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]

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.

[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]

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).

[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.

[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.