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 Posted: Wed Apr 11, 2007 1:14 am
Finding the Wand
The Nozomi
So there he was. Cully was bored and damn, he had standing there since the dawn of time. Well, it seemed that way, anyway. The redhead was leaning on the front counter of 'Ye Olde Wande Shoppe' as he liked to call it, elbows on and a comic book between his arms. While he would rather it be a science text, this was the only thing he could think of to read.
When someone walked into the shop, his head shot up, slightly flustered, and a grin crept over the round features. "Welcome to the Wand Shop!"
Did he ask them to touch the book now? Later? Whatever. It would happen when it happened. It would come with time.draconianraven He'd been walking for a long time, wandering about. He hadn't been sleeping well-- after all, he hadn't been dreaming as much recently, which meant that he hadn't been getting the kind of rest which actually rested him. Eric disliked this, but he didn't have much of a choice. He wasn't a big fan of those sleep drugs.
'Ye Old Wand Shop' seemed like as good a place as any to spend some time in, browsing. But there was a very... strange individual within the shop. Ah well. "Hello," Eric murmured, walking along, observing the shop itself. "You have an interesting place here."
The Nozomi "Hello~" He called out, his face falling briefly when he saw it was male. Ah well. Might as well be nice anyway; Ianna would be a ******** if she found out he had been mean to any of her customers.
Future surrogate parents.
Whichever.
"Thanks. I dig it." Cully nodded, hesitating and eyeing the man. "Hey. Can I ask you something a little strange?" One. Two. "Do you believe in magic? Like the old song, bah bah bah bah buuum." draconianraven Closing his eyes, Eric considered the situation for a moment. "...I believe in certain kinds of magic. But not other kinds. Any particular reason why you ask?" he asked as he opened his eyes again, moving to consider the objects in the store.
Why was he here?
The Nozomi "Oh yes." Cully gave the book a solid pat, casting Eric a wide, irish grin. "I wasn't sure how to approach it with you. I'm more used to pretty girls. And you're not one of those SO."
A pause and he eyed the book critically, lips twitching mildly into a smile. "Do you like the merchindise here? You might be able to get a wand, if you touch the book." He glances up at Erin, eyebrows arching. "Consider it genuine magic." draconianraven A stranger who acted like a mildly affected imbecile. Not that peculiar on Gaia, Eric decided. "Is that all it takes? Usually in stores, something of monetary value is required before any real receiving of merchandise occurs." But Eric was determined to play nice and he moved to look at the book, a hand moving unbidden to brush against the strange creation.
It wasn't like a book he'd seen before, older, more fragile and yet sturdy enough at the same time. Pages which seemed liked they should be more degraded than they were...
The Nozomi Cully definately was not the prime example for a genius, although his test scores usually spoke differently. He was a scientest on his 'day job', more interested in the microbiology of deep sea 'cultures' then he really was anything akin to magic. Magic, however, had been bred into him. Story after story in his youth had regailed it all. He couldn't not believe.
A brush was all it took. That's all it ever took. The book flew open with that majestic swoosh of its own, the pages fluttering and finally coming to land on a specific page. On that page was a picture of a wand made of mirrors and reflections, fluid and silver in appearance.
"Doppleganger. Wand ID 00041. A Soul has been trapped within the confines of the wand. Congratulations, you have become the next guardian to take on the task of raising it from infancy to greatness. We, Ianna and I, have the upmost faith in you to complete your task dutifully. Best of luck,
Matilda."
Cully grinned faintly. "Genuine merchandise? Nothing could pay for how much I enjoy seeing that look come across someones face when they find out they have a new brattie. COngrats." draconianraven "...you mean to tell me that I'm to raise a child--a doppelgänger, nonetheless-- who's within a wand that looks like this?" Eric motioned towards the picture of the wand. He considered this for a long moment before shrugging slightly, easily accepting it. "Sounds like normal life on Gaia to me. Is there anything else I should know? And where do I pick up the wand?"
In every Gaian's life, there came a time where they had to step up and raise a child or two from an object. Now apparently it was Eric's turn to grow up and become a parent in that sense.
The Nozomi Cullys face fell in disappointment. This was why he didn't like men. They just...accepted their fates. Bah humbug to them anyway. The man heaved a sigh, standing up and rifling through a drawer to pull out the wand, offering it over to the man.
"And yeah. You do. Or it dies, apparently. No sense in killing something young and possibly cute, right?" draconianraven Nodding, Eric took the wand, feeling it warm slightly in his touch. "I do my best not to kill beings," Eric smiled slightly, considering the wand. "Especially not those who are supposedly in my care." Not that there had been any in the past, except for that pet rabbit he'd had as a child... but that rabbit had lived long and eventually died of old age, so she didn't count, right?
...well, who did background checks these days anyway?
"...thank you," he murmured, fingering the delicate wand.
...time to go home then, and see what he could do.
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Posted: Thu Apr 12, 2007 9:43 pm
Between taking care of the princes and now this staff, Eric wondered if he hadn't become exactly what he'd always feared-- one of those Gaians who spend their entire life taking care of random children they find in random places who inevitably end up to be magical in one way or another and thus absolutely dangerous. Like the sister of that woman who lived next door who always showed up with a bunch of kids in tow whenever she visited.
Then again, three wasn't such a bad number, right? Still manageable. Still sane, or at least mostly.
This wand though... this was troublesome. He was supposed to save the soul of the creature within who'd been... what? A doppelgänger? Eric barely knew what those were-- though he had the full intention to go and find out. Supposed to love and nurture it.
Maybe he'd give it to Aimé. Aimé would enjoy having someone to take care of. But the creature inside was Eric's responsibility, so... maybe that wasn't the best idea. Bugger.
Still. Eric wanted what was best for the creature. He should probably stop referring to it as a creature, actually. But without really knowing the schematics of how this exactly worked, Eric wasn't sure what else to call the wand. Reincarnated being. Doppelgänger.
That wasn't the point. The point was simply that Eric wanted to know why he was ending up with all these things all at once. Perhaps it was because he'd stopped to say hello to that girl who'd seemed so familiar. Perhaps it was because he was getting old by Gaian standards and someone up there thought he needed some form of responsibility. Perhaps there was a well-meaning soul somewhere who could let him know what was going on?
"You're thinking too much again," Hector observed quietly as he watched his 'guardian'. "About that staff you procured?"
"I didn't quite procure it, Hector," Eric sighed. "It was given to me, free of charge, upon my entering a rather strange establishment. It wasn't quite by choice."
Quite because he hadn't rejected the idea either, though he was still getting used to it. He wasn't exactly the most… responsible individual who'd ever lived in terms of the Gaian population. He wasn't the least either by any stretch of the imagination, but he wasn't the sort of person who'd take on more responsibility by choice.
And yet, he couldn't abandon this idea, could he? This child trapped within a wand, caught there until a kind soul chose to awaken it? Was that how these places, these pseudo-adoption agencies trapped the guardians? Telling them the truths about lost souls and how to possible save them?
What an odd idea. Eric would have to consider that.
Meanwhile… having this wand wasn't a bad thing, was it? It wasn't a good thing necessarily, but not bad either… he would have to consider it more.
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Posted: Tue Apr 24, 2007 12:19 am
Research... of Sorts
"Doppelgänger. A doppelgänger is a ghostly image of a living person, " Eric read aloud before glancing at the faceted wand again. "More recently, 'doppelgänger has come to mean a 'double', 'look-alike' or an 'evil twin'." That... wasn't particularly helpful. Eric already knew about that part. Skimming down the page, Eric went looking for the more interesting pieces of the puzzle of this wand which wouldn't reflect.
"The doppelgängers of folklore cast no shadow, and have no reflection in a mirror, or in water." Well, that explained why he saw nothing when he looked at the wand's mirrored shards. "They are supposed to provide advice to the person they shadow--"
"Do you always talk aloud when you're reading?" Aimé's smooth voice broke across the room.
Eric started, glancing over at the younger swan prince. The blonde had a tendency to do that-- remain silent for long periods of time, watching before speaking. Quiet.
Eric didn't like it much.
"Not always, just... when I'm trying to remember things," he explained after a moment. "I learn better this way."
"What are you looking at?"
To tell or not to tell? "...well, things for the wand."
"...can I help?" Aimé offered after a moment. He always tried to make things easier on his guardian, having been useless to so many for so long. You didn't want to repeat the past-- never wanted to repeat the past.
"Do you know anything about doppelgängers?" Eric asked after a beat, considering the prince. Maybe Aimé would know something not in the books that Eric had gathered over the years.
"Sometimes they're considered versions of ourselves from another world-- much like Hector and myself, actually," Aimé considered after a moment. "Sometimes they're said to shift, to have many different faces, other times they only wear one face, but they come to see others and give them advice. Some say they're omens of bad fortune, others say of good fortune."
...really not much different than what Eric had read, but still an interesting take on it. "Do you believe in doppelgängers, Aimé?"
"I've never met one, but I don't see why not. They're a possibility, and they're not bad creatures. Neutral, just like all of us. Anything neutral can exist if it wants to exist," the young prince shrugged delicately, stroking a golden curl back into place.
Neutral. What a perfect word. Eric liked the sound of that. Neutrality. He could handle that.
"...thank you, Aimé," Eric murmured after a moment. "I think you've cleared up several of the questions I had in my mind about this whole mess."
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Posted: Fri Apr 27, 2007 12:08 am
First things first, Eric knew this was a bad idea. Yes, crazy neighbors were something of the norm on Gaia, but really and truly, knocking on the door of a neighbor to ask them a random question-- ok, so it wasn't that strange on Gaia. And yet, for some reason, Eric felt like it was something he should feel guilty about-- bothering someone else to try to map out the story that drifted just out of his reach.
But what else could he do? After all, he'd polled the members of the household-- Aimé holding significantly more useful information than Hector who'd brushed him off... and Eric didn't feel satisfied at all. He needed to know as much as he could about this child before he could do anything more, right?
"You're proving to be a bit of trouble," Eric smiled fondly at the wand, stroking the silver mirrored surface gently. "I want to understand you, but I'm not sure I know how to, yet. But I'd best prepare, since you're apparently supposed to turn into a child at some point, which would be..."
...he was going to have to take care of a child. A child, not a teenager who could care for himself-- or herself-- like Aimé and Hector. That thought... was he truly ready for that? How could he turn it down? But at the same time, it was a rite of passage Eric didn't know if he could completely handle. He wasn't used to being in charge of things, preferring to be the observer.
Giving the wand to Aimé seemed to be the best plan, but... Eric felt a fondness for the wand he hadn't expected when he'd first received it. Perhaps it was the months of getting used to the thought of the being within. Perhaps it was the fact that everything he'd learned hadn't been bad, but instead neutral, a blank slate, like any other child.
Ah well. What had he been doing? Yes. Knocking.
"We don't want any," Arch glared at the stranger outside her door before blinking. "You're Spencer-- from next door," she realized belatedly. He wasn't a salesperson... or so it seemed. What was he doing here?
"Ah... yes. Eric Spencer," Eric gave the strange woman a short bow, wondering if he'd interrupted her amidst something. She... well, she seemed to be as scantily clad as the next girl on Gaia, but... she didn't have the usual coy attitude that went along with such attire.
"Well then, Mr. Spencer, what is it that you want? I don't believe you've ever had occasion to drop by before, even when you moved in," Arch considered him, golden eyes sweeping over the poor man. So this was the man whose dream she'd stolen away? How strange and yet... fitting.
"I... well, I noticed that your family is quite large--"
"You were spying on us?"
"No! It's just," Eric stumbled for a moment, trying to figure out how to correctly phrase what he'd been thinking, "...just that I desire some information, and I thought that with your large family, you might have some idea of an answer."
...information, hm? What did he think this was, Goodwill? "Information from this family isn't cheap, Mr. Spencer," Arch informed him curtly. "If you want to know something, you'd best have a bargaining chip or two in your pocket, or else I'd suggest you turn around and walk back to your home."
She didn't seem to be the most helpful person in the world, but Eric couldn't walk away now, could he? "Ah... well, of course there'd be some method of payment," though he hadn't thought of one yet, "but I haven't a clue what you and your family would value, m'Lady."
Cocking her head to the side, Arch regarded Eric for a long moment, considering before finally nodding. "Right then. Come inside, Mr. Spencer--"
"--Eric, please."
"--Eric, then. We'll discuss the terms of our agreement."
Finally... he was getting somewhere.
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Posted: Sat Apr 28, 2007 12:11 am
...that woman bargained well, Eric reflected as he stared at the mass of artifacts and scrolls which had originally seemed so random, worth little. This represented everything he'd promised her in order to be the recipient of the knowledge she and her extended family could give him about doppelgängers. This also represented the majority of his wealth in scientific knowledge over the past six years-- not that he'd paid much attention to the scientific part of it, but... how had she known he'd have access to these? How could she have known so much about him?
Eric knew he had more important things to worry about than his strange neighbor, but... something nagged in the back of his head about her. She'd seemed so... crafty. Openly crafty, not like the majority of the women on Gaia who would hide their craft underneath a number of cloying, coy words.
That seemed refreshing.
"You needed help with something?" Hector asked, leaning against the doorframe of the library. He'd been trying to make himself more useful around the house, trying to understand this new world he found himself in. Even without the poison in his food here, his body... he could feel it within himself-- his body had been irreparably damaged by what had been done to him. No matter what, he'd never regain his past strength, though he'd try because he didn't know how to give up.
"Ah, yes!" Eric turned, giving the youth a gentle smile. "If you wouldn't mind, Hector," they'd long since dropped the titles of 'prince' and 'lord', "I need to get these next door to the family who lives there." Gently touching the wand he'd strapped to his back in order to better get a sense of the thing, the Gaian gave Hector an apologetic glance. "The woman there and I have a deal of sorts, revolving around this thing."
That wand again. Eric had gotten rather obsessed with it, as of late-- perhaps spurred by a fear that if he didn't care for it properly, it would vanish into the air. As much as Eric claimed he didn't care to care for another, Hector could see how much this wand meant to the other-- and that, on some level, made it matter to Hector. After all, Eric had taken him in, had cared for him-- and was helping him to try to regain what he'd lost. "Of course," the swan prince shrugged, moving over to pick up one of the boxes everything had been piled in. "Shall we go then?"
Giving Hector a wry smile, Eric nodded, picking up the other box. "Let's."
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Posted: Mon May 12, 2008 5:34 pm
It had been a year. Eric shivered as he glanced at the wand, shaking his head slightly. It was accusatory, shimmering darkly at him, and he could almost feel the anger and hurt. You left me, it seemed to glare.
He hadn't, not really. He'd taken it with him, just kept the little wand hidden, wrapped up and stored on his back. He hadn't meant to take so long, but it meant he'd had time to search for the truths he needed to fulfill his tasks.
Doppelgängers. Aimé had argued they were neutral creatures, neither inherently good nor evil. Hector scoffed at the question. The materials Eric gained from his conversations with Arch only served to push the question deeper in his mind. What were doppelgängers? They weren't human, but they seemed intrinsically tied to human history, appearing in famous memoirs and moments. He'd gone in search of answers, leaving Hector in charge of the house, taking the wand with him.
All the libraries and universities he'd visited only gave him hints of answers, further questions of what might be, what wasn't, what was unknown. Most in the scientific community discounted the mere idea of doppelgängers as fanciful notion, brought on as a hallucination or malfunction of the brain. While there were occasional accounts of individuals viewing these figments, including famous ones foretelling death, there was no proof they hadn't simply been a malady of the mind.
In literature, however, doppelgängers ranged from malevolent and cruel to gentle and reassuring. They sometimes appeared as long lost twins, but other times they simply were figments of witchcraft or sorcery. Typically, however, they were dark creatures who sought destruction of a person or place, using trickery to get their way. Occasionally they seemed to be tied to Janus, the Roman god of gates and doorways, of beginnings and ends, of two heads looking in opposite directions, of war and of change. If they truly were transitional creatures, they were neither good nor bad, neutral, as Aimé had claimed, but easily misinterpreted, as it seemed had happened.
Germany, the country of origin for the doppelgänger, provided some new information. Often, doppelgängers appeared as messengers in mirrors, seeking out an individual whose face they bore. They weren't seen as much more than a fairy tale, but in the rural towns, there were many who still believed in some of those tales, and Eric found a wealth of knowledge-- including an old French woman who claimed her great grandmother killed a doppelgänger, fearing for her soul.
Eric spent the past year wrestling with his conscience over the wand. After all, he wasn't a religious man, and he wasn't even a particularly judgmental one. However, so much death seemed to surround the legend of the doppelgänger, it was worth being somewhat cautious.
Death wasn't something to be trifled with. Death was potent, death was real, death was a shadow which darkened everyone's door once in their life. Death was the end. And this wand was tied, inexplicably, to death, in more ways than one.
Still. The wand wasn't harmful, at least, it hadn't done anything to make Eric believe it was harmful yet. It was a wand with a delicate, vicious beauty about it, and it still seemed to pulse with power on occasion, heating in his hand, just as it did now. There was a soul inside, or so that book said. Anything with a soul had to be looked after until it could stand on its own. It had to be cared for and taken care of and maybe, one day, it would be a real person. Or being. Or whatever it was.
That was why Eric came home. It drew him back to Hector's disapproving glower and Aimé's quiet, hopeful smile. It drew him back to the house that he hadn't paid off yet, the almost knowing look of his neighbor, and the vast library he'd brought several new additions for on his journey. It drew him back to the task at hand-- growing up and taking care of those who'd been put in his care.
"Dinner's been prepared," Hector called into Eric's office, shaking the redhead from his thoughts. "If you care to join us."
Hector was still angry at Eric for leaving, for putting them in a situation where he was forced to look after Aimé. The blonde wasn't a bad companion, just a little flighty and birdlike and innocent-- three qualities that began to grate on Hector's nerves only minutes after Eric departed with the cryptic message, "I'll be back when I can be." It was all due to that wand the man procured from that shop, and Eric couldn't help but wonder if this was how it was truly meant to be, that he'd been taken from his life as heir to the kingdom to play baby-sitter to a blonde fop and house-sitter for the man who'd been charged with watching them.
Then again, who was he to judge? Perhaps this was penance for allowing himself to become stricken with illness, perhaps this was how he would make his way back to his kingdom to change the fall of the swan kingdom. Perhaps this was only one path back to the world he'd come from.
"I'll be down in just a minute," Eric turned to give Hector a smile. "I didn't get a chance to thank you for looking after everything while I was away, Hector," he added before the darker swan had a chance to disappear. "I know it was difficult for you, and I wanted to thank you for staying. I brought you back something from my travels," the redhead explained, placing the wand down and moving to his still packed suitcases quickly, unlatching them.
"I assure you, that was unnecessary." Hector loathed gifts. Generally, tribute was paid in order to gain something, and while Eric had left him in charge of the house, there was no need of it now. What was done was done, and to gift Hector now seemed like pandering and inconsequential in the midst of the matters of the house.
"I know, I just saw it and thought you might enjoy it," Eric explained, pulling a long box from an opened suitcase. "It's not much, but..." he paused, holding it out to the swan.
Not seeing another easy option, Hector took the package delicately. It was heavier than the box would suggest, with a full weight that was satisfying, even in Hector's dislike for the idea. "What is it?" he asked grudgingly.
"Open it," Eric suggested with a smile as he moved to pick up the wand again, feeling it pulse comfortingly. If Hector didn't want it, Eric would have to keep the gift for the little doppelgänger when it emerged.
Hector lowered the box to the floor, opening it carefully. He wasn't the sort of person who did this often, but--
He didn't know what to say. Within the box lay a wooden fighting staff, intricately carved with scenes from heroic legends, much like the ones he'd had back in his kingdom before he'd fallen ill. Brushing his fingertips over the carved wood slowly, almost lovingly, Hector glanced up at Eric again, steeling his expression into as much of a neutral mask as he could manage. "Thank you."
"Do you like it?" Eric smiled hopefully. He'd seen the way Hector touched the staff-- it meant the swan liked it, didn't it? "I thought... you said you used to train with those. So I thought maybe you could start training again, if you wanted to. At least, now you're equipped to train."
It didn't make up for Eric leaving them alone. It didn't make up for Hector being forced to look after Aimé while Eric sought for answers about that damned little wand. But it was a start.
"It will be useful," Hector nodded curtly. "Thank you."
Smiling, Eric nodded, running his fingers over the cracks in the wand. "I'm glad you'll be able to find a use for it. Now let's go to dinner.
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Posted: Tue May 13, 2008 9:59 pm
Eric had spent ten minutes pacing the street in front of 'Ye Old Wand Shop,' debating whether or not to enter. He wasn't sure what he hoped to get out of another visit to the place, but it couldn't be particularly terrible to meet others associated with the place, right? Besides, it would mean he'd actually be dealing with people other than the twins, and he knew he had to dive back into the world sooner or later. While he might prefer later, sooner would be better, arguably.
Entering the shop, Eric glanced around, fingering the wand in his backpack nervously. Perhaps this was a bad idea. He shouldn't have come. There might be questions he wasn't able to answer or answers he wasn't ready to face. Or maybe there would just be people, people he'd meet and become acquainted with. Maybe it wouldn't go terribly, he tried to reassure himself.
Ianna had been having the hardest time since her eldest daughter had died. She'd been the one to find her, and before that it was the incident with the in between and Coailiann abandoning her and Malen leaving her and...Yeah, well, the female had been a mess. Quiet. Withdrawn. She hadn't left the headquarters in almost a year and she was standing in the door way between the shop and her home, silver eyes looking mildly frightened. She couldn't move past it. No new guardians had come, of course, not since....There was no reason for her to go there. But there was someone there, and she stared for a moment before composing herself. Right. This could be okay. This could...
"Hello, may I help you?" she said, pulling out her best 'shop keep' voice.
The woman seemed tense-- possibly rightly so, given the Gaian population, but the almost-haunted look in her eyes didn't suit her. "I came by to ask... well, I was given this wand, you see," Eric explained, pulling the faceted wand from his pack. "And... I'm not quite sure of what I'm doing with it." It sounded lame even to him, though it was the truth. The poor woman probably didn't need this sort of bombardment of inane questions while she was so distraught over something. "But I don't want to burden you." She seemed burdened enough already.
"There's nothing to be done," Ianna said softly, "You must simply wait. The child inside will come when it's ready to do so." Now she had to force herself across the threshold. Right? This man..Well. No. He was a guardian, so her home was his. "Please, come in if you'd like." She offered him a half smile and stepped back, thankful, for the moment, that she and an excuse to stay in. "My name is Ianna. I've never met you, so I'm assuming Cully was the one who gave you your child."
She seemed to be retreating again, and her demeanor was closed off. Not unkind, just distant, withdrawn. "Is that who it was? I don't believe I caught his name," Eric explained with what he hoped was a comforting smile. He didn't like seeing anyone so seemingly trapped by negative emotions, but this woman was drenched in them. Following her, he worried the tip of the wand with his fingertips again-- he wasn't good at saying the right thing, though he sought to, and he was more likely to wait and see if someone would allow him to help than actively try to do so. But the woman was filled with such pain...
"Yes, I hired him because I was away more and more helping my daughter," Ianna explained, sitting herself down on the couch in front of a fairly large flatscreen television that was mounted on the wall, "He's been a big help, and I'm glad he's on staff. Not many people would be interested in helping me give the children to their guardians. Too many, honestly, don't believe in magic. Even in Gaia." She was trying to talk, trying to loosen up. It wasn't as if the woman was any help being meek.
"Well, Gaia seems slightly paradoxical like that," Eric admitted quietly, taking a seat nearby. "He seemed quite... capable," the man chose a diplomatic word, remembering this 'Cully's' demeanor when he arrived at the shop. "Though he explained he preferred prospective guardians who were both attractive and female."
"Ah, I see." She hadn't been aware of that, but she'd talk to him about that. Not that there was much need for him to give children anymore, anyway. "Most men would think that, I assume, no offense intended toward you. I'm afraid I don't know your name, though." Ianna crossed her legs and tilted her head, "I will speak with Cully about a more professional demeanor in the future."
"None taken," Eric smiled easily. "I'm Eric Spencer, and this," he held up the wand, "is supposedly a doppelgänger. Or was. Will be. I'm afraid I'm a bit confused on the subject," he admitted a touch sheepishly-- he'd accepted his fate so easily, he hadn't stopped to ask about the details along the way. "And I'm sure that Cully meant nothing by it-- he was being honest."
"Nice to meet you, Eric. I'm going to assume you've done your research on doppelgangers, so I'm going to also assume that your questions and confusions do not branch from what he is, but rather why. Am I right?" She was starting to relax a little bit. This business was something she was used to. Not something new and frightening. Familiar.
"Indeed," Eric nodded, trying to be reassuring. He wasn't very familiar with nervous women, but she was settling down as well. "I've spent a while," if she didn't know how long, he wasn't going to specify, unless pushed, "researching them, but I'm not sure of how this all works." And he hadn't asked her name. He was being a bloody idiot about it. "I'm sorry, I'm not quite sure... you run the shop, but I don't think Cully mentioned your name either...?"
"I introduced myself before I asked you in," she reminded him, "But I am Ianna. It's not really a shop, either. It's...complicated." It was much easier now than it was before, but there was still much that she didn't understand and her own questions could not be answered. "My daughter, Matilda, was the one who caused these spirits to be unearthed and reborn. Each spirit was killed or died in a horrible or painful way. Wrongful. Unjust. We are their second chances, you see. At living a life they were not allowed to live before. In new forms, with guardians who have an acceptance to who they are. Each guardian is chosen by the spirit themselves, for reasons that are unknown to me." There was a sadness when she mentioned her daughter, but she quickly pushed it away. "But your doppelganger saw something in you and called out to you and that is why you hold his spirit, and his life, in your hand."
Ianna. Now he remembered, but he'd been so distracted by the confusion of what to say or do that he hadn't thought to mark it down in his mind. Ah well. Perhaps she'd think him foolish, but he wouldn't forget again. "...I see," he nodded, considering her words carefully, turning them over and committing them to memory. A strange tone had entered the woman's voice when she mentioned her daughter, but he didn't want to question why. It was obviously something painful, something that didn't need to be shared. "So in a sense, these wands," he held up the glittering, silver wand, "are spirits waiting to be reborn. To have what they didn't before, or what they lost before." It made sense. It actually made a lot of sense, and that meant that what he'd learned about Aimé's theory of neutrality was, mostly, correct.
"Yes. Exactly." Ianna gave a nod of her head, "For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Have you heard of the Dream wars, Eric?" It was a long shot. She only remembered one guardian who had remotely heard of them before, and quite frankly, it wasn't surprising considering what had happened. It had basically been forced to be forgotten. But Ianna had seen what had happened through Matilda. She knew, near first hand, what had happened. And it was no wonder the People of Thought - the humans, like her - had wanted to cover it up.
Quiet for a long moment, letting his mind sink into the recesses of his brain, the nooks and crannies filled with information, he searched. The Dream Wars. There was something... "I've heard of them. The wars between the myths and 'reality,' correct?" he asked, trying to confirm the fragments he'd heard before.
"Somewhat. The People of Thought and the Creatures of Dream. Logic and reason versus illogical magic. The war threw the balance of the world off, the wrongful slaying of the Creatures of Dream...Hate. Unacceptance. It disrupted the delicate structure that was supposed to be. My daughter was one of those slaughtered due to the People of Thought refusing to understand, refusing to accept. She...Ultimately gave her life to give them all a second chance." Ianna flinched saying it and closed her eyes.
"I'm sorry," Eric murmured the words leaving his mouth before he could stop them. He didn't know what else to say-- when you lost someone dear to you, especially a daughter (no parent should lose a child...), there were no words which would erase the loss. It would be terrible if there were because the loss reminded you of the good times and the wonderful person who was gone...
"So am I." She shrugged, "But it was what she wanted. My time with her was just too short. I'm only twenty five. But I have another daughter, one of the same kind as the child in your wand. She's a sidhe. Her name is Coailiann, though she left home when she was a child. Terrible things happened in this place." She looked around, remembering the blood and the wreckage. "But a lot of good as well." she indicated to the wand, "There are at least forty children alive because of her, that have their second chance."
Still, all the good that was done didn't stop Ianna from staying away from the world, it seemed. She was trying to make the most of it, obviously, but she was still troubled by her daughter's loss, Eric thought. Then again, it was to be expected. "It's good that so many have found their way," he nodded slowly, loathe to question about those 'terrible things' that had happened. "I hope that they're some comfort to you."
"They are. My daughter has recently started coming by more and more. Her name is Coailiann. She's a very troubled girl," She laughed, then. Kay could always make her laugh, even when she was being exasperating. "I'm sure your child will come soon. They must feel as though you are ready. They do not want to be rejected, you understand. They were rejected before."
"Coailiann," Eric repeated the name, tasting it. A troubled girl, hm? Perhaps that was to be expected, coming from these wands, but Ianna seemed to appreciate it. When Ianna spoke of rejection, Eric had to consider that. "I'm sure... no one wants to be rejected, especially if it's happened before. That fear can be deep." Eric understood, at least theoretically, about that fear of rejection, fear of losing what was thought to be true and right and supportive.
Ianna could most certainly be sympathetic toward the 'rejected' part. Now, normally the silver haired woman was anything but depressing, but the conversation did bring up some old hurts. Ah, she couldn't be like this! She forced a smile, "Yes, it can be. But it's a good thing you accepted him enough to take the wand in the first place. You're doing a fine thing, Eric. All the guardians are like family to me. I love them all, and the children. Being children, in a way, of Matilda, they are family."
He was making her uncomfortable, that much was evident, though she tried to hide it. "You have quite a large family then," he smiled as warmly as he could, trying to put her at ease. He didn't know for sure what he'd said to make her uncomfortable this time, but he didn't want to ask either, it would be rude and intrusive, and he'd only just met the woman. "You can't turn away someone who needs your help," Eric explained gently, "and it seems this little one," he touched the wand almost fondly, "is definitely in need."
Now, the way he touched the wand and smiled did, indeed, bring a real smile to her face. This man would be a good father. He obviously was not running away from such a big undertaking, "These children do not remember. Not at first. But when they do, it's bad, Eric. Every handles it differently, but they need you." She reached out to touch the wand gently, "But somehow I think you'll be okay." Ah, Ianna was such a rollercoaster. Silly thing she was.
The smile touching Ianna's lips now was good to see, didn't carry the tension and forced nature of the others. Perhaps he'd said something right this time? He wasn't sure, wasn't used to dealing with people in this vein, hadn't done so in a long time. "Bad?" he repeated cautiously-- he didn't enjoy seeing anyone in pain, and if it was someone he'd raised, it could be... tragic. However, Ianna seemed to speak from experience, and her daughter, Coailiann, must've turned out well enough, given the way Ianna spoke of her. "I'll do my best to see him through whatever happens," he nodded.
"Yes. I suppose anyone watching themselves be tortured, if they were, and killed, would be enough to make anyone have a bad time of things, especially if being a teenager isn't hard enough in the first place. I don't know why it happens the way it does, but then I never understood Matilda's reasoning in anything at all so it's nothing new!" She laughed again, remembering how utterly insane her daughter could be at times, and how they fought. "Once, she sent me to the moon. It was my first mission, getting a wand, and she forgot to give me air. I swear, I've nearly died more times than I can count because of that woman."
"The moon?" Eric repeated, not disbelieving but with a touch of wonder in his voice. "It must've been beautiful. Though, I suppose not having oxygen would make it difficult to sustain yourself for long," he added with a smile. This daughter of hers, the lost one, Matilda, she seemed to be quite the character, and he regretted not getting the chance to meet her. She certainly would've been interesting.
Interesting was one way to call it. "Yes. It was beautiful, but she was yelling at me the entire time to hurry up, that we didn't have much time. The child was abandoned by her guardian as an infant, though, and she had to be found a new home. It's sad, when guardians do that." She shook her head, "Can I get you something to eat? Drink? I'm sorry, I'm not being the proper hostess..." And she was jumping around everywhere too. Confusing?
"Ah, no, I'm fine," he shook his head, wanting to reassure her more than anything else. "I'm sorry to hear that she was left alone, though I hope her new home suits her." Unfortunately, the revolving door of adoptions was a common theme in certain circles, and Eric had seen the fallout of such adoptions on multiple occasions. If the child was hardy enough, they'd escape mostly unscathed mentally, but especially with these children who'd already been rejected... the abandonment must have hurt deeply.
"I don't know. I haven't seen her." After the initial incident, there had not been many visitors to her home, which left her quite a bit of lonely, actually. "I'm glad you came around," this time it was genuine, "No company in a while makes someone a little...crazy, I suppose. I'm already a touch crazy." Now she was teasing? What was up with this woman? Quite frankly, she'd been called the crazy lady for a reason - but at least it was a fun crazy.
"Crazy, hm?" Eric smiled teasingly, "Ah well, craziness is something of a requirement for people I associate with, so I'm glad to hear that. I've been away from the world for a time, so I suppose I'm just as crazy, if not moreso, so perhaps it was fitting that we meet like this." Two crazies unused to company talking about this and that.
"Where have you been?" Ianna stood up slowly, walking to the small mini fridge to the side. It was empty when she opened it, then she closed it and opened it again, pulling out a bottle of sparkling watermelon flavored water before sitting down again, leaning against the pillows. "Crazy is more exciting than normal and dull. I'd rather be a touch insane than one of those stepford wives. Especially since I can't cook."
"I've been traveling, searching for some answers about him," he explained, touching the wand again, feeling the cracks warm beneath his touch. "I traveled around the world, trying to seek out stories and truths where I could find them." Ah, but his travels had been mostly fruitless, leaving him with only a little more than what he'd known before. "Crazy is definitely more exciting than normal and dull, especially in a place such as Gaia. Those who conform to the mold tend to be mildly... terrifying," Eric shrugged, for lack of a better word. "Is it that you don't enjoy cooking or that it doesn't work out the way you wish it to?" he asked, curious.
"My ex fiance used to tell me that I could find a way to burn water. I was not allowed near the stove. I suppose he's right. My touch is...Well, I'm not quite sure what I'm good at outside of getting into trouble, or reading. I enjoy the gardens, I guess. Grow a good tomato. I'd like to cook, actually, I just tend to burn things." She shrugged her shoulders and took a sip of the fruity, bubbly water. "Though I agree. There are quite a few terrifying things around here. It's really no wonder I haven't left my house in six months!"
Six months in one place? Eric couldn't imagine that. "Well, if you'd like to learn how to cook, I could try to teach you," he offered after a moment. "If you're interested in it. I'm not a gourmet chef by any stretch of the imagination, but I know a bit about it. I'm sure you aren't as bad as your ex fiance said," he shook his head, "and if you enjoy reading, you should be able to do well in almost anything with a little help."
Hnn. Someone who actually was willing to spend more than a few minutes with her, asking questions? "I think I'd like that," she said slowly, "But if I burn the kitchen down or something, please do forgive me and help me rebuild it." There was a smile there. "I am as bad as Malen says, though I can assure you I like to learn things." she paused, musing to herself, "I wonder if my cooking is what made him leave." He hadn't given much of an explanation.
"Don't worry, if the kitchen burns down, I'll help rebuild it, and I'll get Hector, one of my twins, to help too. Then we can try again," Eric offered with an answering smile, honest and open. "If you still want to." At her mention of her ex-fiance, Eric shook his head. "I'm sure that it was something about him that made him leave. You seem like a kind person, Ianna, and kind people aren't left because of their cooking or anything like that."
"I don't give up." It was said with a deep conviction behind it, "Not because I fail." If she did give up, well, she wouldn't be around right now, would she? No, Ianna was a fighter. Perhaps not physically, but she was a fighter. "I don't know. I don't get why he'd leave. He left me in a note." Another laugh, "When would you like to give me my first lesson?" Obviously she didn't like dwelling on it.
"Good," he commented. He approved of her attitude, determined to try, no matter what. "Perhaps in a few days? I'll put together some easy recipes and gather the ingredients, and then we can begin." He considered asking her to his house, since she hadn't left her home in six months, but he'd see how she responded at first, perhaps. He didn't want to push her away, not when she was the first unexpected friend-- he could call her that for the moment, couldn't he?-- he'd had in quite a while.
"That sounds good to me," she answered, "Though my fridge is run by magic and will get whatever you want. No idea how it works, magic's not my forte, but it was my daughter's creation so I'm really not going to ask anyway." Any explanation from Matilda was a headache, and she couldn't now anyway. "We may want a guinea pig. I'm not touching my cooking first. I may poison something."
"All right then," Eric smiled. "I'll be the guinea pig-- I have a fairly strong stomach, so I'm not too worried." She couldn't be as bad as she made herself out to be. "Shall I contact you somehow once I've gathered the recipes then, or shall I just come by?"
"Whatever is better for you. Not like I'm going anywhere. There's a phone, too." She got up again, going to the desk off to the side to pick up a piece of paper and a pen. She was the only one who could get behind that desk. It was interesting to watch her daughter try sometimes. "Here's the phone number. I'll look forward to it." She smiled at him, then. Another genuine one.
Taking the number, Eric glanced at the paper before pocketing it. "Wonderful. I'll let you know when I have everything prepared, and we can set a date. After all, I wouldn't want to impose, should you decide to leave your home," he added with an encouraging smile.
"Trust me, I could barely cross out into the shop, let alone out a second door. I won't be leaving any time soon. But that sounds fine with me. It was nice meeting you, Eric." She offered her hand to him, then, intending for a handshake, "It's good to have some company."
Taking her hand and pressing a chaste kiss to the back of it-- more out of custom for a lady than anything else (a habit which irked his meddlesome neighbor, Arch, to no end), Eric bowed slightly and released her hand. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Ianna, and I look forward to our cooking lessons. I'm glad that we were able to provide company for each other today."
Uhhhhhh. Ianna's cheeks blushed deeply. Yeah. That was not something that the frumpy dressed woman had been expecting at all. "I...uh..." It wasn't something she hadn't appreciated, as obvious by the smile, "I look forward to it, as well, and simply hope that we don't become burn victims."
"Don't worry, I'll be sure to bring a fire extinguisher just in case," Eric promised. Ianna's blush made him smile though-- she looked good with some color, with the smile. It took some of the weariness and caution and loss from her. "Goodbye for now then, Ianna," he smiled again. "I'll show myself out." He didn't want her to have to pass the threshold of her home if she wasn't ready for that yet.
"Good evening, Eric, and have a nice night." She gave him a nod and waited for him to leave the headquarters before flopping down on the couch. Company. She was having company, and he kissed her hand. This would be quite the interesting turn of events.
Eric headed home with a smile imprinted on his face, not minding, for once, the crowds of people flocking to the streets on the way back. He'd made a friend, and not a friend who put up with him only because they lived next to each other. In a few days, he'd get to see how this would turn out.
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Posted: Fri May 16, 2008 1:45 pm
.: Cooking Lessons...? Part One :.
In an attempt to not have anything burn down during the first cooking lesson, Eric chose a simple chicken salad recipe, gathering up the ingredients (in spite of what Ianna said about the magical refrigerator, he felt inclined to procure his own ingredients, just to be sure that he didn't forget anything. Besides, it wasn't as if it was much trouble for him) and calling Ianna to make the date. Everything seemed to be going well, besides the occasional glowers from Hector about this newfound person to spend his attention on, and that brightened Eric's mood considerably. Stepping into the shop, he made his way to the back where Ianna had appeared from before, knocking to be polite. "Hello?" he called, glancing around for a glimpse of his student-to-be.
Ianna was actually nervous. She hadn't been, before now, but after seeing Patrick and being poked and prodded and forced to wear clothes she would wear on a date (Okay, this was NOT a date - she kept telling herself that) by the man she'd called her best friend, well. One couldn't help be nervous. "Not a date, not a da--" she kept repeating it until the knock interrupted her thoughts and the woman bolted upright. Her short silver hair was loose, but atually looking somewhat shiny and clean today and she was dressed in clothes that were not baggy and frumpy in the words of the oh-so-wise-and-gay Patrick. It actually showed off her figure, and fit her right. More specifically, a pair of slacks in a soft gray and a light blue wrap around shirt. She felt ridiculous.
"Oh! Eric! Come in, you don't need to knock." She hurried to the door, looking like she'd just had fifty cups of coffee.
Stepping inside, Eric blinked at the transformation of Ianna. It appeared she'd dressed up for the occasion, and in his simple grey turtleneck and black slacks, he felt the first touch of self-consciousness he'd felt in years spring up. He'd noticed the first time he'd met her that Ianna was attractive, but dressed like this, she seemed enhanced, almost. "Ah," he started, trying not to stare, "I brought the ingredients," he offered after a moment. She was distracting like this, to say the least, and Eric found himself wondering if he should've done more to prepare for this.
"Thank you. You didn't have to. But thank you." She sent a smile his way and closed the door behind him. "The kitchen's just this way. Would you like to start right away or can I get you some water or something or..." Yeah, she was rambling. She noticed that. Pause. Pause. "Sorry, I wasn't nervous before I talked to my friend. Apparently, he's really good at making me nervous."
She laughed softly and crossed her arms firmly over her chest.
"Well, everyone needs a friend to make them nervous about things," Eric smiled reassuringly. "Though I hope I'm not making you nervous." That wouldn't really be conducive to a friendship at all. "But I'm fine, and we can start whenever you're ready-- though I wouldn't recommend cutting anything until you're a little calmer." He wouldn't want her to cut herself, after all.
"No, you're not." Ianna assured him, leading him off toward the kitchen which was just to the left of the entrance, "Let's start then. I'm anxious to learn, though I somehow promise you I'll manage to screw this up. What are we making today?"
She'd scrubbed the kitchen down to a spotless level that morning. It showed.
The kitchen was cleaner than Eric's at home (and given the invisible brownies who'd taken over the duties of cleaning the house, that was saying something), and the redhead took a moment to survey the place admiringly. "Well, I thought we'd start with something simple, so I thought chicken salad would be a good place to begin," he explained as he placed the ingredients down, sorting them out.
"Chicken salad. Good choice. Love it, actually. What can I do?" Silver eyes watched the ingredients being laid down on the counter, waiting off to the side for instructions. She really was hopeless, and last time she'd attempted to cut something she nearly took her thumb. Actually, it was tomato soup, and quite frankly, one could wonder how that could be messed up.
"Well, first we need to chop these celery stalks, and this onion," Eric held up the aforementioned vegetables. "Do you have a few knives and a bowl we can fill with water?" The trick with cutting onions, of course, was to cut them under water, so they didn't cause your eyes to sting and water. Their scent defense mechanism was quite amazing, and Eric hoped one day to study how it evolved.
"State of the art kitchen," Ianna explained, walking to the cupboards up above and opening them to reveal delicate china. Another cupboard held hardy bowls for cooking, and the ones below the kitchen's island held pots and pans and skillets and just about anything needed for any job in the kitchen.
"My daughter built this place. I financed it. Old money." One REALLY wouldn't think that, considering how Ianna usually looked like an old librarian with very little sense of anything really, "We're not even in Gaia, here." The last part was said with a mild sense of mystery.
Perfect. Eric was amazed by this, much as he was amazed by all the displays of Ianna's daughter's powers. It wasn't really something he was familiar with, and it certainly wasn't something he could easily quantify or explain, which added to the sense of possibility. The thought that Ianna came from old money was difficult to process at first, though Eric wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was that Ianna didn't really seem like the sort of person to have come from wealth (in Eric's estimation, most of those tended to be spoiled and difficult), but... Eric didn't want to judge. "All right. How do you feel about chopping up the celery?" he asked, putting the vegetables down and taking down a bowl with a flat bottom to fill with water.
"Can't mix a finger up with that, so I suppose that'll be fine." She smirked and reached for the celery and grabbed a knife off the knife block. Unfortunately, she was so hopeless she chose a fileting knife, figuring the smaller blade would hold less of a chance to cut her. The knife was also sharper than a normal chopper. Hm.
"So, what have you been up to these last few days?"
Spotting the knife Ianna chose, Eric gently held up a hand to stop her, selecting a chopping knife instead. "Why don't you try this one?" he suggested, offering it to her. He really didn't want her to start this out by hurting herself. It could only make things go downhill.
"I haven't really been doing much," he admitted after a moment, "just looking after my twins. And being lectured by my neighbor," he added as an afterthought. Arch had taken extreme offense at Eric's sudden disappearance. Apparently Hector hadn't kept the fact that Eric left him in charge of the house a secret either, and given Arch and Hector's inherent dislike of one another, it meant Eric came back to an earful from his nosy neighbor.
A blush touched Ianna's cheeks, "Oh. Okay." She set the filet knife down and took the chopper from Eric before making her way to the cutting board and placing the vegetable on it, carefully cutting it, "How thin?" she asked, not knowing anything about different cuts. "And why would you be lectured by a neighbor? Also, you have twins? How many children do you have?"
"Not too thin," Eric answered as he filled the bowl with water, pulling the skin of the onion off and discarding it before placing it in the water. "Just thin enough that they're a little smaller than bite-sized pieces." She seemed to be doing well enough, and Eric couldn't see why she'd been so worried about this. "Well, Arch and I met when I moved in, and we tended to help each other out with our charges," he explained. "She's a bit... intense, at times," he added. "She has a tendency to know what she feels is best for everyone." That was putting it lightly. "Yes, I do-- it's just the three of us. And the wand," he added, glancing at its sparkling surface peeking out of the grocery bag.
"Ah, I see. One good things about living in your own realm. No neighbors. I do get people poking around the Wand Shop at times, though. Not that I've left here in a while, but yes." she paused, "Do your neighbors bother you often?" So far, so good. She'd gotten half way through the celery with no mishaps just yet. But if she kept talking, she'd likely get distracted and cut herself. Not that she was thinking that.
"It's just Arch, and she's not so much a bother as a," Eric paused, searching for the right description, "a force of nature," he shrugged, chopping the onion up quickly and carefully. "She means well though, which is the important thing. I appreciate her efforts to keep me in line, and she truly has more experience at this parenting business than I do, so it's useful."
"Eh, I didn't have anyone to help me and Kay turned out just fine. Well. A little on the wild side, and a bit of a..." she paused, trying to figure out how to phrase it delicately. Deciding she really couldn't, she made a face, "Slut. Yeah, that's about the best way I can describe it." Another pause, then a snort, "But a good girl nonetheless, who is at least now trying to pick up her act." Thanks to Yashima. And Malum.
"I'm pro--OUCH!" She sliced over her finger when she looked over at him, dropping the knife and narrowly missing her sandal-covered feet.
Well, at least Ianna was honest-- Eric turned at the sound of Ianna's cry of pain, confused until he saw the blood and the fallen knife. "Are you all right?" he asked, hurriedly placing his own knife down on the side, moving to Ianna (and the first aid kit he'd thought to bring along with him, just in case any mishaps should happen). "What happened?" Now he was concerned-- a knife could do a lot of damage, and he wanted to make sure Ianna wasn't seriously injured.
She'd cut her finger a good amount, but nothing that would need stitches or anything of that sort. A bandaid, some antiseptic, and preferrably some pain numbing stuff at that. "Distracted." she muttered softly, trying very hard not to be a big baby at the sight of the blood welling on her finger and dripping into the celery. Though it was a combination of failing and the sight of blood that was making her ill.
Gently taking her hand and moving it to the sink, Eric grabbed the first aid kit with his free hand. "Let's see," he murmured as he looked at it, relieved at the fact that it wasn't serious. "Let's get you bandaged up-- does it hurt a lot?" he asked softly, turning on the water to wash away the blood so he could get a better look.
Ianna winced as the water went over her finger, though running water on a bleeding wound generally led to it bleeding more. "Yeah," she answered, "But to be expected?" Her voice was a little wobbly, and she knew she sounded more like a child than a grown woman, but damn. She knew this was a bad idea.
"All right, keep your hand under the water for a moment while I get these things out. Try to apply pressure to help stop the bleeding," Eric smiled at her gently, encouragingly, he hoped. As long as the blood washed away so they could get the antiseptic on it, it would help it heal in the long run, though in the short run it might be a bit of a mess. Opening the first aid kit up, he pulled out a bandaid and some antiseptic ointment. Thankfully he'd chosen one with some numbing qualities. "Let's see if we can't get you fixed up, okay? Then we can try again, if you want."
The woman gave a nod, pressing down - though it hurt to do that - to help staunch the blood flow. "Thank you." She managed to keep herself from passing out from the sight of the blood - silly really - and watched Eric go about getting the things from the first aid kit. Very smart of him to bring. Once all the blood was washed away, Ianna slid her finger from beneath the stream, keeping her other fingers firmly against it.
"I told you I don't give up." Even if she wanted to.
"Good," Eric gave her a smile at that last comment. "And I'll try to keep from distracting you again. I'm sorry about that," he apologized. "Now, this might sting a little," he warned her before squeezing the ointment onto her cut before covering it with the bandaid, his speed speaking of some practice with this. "There!"
To her credit, Ianna didn't curse or scream or even make a sound as the antiseptic went onto her cut. She simply scrunched up her face and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and flexed her other hand. Yes. It did sting. But she'd had worse. "I'll try not to get distracted. Wasn't your fault, it was mine."
"Give it a moment, it should start feeling better," Eric reassured her softly, releasing her injured hand. "It should start to numb the pain a little." The worst part was the waiting. "And you can't take all the blame for it, I was talking," he gave her an apologetic smile.
"I was talking too. But I like talking to you. So I guess it's worth a cut." She gritted her teeth and took the knife back up, then surveyed the blood-soaked stalks on the board, wincing, "May need to go to the magifridge. Unless you like blood."
Eric smiled at that. "Well, why don't you see what you can get us from your magical fridge, and I'll clean this up, all right?" he offered, taking the board. "Then we can start again, and I'll try not to let our conversation be so interesting you hurt yourself again."
"Sounds good." Ianna hurried out of the kitchen and into the living area where she wento to the fridge, staring at it for a moment and thinking hard of the finest, freshest celery she could. Five minutes later, she was coming back into the kitchen with a plate full of the stalks. "This good enough?"
Eric glanced back from the now-washed board and knife back at Ianna. "Perfect," he proclaimed, giving her another smile. "That refrigerator is certainly handy," he shook his head a little. The scholar in him wanted to examine it, know how it worked, why it worked, even if he wouldn't get a satisfactory answer, but he knew that was somewhat futile with magical implements.
"It is. Kay used to sneak chocolate and apples from it when she was a toddler. It's a good thing her favorite food was apples. Healthy." A smile touched her face at the memory of her daughter. As bratty as she had been as a little girl, she was still her baby. "Now. Let's try to get this going sans the blood."
The knife was picked up again and she began to cut the celery, being incredibly careful. It wasn't long, though, before all the celery was cut and none of Ianna's flesh was included.
"Great job," Eric smiled after they'd both finished their tasks. "See, not so bad this time, right?" he asked, pulling out the cooked chicken and carrots. "Your daughter sounds like quite the character," he mused. "I'd like to meet her sometime, she sounds rather... fiery." Fiery, but in a good way. Eric approved of such spirit. "Hmm... now, why don't you take the chicken-- pull it apart a bit, into easy to bite pieces? I'll cut these up and then we'll get the lettuce ready."
"She'd likely try and sleep with you," she said off handed, "She's beautiful. Likely would be hard to deny." Then again, who would deny a beautiful young girl coming onto them? Ianna put the celery into a bowl before grabbing the chicken and moving to sit at the kitchen island, crossing her legs while she started to tear apart the chicken. "I'm sure you'll meet her sooner or later."
Eric blinked at that. "I'd probably have to decline-- though it would be flattering, I'm sure," he smiled gently. "Other than that, I look forward to meeting her." Slicing the carrots up thinly, Eric put them on the side as well. He wasn't sure what he'd feel if someone tried to sleep with him, especially a pretty young girl.
"Well, that's good. But I've seen her work, and she makes a convincing case. However, I think I'd have to try and castrate you if you tried." Her daughter was still a teenager, even if she hadn't listened to her mother since she was six. "So, Eric. What do you do for a living?"
A convincing case? Probably. Most people did in that situation. "I'm sure she's convincing, but young girls aren't really the sort I tend towards, no matter how beautiful they are," Eric explained. "So, hopefully that won't be a problem."
"I write," Eric answered after a moment, "for journals on interdisciplinary studies. It's not much, but it pays the bills and allows me a certain amount of freedom in terms of my finances."
"Sounds interesting. I'd like to read something you've written sometime." She paused as she finished up the chicken, tilting her head to the side, "And if those aren't the type you lean toward, what exactly is your type?" Fingers pinched a piece of the chicken and tossed it into her mouth, chewing on it thoughtfully.
"Oh, it's a lot of nonsense about this and that," Eric shrugged at that. "All theories about magic and science and their connections. Nothing I can prove," he added the last quietly. He wanted to be able to prove them, but there was something missing logically. "As for my type... well, generally women around my own age, women who are intelligent. A pretty face may be hard to find, but a kind, smart one is harder," he explained, considering the ingredients. "Why don't you help me with the lettuce?" he suggested, pulling out the lettuce and the mayonnaise.
"There's a lot of science in magic, but enough unexplainable things to make it different," Ianna said, "I have interest in the subject as well. Just like you cannot create or destroy matter, in science, only manipulate the existing...It's the same with Magic. Matilda was brilliant in magic theory. You would have liked her." Ianna hopped off her seat and made her way over to Eric so she could help with the lettuce, "Tear or cut the lettuce?"
"Unfortunately, while I've found it easy enough to find those schooled in science, it's difficult to find anyone who will talk to me for long on magical theory," Eric explained. "Most of what I've learned is from the books I find. It's another reason I enjoy traveling-- it gives me a chance to find hints and clues." It sounded like he would've enjoyed Matilda indeed, though having Ianna as a resource would likely prove invaluable. "Tear it into sections, and put the leaves here. They'll form a nice base for the salad."
"All right." She took the head of lettuce and started to do just that, carefully tearing the leaves into the correctly sized pieces. "Take my refridgerator, for example. The celery cannot just appear from nothing. I think it manipulates energies to transfigure the smallest particles into something else. What's the smallest makeup of any item? It's my theory that if you change the the energy around an atom, a reaction takes place which allows you to replace or change them and turn them into something else. Do it enough, and you can create a whole new thing."
"That's a solid theory," Eric considered it. "I wonder though-- what provokes it? How does it know what you're searching for? Does it follow the brainwaves you're emitting, your personal energy? Or does it take it from some other source?" Questions that didn't necessarily have answers, but important ones all the same. Mixing the mayonnaise with a few other ingredients to make the dressing, Eric gave Ianna a smile. "Almost done."
"That's the unexplainable part of magic. How some people have the ability, while others don't. I think it has to do with how in tune you are with the earth or the other elements. Some do not have the sensitivities, while some do. It's like the unexplained questions as to how some people have allergies to foods or other things. A sensitivity to said thing. I propose magic works the same way." Ianna turned her head and smiled at him. This was nice. "And I didn't kill anything."
"However, allergies can usually be explained through genetics and exposures, coupled with a trigger. Magic doesn't seem to require a trigger for most individuals, nor exposure. I'm not sure what compensates for that," Eric added. He smiled back at her, "No, you didn't. Let's just put these together now, just dump them in."
"But what causes that allergy, that mutation, in the first place is not explained. With magic, many of the times, abilities are passed down from parent to child as well. It has to be in the genetics. I think there has to be a gene that increases sensitivity to it. There's no other explanation." She started putting the ingredients in a larger bowl.
"Well, every being is mutated from the parent's genes," Eric mused quietly. "The theory is that allergies are merely flawed mutations, more likely carried down if the parent's genes are already flawed. If sensitivity to magic is indeed a mutated gene, then it almost seems accidental. And if it's accidental, it means there isn't a way to classify it and recreate it, which means it's nothing more than a hypothesis," he sighed before helping Ianna with the ingredients. "Now we just toss it all together and see how it tastes!"
"Some would believe that nothing is an accident. I am one of them." Ianna sent him a smile, hopping up to sit on the counter again. She seemed to like doing that. "Want to serve me?" she teased, "Being the injured party and all." she held up her bandaged finger and tilted her head to the side.
"Perhaps it's true that nothing's an accident," Eric agreed easily, finding some salad servers and plates and serving both of them. "Shall we then?" he offered a plate to Ianna.
Ianna took the plate, looking at it half apprehensively, "Knowing me, I found some way to ruin even this dish. So you're going to be the guinea pig and if you don't die, I'll eat it." Cheeky grin. Yes. She would do that, too.
"All right then," Eric smiled. What could be wrong with salad, after all? Finding a fork, Eric took a bite of the chicken salad, chewing it carefully and swallowing. It was a fairly simple salad, truth be told, but not bad.
"Good?" she asked, waiting a good five minutes before she took a bite of it. It was simple, indeed, but it was pretty good. Better because she actually helped make it. "Could use a bit of salt or pepper. But it's good. And you're not dead."
"Very good. And no, I'm not dead," Eric smiled, pulling out salt and pepper and offering them to her. "So you can cook. See? It's just a matter of focus." Hopefully this would boost Ianna's confidence in her abilities. "Now, is there anything you want to try to cook next?"
"I don't know if I'm brave enough for the stove yet," she said slowly, putting pepper into her bowl and stirring it in. A bite proved that it was much nicer, and she sighed softly. "I still am afraid I would burn the place down or something. And that's not cooking. Cooking involves heat!"
"Cooking doesn't necessarily involve heat," he smiled easily. "Or at least, it doesn't always involve heat. But we can try something else that doesn't involve the stove but does involve heat, if you'd like," Eric offered, taking another bite of his salad.
"And how on earth would that work?" She didn't get it, unless it involved the microwave. Then again, she'd once exploded that too by forgetting to take the spoon out of her coffee cup and that was always fun. Sparks. It was ACTUALLY quite interesting until the spoon busted through the glass.
"There's the microwave, the oven, and grills," Eric ticked off the options on his fingers. "Do any of those sound interesting to you?" It would be interesting to see how she reacted to different forms of cooking-- since this, apparently, wasn't exactly what Ianna thought of when she said 'cooking.'
"I once exploded the microwave. I tried the grill once and burnt off my eyebrows." She blushed deeply, "But I suppose we can try the oven so long as you take care of the actual cooking portion of it for now?" She could handle mixing and chopping but putting her near any heat source was a bad idea.
"Sounds like a plan then," Eric smiled. "I'll have to think of something fun for next time. Is there anything you particularly like to eat, Ianna?" he asked, taking another bite of the salad, enjoying the simplicity of the food.
"I like any foods. I'm not really picky. Though fruit things are nice." She could make fruit salad. That was about the extent of her cooking talents. Another bite was taken and she leaned her head against the closed cupboards. "This really was fun."
"Fruit, hm?" Eric mused. "I'll find something then. And it was fun. I enjoyed this a lot," he smiled at Ianna honestly. "When would you like to do this again?" he offered after a moment. He'd had a very, very good time-- more than he expected, a good conversation and a decent salad.
"Yes, I really would." she paused, before deciding to see if she could gloat at Patrick or not, "This wasn't a date, was it?" It was asked fairly casually, but if Patrick was right she was never going to let him know it and deny that it ever happened. "I mean, the friend I told you about. That's why I was nervous. He insisted it was."
Eric blinked at that question. "I don't think it was a date... at least, that wasn't my intention." Though, now that Eric thought about it, he saw how it could've been considered a date, and it certainly explained Ianna's clothing transformation. "Although, if you wanted it to be a date..." Eric trailed off uncertainly.
"I...Uh...I..." Oh god she hadn't meant to imply that and blushed deeply, "N..n..." Well, there went her power of speech. "I've never been on one?" she ventured. Not even Malen had taken her out on a date. He'd just kind of moved right in. Haha.
Now, that was surprising. "You've never been on a date?" Eric repeated incredulously. "I find that hard to believe. You're an attractive woman, Ianna," he admitted easily. He was probably making her more uncomfortable with these comments though.
"No."
The compliment caught her off guard and she coughed, looking down at her hands, "Urm, I don't think so, but thanks." No, she tended not to take compliments very well, "It was a fight to get me into this. I prefer my sweat pants and oversized shirt and my vests but Patrick said I looked frumpy and old and like a grandmother."
"You are. And you shouldn't be so modest about it," Eric smiled. He wasn't the type to flatter, he said things just as he saw them. He was too analytical for flattery. "I'll admit that these clothes are more form-fitting, but I'd hardly say you looked like a grandmother when we first met. You looked comfortable."
"I like being comfortable." She paused, looking up at him, "I appreciate your compliments, though. I just don't hear them often." And Malen leaving had kind of made her doubt herself pretty badly, as it was. "I, uh, really shouldn't have brought it up, though. I kind of just wanted to tell Patrick that he was wrong, and if he was right I would have told him he was wrong still." She grinned.
"That's the best way to handle a friend like that," Eric smiled approvingly. "And they're not compliments, they're facts, Ianna," he added. "I don't really give compliments-- saying falsities usually leaves a bad taste in my mouth," he explained, watching Ianna carefully.
"Well, that's good. I'm glad. At least I know you don't lie." Ianna laughed and finished off her salad, setting the bowl off to the side. "I love Patrick to death, though. He's a good friend, just fairly blunt when it comes to things. Good quality to have, a lot of the times."
"Definitely a good quality to have," he nodded, finishing his salad as well, turning to take hers to wash them both up. "It's good that you have a friend who worries about you and takes care of you though. You're lucky," he added.
"Yes, I am. I'm very very lucky." Ianna perked up instantly and went to the fridge which was actually near empty. The normal one was rarely ever stocked. "Would you like something to drink, Eric?" she asked from inside, shifting around baking soda and various other things.
"Well... water would be fine," Eric smiled rather sheepishly. He hadn't planned on imposing, but if she was offering... salad always left him wanting something to wash it down with. Finishing the dishes and putting them on the side to dry, Eric watched Ianna.
"Water it is." That, though, was in the crisper drawer and she had to bend down to open the drawer and pull out two bottles of the cold water, standing back up and turning around to offer it to him, "I hate tap water, even if the stuff here's from a well. It's never cold enough."
Realizing he was staring, Eric turned back to the dishes, finding a towel to wipe them down. "I agree-- tap water isn't particularly healthy either. Well water sounds delicious though." He'd never had the occasion to taste it, but it seemed it should be sweet.
"It's good. When I empty the bottles I wash them, sanitize them, and fill them with well water to make it colder. Though these are storebought because the old ones were too well worn." She set his bottle on the counter and bumped the door shut with her hip.
Setting aside the now-dry dishes, Eric took the water gratefully, taking a sip of the refreshment. "Wonderful," Eric proclaimed, taking another sip. He enjoyed the taste of sweet water, it cleaned the throat and the mind. "Thank you very much."
"Mmm, you did the dishes, not me." She smirked and took a seat on one of the bar stools at the counter, twisting her top off and taking a slow drink of the water held within, "I should have done them, actually, considering you brought all the ingredients."
"Well, washing dishes is somewhat cathartic," Eric explained with a smile. "Somewhat monotonous tasks with your hands is a good release. So it's enjoyable." Not only that, but he liked feeling useful, and getting dishes cleaned after cooking definitely assisted in that.
"I hate monotony, actually. I suppose that's why I enjoyed my job while I had it." There really was no need for her to do what she did anymore, considering her daughter was gone, so her days had been filled with television, and the library. "You know, there's a place in here I think you'd really enjoy. If you want to see it."
Eric perked up at that, curious. "Oh?" he asked, putting the water down. "You've caught my attention, Ianna." Curiosity had killed the cat, perhaps, but Eric was no cat and this was an opportunity he might not get another time.
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Posted: Fri May 16, 2008 1:46 pm
.: Cooking Lessons...? Part Two :.
"One of the things this place boasts is my favorite spot in the entire house, outside of the gardens. Which are technically outside of the house, but no matter." She set her bottle down and jumped off her seat, going out the door and making a left to head down the impossibly long hallway that held at least sixteen different doors before a very large set of ornate ones to the right. She pushed them open to reveal the library, which really was QUITE the library. There were three rows of large ornate bookshelves, each holding seven shelves in their row. The ones on the ground floor all seemed to be human subjects, mundane subjects. Nothing to do with magic.
But the second story, which was reached on each side of the library by spiral stair cases, was nothing but a solid wall of books, all in magic, magic theory, history, spells. Everything that one would need to know - and much on the war of Dreams and Thought. "My home."
Eric stared at the gorgeous library, taking it in, feeling awe fill him. His own collection, while large by most standards, was completely dwarfed by this place. He couldn't help but let his eyes roam hungrily over the expanse of the library, the different books, their shapes, the way some of them seemed to pulse with promise. "It's marvelous," he managed after a long moment, knowing the word didn't even begin to cover the amazement he felt. "It's absolutely wonderful." Some might not understand, but seeing so many books, the way they were obviously cared for, the sheer amount of knowledge in one place took Eric's breath away.
And Ianna seemed to have a great respect, because unlike most libraries, there was not a damn speck of dust in the entire place. It was in perfect condition, and the tables that were spread out seemed to have been polished recently, too. And the bookshelves as well. Which was saying a lot, considering how many shelves fit into the entire place. "Thank you. My daughter helped me collect the texts, but I'm the one who cares for them. I haven't even managed to make a dent in it, with my reading, but it's all so interesting." A pause before she indicated to the far left corner, "Don't go nosing around in the magic books over there, though. They're Matty's books, and a lot of them are dangerous. I'm human, and I think they have a taste for blood." she shuddered. "God knows why she had them."
Nodding, Eric continued letting his gaze roam across the room. This was more than he'd dreamed existed, the number of books, the amount of information. It almost felt like if he could spend all the time he wanted here, he'd find the answers to every question he'd ever asked-- and many more. This was perfection in so many ways, and Eric had the distinct impression he'd fallen into heaven. "She probably found something within them too important to leave alone, even if they were dangerous." The trouble with curiosity and the search for knowledge.
"Likely. She was a very talented witch. Very powerful. So powerful that the gods wanted to rid themselves of her, after the Wars. She was one of the first witches burnt at the stake during the Witch Trials, you know." She moved to one of the mahogany tables and slid into a chair, indicating to the one beside her. "She had a demi-god to guard her, but he betrayed her in the end. I'm pretty sure he had something to do with her demise this time."
She paused. "Eric, I'm going to sound crazy, because I just buried her. I know she's dead. But I don't think she's dead. Kay tells me it's a mother not wanting to let go, but I..."
Taking the proffered seat, Eric considered Ianna's words for a moment. All logic agreed with Ianna's daughter. The dead were dead, and that was that. However, when magic was involved-- as it clearly was in this case-- there was always the chance. Especially given the circumstances of these wands, this shop, this place. "Well," he started carefully, choosing his words slowly, "if everything you've told me is true, she's already cheated death once. I don't see why it shouldn't have happened again, especially if she's as powerful as you say. However, death is nothing simple to fight against, so if she is existing somehow," he wouldn't say alive, that didn't seem right, "in another form or some such, she may be weakened. She may be biding her time until she's strong enough to return to you and this task she's set before you. Perhaps there are other forces, this demi-god you mentioned..." Eric trailed off, knowing he was rambling. It was all foolish conjecture, nothing substantial, but he couldn't say with any certainty that Ianna's precious daughter was dead.
"She created two realms, she's brought at least forty souls back from the dead and given them new bodies, new lives. I don't understand how she could be dead, after that. It just doesn't make much sense to me. I hope that she's alive. Not just because she's my daughter, but because something is coming. I feel it." Somehow, she was able to talk more frankly in this place. Her sanctuary. "It scares me." And that much was obvious in her tone of voice, "And I can't face it alone. I need her."
What was it? Well, if she was asked that she couldn't honestly answer, which she knew would make her sound crazy, but she was already known as the crazy lady so it didn't really matter much.
Eric weighed Ianna's words-- there was the concern of a mother who'd had to undergo the pain of burying her daughter, yes. But there was something else too, a fear that didn't seem tied to loss, but fear of the future. Not just a future alone, but fear of the unknown. Eric didn't doubt Ianna felt something was coming (another generally problematic trait of his, he usually tended to believe whatever people said once he got to know them and he deemed them trustworthy), but that she'd called it 'something' implied something unknown, something dangerous. He gently moved to take her hand, in a gesture of friendship and solidarity. "It doesn't make sense that she wouldn't be able to cheat death again if she wanted, and you've given me no reason to think she wanted to die. This seems to mean she's somewhere. And if that's true, I'll do whatever I can to help you find her. Before this 'something' comes. Happens." He didn't make promises lightly, and he always kept his promises.
The hand did offer something solid, something that made her feel less alone. Ianna let out a slow breath, thankful that he wasn't calling her a crazy loon. Patrick might have. Coailiann had scoffed at her when she'd try to bring it up. Malen was gone. It was good to have someone to actually talk to, and she visibly relaxed, fingers curling tightly around Eric's. Yes. This was good. "Thank you." she murmured, closing her eyes before looking up at the many books, "Most people would have chalked it up to going insane after losing her, but not you. I don't know why you don't think I'm nuts and aren't running for the hills, but I thank you. Even if I end up being wrong, I thank you."
"Well, if you weren't making sense, I'd let you know you were probably insane with grief over her death-- which would be perfectly explicable under the circumstances. But you seem like a logical person, Ianna, and I can't help but believe you about this. Even if you're wrong, at least it's a chance, right?" he smiled, squeezing her hand. It was odd. They'd only met twice, and he felt drawn to her. She was a strong woman-- she had to be to have survived her daughter's death, to be able to keep going, but filled with so much pain and confusion. He wanted to help her. He wanted to protect her, be her friend.
She was grateful for it, too. "I know you would. That's why I'm saying thank you." She laughed softly, seeming to lighten considerably but not letting go of the other's hand. She still needed that grounding for the time being. "And yes. It's a chance. Whatever's coming, if it's coming, is not good. I just hope it's not a repeat of the wars. I've read about them, I've seen them through Matty's eyes, Eric. I've been to the site of the war. I've felt every thing. Every pain, every sorrow. It was so devestating even hundreds of years later there's a scar there. It feels hopeless."
"Well..." Eric took a moment to weigh this, "even if it's a repeat of the wars, there'd have to be a reason, right? The world doesn't appear to be as polarized as it used to be back in those days, so if that is what's coming... there would have to be a sign, there would have to be a reason. There would have to be clear cut sides-- unless the wars of the past aren't what they appeared to be," he stopped himself with that thought. What if there were higher powers who were, for lack of a better word, messing with things? What if the wars themselves were a coverup for something larger...?
Now he was sounding like a conspiracist. He should keep those thoughts to himself. Ianna might think he was crazy.
"Yes. The problem is, I can't say why. All my theories are based in just intuition, no fact. And without that, well, I'm sunk, aren't I? I can't fight a war on my own, and how can someone follow someone when they have no basis to hold their claims to? They already think I'm nuts." She snorted and shook her head. "And Eric, nothing is ever as it appears to be. Nothing is ever black and white. There are shades of gray, no matter how much we want things simple. Even in science, there are grays. Exceptions to rules. Things unexplainable."
"That may be so," Eric nodded to the her points, "but there are sides in a war, at least a war in the traditional sense. If it's a war in a non-traditional sense... well, we could be facing anything." The 'we' came out unintentionally, but it was true-- Eric had thrown his lot in with Ianna, and whatever happened, they'd be facing it together. "And that anything is the problem. We should start trying to read up on the wars, see what we can find about what to look for, and see if you can think of any places where your daughter might have left clues about what's going on." At least it would give them a place to start.
"There's her pocket realm, I searched it throughly. The only thing there when I found her was a baby. A girl. She's not even in the book, she didn't have a wand, and there was a lot of water. She appeared, my daughter died. I don't know what the connection is, and I can't figure it out. Maybe I can take you to her pocket realm next time, and you can help me look." She smiled at him, liking that she wasn't in this alone. "And thank you. Again."
"A baby?" Eric repeated, turning this new revelation over in his mind. "This baby," he paused, trying to work it out, "she must be someone special. Perhaps she's the key to this. How did your daughter create these wands?" he asked suddenly, his mind forming a theory. "And I'd enjoy a visit to her pocket realm. It would be a good chance to learn more about this." It would also, hopefully, provide more clues. "You don't need to thank me, Ianna," he smiled back at her, squeezing her hand again. "I'm just here to help."
"Yes. A baby." The question caught her off guard and she carefully thought back. Matilda had wanted this to be as quiet as possible, but she found herself trusting Eric. He trusted in her. "She...split apart her soul. Each time a child was brought to life, a shard of her soul went in. She thought by using one of Newton's laws, every action has an equal and opposite reaction...She'd be able to cast the spell. She was right. Something could not be taken without something being given. What the price was...? A piece of her. The souls could not exist and exit limbo without it."
The squeeze reassured her, and she squeezed in return.
"Her soul?" Eric blinked slowly. That seemed extreme, but it did make sense. "So, perhaps she placed a larger part of her soul inside this baby. Perhaps that's why she appeared to have died." Perhaps she had, but Eric wouldn't voice that. "That may be why there was no wand, but this child. This baby must be an important part of whatever's coming for your daughter to have taken such a chance. It must have taken a good amount of her life force. She may have retreated somewhere until she's regained that strength." Or she might have actually transplanted the remainder of her soul somewhere. It was a possibility. Eric would have to look-- he had a book on soul theory and soul manipulation somewhere.
"Maybe. I don't know. I wish I did." There was a half smile, "I know the baby's the key. I just...don't uh.." She flushed deeply at that, "Don't know where she is. She's not in the book, and the men. They came. They said she was their sister. Or something. I don't know." It was stupid, now that she said it out loud, but Ianna had just lost her daughter, she had been distraught. She was not thinking clearly, and it was obvious she could have kicked herself.
"And you don't know where they took here?" Eric asked, keeping his voice gentle and non-judgmental. "Do you have any pictures of them or anything like that? Or did you catch their names?" They needed to have something to go off of for this. "We'll figure this out," he promised. "One way or another. There has to be an answer among these clues."
"It was the day after Matilda died. I didn't know. They couldn't have come, if one of them was not her guardian. Not that day. So...I believe she belonged with them. Even now I do. But I don't know where. They didn't speak very much English. They were heavily accented, and it was very broken." Ianna closed her eyes, "We find the girl, we find more answers."
"Then we'll look for her. What did she look like?" Eric asked gently but firmly. It looked like he might have to make a deal with Arch again, see if she could walk through dreams for him, find out anything she could about this girl. A baby, water, without a wand, taken away by men who claimed she was their sister. That was all they had to go off of, and it wasn't enough.
"Now, THAT, I do have. However, we need my desk." She got up, reluctantly letting go of the man's hand before she started out of the library and down the long hall, and over to the ornate desk across from the initial entrance. He wouldn't be able to go behind it, but she could. The drawer to the lower right was opened and a round crystal about the size of both of her hands was put on the desk. "From my connection with Matilda, I developed the ability to do this. But it's very hard on me, and if I fall over, I expect to be caught." She laughed softly and put her hands on either side of the clear crystal, concentrating hard. The woman then pulled up her memory of Melanie, the first time she saw her - which incidently also had her daughter dead on the floor - before shoving it into the crystal. She was shaking hard, though, and it was obviously taxing.
Eric watched Ianna's actions carefully before turning her attention to the crystal once he was sure Ianna was all right. Committing the scene to his memory, Eric slipped his hand to Ianna as support again, even though his eyes were trained on the crystal. "Are you all right?" he asked her softly, considering the details. Water. The child. Those strange markings and the curious clothes. There had to be something there.
Ianna was breathing heavily and once she was sure he saw everything, she broke the connection and very neatly crumped down toward the floor, eyes shut tightly. It was harder to do, without her connection with her daughter active. She'd been power. She'd had to actually use the tiny bit that had rubbed off on her, which was NOT much at all. She didn't answer, trying to catch her breath.
Moving to catch her as best he could, Eric shook his head. "Breathe, Ianna," he murmured quietly, holding onto her. "I've got you." It was difficult, but he forced his mind away from the scene he'd embedded in his mind to focus on Ianna, trying to support her.
She was shaking quite badly as she tried to recover from everything, her eyes slowly fluttering open as she slowly calmed down. "T..thank you." She seemed to be saying that a lot today, but he was more comfortable than the wooden floor. Finally her breathing went back to normal, but the shaking didn't stop.
"Well, you did say you expected to be caught," Eric gave her a slight smile. She'd scared him, though he didn't want to admit that. He didn't enjoy seeing her falling, shaking like this. "Are you going to be all right?" He didn't know how much of this was from the pain of the memory versus the power it must have taken to project the image of the past.
"So I did," she murmured, "Didn't expect to actually fall though." It was definitely the power. She lived with the image of her daughter on the floor every day of her life, so it was nothing new to her. It was, though, the first time she'd attempted 'magic' since the passing.
"Well, I'm glad that I was standing close then," Eric smiled softly, "I wouldn't have wanted you to have fallen on the ground. You might've hurt yourself." That would've been troubling. "Come, let's go get you something to drink," he offered, still holding her.
"Yeah. Lucky." She offered a shaky smile and tried to get up onto her feet, using the desk as a crutch so she didn't have to rely on Eric. He'd done a lot today. "Drink would be good. Maybe of the alcoholic variety. Soothes nerves." She snorted, though usually wasn't one to drink. "Not sure what would be good though, as I've only had champagne."
"Well, we don't want to give you anything too heavy," Eric shook his head a little. "Maybe a glass of wine would be good though, something soothing." He was worried about her, she looked weaker, and it didn't suit her.
"I'll find the couch, if you grab it from the fridge. I don't know what to think about, so it wouldn't respond to me." Plus she really had the mind consistancy of goo at the moment, and that was likely what she'd end up asking it for. "It's simple, just think of what you want and open the door." She made her way carefully to the couch, stumbling every so often before collapsing heavily onto it.
Nodding, Eric moved to the refrigerator and thought for a long moment before pulling out a Merlot. Red wine, having a higher alcoholic content than champagne, would soothe Ianna's nerves faster, though hopefully she wouldn't mind the dryness of the wine. Moving to the kitchen to grab a pair of glasses and a bottle opener, Eric brought everything out to Ianna, uncorking the Merlot and pouring Ianna a glass. "Try this," he offered. "If it's not to your taste, I'll try for something sweeter," he smiled gently.
She reached out, having calmed her nerves just a bit, and took the glass from him, "Thank you," she said with a half smile before bringing it to her lips and taking a sip. Not too bad, and it could use some sweetness, but it would serve it's purposes. "I think I'm now in a habit of saying that to you. It's good." Another sip, eyes shutting again.
"It's a habit we'll have to break you of," Eric smiled. "You don't need to thank me so much. You should rest though, try to get your strength up." Though, Eric wasn't sure he wanted Ianna to be alone right now. She seemed to be calming down, but she wasn't quite well yet. It would probably be some time until she recovered the energy she'd spent in summoning the image.
"Well, this is some non-date," she said, trying to make light of the situation, "Teaching me to cook, helping me figure out a giant cosmic mystery, catching me, cleaning my dishes, getting me wine. My goodness." She took another sip of her wine, "I think many many thanks are in order. And I'm resting. Just...Talking while I do so."
Eric laughed. "Just wait until you see me on a real date. This is just the surface of me," he smiled idly. "And all right, you can rest and talk for a bit more, then I'm going to insist that you really rest. You need your strength."
Was he insinuating she'd actually see him on a date? Oh dear, this entire thing confused the poor woman. Bah. "Mmm, all right." She nestled against the couch, "Going to sit your butt down too, or stand there all evening?"
"I stand to further ensure I can be at your beck and call," he smiled, "but I suppose I can sit for a while," he gave in, taking a seat nearby and sipping his wine slowly. He wasn't sure why, but he wanted to try to coax another smile from her, something that made him feel like she really would be all right.
"Well, I'm not a slave driver, Eric. Though I'm sure Kay would beg to differ." Her voice was starting to sound less shaky, and the glass in her hand was steadier as well. It wasn't as though she was going to keel over dead, though perhaps Eric was afraid she would. "Tell me something about yourself. Anything."
Eric smiled at that. "Well... I'm a native Gaian, and like most Gaians these days, I'm playing parent to twins. The twins came out of a mask, and now they're extremely... vocal, for lack of a better word. Besides that, there's not much to say about me..." He didn't lead a particularly interesting life, in his opinion. He could talk for hours about anyone else though.
"Most children tend to be extremely vocal. Unfortunately. When Kay was little, she'd levitate apples at my head. And chairs. And various other things that generally could have left concussions if I made her upset." Ianna smiled at him, then. It was obvious the woman adored kids, at least her own. Had to, one supposed, in her line of work.
"Unfortunately the twins aren't exactly children," Eric sighed a touch. "I'm not sure, but they're at least in their late teens. They've just had hard lives, and they're both princes, which makes them just unbearable on occasion. Aimé's the sweet one though, he always tries to help. Hector's the more aggressive one, and he's... well, he's angry at me right now," Eric shrugged slightly. "Though I'm sure it will pass. Tell me more about Kay?" he asked gently, enjoying hearing the stories.
"Teenagers are still children, and worse than the younger ones because they know how to curse, manipulate, and you generally can't stick them on time outs. Trust me. I know." Ianna shook her head and sipped at her wine more, "I'm sure that they'll be okay. Things work out, as they tend to do, eventually." She paused. More about Kay? Oh, jesus. "She's slow. Well. She was slow. She didn't learn to walk until very late in her life, and she couldn't talk very well either. I think it's because she chose to focus on her magic abilities, rather than motor skills. Uhm. She speaks fluent Gaelic, often times slipping into it and forgetting. She's telepathic, and telekenetic. She's a faerie. Specifically a sidhe. She cannot read or write in English..."
"She must be very talented at her magic," Eric smiled. "Gaelic, hm? Do you speak Gaelic as well, or does she find that it's difficult to find others to converse with in that tongue?" Languages intrigued Eric, mostly because he dabbled in them on the side in his academic career. "And I'm sure she's making up for not talking as much when she was young now." Most seemed to do that.
"No. After the incident here, in the headquarters, where two of our guardians were killed, she blamed herself and stopped using her magic. She ran away, lived with a friend - who, when they both grew to teenagers became her lover - and never came home except to visit. Since, she's gone against her roots in everything, being the opposite of what she's ever been, and it's confused me deeply. But she's starting to get better. I don't know why, but I'm not complaining." She really did look happy that Kay was doing something about the mess of her life, "And no, I don't speak Gaelic. It's a difficult tongue."
"I see," Eric nodded slowly. "It's good to hear that she's sorting out her emotions about it," he smiled softly. "After all, it's healthy." Healthier than brooding on it at least. Then again, a certain amount of focus on a terrible event was necessary in order to make it real, and thus something that needed to be dealt with. "Gaelic's extremely difficult. I've only heard it a few times, but I gathered that much immediately."
"Try reading it." She joked, "The way it's spelled and the way it's said are so different I was reading along with something and got lost within the first ten seconds. I think I'll stick to English, and maybe Latin. Latin's easy. Latin's good." Ianna finished her glass of wine and shifted a bit on the couch to rest her head on the cushion.
Eric nodded at that. "Latin's a fine language. It's useful, and it makes perfect sense. Unfortunately, most other languages don't enjoy doing that," he lamented mildly, taking another sip of his wine, savoring the taste. "Gaelic, on the other hand, seems to enjoy going against the rules."
"It makes it's own rules and doesn't let others play in its sandbox." It was a decent analogy, "Like the playground bully, only it's bullyying your brain." She liked that one too. The wine was making her a bit light headed, even after one glass, but at least she was more steady and smiling more.
The analogies brought a smile to Eric's lips. "And yet, somehow, it's a very beautiful language. Most are, when you get right down to it, no matter how much they torment the brain." Words, words-- Eric adored words, sounds, the way sounds made up words, made up meanings.
"It is. I like it more than French, even if it's harder to understand. Had Kay and I been closer, I would have asked her to talk to me in it just so I could hear it. Pretty things make me happy, and it is a pretty thing." Her voice took on a dream-like quality then, a content smile on her face. "There are a lot of pretty things in the world. It's too bad people don't see that. All I ever hear about is the bad things when I turn on the television."
"It's extremely pretty," Eric agreed. He liked the look on her face. It suited her. "These days, everyone seems somewhat obsessed with the negative," he nodded. "It's difficult to find the beauty, but it still exists, if you're willing to look." Ah, his optimistic side was showing. He should be careful and put it away again.
"I think it's the easiest thing in the world to find the beauty if you look. Anything is beautiful, if you have the right eyes." She yawned slightly and opened one of her silver eyes to look at the man, a smile quirking her lips, "But you have to be willing to open your eyes."
"Perhaps so," Eric smiled, "but that's not where the focus is, unfortunately. The darker side is what everyone's watching, reveling in the lack of beauty."
"Well they can live in their dreary world and I'll float about in my happy one." Even if she was dealing with a lot internally, she didn't fail to see the good. Sure, she was afraid to step outside her own house and everything, but hey, she was progressing.
"Please do," Eric smiled, finishing his glass of wine and putting it on the side. "I think I enjoy your world more than the one everyone else enjoys presenting to me." Ianna's personality was a welcome refreshment to his lifetime of academics who were far too knowledgeable to have a hint of optimism.
"I could always use company in my world, Eric. And I enjoy yours greatly, I really do. It's been a long time since I've had a conversation with anyone that consisted of anything outside of WHAT THE HELL is that thing and WHY do I have to take care of it? You're lucky Alijatra's not come out, though." She laughed. "He's a right b*****d. He's a guardian, but he lives here because he's got no place else to go. This place was originally built to house a lot of people. But it's only me and Ali."
"Well, I don't see why you haven't-- you're easy to talk to, Ianna," Eric smiled. "Alijatra?" he asked after a moment. "I suppose I'll run into him sooner or later-- he sounds like a formidable individual." Eric wasn't sure what would happen if they happened to burn down the kitchen while this Alijatra was in the building, but they'd cross that bridge if they came to it.
"He's royalty." As if that explained it all. He had twin princes. She was sure that it did wonders in the explaining section of things. "And he's an a*****e." Ha! The first time she'd cursed the entire time she'd known him!...Which admittedly, was not very long.
"Aah," Eric nodded slowly. "I imagine I shouldn't bring Hector by then. They'd likely take a strong dislike to one another." And given that Hector now had a weapon, that could prove problematic. "Most royals I've met are difficult," he agreed, giving her a sympathetic smile.
"Not only is he royalty, he's a dragon, and not only that he's poisonous and a right b*****d at that!" She snorted, "So you have to know I'm doing an amazing thing by putting up with him. I use him as an errand boy. He seems to dislike it."
That brought a laugh from Eric. "Dislike is a mild estimation, I'm sure. It must be extremely trying putting up with him," Eric shook his head. Ianna was rather cute ranting like that. "A royal, poisonous dragon. That's a terrible combination."
"It's the understatement of the year. He brought the child that was abandoned to Patrick not too long ago on my threats that he would have to live with Nicolai, who is another guardian, and who he seems to have a strong dislike for." She reached over, "Top me up again?"
Obligingly pouring her a bit more-- though not too much, since he didn't want her to overindulge, since she said she wasn't used to alcohol other than champagne, Eric smiled at her story. "Well, at least you have a way to keep him in line."
"Mhm. Makes it easier for me not to leave the house." Which was pretty darn honest of the woman to say. Obviously, she was avoiding it. The drink was brought to her lips and she took some, sighing, "That's a good wine. Next time, maybe sweeter. If there's a next time."
"This is true. Though, maybe one day you could show me your gardens." Eric would enjoy that, and it would get Ianna out of the house, but not out of her comfort zone. "I'd love to see them." And he'd like to help Ianna get out into the world again. "Well, maybe next time we'll try a sweeter wine to go with whatever we cook." That way, they wouldn't be dealing with Ianna falling and overextending herself.
"I'd like that. There are two places that are my sanctuary, and it's the library and the gardens. The gardens almost moreso because after the incident, they were incinerated and flattened and utterly gone and I had to rebuild every little thing myself. Things are just starting to live again. It's beautiful." Ianna looked quite happy talking about the gardens, "Lots of flowers. Especially Orchids. I love them."
"Orchids, hm?" Eric put that down in his memory, "What do you like about them so much?" he asked, enjoying the pleasure he saw written on her face. He wanted to hear about the good things, since they'd spent so much time on the difficult ones.
"The shapes, the colors. They're gorgeous. There are so many different species of Orchid, but blue ones and the Wickford orchids have to be my favorite. Butterfly orchids too, though. Orchidsare symbols of perfection. It symbolizes all that is perfection. Love. Beauty. Strength. All that I want to be."
Smiling, Eric nodded. "Well, you may not be perfect, Ianna, but you certainly have both beauty and strength. So in that, you're much like an orchid." He'd never thought as orchids as perfection before, but he could understand why Ianna thought that way. Each flower called to different people, symbolizing what they wanted most.
Well, the actual textbook symbol for an orchid was perfection, so she wasn't far off. The compliment caused her to blush deeply, though, and look down at her glass of wine, "Thank you. There're those words again. But it means a lot." Considering the only person to call her beautiful had left her.
"Well, I believe them," he smiled. "Now, you really should rest," he chided gently. "As much as I enjoy listening to your stories, you need your rest." And he had the sneaking suspicion that if he stayed, they'd stay up talking for a while more.
Ianna was enjoying herself, though, and found herself really not wanting him to leave. Sigh. "All right. I'll rest." she paused, downing the rest of her glass, "But we really do need to do this again. I enjoyed it this evening. A lot."
"As did I," Eric smiled. Except for when Ianna collapsed. That hadn't been pleasant. "Good night, Ianna," he smiled, taking her hand and pressing another kiss to it before gathering his glass and leaving to wash it up in the kitchen before he left.
Well, there he went with the hand kissing thing again. She could get used to it! "Good night, Eric," she echoed, not bothering to get up from her comfortable position on the couch. Instead, she stretched out on it, curled with a cushion, and fell asleep. Good days were good days.
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