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.

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[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.

[kingsroads]

Strange's hands are jammed firmly in his pockets. He can't let Crozier see just how rattled he is. Strange is supposed to be the one who's in control, who has experience in these sorts of matters. But he can't hide the paleness in his face or the slight hesitancy of his voice.

"Honestly, you were doing quite well before that last vignette. You were able to change the dream to focus on a person of your choosing. With more practice, changing the dream will become easier."

[goingtobeunwell]

As tempted as he is to just lay his head down on the table, Crozier stays upright and tries to meet Strange's eyes. His mind won't let him focus on anything but the sight of the Tuunbaq emerging from the ice.

"It wants something from us."

He leans forward, placing his own unsteady hands on the table.

"I've never seen the creature before tonight," he admits. "It was trying to speak. To converse in some manner. I could feel it. I...it wants. It's wanting. It's craving something that we have."

[kingsroads]

This feels like a puzzle that they're missing a few pieces to. If he's never seen that thing before tonight, then in Strange's mind it makes sense that the cause for the creature's arrival was the new variable: himself.

Without thinking, Strange moves his still trembling hand to rub at his neck, touching places where he know should be scarred.

"What does it do with the kills? Our...our fiend on the ice. I know it makes a mockery of the bodies, but is there one part consistently missing? A heart or eyes or something of that sort."

[goingtobeunwell]

Crozier thinks back on Private Heather, the marine who had the top of his skull removed and still lived.

"There's nothing consistent," he begins quietly. "But...it has taken something from some of my men, and left a still-breathing husk. Their spirit, you could call it. Souls."

His expression is grave. "Perhaps it struggles to exist here because it cannot devour us as it wishes."

[kingsroads]

Strange can't help but shudder. The idea of losing one's soul sounds absolutely horrific.

"I wouldn't know how to measure a soul. But, as I walk and talk and feel, I think it safe to assume that I still have mine." Strange stares off into the distance, hand still on his neck as he asks,

"Do you think it will die? Or can it even die in the first place?"

[goingtobeunwell]

"I don't know," he murmurs, feeling a chill run down his spine. "I can't even answer if it's the same creature that hunted my men across the ice. Perhaps we caused this - myself, Jopson, Goodsir. Perhaps the beast dreams too."

Was it the same creature that he remains chained to even now?

He doesn't know what to do, but he can't rid himself from feeling the dread that settles into his stomach.

"It wanted us to see it, Strange."

[kingsroads]

Strange makes a noise of agreement. That...makes sense. That whole set-up didn't feel accidental. And, at least in Strange's mind, it didn't fit in with the rest of Crozier's dreams.

This is possibly a terrible idea. But Strange has a sinking feeling that all ideas are terrible. So fuck it, might as well offer up the terrible idea.

"I think we should do this again, tomorrow night and then the night after. If that thing shows up again, we can try and talk to it or learn more about it. And if it remains hidden, I can help you become more comfortable with your magic."

[goingtobeunwell]

Crozier dreads having to walk through those dreams again and again. The very idea makes his blood run cold, and yet Strange seems to be offering him just a little hope to quell the despair. Companionship through the dreams, assistance.

"Some of the things I see I don't quite understand, and most seem to be deeply personal, if not harmful. If you are to help me, you must swear not to speak of these visions to anyone else aboard."

[kingsroads]

Strange nods. "If someone confronts me about what I know, I shall not lie. But I am not a gossip. I know...to be honest, if I had a choice, I'd rather not anybody see that part of me that you saw."

Strange shifts slightly. He's not exactly ashamed of his actions. After all, they led in an indirect way to freeing Arabella. But that doesn't change the fact that the Venetian portion of his life is something he doesn't view fondly.

"I can respect their privacy."

[goingtobeunwell]

"I would not ask you to lie," he agrees softly. He regards him for a moment and then nods. "Thank you. I don't yet know what these dreams are trying to tell me, and I would rather not cast judgement upon anyone for something not in their control."

Crozier climbs to feet. "Can you sleep tonight after what you saw?"

[kingsroads]

"You must not have spent too long in my memories if you think that is the worst that I've seen."

It's said with a very glib tone and a slightly reassuring smile but honestly, Strange isn't sure if he can sleep tonight. He can deal with horror. But some of those things were beyond what he was expecting.

"I shall be fine. I will go to sleep, get my rest, and then tomorrow we can go about our day pretending like this never happened—ah, but you do owe me a story of your grandmother at some point."

[goingtobeunwell]

He grabs his greatcoat from the hook and pulls it on along with his gloves and hat.

"Ah, yes. Memo Moira. I'd nearly forgotten I'd mentioned her." He smiles ruefully. "I'll tell you the story tomorrow night, Strange. For now, I'm going to have a pipe."