witchoftheflesh | The Increasingly More Explored Woodlands, Sunday Afternoon

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The Increasingly More Explored Woodlands, Sunday Afternoon

Last week, Adrian had invited Yelena and Lydia both to watch him bury his heart and properly claim the land. Lydia, because he thought that a fellow practitioner would appreciate watching a ritual of this size, Yelena because...well, if nothing else, he figured that she'd enjoy having something else to tease him about.

He'd brought out a nice picnic blanket and some refreshments, including several bottles of his homemade fruit beers that he'd shared with Logan, water, fruit juices, a light herbal tea, sandwiches on a thick, hearty bread (made fancy because he'd cut them into quarters), and a nice, freshly-baked cake that he'd cooked because he'd wanted to, not because he was nervous.

"You're fretting," Boston noted, sunning himself in a tree while Adrian made sure that all the utensils and plates were just so for his guests.

"I'm new to hosting," Adrian said. "I want to make sure that everything is nice for them."

"Uh-huh," Boston said. "...You're going to do fine." He wasn't talking about hosting. "We've practiced a hundred times back home."

"I know," his witch replied. "I just kinda wish it had been a hundred and one." Or maybe a hundred ten.

***
Once his guests had arrived and seated themselves, Adrian pulled out his trunk, went over to the black steamer trunk that he'd flown in with and, after rooting around amongst various things (he really needed to unpack this), he pulled out a beautifully carved wooden box and clutched it reverently to his chest. "Would you care to hold it while I finish preparing?" he asked, offering the box to Lydia. Boston made a grumpy sound, but forewent commentary as Adrian knelt down in front of the oak tree, plunged his bare hands into the acorn-covered ground, and began to dig. He moved handfuls of soil with surprising efficiency. "This has to be done by hand," he explained, figuring Yelena, at least, might be wondering why he wasn't using a shovel. "I'm a good digger, though. It won't take me long."

He wasn't kidding. Adrian Blackwood dug a three-foot-deep hole through hardpacked, rocky soil using nothing but his hands. He worked calmly, methodically, but fast, and didn't so much as rip a nail. There had to be some magic behind that, but he didn't say a word the entire time. He just kept going until he had a neat, knee-deep, root-filled pit wide enough to sit in, finished. A hole that size should have taken hours, even with a shovel; Adrian had finished in maybe twenty minutes. "There," he said, brushing the earth off his fingers as he stood up. "Now we're ready."

Adrian took the wooden box back from Lydia. The moment his hands touched it, a hush fell over the clearing. Whatever Adrian was doing had the attention of the whole woods - or at least, the section he'd claimed for himself. Silently, reverently, he climbed back into the hole he'd just made and got down on his knees, placing the wooden box into the nest of roots at the bottom. When everything was positioned exactly where he wanted it, he removed the box's carved lid. The wood came off with a delicate scrape, revealing the object inside, which looked exactly like a human heart. A live human heart. It contracted as they watched, the dark-red muscles pumping in the deep, regular motion of a heartbeat. It didn't look bloody or wet; it was just a heart beating in Adrian's hands as he removed it from the box and began to bury it in the ground.

The hush got deeper with every handful of dirt he scooped over it, and then a pulse began to run through the soil under where they were sitting. The thumping sound got louder and louder as Adrian filled in the hole he'd just made. By the time he stood up to press the dirt flat with his boots, the whole hill was pounding with the beating of the heart. It shook the trees and frightened the birds, filling the air with flapping wings and the crushing feeling of something huge and ancient, something larger than human. The weight of so much power was palpable, pushing down on all of them in a way that made it hard to stay upright. Just when they might have become certain it was going to flatten them to the ground, Adrian brought his hands together in front of him with a clap, and the horrible pressure vanished like it had never been.

"Well done!" Boston called from the branches he'd climbed up into. "That went even better than it did in practice."

Adrian was panting too hard to answer. He'd been perfectly calm the whole time he was filling in the hole. Now that he was finished, he collapsed onto the needle-strewn ground with a gasp, sprawling under the trees with a triumphant smile on his face.

[Text taken and adapted from Hell For Hire by Rachel Aaron, because you know how I love me some perfectly normal canons. While the two ladies mentioned were invited, post is open for other folks, either before or after the ritual.]

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Welcome! Show up, have some cake and tea, settle in, do whatever!

Lydia had chosen her dress with extreme care, prepared for the possibility that she would find out at the last minute this was a skyclad sort of undertaking (although she was very relieved that it wasn't!), and had stopped by J,GoB on the way to pick up a box of pastries, since it seemed rude to show up at someone's home and very important ceremony empty-handed.

"Miss Bennet!" Adrian waved when he spotted her coming into the clearing where his house was ~~that I had totally meant to describe in the OCD, lol~~, a charming wooden cottage that was one thatched roof shy of looking like it had been taken from the pages of a fairy tale. "Welcome to my--oh! Are those treats? Thank you! They're more than welcome, though I hope you didn't feel obliged."

"Oh, it was no trouble," Lydia assured him. "I often go to the bakery on Sundays." On her way to church. Totally.

Listen, it could happen.

"You've a lovely home," Lydia told him as she did her best not to look like she was gawking at it.

Any week now! Anything was possible, really.

"Thank you!" he said proudly. "I built it myself. Back home, of course, then brought it with me."

Doing it the other way would have taken much longer.

"Afterwards, I'd be happy to give you a tour? I think you'll really like my greenhouse."

Because obviously he had an attached greenhouse. What was he, a peasant?

"Yes, there was something about that on the radio," Lydia said. She had several questions along the lines of 'how,' because being able to shrink things would make packing ever so much easier, but for the moment she moved on to, "I would love to see your greenhouse!" She bet he had some great herbs in there.

He'd be happy to explain, too, so long as we all recognized that canon was unhelpfully vague and it came with the likelihood of getting jossed!

"Of course," he said. "I'm very proud of it. And it'll be nice to get to show it to someone, finally."

Since he and Raiden had gone back to Raiden's place (the breakfast alone had been worth it) and Logan didn't seem to really be a 'come inside and admire my cottagecore aesthetic' kind of guy.

It would be the most handwavey discussion of magical theory ever!

"You should be very proud of it," Lydia said stoutly. Imagine, making something like this all by yourself! "My greatest skills lie in mucking up needlework, I'm afraid...although that can come in rather handy in certain circumstances."

Ooooh, a cottagecore aesthetic! Lydia was in.

"Where I'm from, it's called witchcraft for a reason," Adrian said. "Carpentry, woodworking, masonry, sewing...I'm not particularly skilled at metalworking, but I can get by. Magic works better if you can channel it through things you've made with your own hands. You've already invested your own energy into it."

And also it was more ecologically friendly, sustainable, and self-sufficient!

"I tried explaining that to Yelena when we were arguing over riding broomsticks, but I think she was more entertained by the concept of a flying roomba than in getting what I was saying." Or just enjoyed arguing for the sake of arguing. "How often does mucking up needlework come in handy?"

"That's fascinating," Lydia said. "For me it's much more about intent, I think, although there are of course charms and such where one must make something...

"As far as needlework goes, once I--well, it's very complicated, but I found myself the sort of...slipped stitch in a magical tapestry, and I believe it saved my life." She'd have to start by explaining the Order of the Rose, and they'd be here all day. "They quite deserved for me to ruin their working," she added, defensive, as if Adrian might have thought otherwise of people he didn't even know.

"And having tried to figure out where you'd missed stitches before in your own needlework made it possible for you to notice theirs?" Adrian asked. "And, Miss Bennet, if pulling on that slipped stitch saved your life, I'd say they more than earned the ruining. May I ask what the working was for?"

"It was to store power," Lydia explained. "The Order of the Rose was...a kind of coven, I suppose, although that feels like the wrong word." More like a perversion of a coven. "They had this great working, like a magical tapestry I said, that all their members were a part of, and they invited me to join before I quite knew what I was doing...but I had to give blood to join, and I was sick of blood by then." Ominous. "So I gave the illusion of a drop of blood instead. And then later, I found myself quite at odds with them." She considered how to explain it, then said, "In order to control who could use the power they had saved up, they had to be able to control the witches. But I hadn't committed to it in blood, so I was in it, but not. So they couldn't control me. And I looked at it with the mind's eye, and I yanked just so, and the whole thing unraveled."

That was actually fairly concise, all things considered. Well done, Lydia!

"A cabal," Adrian said, his jaw set. "We call a group like that a cabal."

He took a few moments to even out his breathing and get his temper under control. This was not the kind of working that one did angry. That could have catastrophic consequences.

"It sounds like you were very brave, very clever, and very lucky," he said finally.

"A cabal," Lydia repeated, trying it out. She supposed it fit.

"Well, I didn't have any choice. They wanted to treat Miss Lambe most horribly, you see. She was undergoing her transformation into the Witch Queen, and they didn't want a queen--which I suppose I can understand. But they wanted to use her as a power source instead. As a...a thing instead of a person. So I had to stop them, so I could get her away." Simple as that!

"A Witch...Queen?" he asked.

Yeah, that was definitely one of those places where their traditions zagged away from each other.

He tried imagining his mother and his aunts bowing to someone else - or even each other - and had to stifle a snort.

"The Witch Queen of Brighton, the Jewel of Propriety," Lydia said. "Miss Maria Lambe, my friend and patroness. Oh, there are hardly witch queens all over the place," she assured him. "Miss Lambe is a Great Power. She's rather unique. She didn't even know she was the Witch Queen at first! Why, she helped me search all over Brighton for the jewel, and the whole time it was she!" Lydia laughed. It was rather funny now, removed from the possibility she and Kitty would be eaten by Wormentongue if she didn't find said jewel. "Can you imagine? We both thought it was an actual jewel."

Those were a lot of capital letters there, Lydia. Adrian was witch enough to hear them, but he had no idea what any of them meant.

"What do Witch Queens do?" he asked. "And what are Great Powers? And what was she the Jewel of Propriety?"

That sounded like a terribly boring thing to be, if he was being honest.

"The Great Powers are those sorts of...well, the ones who are more than us measly little people. I've only met four." That was rather more Great Powers than most people met, Lydia. "Miss Lambe is one of them, of course, and Wormentongue and the Long Man and the Sea." Hey, Adrian, did the sea murmur for witches to come away, love, come away in your universe? No? You lucky dog. "Although Wormentongue was just the ghost of a Great Power!" And also he totally hadn't almost eaten her! She swore!

"I suppose she was called the Jewel of Propriety because when she was coming into her power she became a sort of...living statue made of amethyst for a time," Lydia explained, for a certain value of 'explaining.' "That made getting her away from Brighton and the Order quite difficult, I can tell you. As the Witch Queen, she has power over the witches of Brighton and can aid them in their endeavors," which some of them were probably not enjoying, considering they had tried to keep her an amethyst statue to use as a magical battery, "but she is quite tied to Brighton itself. She is trying to figure out a way to come and visit me here, and I do hope she can work it out."

Uhhh, nooooo. The ocean was just the ocean for the Blackwoods and that was kind of concerning that it wasn't for you, Lydia.

"...And not all of your Greater Powers turn into living amethyst statues as part of their overall Awakening, I'm guessing? That's just a...her thing?" he asked.

...wow. Hey, Lydia. Lydia, come here. Come here. What in the actual fuck?

"As far as I know," Lydia said. "She's the only Great Power I've been around when they were coming into said power. It doesn't happen every day, you know."

Oh, talk to her after you meet the self-resurrecting demon queen, Adrian.

Excuse you, she was more than self-resurrecting, okay? She also needed a river.

"Are the other Great Powers limited to a town as well?" You should really talk about how Wormentongue was a dragon, Lydia. Didn't you want to share 'that time I nearly got eaten by a (ghost) dragon' stories?

"Well, the Sea is the sea, of course," Lydia said, "and Wormentongue is currently bound." That wasn't true any more, but it was true when she was from so she was just pretending, okay? "And before he was bound he was mostly stuck in a particular patch of Hertfordshire, where I'm from, though he did leave it at least twice, and also he wasn't alive at the time so I'm not sure the usual rules applied to him. He wanted to eat me and Kitty, or else Miss Lambe--I suppose ideally all three--so he could become alive again."

Welcome to the wonderful world of Lydia Bennet explaining things, Adrian!

"And before he was bound - presumably due to his desire to eat people - he had a larger range?" Adrian asked, trying to put those words into some kind of order than answered his question. "I guess I'm just not certain why Miss Lambe is so bound, considering I'm sure Brighton is less vast than the sea."

A pause. "Is it one sea? Or all the seas?"

Lydia, you were making his head hurt.

Adrian, you were overthinking this. That was Lydia's secret. She never overthought anything. Some (many) would argue she didn't think enough, period.

"It's...the sea," Lydia said, unsure why he was having difficulty with all of this. "And Wormentongue used to be a dragon, you see, so it would have been a very bad thing for everyone if he'd managed to restore himself. And Miss Lambe is the Witch Queen of Brighton, so of course she must be of Brighton." Duh, Adrian.

He was definitely overthinking this, what with him attempting to make logical sense of it.

"I suppose it just hardly seems fair that your Miss Lambe is trapped in one small town, I suppose." Even Witch Queen of England might seem a bit more on par with a dragon and a guy who was 'of the sea' or whatever.

"Oh! Wait! Was this the dragon you were nearly eaten by? Did I mention I was also nearly eaten by a dragon?"

Adrian, stop sounding excited about this point of commonality. Even if it did mean 'moving away from topics that made your brain contort.'

"Oh, that was the lie!" Lydia cried. "He was never all that close to eating me, you see," others might strongly disagree, "and he was I suppose a ghost, as well, but yes, he was a dragon and he did want very much to eat me."

"What happened?" Adrian asked, figuring he might figure out a little more about this Wormentongue (and how close he'd come to actually eating Lydia) if he heard the whole story.

Look at this man and his unbound optimism.

Lydia had been told that when she attempted to explain all of this to Miss Lambe she had gone into far too much detail, so she tried to edit, she really did, but she still began with, "When I was a little girl, Kitty and I were walking to my Aunt Phillips' one day for our magic lessons, and we found ourselves...trapped. By this terrible presence that wanted to eat us. And Aunt Phillips had told us recently that we should never offer someone a boon, and I didn't know what that was, you see, I just knew that it was very valuable somehow, so I told Wormentongue that if he didn't eat us when I was older I would give him a boon. Which was very silly, I know."

But for the record she had been like seven and a ghost dragon had been about to eat her.

"Well, eventually that came due, of course, and I didn't have anything that would be good enough, so he was going to eat us. But Harriet had heard talk of a Jewel of Propriety in Brighton--she didn't know what it was, either," Lydia felt obligated to say, because it was true. "She thought it was just a magical kind of jewel, like I did--and Wormentongue said that if I brought him the jewel then he wouldn't eat us. Only then I found out that the Jewel was Miss Lambe, so obviously I couldn't do that."

"Did he know that the Jewel was a person?" he asked. "Eating a Great Power would likely increase his own personal power." You know, considering he was dead or bound or both. "He's also a dragon, so he might have just wanted a pretty bauble."

"Oh, yes," Lydia said. "I'm quite certain that he knew, though he made no effort to enlighten me." After all, if she failed he got to eat her, so for Wormentongue it was win/win!...or so he thought. "Things got very complicated after I found out it was Miss Lambe, of course..." Goodness, she hadn't even explained about Wickham yet! "Well, it all came out all right in the end. Miss Lambe finished her transformation at a rather fortuitous moment, and she bound Wormentongue for two hundred years."

Had she told Adrian when she was from? At any rate he might suspect that the math might not be mathing here.

She had not given an exact date, but Adrian could at least guesstimate. "Is that why you're here?" he asked. "Because Wormentongue's binding is almost up?"

"Oh, no, I didn't...I didn't know when I was coming to, when I came here," Lydia admitted. "It was quite the surprise!" Such a surprise. "But he's all the way over there in Hertfordshire so it's fine!" she assured Adrian.

"Are there witches in Hertfordshire now that can handle him?" Adrian asked.

No, Adrian, you were not going to make this Lydia's problem again. She refused. She had so little left to sacrifice. What was she going to lose this time? Wickham?!

The only outward sign of this thought process was a single rather sharp look before she returned to her usual bubblier countenance and said, "I'm sure there are still witches in Hertfordshire! Imagine if they'd stopped being born!" Probably fewer seventh daughters of seventh daughters about, though.

That did not touch on the subject of whether or not they could handle Wormentongue, granted, because Lydia was certain they couldn't. Not on their own, anyway. Miss Lambe had had to come into her power to deal with him the first time.

So like, did being a Great Power come with anything useful like some kind of immortality package? Maybe not full immortality, since Wormentongue was a ghost, but 'undying unless killed'? That would be neat.

"Of course," Adrian said smoothly. "Though perhaps it's something Miss Lambe would like to hear about?"

He was just making a suggestion!

"How on Earth should I know? Miss Lambe has only been the Witch Queen for--" Wait. Hadn't one of those little heathens that had visited once said something about being told to contact Miss Lambe if they found themselves in the future and couldn't find Lydia? "Perhaps," she said slowly.

Oh, please let her be able to make this Miss Lambe's problem, even though she was probably still in Brighton.

Had she been stuck in Brighton before, when she'd first first binding?

"And even if she isn't alive now, letting her know in your own time might convince her to come up with a more permanent plan."

Especially if they knew what he was up to, Lydia...

No, of course not! She'd been in London, as she'd finished her transformation right in the middle of Lydia's wedding-that-wasn't! (Which had probably helped her deal with Wormentongue, actually, as Lydia had just finished taking Wickham away from him so he was rather weakened. La, Lydia hadn't realized she'd helped!) And then she'd gone to Brighton and hadn't left it since!

"I'm sure she's aware," Lydia insisted. "She knows when I am, after all...still, I shall mention it in my next letter to her." There. Were you happy now, Adrian?

Much.

Sorry, Lydia, he didn't really like the idea of a ghost dragon running around trying to eat people, and that was before he factored in the still-poorly-defined Great Power.

"And it's entirely possible that the version of her that might exist in 2024 has already taken care of it," he offered. "But bringing it to her attention certainly couldn't hurt."

"And after all, how much danger can Wormenheart really be?" Lydia wondered. "He's dead."

Said like one to whom Wormenheart had not been a great deal of danger while dead already, and also, the player has totally been typing Wormenheart this entire time.

Absolutely, no question.

"...Didn't he try to eat you as a ghost already?" He was pretty sure that was an important part of her story.

Dammit, Adrian.

"Well. Yes. But he's probably not so strong now!"

Did you see the dubious look he was giving you right now, Lydia? Did you?

Where was Boston to be judgy, too. This definitely called for cat judginess.

"...I've found that in times like this, it's best to assume the worst case, prepare for it, and, hopefully, be pleasantly surprised afterwards," he noted.

She hadn't met Boston yet, which was a crime. How were they going to conquer TikTok together if they hadn't even met?

"But I don't want to do that," Lydia said, like that was a totally reasonable counterpoint.

Adrian just had to blink at her. Several times. And reach for another beer.

"Oooookaaaaay?" he said, clearly waiting for more.

Lydia, there had to be more.

Please say there was more.

"I already had to do this once," Lydia explained, "and it was dreadful. I don't want to do it again when I should have been dead for a hundred and fifty years and not have to worry about it. It should be someone else's turn now. It only seems fair."

Yes, dear, but unfortunately you are the one who knows about the problem and you know all too well that life doesn't believe in 'fair.'

"Fair has nothing to do with the way the world works," Adrian said, eyes straying away from her for a second towards his heart-tree. "You don't get fairness. Fair is something we can only give, doing our best to provide it to other people. Is it fair that these witches who might not have even known Wormentongue existed might have to fight him? Is it fair for another young witch to get ambushed and threatened to be eaten? She wouldn't have a Jewel of Propriety to offer as a boon, either. Hells, is it even fair that Miss Lambe has all this power and can't leave a single town for the rest of her life, for however long it may be?"

He looked at her now, grave and thoughtful. "If - and it is still an if - that Wormentongue is still a danger, it would be unfair to make you deal with him again. Horrifically, undeniably, even cruelly unfair. But denying your power and your help and your experience to them while they faced a monster is just as unfair."

"Well, there's no need to be so reasonable about it." Ugh.

"There's still the chance that when you send a letter to Miss Lambe, she'll say that she has everything under control," he offered.

Which still meant she had to write it. And didn't involve him apologizing for his terrible reasonableness.

Yelena had left Fanny at home and had changed from her clothes from earlier in the day. Granted they were in the forest but there was no reason to wear shorts and t-shirt that had dirt and paw prints all over it. So she opted for a simple leather jacket, grey t shirt, jeans and boots. She had no idea what to expect but came anyway as it gave her a chance to see what this whole burying the heart thing was all about.

She grabbed one of the beers and made herself comfortable.

"I feel like I should have brought something," she said looking at the spread. "Want some Allen wrenches? I've got plenty of those."

Edited 2024-09-15 18:30 (UTC)

Boston scoffed from his perch in the tree. "No thank you. We like real tools."

"Boston," Adrian sighed. But also didn't argue.

Yelena just chuckled at Boston. After all she always appreciated sarcasm from any source even if it was a talking cat.

"Then next time I'll bring something just for you," she called out to Boston. "What's your favorite? Salmon? Tuna? Mahi-mahi?"

She gave Adrian a smirk. "Clearly he needs to be spoiled."

"Yes, because he's so clearly wasting away here," Adrian snarked. "But hey, if you think you need to bribe your way into Boston's affections--"

"Hey Adrian?" Boston interrupted. "Don't ruin this for me." And then turned to Yelena. "Sushi-grade salmon or yellowtail is my overall preference, but, honestly, so long as it isn't tilapia, I don't mind."

“A cat with class I respect that,” Yelena said with a nod of respect. “No garbage white fish for that kitty.”

She took a swig of the beer and was surprised at the taste. “Hey, this is good. Who makes it?”

Because obviously were no labels on the bottles. Or Yelena didn’t bother to notice.

There were handwritten labels, but they listed only afruit and a date written in one corner.

Adrian just grinned at her, giving her fingerguns.

“Yeah, okay, whatever respect you earned for the beer was lost with that gesture,” Yelena snarked.

"Enh, I would have lost it again eventually anyways," Adrian said amiably. "But I made everything there. Cake, beer, juice, tea blend...Maybe one of those will win me back my lost points."

“Nah,” Yelena said shaking her head. “You totally blew it. Your rating is in the gutter. You’d be slipping into negative territory but you have a super cool talking cat.”

Well, her words said that. The grin on her face did not reflect them.

"Well, it was nice to be out of the gutter for a brief, shining moment," he said, the corner of his mouth turning up in a curling smile. "Don't worry, though, I'm well aware that Boston is the cool one, so that doesn't hurt my dignity at all."

"True," Boston called.

"Hello," Lydia said to Yelena. "I don't believe we've been introduced. I am Miss Lydia Bennet." Yes, with a bob of a curtsey. What else was she supposed to do, just stand there? What did she do with her hands then? No, the curtsey was less awkward.

"Yelena Belova," she replied as she tried to figure out what kind of gesture to make in return. After a brief pause, she gave an awkward nod and half-raised her hand in what could only be described as a cross between a wave and a salute. Her lips twitched slightly, amused but still unsure.

"Friend of Adrian's?"

"I'm afraid we hardly know each other," Lydia admitted, although she liked to think they could be friends, eventually. "Like Mr. Blackwood, I happen to be a witch, although from another universe, of course. I suppose you could say I have a professional interest in learning about new and different magic."

Wait. A bell was being rung in Lydia's brain. "Oh, yes, Miss Belova! You had the furniture assembly party that I read about on the radio! It's so nice to meet you."

“Ooooooh! That’s why your voice sounds familiar,” Yelena said relaxing a bit. “You got chosen by the squirrels like me, huh? Fanny seems to enjoy them so I don’t mind the early alarm. So you’re a witch but not like Adrian, huh? Or at least I don’t see you in a pointed hat like him.”

"That's good. I'm not much of a morning person, myself, and they can get rather...determined," Lydia said, then protested, "I should say not! It's hardly fashionable!"

Sorry, Adrian. But your hat was not quite the thing.

It did make him stick out.

“I brought him over here from the airport and I made him take off the hat,” Yelena said rolling her eyes. “I’m not sure how he expected to keep a low profile wearing that.

Literally stick out.

"It is...certainly a choice," Lydia said delicately. "I suppose it's traditional, though? I've heard of witches wearing such things, but none of the ones of my acquaintance actually did it...of course, witchcraft is illegal when I am from, so that might have had something to do with it."

“Oh you should hang out on our world,” Yelena said taking another swig of beer. “We got all magic type of people but as long as you don’t break the law I’m pretty sure no one cares.”

"When I am from we just try not to get caught," Lydia said ruefully. "I don't think they've hanged a witch in decades but I've no wish to be the first."

“Well that would definitely be a limited career move,” Yelena joked. “I take it people back where you are from are not as open minded.”

"I'm from 1810," Lydia said. "So...no, not really." About anything, really. "And yourself? There's a lot of magic in your universe?"

Edited 2024-09-15 22:36 (UTC)

There was a slight pause as Yelena processed that fact. She honestly didn’t have a good response. So instead of trying to come up with one on her own, she borrowed one from a from a few days ago.

“1810? Not to be intrusive but did you get vaccinations when you arrived here?”

Thanks Don!

"...vaccinations?" Lydia asked, with the air of one repeating a word she had just heard for the first time in her life.

Oh dear.

“Ё-моё,” Yelena muttered. “You know maybe you should check out the local clinic? They might give you some medicine which could be helpful for you.”

She would send you to Don but he still needs to get his license back.

That dratted license.

"I'll look into that!" Lydia promised. "Thank you!" Hopefully she would not ask TikTok.

You know, the very normal thing that just happened! Adrian's a little tired, but also pretty exhilarated!

This was the second bit of Baba Yaga-level shit Yelena had dealt with today—though this one was way more dramatic. The whole ordeal had left her on edge, and when Adrian finally clapped his hands, she realized she’d been holding her breath the entire time.

Now breathing easier, Yelena looked around and realized Adrian lying on the ground, panting and with a goofy expression his face.

"You need a cigarette or something?" she asked, her voice laced with her usual dry humor.

"Why, you got one?" Adrian asked, propping himself up on his elbows to look over at her.

"No but I'm sure Boston would run to T&C to get you a pack," Yelena suggested as she grabbed another fruity beer.

"Absolutely not," Boston sniffed.

"Tease," Adrian sighed at Yelena. He wasn't quite ready to sit up yet.

“Boston he is clearly tapped out,” Yelena joked as he opened the bottle and handed Adrian a beer. “I mean I’d send Fanny but she can’t talk and I don’t want to corrupt Lydia as she’s a fine young lady.”

"And what are you doing?" he asked, taking that beer and giving her a little salute with it in thanks before drinking most of it in a few long swallows.

"Oh fuck that's good," he groaned. "Thank you, past Adrian."

He was gonna get up! Any minute now. Aaaaany minute!

“Uh, I’m handing you a beer obviously,” Yelena quipped. “You think I’m walking to town for a pack of cigarettes? Don’t be a silly goose.”

"By the time you got back, I probably wouldn't even want it anymore," Adrian agreed with a sigh, finishing the last few mouthfuls of his beer and, finally, pushing himself back up.

"You gonna be scandalized if I take my shirt off?" he asked, since it was covered in dirt and sweat and grime. "If I promise that it's not the first step to any dancing?"

“Scandalized? No,” Yelena said with an indifferent shrug. “But you might want to consider the young lady from another century. Just a thought.”

"Of course!" Adrian said. "...Though she did come prepared to be skyclad if the ritual had called for it, so I think she'll be fine."

This was just normal witch stuff, Yelena!

“I’m just going to use context clues to assume you mean tossing off clothes,” Yelena mused. “Well, it was nice of her to offer but I don’t know how much the local law enforcement would appreciate that.”

On the one hand, Adrian wanted to protest on Lydia's behalf that she was certainly old enough that law enforcement wouldn't have to get involved. On the other hand, he was pretty sure there was little creepier than some guy leaping in to protest that a young lady wasn't underage. So, sorry Lydia's potential indignation, you could take it up with Yelena on your own time, Adrian was doing the smart thing and staying quiet.

(Besides, Lydia was Too Young, regardless of what the police had to say about it.)

And, in fact, he was hieing over to Lydia right now to talk with her about her comfort, and then actually retreated behind Yelena to strip off his sweaty, dirt-covered shirt as Lydia also turned the other way. Yelena was free to turn around if she liked, but he figured another person between himself and Lydia just made everyone feel a little better anyway.

"Some rituals have to be performed that way," he said, pulling his shirt off over his head. "But not this one. And, ah. There won't be any where my attendance and Miss Bennet's overlap." He certainly didn't have to go hunting for herbs under the moon or whatever. "Now that this is a Blackwood forest I--oh! Bran! Thank you!"

Bran had come flying out of the house, carefully balancing a bucket of water one end of the broom and a clean shirt of Adrian's on the other, just before the bristle's started. "Considerate as always, my old friend."

Yelena turned around to talk to Adrian. And at least he wasn't taking off his pants.

"Oh sure, you bring him this," Yelena snarked to Bran. "Where were you a minute ago when he needed a cigarette. Still. Points for at least bringing something."

Yelena then looked around trying to see if there was a difference in the woods now that the whole heart-burying operation was over.

Taking off his pants could wait until after he no longer had guests, thank you.

Bran gently set down the bucket of water on the ground next to Adrian and then flew towards Yelena and tried to swat at her.

"Bran!" Adrian protested. "My shirt is still on there!" Look, he had priorities, okay? "He's mostly just teasing you back," he offered, bending down to grab the bar of soap at the bottom of the bucket so he could wash his hands. "He'd be a lot more persistent if he weren't."

[BOOM, baby]

Well.

Of course Lydia understood the backbone, as it were, of this ritual: sometimes you had to rip out your own heart for the magic to work. But that certainly was a box with a live human heart in it she'd held just then, and she was rather glad it was now safely buried because you shouldn't just hand your heart to people, Adrian! Didn't you know Lydia was terribly wicked? Just ask her sister Mary!

So Lydia was going through her own recuperative process over here, which involved sipping a cup of tea and mentally composing a letter to Miss Lambe.

Look, he'd baggage-checked his heart in his luggage. Handing it to Lydia seemed far less fraught than that. He'd also be taking Mary's opinion with a grain of salt.

"And what did you think, Miss Bennet?" he asked once he'd gotten some of his wind back.

Adrian. Adrian. This was how you ended up in Scottsboro, Alabama searching the "Unusual Finds" section of Unclaimed Baggage for your actual heart. (Yes, you could also pay a finder, but imagine that conversation.)

"I do understand the theory, of course--at least, I know how much power there is in having one's heart figuratively ripped out--" Don't ask her why she knew that! "But I don't think I expected it to be quite so literal," she admitted.

Edited 2024-09-15 18:51 (UTC)

Look, he was very good at finding lost things. And he'd much rather track down a missing trunk than go through the effort of digging his heart out of his chest again.

"Well, I wouldn't call it ripping--" because 'digging' was such a better word overall "--but yes, we Blackwoods are very literal when we talk about what we bury for our craft." His smile softened. "The heart of a witch is the Blackwood and the heart of the Blackwood is a witch," he quoted as he patted the oak, his new heart-tree.

He shouldn't try ripping. Ripping sucked! Even when it was purely figurative. "Well, it was very impressive. Very moving," Lydia said. "Witches aren't half so connected to nature where I'm from."

"You're not?" Adrian didn't even pretend to hide his surprise. "I suppose we never did get a chance to talk about our disciplines, did we? What does being a witch mean in your world? How does one become one? What do you do?"

He was just going to drop himself onto the blanket and pour himself some water and grab some pastries. Heavy magic was thirsty work.

"It depends," Lydia said. "It's something you're born with, I think, although it seems to be quite random...and to run in some families. My Aunt Phillips is a witch, and my baby niece Jane will be, once she's old enough to do more than crawl. But I am the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter, you see, and such a girl will always be a witch, even if it isn't in the family line."

She thought about how to explain something she'd never had to before. "Magic is very intuitive for me, I suppose. I had to learn how to do certain spells and charms, of course, but a lot of it I just make up as I go. The most important thing is knowing how to pay the price of magic, and that's something you just know. Or at least, I might have to figure out how to pay it, but I always know how much it should be. All magic must be paid for, of course," she said. "You know this." See also: he'd just buried his fuckin' heart.

He nodded, looking thoughtful. "Blackwood witches really only know our own brand of witchcraft," he said. "We're one of the very last magical human traditions left, if not the last. For us, it's a blend of both. Burying my heart - that's something Witches of the Flesh have been doing for centuries. We can get almost scientific about it. But other things...sometimes you just have to trust in yourself and what you have and the Blackwood itself to know what it's doing." You know, like like when you tried to heal a demon by burning her on a pyre. #JustWitchShit. "But yes. There's always a price that must be paid."

Liliana would even agree! She just paid for hers in mana or with the lives of other creatures. Paying for magic with your own pain and suffering? Not this necromancer.

"I've learned from a few different traditions, more or less," Lydia said. "The most important thing everyone agrees on is that you should never pay on credit if you can help it, because then you don't know when the price will come due or what it will be."

But no one told her that before she did her accidental baby magic and turned the cat into her sister, okay? Whatever the consequences of that were, they weren't her fault!

Oh? And what were those consequences, Lydia?

"Merchants and magic, two things to never approach for credit," Adrian agreed. "One will ruin your life completely, and the other one is magic. I've asked before, right? If your magic uses quintessence?"

If you asked Lydia, it was that her father's favorite horse died and he never had a horse so good as that again, and as evidence, she had the fact that the horse died on the first day someone referred to the five Misses Bennets. If you asked her Aunt Phillips, Kitty was why there was never a boy born after Lydia to break the entail, and as evidence for that she had the fact there was never a boy born after Lydia to break the entail. So. Matter of opinion, really.

"I should say not," Lydia said, "as I don't believe I've ever heard that word before in my life."

But...there also hadn't been a boy born before Lydia, so Aunt Phillips' arguments seemed a little sus.

"Good to hear!" Adrian said, breaking out into a huge smile. "It's what warlocks and sorcerers use in my world to cast their spells, but they get it because of their willingness to inflict pain and suffering on others."

Mmm. Adrian was skipping over a big part of that process - you know, Gilgamesh - but he was bitchy about warlocks in particular anyway.

"...well," Lydia said, very much afraid that Adrian was about to not like her any more, "one can get others to pay their spell-prices for them, of course," which didn't have to involve pain and suffering, but it was pretty common. "Generally you have to have their agreement..." There were exceptions, and your less scrupulous witches like Harriet or Miss King sometimes obtained said permission by the means of befuddlement spells, but she really didn't want to get into all that.

And this is what happens when we use snark to explain complicated things, Adrian.

"In my world," Adrian explained, "quintessence is only created in the Holy City, and therefore, completely controlled by Gilgamesh. The sorcerers and warlocks that do his bidding are given quintessence in return. And since most of Gilgamesh's goals are things like enslaving demons, keeping the human population from realizing their magic was stolen from them, hunting down 'undesirables' and the like, they get paid in magical power for murder, slavery, and those kinds of things. Your cabal trying to use Miss Lambe as a battery by keeping her a gemstone might count for that, but asking a friend to make the sacrifice on your behalf doesn't sound like it would."

A pause. "So long as informed consent was freely given, of course."

YET MORE PROOF HARRIET WAS AWFUL, LYDIA.

You try being fifteen and having a sophisticated older friend who says she's going to teach you better ways to do magic that you gradually realize are horrible. See how you like it.

"Oh, no!" Lydia exclaimed. "We don't have anything like that!" She'd never heard of a Gilgamesh and nor was she going to try to pronounce it! "Well, when Kitty and I were girls we would sometimes trade Mary's dancing skill away on the night of assemblies to better ours, but she never danced anyway so I didn't think she missed it. I have since wondered if that might have had something to do with why she never danced," she confessed, "but then again it was Mary." Could go either way tbh.

At fifteen, he'd still probably been working through his cabal trauma and the knowledge that a bunch of his family had voted for him to go back or something. Regardless of that, though, the realization had hit! Down with Harriet!

Also, while the narrative would never condone such behavior, imagine how hilarious it would have been to trade Caroline Bingley's dancing skills. Not that Lydia would do that any more, surely.

"And I don't think we have anything quite like that," he mused. "Being able to actually trade someone's skill for our own. Hmm." It wasn't his place to chastise Lydia and besides, it sounded like the kind of thing she'd grown out of.

Surely not! After all, she was ruined enough that she was unlikely to be invited to a ball where Caroline Bingley was also in attendance, but dash it, did she wish she'd thought of that herself.

Hypothetically, of course.

"Oh, you can make all sorts of trades as long as you know the price," Lydia told him. "When our father's cousin Mr. Collins came to visit, Kitty and I didn't curl our hair in trade for hearing a French horn every time he spoke instead of his--dreadfully annoying--voice." She sighed fondly at the memory. "I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

They'd Charlie Brown'd him. Masterful.

Adrian laughed. "Now that is a spell I have to work on," he said. "We could never sell it to the Holy City, but there's something to be said for personal satisfaction."

Truly, it had been her greatest magical achievement.

"I'd be happy to show you how I did it," Lydia told him. "Only Mr. Collins isn't here, thank heavens, so we'd have to use someone else." And no one else deserved it quite as much as Mr. Collins.

"You know, I bet if you made that spell available to people against that weird bartender at Caritas, you'd make a fortune," he mused.

Did this post need OOC? Probably not.

I DO WHAT I WANT.

The icon reveals the true motivation.

You make it sound like I won't use it in a thread, c'mon now.

And how will you work it into this post? Hmm?

You'll just have to wait and see!

YOU CHECKED YOUR HEART IN WITH THE LUGGAGE FOR THE PLANE TRIP?! DID YOU AT LEAST HAVE AN APPLE TAG WITH IT?! I MEAN REALLY!!!

It was the easiest way through security!!!

(This is actually a canon conversation!)

“Wait,” she said, eyes wide. “You had that in your trunk the whole time?” When Adrian nodded, her jaw fell open. “Did you seriously baggage-check your heart?”

“It was the easiest way to get it through security,” Adrian said with a shrug.

“What if it got lost?” Bex cried in horror. “Your heart could have ended up at an auction warehouse in Tucson!”

“I’m very good at finding lost things,” he said, waving her worries away. “And I’d much rather track down a missing trunk than go through the effort of digging my heart out of my chest again.”

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The Increasingly More Explored Woodlands, Sunday Afternoon

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