. I prefer to think I haven't lost sight of the situation. There's no use complaining about it most days, or raging about it to others as it won't change anything, I've learned that lesson other places.
[ She spent a day or two confined to the room she was kind enough to be allowed to stay in at first. Hoping Jamie would somehow find her, waiting to wake up, hoping the next time she opened her eyes a concerned Scot would be staring down at her. She'd raged in her own quiet way at the unfairness of being separated from him again and questioned everyone she could about leaving. In the end, what good had it done? ]
My calm isn't complacency, but I don't see another choice at the moment. I can do what I enjoy. [ She gestures at the garden at large. ] I've learned and seen things I know I wouldn't have otherwise, met people who don't even live in my world, so for that I have to be a bit...grateful isn't the right word.
[ She isn't grateful, glad, or delighted to be here. But these opportunities have been unique. ]
I suppose I'm fascinated. Happy to have the experience of meeting people and discovering things, and to know what it is to have a bit of magic.
no subject
The weeds continue to gently pop out of the ground, and they move on their own to a little pile off to the side. All the while, he looks at her while she speaks, turning her words over in his mind.]
Grateful, no. But fascinated? Maybe I can bring myself to agree with you there.
[And, despite the kind facade he often puts on, Henry does mean that. Within this prison, there's at least plenty that grasps his attention; the magic of this world, the other Summoned, things he would never have experienced otherwise -- even if not all of them are pleasant. Yes, fascinated is a good descriptor for it, even if he cannot bring himself to truly ever feel like this is a life, or a place, where he can be settled and content.]
It's like something out of a book, isn't it? This place with its magic. And the other Summoned, hailing from other worlds.
The wildlife, too. Some of it, anyway.
[He hates the goats!]
no subject
It's exactly like some sort of twisted fairytale. Magic, I've learned, can be available in all sorts of worlds, I suppose that part is familiar to some. It's the concept of those other worlds that I can't quite wrap my mind around. The U.S. only just sent a man to the moon, and here I am in the company of people from planets and stars I've never heard of.
[ Even the weeds Henry's pulling will have their use, and she picks through them, taking the stems and leaves from some and putting them in the basket beside her. ]
I can't say I've seen much wildlife I'm not familiar with, but before I could explore the woods in-depth, people began going missing. Once I find a willing partner, I'll go foraging.
[ It seems wiser to go in pairs versus alone, even if Jocelyn is out of the picture. She couldn't have been working alone. ]
Do you have much experience with farm life?