four - place the moon at my eyes

[kingsroads]

[ the post goes up late Thursday, into the evening hours. and MAN is Strange so thankful for this magical journal system. He really doesn't want to have to write this multiple times. ]

One of our new visitors is an enchanter of some sort. He has cursed me and trapped Sabriel.

Francis, McGonagall, I shall need your help. I cannot save Sabriel alone. Likewise, I will need to help of any new magicians who might have arrived with the visitors. As I cannot tell the new magicians this myself, I am relying on the rest of the ship's crew to pass on this message as I cannot myself. Please meet me at my room—the proper one, not my cursed apartment.

Persson, Sheehan, I have a question of you. How can one dream up an item they had back home? Does it work the same as the communal dream of Goodsir and Jopson's rooms or can I do this by myself? I know the item's properties perfectly as I created it myself, I simply need it here. Do not come to me in person, simply respond with your journal.

As for the rest of the ship, I need a mirror and something dead—flowers, perhaps? Please leave them outside my door if you have them. There is a spell I can still cast, a spell to see what my enemy is doing. I do not know who my enemy is but the enchanter hurt Sabriel. Undoubtedly he is my enemy and undoubtedly he is on this ship.

Stay safe.

Comments

[kingsroads]

[ fortunately, Crozier doesn't get to deal with as much of a mad magician as poor Fitzjames does. Unfortunately, Strange is pretty much going to be running on batshit, fumes, and mouse juice until he knows Sabriel is free. ]

I need what I always need, magician. Your counsel.

[kingsroads]

James Fitzjames is a bad pun. It's why even now gin makes me ill. He paid off a man who was blackmailing Sir John Barrow's son and saved the Barrow family name, and the Admiralty would have given him any command he wished. Do you judge me harshly? For what I've done? For what I had to do? He is in his room, listening to a man's life, and he doesn't know if this has happened, is happening, or will happen.

Ah. He understands it now. They are not brothers, they are a coin. There is Crozier, in profile, looking out at the unknown. And there is Fitzjames, with Britannia's shield, trident in hand. And there is Strange, coin in hand, flipping it in the air, calling it before it lands. He feels the weight in his pocket. And so, Strange does what he did for the other half of the coin. He reaches up to Fitzjames's face and, while giving him a sympathetic smile, starts to wipe the tears away with his thumb

As he looks up at Fitzjames, Strange sees the various faces of him start to crack. There is a candle back there. Good. Perhaps that is what he needed to see. He certainly feels more sturdy having seen it.

[goingtobeunwell]

[Ah. Something's definitely wrong here.]

I am at your service then.

[kingsroads]

Meet me in my room. We might need to go on the deck later, but we can at least start there.

[goingtobeunwell]

Crozier knocks before he enters. He looks tired, haggard, but it but pales in comparison to the state of his friend.

[endofvanity]

Fitzjames finds himself leaning toward the touch without thinking about it. He crumples the paper with Strange's question in his hand and reaches up to put his hand back on Strange's shoulder again.

"Mr. Strange ..." he says. "Jonathan. Where are you?"

[kingsroads]

Strange brightens with pleasure at the use of his first name. He says a few words, voice still completely missing thanks to the spell, but the shape of his mouth moving shows them plain and clear. Thank you, James. Strange steps back, this time with steady feet and no trace of a limp, as he gestures to the room around him. He is here. Where else would he be?

His eyes linger on Sabriel's portrait for a moment. I am sorry for the delay, he thinks, but I needed a steady hand. And now we both know this man is more broken than either of us realized. Do not worry. I shall return you to me soon.

Strange returns to Fitzjames and, with a small smile, gestures for him to leave the room.

[kingsroads]

When Strange opens the door to see Crozier, he brightens up, giving the man a tired smile. Crozier has no tropical flowers, though lichen grows on one of his hands and cotton grass at his chest—good, this must mean he is still mad. Strange knows he will need the madness in order for this to continue. The small metallic thing still lingers in the back of his throat, though the taste of rotted tomatoes has thankfully faded. Instead, to Strange the air tastes like smoke. Like the charred remains of a fire and something that feels like pork but he knows cannot be pork.

He presses a sheet of paper into Crozier's hands before moving inside to pace. His glance darts between Sabriel's portrait and Crozier himself. Thankfully, Strange has a bit of time to write his thoughts down before Crozier arrived. He can only hope they make sense.

Francis,
I now know that one of the new arrivals on the ship is a fairy—specifically, the same fiend I dealt with back home. He has trapped Sabriel in her portrait and cursed me with silence. I must face him myself. I know the most about the fair folk and I refuse to see any of you injured.

As you know, the death of the enchanter instantly breaks all those enchantments cast. That will be the easiest method to save the two of us. I managed to defeat this fiend in my world by putting all of English magic in the hands of the Raven King and charging the man to destroy the fairy. Unfortunately, there is little English magic in the Arctic. Fortunately, there is little fairy magic either. The doors are sealed, he is as trapped as we all are. And I suspect he is weakened as well.

Though there is little English magic, there is magic inherent in this land. We both know that much. I plan to defeat the fairy here the same way I did in England: by gifting the magic to a representative of the land, a being that is already used to the magic of the North and charging it to destroy the fairy.

Strange continues to nervously pace, looking over at Crozier. He hopes he's clear enough in his plan, though he knows the other man must have nothing but questions. Which isn't Francis's fault, of course. He has not been the sky yet.

[endofvanity]

Fitzjames doesn't want to leave. He opens the door, and before he steps outside, says, "I am here. Call—" no. "Strike the door if you need me."

[goingtobeunwell]

It isn't like Strange to be so quiet, and his gaze is unfocused and scattered. He recognizes his friend's unraveled mind and silently takes the letter from him, hoping for an explanation of things.

When he reaches the mention of Sabriel he lifts his head and stares at the portrait on the wall. Oh good Christ. "Sabriel?" She doesn't move. He swallows down his horror and continues to read.

Sabriel and Jonathan both cursed in the same relative cruel manner, Hickey come back to haunt them, shadows and shades of dreams past visiting Terror. He believes Strange immediately. If anyone would know the kind of magic that would do this to the two of them, it is Jonathan Strange. If he says it is Fairy then it is Fairy.

He puts aside the letter and walks slowly up to Sabriel in her portrait. "Can you hear us?" he asks softly. "Christ, I hope not, Sabriel. Jonathan will get you out, dear girl. Hold on. Just hold on if you can hear me."

[kingsroads]

Strange gives Fitzjames a reassuring and grateful smile before he nods. He then turns back to his room and the mess of papers on the floor. He needs to finish this.

[kingsroads]

As Crozier walks to the portrait, Strange walks to pick up another piece of paper. This time, what he writes on it is less than before, though he suspects a bit more worrying. Brief irritation flits across his face as the ice informs him that he's spelling the word wrong. It is ice, it cannot read to begin with!

Once finished, Strange presses the paper into Crozier's hand then stares intently at his forehead for a moment. He can see Francis's candle, blazing fit to burst behind the barriers the man erected. He hopes this won't dim it. He worries it might.

Envoy - our raven
Path - the ice
Handsel - magic itself, presented by the sky
Recipient - toonbock tuunbaq
Bait - myself

I have forgotten the specific spell to summon fairies. He might not come if I offer a general invitation. But he will come if I challenge him. And then I will politely ask the bear for a favor.

[goingtobeunwell]

Crozier raises a hand to his forehead, rubbing at the invisible spot Strange is staring at, his own gaze dropping down to the list in his hand.

His brow furrows. He suspected, but he was hoping those suspicions were wrong.

"No," he tells him, pressing the list back into Strange's chest. "No, absolutely not. The tuunbaq won't obey. It will rip us all to shreds, Jonathan, as it did before. It will murder you. No, this plan has too much risk."

[kingsroads]

Strange looks for a moment like he wants to argue before he remembers he actually can't. Damn this spell! Because there are so many points he wants to bring up to Francis, things that fall into his mind the moment he stops looking at the paper. He will challenge the fairy on the ice, away from the ship. There are more magicians now than before, they stand a chance protecting the crew, especially if Sabriel is free.

There are also things that he's not going to tell Francis. That he'll use himself as bait for the tuunbaq as much as the fairy. That it doesn't matter if he dies, just that Sabriel is safe. He's been trapped under a fairy curse before, if he can save her even the slightest anguish he felt, it would be worth it.

Strange gestures to Sabriel, look of utter helplessness in his eyes as he does so. What other choice is there?

[goingtobeunwell]

Odd, Crozier can almost hear his protests. Jonathan's pleas for reason, his frustration with him and his resolve are so plain on his face that Crozier responds as though it's a proper conversation. "I know it's for her, Jonathan. You'd throw yourself directly into its damn jaws if it meant bringing her back to us, but I can't allow you to put everyone in danger by baiting the creature. Or God Forbid, giving the thing more power! You know what you're asking me, old boy, and I won't approve of it."

He can't look at Sabriel's portrait. The poor girl. "What does it want most, this foe of yours? Does it want to torment you?"

[kingsroads]

God, this is all going to happen again, isn't it? Strange gets an idea in his head, he can't think of any better solutions, he goes off to do it, ends up dying in the process. He doesn't have to be a genius to see the patterns repeating. But dammit, he can't think of anything else right now!

At Francis's question, Strange gives the man a shrug and a look that plainly reads 'how the hell should I know.' But a moment later, after thinking things for a second or two, he gives a skeptical nod. Honestly, that makes the most sense as anything. After all, the fiend did kidnap Arabella.

[goingtobeunwell]

Crozier squares his jaw. For God's sake, Jonathan. "It must. It stole your voice and then imprisoned a friend of yours in a painting. She's hanging in your room, Jonathan, there's purpose there!"

He shakes his head and walks a few paces away, debating on what to say next. "Summon it. Confront it. But you must do so on your own. Don't wake the beast that sleeps in the ice."

[kingsroads]

Strange starts to say something, realizes once again that his voice is stolen, and then lets off an impressive litany of swears where the effect is ruined because again, stolen voice. He looks around for a pencil and yanks the first letter he wrote back from Crozier. Strange very forcefully circles a sentence and writes another one at the bottom of the letter before shoving it back into Crozier's hands.

The sentence he circled: the death of the enchanter instantly breaks all those enchantments cast. The sentence he wrote at the bottom: My magic is not strong enough. I cannot do this alone.

As Strange waits for Crozier to read what he wrote, he swats at something invisible that he sees flying around his head. All the while, he's just staring at the other man, hoping to God that his captain will have some form of insight.

[goingtobeunwell]

Crozier bites back the urge to yell at him. "Then don't, Jonathan! You've spoken with McGonagall, have her assist you! Put a call out to the others aboard, perhaps they know something you do not," he says, wanting to shake him. "So long as you're not trying to ask the tuunbaq to so-kindly destroy your enemies. I forbid you bring that creature into this!"

He hopes Sabriel can't hear them now, bickering as they are through notes and wild gesticulations.

[kingsroads]

The others aboard, there are three magicans and two of them are incapacitated! How the devil would he—

And then Strange stops and thinks. The others aboard. There might be more than three magicians on board. After all, if that fairy showed up then perhaps one of the others who showed up were magicians as well! And it's not like they would know how the damn journals worked and could have seen his post because he didn't know how the damn journals worked when he first arrived! Of course Jonathan 'a prophecy called me out on being arrogant' Strange thought that all the new arrivals knew how the dream worked as well as he did when he first arrived!

His expression turns from angry to manic at the drop of a pin. He lets out a triumphant laugh that is instantly undercut due to the fact that he still can't say anything, as he grips Crozier by the shoulders and gives him a wide, triumphant smile that would be a lot more reassuring if he didn't have the visible glint of mania in his eyes.

[goingtobeunwell]

He seems to have gotten an idea, and Crozier's body sags in relief. Yes, whatever mad notion his words may have inspired in Strange, it has to be better than provoking the bloody tuunbaq.

"What an odd notion, asking for help," he says dryly. "One more thing -- you're not allowed to get yourself killed in some brazen act of needless heroics, Jonathan Strange."

[kingsroads]

Strange squeezes Crozier's shoulders, grinning all the while. And then, acting entirely on impulse, he pulls Francis Crozier towards him and plants a kiss on the man's forehead, right where he knows that candle is shining through his head.

It's an action he'll overthink himself to death about later. But in the moment, brimming with madness and renewed vigor and the realization that hey, he might not have to actually die, Strange just doesn't care.

He moves his hands back to his side and, still bursting with manic energy and renewed purpose, starts to make his way to the door.

[mayiofferyouacoughdrop]

McGonagall knocks at Strange's door once she's gathered the requested materials. She's not sure what she's going to find inside, but she has a feeling that he either has done or will do something impulsive, but she's braced for it, whatever it is.

[goingtobeunwell]

Crozier blinks slowly in surprise, face reddening as Strange pulls away from him. He reminds himself firmly of Strange's shaky mental state, and manages a nod to him as he steps to the door.

"I'll ask about as well," he says. "Go. But bring your journal to assist in matters, and keep me apprised."

[kingsroads]

Strange has indeed done something impulsive in the sense that he knocked back some concentrated madness and is hallucinating a teensy bit right now. He opens the door, looks at McGonagall, and then the mouse that provided the madness and he can still feel running around his brain just freaks the hell out.

Strange stumbles backwards, tripping over a book he threw on the ground and wiping out in the process. Because this woman is a cat. She's simultaneously a woman and a cat, not the woman who became a cat who gifted him the madness in the first place. A cat and a woman that exists in the same space.

This is amazing and terrifying all at the same time: from his position on the floor, Strange looks up at McGonagall with an expression that's half awe, half outright fear.