two - on books and the nature of creation

[kingsroads]

I realize that some might have questions about the nature of England I inadvertently sent us to. I shall happily answer any questions one might have about my world, it's magic, my magic or anything of the sort.

But before that, I have much more interesting news. I was going to the Captain's library to try and find a book on the mechanics of ships (Capt. Crozier and Messers. Jopson and Goodsir, please give me recommendations if you have them) when I found new books in the library! Most of them seem to be after my time and a few seem quite salacious but two of them are quite familiar to me. One is a children's book from my England and the other is a book on magic I wrote myself!

The appearance of my book is notable as all copies aside from one were destroyed in my world (and I doubt this is that one copy). If we all agree with Ms. Persson's theory that this is a dream, then perhaps our unconscious mind created the books, rooms, fruit, et cetera. Which leads me to wonder: what marvels could be made if we turned our conscious minds to creation?

J.S.

Comments

Re: private

[goingtobeunwell]

[There's a lot to process here, give Crozier a minute.]

[Maybe a couple more minutes.]

[Maybe like two more after that.]

How does it work, and when will you attempt this?

Re: private

[kingsroads]

You do not need to do anything. One night, I shall sleep in the cabin next to yours and attempt to enter your dream. As for the time, when shall be best for you?

Re: private

[goingtobeunwell]

I suppose this means I should try to sleep. Midnight is safest.

Re: private

[kingsroads]

Then midnight it is. I shall hopefully see you then.

Re: private

[goingtobeunwell]

If all goes according to plan, yes.

Goodnight, Mr. Strange.

Re: private

[kingsroads]

Goodnight, Captain. Pleasant dreams.

[goingtobeunwell]

Crozier doesn't know if he's going to be able to fall asleep that night. He's craving whiskey - or the damn drops MacDonald made for him - but he has neither and so he paces for a while, tries to read, and then crawls into his berth to stare at the ceiling.

He rubs his eyes tiredly. The relative comfort berth is gone, replaced by a rocky hill that overlooks a few shabby canvas tents.

Crozier starts walking towards Rescue Camp.

[kingsroads]

Strange passes out sooner than expected. Because as much as he crows about his magic and proclaims his self-confidence, he knows that he hasn't ever cast a spell like this before. He's holed himself up in the cabin next to Crozier's and spends the next few hours in a fit of study, writing out multiple drafts of the spell, and secretly wishing John Segundus were here so he could pick the man's brain about how he managed to intrude on dreams in the first place.

Eventually, Strange casts what he hopes is the correct spell. Work continues for a while before Strange feels his eyelids flutter and his head slump against the table...only to feel the chill of the Arctic air around him soon.

Crozier is visible but slightly away from him, walking towards some tents. Wordlessly, Strange follows behind Crozier. He doesn't know how long this period of not being seen will last, but the last thing he wants to do is startle the man into waking up.

[goingtobeunwell]

Everything's sort of numb in the dream - and distant in a way - but Crozier has enough of his mental faculties to think and feel and react. There's dread pooling in his stomach as he stops before an open tent, and he bends down to touch the gray, cold head of his former steward.

"I know you're there," he says, peering over his shoulder at Strange. He looks back down at Jopson's body and sighs, pushing his hair back from his still face. He doesn't witness the young man's dying hallucinations this time, and he's relieved.

"We need to go. There are others we need to see."

[kingsroads]

Strange follows Crozier before pausing for a moment, repressing the urge to shudder as he looks down at Jopson's corpse. Strange has dealt with dead bodies before—even some that were in a state of further rot than Jopson was. But there is something about the sickly, emaciated corpse of the man that turns his stomach.

This is something that he suspects neither of them was meant to see. Crozier's words jolt Strange out of his own thoughts. He makes a small noise of acknowledgement but doesn't address the circumstances of the dream or what they're seeing. Focus on the magic. It should be easier to digest that way.

"Before we go, I want you to focus on one specific person or event. If we must see them, then we shall do so, but try to guide the dream so that you have chosen the next thing we see."

[goingtobeunwell]

Crozier stands, gaze firmly on the stack of three red tins left outside the tent. Focus on one specific person or event. He's not certain he's able to--

The earth seems to shift under their feet, and Crozier throws a protective arm out towards Strange before it crumbles completely. Strange is still with him when everything reforms, and Crozier gestures towards the front of the aircraft.

Ms. Persson is leaning over a chair speaking to the pilot. Crozier winces, braces himself.

"I don't want to see this again," he says. If they must be in a dream, he doesn't want it to be someone's memory. He needs to focus on a specific event that won't be so invasive, he needs to--

The bomb is dropped, and Crozier places his face into his hands as he waits for the impact.

[kingsroads]

The dream shifts and changes around them. Now they're...somewhere, Strange hasn't the slightest clue what a plane is and can barely guess at the context of this situation.

Whatever happening is obviously affecting Crozier. And so, Strange makes the split second decision that the dream has to shift to him. His life was not particularly horrifying or confusing, Strange thinks, completely forgetting his descent into madness or the state of the dead he revived. It should be a relief.

"Turn it towards me," Strange yells, trying to speak over the noise of the aircraft. "Concentrate on me, on my voice, as you try to shape the dream. You are in control, you can-"

There is a loud noise and a bright flash of light and Strange feels his words die in his throat as he watches the bomb drop as well.

[goingtobeunwell]

Crozier feels the confusion and panic in the craft, and he grabs Strange's arm beside him to ground himself. He knows a city's being annihilated below them, can feel the horror in the cabin, the pain from the people suddenly ripped from the world below them.

"I don't know how!" he yells, the din of the aircraft suddenly replaced by a still harbor covered in ice and snow. He reels and clings to Strange, trying to catch his breath.

This memory isn't as painful, at least not outwardly so, and he uses the calm moment to come back to himself.

[kingsroads]

As Strange isn't the one actually dreaming this, he's spared some of the trauma. But he still feels the panic, the horror, the feeling that down there below them, hundreds of voices have just been silenced.

And then they are in the snow again and Crozier is clinging to him. Strange desperately tries to push down the panic in his voice, trying to keep himself as calm as he can. God, he thought this would have been easier!

"You are in control," Strange repeats, letting Crozier still hold onto him. "This is your dream crafted by your magic. If you make your presence known and exert enough willpower, you can guide the dream to go where you want it."

[goingtobeunwell]

Crozier gathers himself, as much as he can, and steps back from Strange. His hands are beginning to tremble.

"Damned Memo Moira," he mumbles, crossing his arms as he looks out at the frozen harbor. "My Papist witch grandmother warned me about this."

The snow and wind begins to kick up again and Crozier closes his eyes to brace himself. He's in control. He's in control. He doesn't want to see Queen Anna frozen solid again. If he could just -- what was it? Exert enough willpower? What in the goddamn hell did that even mean?

"Strange, think of your apartment. In Venice. I've visited, but I need help to get us there before -- just help me, please."

[kingsroads]

There's still so much about this that Strange isn't grasping. He thought they were back in the Arctic but the presence of multiple ships on the horizon proves him wrong. And now this talk about a witch grandmother? And he still doesn't know what happened in that scene before, over the city. It's all a little overwhelming.

But then he sees Crozier's hands tremble and Strange immediately knows he has to step up and try harder. He reaches over to grab Crozier's hands, giving them a squeeze as he talks.

"Close your eyes," he says as he closes his. "Picture the apartment. Focus on all the small details you've seen—the mirror, the bed, all those damn candles. As we walk forward, think of walking into the apartment, of opening a door and stepping through."

As he talks, he does the same, desperately trying to will that apartment into existence.

[goingtobeunwell]

Crozier accepts the help, holding onto his hands as something to moor him through the dream. He thinks of the apartment - the darkness, the statues, the torn gown on the floor, and the ground softens as it thaws beneath them, then hardens once more as Venice rises up around them.

He opens his eyes to the sight of a second Jonathan Strange drinking from a vial with a dead mouse in it, hands dropping as that duplicate Strange goes wild-eyed and distant.

"You'll run into the mirror next." He can't convey the emotion in the room to Strange though, the grief and anger he feels right along with him.

[kingsroads]

When he feels the hard floor underneath his feet, Strange relaxes a little, opening his eyes...and then is immediately confronted with the image of himself in a fit of madness and grief.

Strange immediately feels an intense self-consciousness. This is something he really didn't want any of the other people on the ship to learn about. He turns away from the second Strange, focusing entirely on Crozier, as if not focusing on this scenario would make Crozier forget about it.

"Yes, and I am cursed shortly after that. Do you want to try and follow me through the mirror or try and return to the Terror?"

[goingtobeunwell]

Crozier's gaze follows the duplicate until he runs to the mirror and disappears. The feelings of rage and madness follow, and he feels like he can breathe again as the candles extinguish. He reaches for Strange's arm, grabbing his sleeve and nodding. "Let's try," he agrees hoarsely.

[kingsroads]

"The mirror first," Strange says, as he turns to look at the mirror. He tries to keep his voice steady as he continues to talk. "Focus on that other Strange. Remind yourself that you are in control of the dream and you want to see what happens next."

Still, there's the matter of the mirror. Part of Strange suspects that since it's a dream, Crozier should just be able to walk through the mirror by himself. But the poor man's tense enough already. He might as well cast the spell.

Strange mutters a few words under his breath before walking towards the mirror, intent on passing straight through.

[goingtobeunwell]

The mirror relents to Strange and Crozier follows after, the cold knocking the breath from his lungs as he steps on through to the other side.

They're back in the Arctic, out on the frozen Victoria Straight surrounded by tall pressure ridges and seracs. He can't see Terror or Erebus, nor any paths or any sign that they'd traveled through there before, but there's blood on the ice.

So, so much blood.

Surrounding himself and Strange are the bodies of five adult seals, bellies gutted and steam still rising from the fresh kill.

Crozier tenses. "I don't know this."

[kingsroads]

This isn't Faerie. What the hell?

Strange looks around for a moment, obviously confused, before he looks down and spots the blood on the ice. It's his turn to tense up. He has no idea what killed these seals, of course. But the image of something lying dead and gutted, bleeding out on the Arctic ice, is conjuring up some familiar images that Strange does not want to deal with.

It is far too easy to see himself in those seals.

"We need to leave," Strange says, without hesitation. He doesn't care who's dream this is or about the significance of what Crozier's seeing now, this is bad news and not good and Strange wants to get the hell out of here. "Captain, I need you to focus on your cabin as you focused on my apartment. Remember the feeling of your bunk underneath you, the touch of wood on your feet, picture yourself there, and by God, picture it as quick as you can."

[goingtobeunwell]

Crozier hears something on the wind - the crunch of ice underfoot - and pushes Strange back. He's of the same mind, nothing good can come by standing there.

"I need to wake, I need to wake--"

There's a soft puff of breath, and a tall serac before them blinks. He can hear it in his head, whispering something he can't understand. It's trying to speak to him.

"Strange, I have to wake! Wake up, damn it all!"

It takes a step forward, its shape unwinding from the snow, forming into a hulking mass that reeked of dead flesh. Crozier moves to cry out, but it's delivered to the ceiling of his berth as he all but jumps out of his own bed.

[kingsroads]

The shape of the thing is hideous, but it is not what truly frightens Strange. It's the smell. The smell of death and decay, that horrible smell that almost instantly brings him back to the peninsula. Those corpses on the ground might as well be the poor Neapolitans he resurrected. He has to get rid of that smell. Strange takes a step back, ready to cast a spell at that thing—

—and then falls out of the chair that he had fallen asleep in, head hitting the ground with a loud thud.

"Damn!" he swears, much louder than he intended to. He brings a hand up to his head to check for any bleeding but stops when he notices it trembling. No matter. If he is wounded (which he isn't), then he would find out soon enough.

Strange gets up, leaves his room, and walks over towards Crozier's door before stopping for a moment. He can't let the Captain see him like this. Not like someone scared. Strange pauses for a moment to take a deep breath and attempt to try (and fail!) to calm his nerves and his trembling. And then seconds after, he knocks on the door.

"Captain? Are you decent?"

[goingtobeunwell]

Crozier pushes open the door to his berth, then the door to the great cabin. He quickly pulls Strange inside, holding him firmly by the shoulders, his own hands shaking but needing to know that this was real and not the dream.

Strange is solid, and he cannot feel the inward distress and horror from him. Nothing pushes into him, nothing's shared between them.

He exhales and steps back from him, convinced that he's awake.

Whiskey. A glass of whiskey used to calm the tremors from his time in Antarctica. Whiskey might...whiskey used to...

He groans and sits at his table tiredly.