[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
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?