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]

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.

[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.

[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."

[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.