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.
no subject
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.