who: helena and others! what: variety catchall for the month. when: end of july/ all of august. where: across the boat. warnings: likely discussions of death.
There's a distinct smell of smoke and mirrors clinging to this bed, a hint of illusory cologne, and the sensation of being watched by unseen eyes. Further poking around reveals traces of some sort of blobby substance, not quite liquid and not quite air.
The sound of the machinery is more distant with the door shut, but she accepts it in due course. And the blobby feeling is getting poked, several times - if it was going to kill her, it would have already, so the odd feeling is worthy of investigation. This is not someone she knows, she thinks, or she would have found more clues. But given that after a few seconds the ship does not start sinking, it's safe.
The blobs definitely bring about an odd feeling, sort of the icy churning you feel in the pit of your stomach when you jolt awake from a nightmare. It doesn't hurt, but it's strange and not altogether pleasant.
There's a much softer sound out in the hall, footsteps belonging to someone with worn shoes and a long stride.
Eugh. Not fun. Given all that, there's little reason to stay here and keep prying, so she'll make her way to the door. One way or another, she'll find out whose cabin this is, and who she needs to give a stern talking to over how one treats fellow passengers.
The footsteps approaching - they might know who lives here. Or, if she's lucky, this is that person, come to witness what occurred. And she hasn't forgotten the other footsteps - did the drone send some sort of signal?
The door opens, and a very peeved Helena, with a short rabbit fur cape, comes out.
"Excuse me, miss, might I ask what you were doing in my cabin?" The voice is steeped in a Transatlantic accent, with a hint of something more English underneath. It's deep, somehow reminiscent of a low-tuned harmonium. Whoever this gentleman is, he smells of cigar smoke and glamour.
Her voice is quiet, but no less direct, her vowels the slightly drawn form of the American South, and her shoulders set to draw her up to her full five foot height. She's annoyed, and it shows - it radiates off her words.
"Someone on board saw fit to throw me into an unknown space, and when I exited, I was in your cabin. Do you know who would be in the habit of attaching their strange realms to your living space?"
Someone had tapped into the space between his tools? He should have known the Sundries-given gifts wouldn't be straightforward.
"I'm not sure who else could have access to the shadow space. There are only three entry points that I know of, and I keep one of them on my person at all times. The second is the one you emerged from, and the third is a large trunk backstage in the theatre. Unless someone's hauling around my magician's box and shoved you into it, I'm not sure how that could have happened."
He's not connecting the dots. Why would he? This woman isn't a rabbit!
No, she's not a rabbit. But her hair is a passingly familiar color, and her blind eyes retain the same clouding, and Helena's beginning to connect some dots.
"Is it possible you put anything in any of the entry points today, that could have allowed something to mix and mingle there? I was asleep when it happened."
Of course she's a shapeshifter. Apparently you can't take two steps without tripping over a shapeshifter around here.
"You have my sincerest apologies, miss. I mistook you for a wild animal, and an associate of mine and I have had need of a rabbit for some while now. There was no intention of kidnapping behind this." He can't say "I had no intention of kidnapping" because he has, in fact, had intentions of kidnapping previously in his lifetime. Several times, in fact.
"Good, because if you had meant to kidnap her, we would have a problem now. I mean, depending on her wishes, we might still have a problem."
Hi, Max, there's someone solidly 6'3" and built like a military propaganda poster behind you, arms crossed over its chest, a distinct glower on its face.
"I'm fine, Security. A little disoriented, but nothing worse."
Instantly, some of the irritation in her is smoothed out, calmed down in a very familiar presence that is both someone she's always happy to see but that also would have her back if she wanted to see what would happen if the man went inside his own hat. She's still not happy it happened, but she can guess what occurred - the signal must have gone strange.
Turning back to Maxwell, her voice isn't quite so chilly anymore.
"What do you and your associate need with a rabbit in the first place?"
He's trying his best to not let the panic in his mind show on his face. He's embarrassed, he's intimidated, he feels like a fool.
"I'm not sure if you've noticed the new apparatus in the library?" he begins, as calmly as he can manage. "It's an Alchemy Engine, for research, and it allows one to create tools and resources, given the presence of the right ingredients. However, it cannot process magical materials. A Prestihatitator, on the other hand, permits the creation of magical objects and devices. However, in order to create a Prestihatitator, one must first fill the hat that will be its center focus with a few rabbits. Not to worry about their safety; they always seem to show up later."
Security's voice rumbles. It is the blunt instrument so Helena can be delicate. That's how they've worked together for a long time (nevermind that its first conversation with Helena was around poetry).
"There are no free rabbits to be found on this ship. Any animal on this ship beside Ody is a passenger. Taking passengers to create magical materials and devices is kidnapping, and this is the one warning you get about that fact."
She nods to emphasize Security's words - she couldn't have said it better herself. That she allows friends and those in need to pet her and generally treat her like a rabbit is different than being one - there is an understood suspension of disbelief that happens around all of those who can shapeshift. And then the dynamic between those who are the animals and then shift to a more humanoid form, rather than vice versa. It's very simple for all its complexity.
"Unfortunately, that apparatus isn't something I've encountered. I've been quite literally blind to its appearance."
The cane, as it turns out, isn't for show. And with that piece in place, hopefully Maxwell understands the other aspect of being secretly swept up that this brushed against.
"I will... keep that in mind. Where I come from, it's common to encounter stray rabbits in strange places, even riding around inside a tumbleweed."
A few things click in his head suddenly: Johnny's request for a specialized magic show, the names he gave, his dinner the other night with Grace, Security's protective presence over this woman.
"Pardon my asking such an abrupt question, but... would you perhaps be Ms. Helena?"
It would be a pure lie to state that on no level is she pleased by what she hears in Maxwell's voice. It's a very small, very human satisfaction that makes up for her disorientation and temporary panic, and it means she can extend grace to him, satisfied with this outcome.
"Accidents do happen." To punctuate this, she steps closer to the construct, more a signal for it than for Maxwell. It's okay, Security. I'm not upset with him anymore.
"Yet you have me at the disadvantage. You say you've heard a lot about me, but I don't even know your name, or who's been speaking of me. Forgive me for not asking sooner, Mr...?"
Security takes a step back, so it’s no longer quite boxing Maxwell in, but its arms remain crossed. Helena might be okay, sure, but it’s still going to be the protective SecUnit (wow, that’s redundant) for her.
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Relatively.
Anyway, her location is still stable.
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There's a much softer sound out in the hall, footsteps belonging to someone with worn shoes and a long stride.
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The footsteps approaching - they might know who lives here. Or, if she's lucky, this is that person, come to witness what occurred. And she hasn't forgotten the other footsteps - did the drone send some sort of signal?
The door opens, and a very peeved Helena, with a short rabbit fur cape, comes out.
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"Excuse me, miss, might I ask what you were doing in my cabin?" The voice is steeped in a Transatlantic accent, with a hint of something more English underneath. It's deep, somehow reminiscent of a low-tuned harmonium. Whoever this gentleman is, he smells of cigar smoke and glamour.
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Her voice is quiet, but no less direct, her vowels the slightly drawn form of the American South, and her shoulders set to draw her up to her full five foot height. She's annoyed, and it shows - it radiates off her words.
"Someone on board saw fit to throw me into an unknown space, and when I exited, I was in your cabin. Do you know who would be in the habit of attaching their strange realms to your living space?"
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"I'm not sure who else could have access to the shadow space. There are only three entry points that I know of, and I keep one of them on my person at all times. The second is the one you emerged from, and the third is a large trunk backstage in the theatre. Unless someone's hauling around my magician's box and shoved you into it, I'm not sure how that could have happened."
He's not connecting the dots. Why would he? This woman isn't a rabbit!
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No, she's not a rabbit. But her hair is a passingly familiar color, and her blind eyes retain the same clouding, and Helena's beginning to connect some dots.
"Is it possible you put anything in any of the entry points today, that could have allowed something to mix and mingle there? I was asleep when it happened."
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Wait.
Wait.
"How did you manage to exit the access point in my cabin? That container's opening is only but so many inches wide."
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Like a chill breeze cutting through an autumn day, so her words have weight on them - every piece falling into place.
"Please tell me, do you make a habit of attempting to abduct strangers? Particularly when they are unable to defend themselves?"
His question can be answered in a moment - right now, she needs answers.
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Of course she's a shapeshifter. Apparently you can't take two steps without tripping over a shapeshifter around here.
"You have my sincerest apologies, miss. I mistook you for a wild animal, and an associate of mine and I have had need of a rabbit for some while now. There was no intention of kidnapping behind this." He can't say "I had no intention of kidnapping" because he has, in fact, had intentions of kidnapping previously in his lifetime. Several times, in fact.
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Hi, Max, there's someone solidly 6'3" and built like a military propaganda poster behind you, arms crossed over its chest, a distinct glower on its face.
"Helena, are you okay?"
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Instantly, some of the irritation in her is smoothed out, calmed down in a very familiar presence that is both someone she's always happy to see but that also would have her back if she wanted to see what would happen if the man went inside his own hat. She's still not happy it happened, but she can guess what occurred - the signal must have gone strange.
Turning back to Maxwell, her voice isn't quite so chilly anymore.
"What do you and your associate need with a rabbit in the first place?"
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"I'm not sure if you've noticed the new apparatus in the library?" he begins, as calmly as he can manage. "It's an Alchemy Engine, for research, and it allows one to create tools and resources, given the presence of the right ingredients. However, it cannot process magical materials. A Prestihatitator, on the other hand, permits the creation of magical objects and devices. However, in order to create a Prestihatitator, one must first fill the hat that will be its center focus with a few rabbits. Not to worry about their safety; they always seem to show up later."
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"There are no free rabbits to be found on this ship. Any animal on this ship beside Ody is a passenger. Taking passengers to create magical materials and devices is kidnapping, and this is the one warning you get about that fact."
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"Unfortunately, that apparatus isn't something I've encountered. I've been quite literally blind to its appearance."
The cane, as it turns out, isn't for show. And with that piece in place, hopefully Maxwell understands the other aspect of being secretly swept up that this brushed against.
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A few things click in his head suddenly: Johnny's request for a specialized magic show, the names he gave, his dinner the other night with Grace, Security's protective presence over this woman.
"Pardon my asking such an abrupt question, but... would you perhaps be Ms. Helena?"
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Inflection has not always been its strong suit.
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"Is this really the time..."
Though, a tumbleweed ride would be fun. Still, that's not the point.
"But yes. I'm Helena Adams."
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"Accidents do happen." To punctuate this, she steps closer to the construct, more a signal for it than for Maxwell. It's okay, Security. I'm not upset with him anymore.
"Yet you have me at the disadvantage. You say you've heard a lot about me, but I don't even know your name, or who's been speaking of me. Forgive me for not asking sooner, Mr...?"
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Wrap!