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

[mayiofferyouacoughdrop]

Her eyes widen and she moves forward to help him. "Mr Strange, are you quite all right?" He'd known she was coming--why on earth does he seem shocked to see her?

[kingsroads]

Oh, right, his journal. He needs that. Strange almost instantly turns back around into the room, walks back to a stack of papers, and rummages through them until he finds the journal. He holds it up as if to verify to Crozier—see, it's there—before he pauses and looks over at the portrait of Sabriel.

Strange walks over and rests his head on the canvas, again hoping that somehow his thoughts can reach Sabriel even in this state. Don't worry. You're so strong, you're one of the strongest people on this damn ship. Just hold on a little longer. I'm coming.

With another nod at the portrait, he turns on his heels and starts to walk out of his room (again).

[kingsroads]

He closes his eyes, scrunching them tight like a child receiving a surprise, in the hopes that the cat part of her will go away and the mouse part of him will quiet down. When Strange opens his eyes, he is visibly relieved that McGonagall seems like a woman again.

But they have business to do. He reaches into his coat pocket to pull out the dead things Fitzjames brought: the wilted flower and some mustard stalks, all of which look a little crumpled thanks to Strange eating some floor. He looks over at McGonagall expectantly: did she bring the mirror?

[mayiofferyouacoughdrop]

She's a little surprised that he's not talking--his message hadn't mentioned his actual curse, just that he needed help--but she assumes that it's part of the enchantment somehow. She offers him the mirror, along with parchment, quills, and ink. "I don't suppose a simple finite would do the trick?" she asks. She doubts it. Complicated enchantments usually involve complicated countercurses.

[goingtobeunwell]

Crozier catches his hand as Jonathan walks by again. He only means to tell him that it's going to be all right, that they'd find a way to set things back to normal, but he tugs a little too hard and pulls him a little too close.

He presses his lips to the side of Strange's mouth. It's impulsive, and more than he's ever done with another man, but the consequences seem so small in the face of things. "I know your heart is breaking," he whispers. "Your mind is scattered." I will make you whole again, he thinks.

"We'll make it right."

[kingsroads]

Oh. Well that was lovely.

Strange's expression shifts to a charmed little smile as Crozier kisses him. It's a smile of happy disbelief, the sort of 'oh wow, I didn't expect that to happen but I'm kind of glad it did' feeling that Strange gets whenever he crafts a spell that he wasn't sure would work. It was nice. He kind of wants to do it again.

But that will happen later. Right now, there is work to be done.

He takes Crozier's hand, the hand that has the lichen growing on it, the hand that is there but isn't and gives it a small squeeze (ah, so it is there, that's nice to know). He looks at his captain and mouths, 'Thank you, Francis' before gently setting his hand down and, with even more renewed vigor than before, leaves his room to interrogate some new arrivals.

[kingsroads]

Strange brightens up a little as he takes the supplies from McGonagall. These will be very useful, though how she managed to carry them this far with her paws—hands?—paws, he will never know.

At her question, Strange shakes his head. He starts to explain some of the intricacies of fairy magic before realizing halfway through that oh yeah, his voice is still magically removed. Great. He takes some of the parchment and quills and messily scribbles a few sentences.

Fairy magic. It is very hard to break: I am still under a fairy curse myself (not the one of silence a different one). I have tried a simple spell of revelation already but you are willing to try.

There's another pause before Strange continues to scribble. He's getting ink all over his fingertips but does not seem to mind.

When I cast the spell with the mirror, you might not see anything. Do not worry. I suspect the enemy is a fairy and only madmen can see fairies if the fairy chooses to conceal itself. Fortunately Minerva, I am quite mad.

[goingtobeunwell]

Crozier's not even sure what the hell happened until Strange is out of the room. He stumbles backwards a little, leaning against the wall that contains Sabriel's portrait.

He leans forward to glance at her. No, still frozen in place. That doesn't mean she's not seeing, but Christ Almighty, he hopes she's not. He hopes she'll wake from the curse with no memory of what occurred.

"Someone will be back," he reassures her, just in case she can hear him. "We won't leave you alone for long, Sabriel."

He leaves her, even though he feels guilty doing it.

[mayiofferyouacoughdrop]

Fortunately Minvera, I am quite mad.

She reads the line a few times, then gives him an exasperated look. He hadn't been mad when she'd last spoken to him, so she can only assume it's something he's done to himself. "I sincerely doubt that is fortunate," she tells him archly as she takes out her wand. Even if he needs to be in the state to cast the spell, she wouldn't call it fortunate. "Finite." she flicks the wands in the simple countercurse, but--predictably--nothing happens. Still, if you don't at least try the simple way first, sometimes you end up looking like an ass wasting your time on something complicated when the easiest spell might have sufficed.

"Very well. Cast your spell."

[goodgrasshopper]

After leaving Una, Molly heads directly to the Strange's cabin and knocks at the door. She's still furious about the spell that had been cast on Una, and she's ready for a fight. Apparently this Mr. Strange needs help dealing with the person who had cursed them. Fantastic. That's something she can do, and she cares a lot less about shattering spells around the caster than she had about her friend.

[kingsroads]

Strange actually isn't at the cabin. He had taken Crozier's advice to look among the new arrivals for magicians, or at least someone who can help. The closest thing he found was a duck that's also a swan, shining bright like the sun, but he thinks he might have made her cry so that duck isn't going to work. Fortunately, he's returning to his cabin right as Molly knocks on the door. And the madness combined with Strange's own slight magical sensitivity tell him right away that this woman can help.

She radiates power, an icy breeze that makes Strange involuntarily shiver as frost drips from her fingertips and her hair shimmers with the colors of the Northern sky. Without hesitation, Strange rushes towards Molly, look of relief visible on his face as he makes to grab her hand. He's got no idea if she's coming or going but at far as he's concerned, he's not going to let her go anywhere.

The most recent enchantment lies at his throat. But Molly can also see traces of a different curse Strange is under, a curse of eternal night held at bay by the dream, as well as the effect of the madness swimming around Strange's mind. He wasn't doing so hot even before this recent curse.

[kingsroads]

As McGonagall casts the spell, Strange finds himself inherently standing up a bit straighter and squaring his shoulders back. Her magic feels like rules, structured, like a sonnet or a poem, something you memorize and study and practice. He can clap out the beats in his head. If we shadows have offended, finite incatatum. It is magic that Wellington would like, which means that Strange likes it because Wellington would like it. But it is magic that he worries won't work with fairy magic, the magic of the land itself, a wordless song that you twirl to and keen into the night.

Still, he has occasionally been wrong before. He might be wrong now. Probably not, but you never know. And Minerva is a powerful magician and she is offering her help so he shall take it.

Strange takes the mirror and places it on the ground. He sets the dead plants on either side of the mirror and draws a circle on it. And then suddenly, the reflection shifts. It shows a ceiling that is not his ceiling, a different part of the Terror.

Strange picks up the mirror and moves it around, trying to catch a glimpse of whoever his enemy might be. He looks back at McGonagall, giving her a wide grin, an expression of 'see? Look what I did!'...

...and then almost drops the mirror entirely when he spots a familiar looking head of thistledown colored hair. That wide grin shifts very quickly to a strained one as Strange looks down at the mirror with utter loathing.

[sssstephen]

Like a moth over the shoulder the Gentleman can feel something tickling the back of his neck. He whips himself around and raises his brow, looking off into the nothing with a deeply annoyed scowl.

The magician can see him now, but it doesn't mean his fun has to be over.

[goodgrasshopper]

Molly stares at him in shock. Even if she hadn't spoken to Una and read the man's plea for help on their network, she would know that he needed help. She can see an enchantment similar--though different--to the one on Una at his throat, but he's also wound up in other magics, and the turmoil in his mind is actually making her a little seasick.

"Mr. Strange, I assume?" her tone holds a sense of mild alarm at his state. "Una told me you're having a problem with a curse. Where is he?"

Wait. No. He can't talk. She can see that.

She presses her lips together briefly. The fae aren't exactly known for their generosity of spirit, and favors must be repaid in kind. It's part of their nature, and it's not something she can just... will away.

"You're going to owe me after this. Blah blah blah, faerie bullshit. A favor to be collected at a time of my choosing. Do you understand?"

[mayiofferyouacoughdrop]

McGonagall doesn't see the person in the mirror, but she can practically smell the magic in the air, and the look on Strange's face is very telling. She motions to the quill and parchment. "What do you see?"

[kingsroads]

Strange nods as Molly says his name. The mention of Una surprises him-she scoffed at fairies once and yet she knows one with so much power? Though as the conversation continues, it becomes obvious to Strange why Una might not have known much about the fae. This fairy, this winter lady is...unconventional at best.

Strange can't help but gape a little at the words blah blah blah, faerie bullshit. Because...what? Just what. What the hell. The favor owed is reassuring because it's at least something he expects. Honestly, he'd prefer owing a more physical gift, but beggars can't be choosers.

He nods again to show he understands.

[goodgrasshopper]

"Super." she says with a nod of her own. "Now let's follow this enchantment back to where it came from, shall we?" Harry had taught her the basics of thaumaturgy, and Mab had helped her refine them. She doesn't need perfect silence anymore, and she could probably manage this without a circle, but she's still used to doing some things the human way.

"Do you have any chalk? This dress doesn't have any pockets."

[kingsroads]

It is a very good thing for Molly that Strange is quiet right now because he has nothing but questions. Chalk? What spell involves that? Shouldn't she use Belias's Scopus instead? Is this a fairy thing? Why can't she magic chalk herself?

Fortunately, they're right outside of Strange's cabin and Jonathan 'packrat' Strange has chalk. He holds out his hand in the sort of gesture for 'one moment' before he opens the door and rummages through some materials in his desk. Sabriel gets a hopeful smile (just hold on, we're almost there!) and Fitzjames, if he's still around, gets an excited grin. He finds the chalk in fifteen seconds or so, stuffs some more paper in his pocket and a pencil behind his ear, then in a flurry of movement rushes back out of the cabin to present Molly with the chalk.

[kingsroads]

Strange starts on a long rant which once again is undercut by the fact that he damn well can't speak. He looks very frustrated at the mirror for a second then looks back at McGonagall (he can hear the sound of cats again, meowing in his ears, but these sound younger and plaintive, almost sad) then moves to the parchment to scribble down a few quick words.

It is him. He is on the Terror and he torments me still.

[goodgrasshopper]

She had been about to follow him into the room, but the hallway is fine too. "Stand there," she says, taking the chalk from him, and motioning for him to stay exactly where he is. It only takes a moment to draw a chalk circle around him, and she touches it to imbue it with power. She looks at Strange-- "Don't move yet" --then sits down next to it and closes her eyes, muttering a few syllables of Japanese-sounding nonsense under her breath.

Strange should begin to feel a sensation of warmth on one side of his body in the direction of the Gentleman.

Molly gets to her feet again. "It's a locator spell," she explains. "You can break the circle now. It will hold until we find the fucker who put that curse on you."

[mayiofferyouacoughdrop]

"'Him'?" she repeats. "An old enemy, I assume?" She's familiar enough with those. "Is there anything that can be done, aside from protection spells?" He seems to think his enemy will remain invisible to the sane, and she's willing to take his word for it. If that is the case, then the only thing left to do is to protect the ship and the rest of the crew.

[kingsroads]

As Molly draws the circle, it becomes very apparent that standing still isn't exactly Strange's forte. He's not the sort of person who's good at stopping and staying still normally, never mind stopping and staying still when his mind feels like a thousand birds and the ground feels like rocks under his feet. He bounces in place, waiting impatiently until Molly finishes the spell and he feels the sensation of warmth.

He knows what to do. This magic is telling him to go. Strange gives Molly a thankful yet harried smile as he reaches over to grab her wrist and yank her behind him as he goes off in the direction of that fiend who cursed him.

[goodgrasshopper]

This is more or less what Molly had intended, so she's ready when Strange grabs her arm and starts moving. She is ready to go fuck this enchanter up after what he's done to Una (and after interrupting a very pleasant interlude with Jake).

[kingsroads]

The meowing in his ears now sounds like crying. Like an impenetrable sadness that Strange cannot place. It sounds to him like the cry of sadness he made, when he looked over Arabella's body and accepted that she was gone. It is not coming from McGonagall but it is, just as it is not coming from him (though it is) and it is not coming from Sabriel (though it is).

Strange blinks a little as he looks up at McGonagall, trying to push past the sadness in his eyes and in her...heart? Whiskers? It might be both of those, it is hard to place.

He takes the quill and starts to write.

Protecting the others might be best. He has already hurt those close to me and I suspect he will attempt to harm others. You are as strong a magician as I, possibly even more so. I am certain you will keep them safe no matter what happens to me.

Because if this happens like it happened back home, circling in on itself, events repeating, then Strange knows it will not end well for him. There's a pause before he takes the paper back and scratches in,

I am sorry about your children? apprentices? kittens.

None of the words feel right, though, and he can't help but look at the paper with a quizzical frown.

[sssstephen]

The Gentleman has been lingering in the Great Cabin, his curiosity with the mortals at its limits in this second day. He’s even lost the taste for his usual tricks; the mortals are so dull and predictable in their reactions to him. Not to mention boorish — their reactions to his special gift of dear Sabriel were downright rude! Yes, the Gentleman is certainly done with this realm.