networkinthenight | ( audio

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( audio | un: warlock )

Indulge my curiosity for a moment, would you?

( could you deny a face like his? could you? you couldn't. which is good because he's going to ask a somewhat morbid question. )

We're all, apparently, dead. But some of us have died again and been returned via the church. Some of us have disappeared or died and not been returned. Are they still here somewhere? Or have they been sent back to where they came from?

Those are hypothetical questions, by the way. Feel free to try and answer but I think it's going to be a lot of time that could be spent on something more fruitful.

My actual question: could the the way of dying a second time crucial to who stays and who goes? Or did those of us that have been lost end somewhere in this place that we've yet to find?

( he knows that it's not necessarily a fun thing to think about but he recalls the resurrection of his aunt hilda after her many deaths at the hands of his other aunt versus how harvey's brother had come back. two dead people returned to the land of the living but only one went on to live a relatively normal life.

ambrose knows that might be because hilda is a witch herself and tommy was a normal human. but his curiosity still stands. )

Do we need to institute the buddy system to make sure no one else wanders off and doesn't come back?

( he's joking. mostly. )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Uhm. So, do you know the story about Alice in Wonderland? There's another one, Through the Looking glass, where she goes through a mirror? It's like that, only everything in the Mirror World is dead. Really dead, and strange. And you can, like, get trapped there? Because there's a seam between worlds in there? Yeah, so that's where I died.

Yeah? I remember everything. Don't you?

Oh, I do. I remember every painful detail of how I died. I don't necessarily like remembering it but it is one of my more vivid memories.

( he'd cried. it hadn't been a very strong moment. )

But, I haven't ever dealt with something like you're describing. Are you human? Forgive me if that's a strange question but most humans don't deal with occurrences like that.

Well, it did just happen. Right? Of course you remember.

[Quentin died for his friends, he saved his best friends from being used as flesh puppets for evil and he's not sorry about his choices. Much.]

Uhm, yes? I'm human. I'm a magician, but-- I'm still just human. With magic.

It's been a little while now. I've been here for a few weeks now so it might be further away for me than it has been for you.

( he still hasn't really dealt with it, processed it, accepted it, but time had passed. )

Were you born with magic?

I'm not sorry I died, so maybe that's the difference? Yeah, all magicians are. Some are better at it, than others? But, we were all born this way. Like having freckles? Or-- wait, no, are you born with those? Maybe it's like the color of your eyes or something?

That could be a factor. I haven't actually spoken with anyone about how they feel about their deaths. I was very sorry to die especially in the way that it happened.

( witch hunters. how cliche. )

Well, I was born with magic as well but I am not called a magician hence my questions.

How did it happen? If you're not a magician, what do they call you? A wizard? [Which just sounds so much cooler than magician, because it doesn't make you think it's all just tricks and sleight of hand.]

How did my death happen? Witch hunters.

( the worst. )

And they call me witch. Or a warlock, I suppose. Either works.

Witch hunters? Like, the burned at the stake kind or--? [God, Quentin. As if there had ever been any other kind. It's all fire and brimstone and setting people on fire for being better at something than others. He winches and just sort of shakes his head.] I'm sorry. If-- if that's how you died? That most have sucked.

Warlock, huh. That's so much better than magician. I don't even know why someone somewhere picked that name? Because, uhm, it just makes people think about sexy assistants and pulling rabbits out of hats.

Oh no. That wasn't how I died. They were trying to burn some of my fellow witches but I was stabbed. With arrows specifically.

( painful. bloody. ow. not something he wishes upon anyone but prudence and her sisters didn't deserve to be burned either. )

But yes, I agree with you. Magician sounds...very amateur and while there is nothing wrong with that, I get the feeling that you are not amateur. You're probably a little more advanced than pulling a long train of cloth out of someone's ear.

Okay, I'm sorry about the arrows? That sounds-- painful.

[Not that being ripped apart by magic hadn't been, but it had been quick and he mostly just remembers the heat and pressure of it. Here one second and gone the next.]

I could pull a scarf out of an ear? But, real magic is-- different? Not better, but. Uhm, different.

Different.

( he agrees. )

I only really pull a scarf out of someone's ear to make them look ridiculous these days. If I want to show off, I have many other tricks up my proverbial sleeve.

Tricks or real magic?

Real magic.

( he gives his fingers a wiggle and smirks. )

Real magic like you wouldn't believe.

( well. )

Or maybe you would all things considered.

Uhm I know magic? But you're welcome to show me? The books at school mentioned different kinds and not just, uhm, just the ones the taught us. Or, maybe it was more magic? Like, something with more power behind it. But. Here? It's hard to cast, like. Like there's only so much of it and-- and it's slow?

I've noticed that too. I can still use magic but it takes more of my focus and concentration to make it work. What usually takes no effort actually takes effort now.

( how dare. )

But, as long as it's not completely gone, I can deal. I just have to adjust.

That's what I meant, or--uhm, something like it? I mean, the poppers are what they are, but it's as if there's not enough ambient magic for it to completely.

It does make it harder, though. And, I mean, battle magic was hard enough already, but now-- [Snapping his mouth shut, Quentin just stops there. There's really no reason to tell a stranger about battle magic. Or any of that.]

You don't have to stop talking about magic around me, you know. I am well aware of what battle magic, you know.

( he was over ninety year olds. he'd been in a few fights before, magical and otherwise. )

Believe me, if there's one person that it's safe to talk about battle magic with, it's me.

Really, because you say so? I don't know you or anything, so-- uhm, maybe later?

[Nuh uh, this is how the beast got in with Penny, and granted he's been in Penny's head since he was a kid and this was somewhere completely different. But. Point stands, though. This person on the tablet could be anyone at all.]

Maybe after I settle in a little better. But you ask good questions and I hope we as a community figure something out. Like, before we're all killed again or go missing in the woods.

Whatever you want. I'm not going to force you.

( and he wasn't going to talk himself up either. so, it was quentin's choice. )

I hope so too. But, until then, there's drinking. Hope you're able to relax a little bit, man.

Uhm, sure. Drinking. Is fun?

[Sometimes, when it doesn't end in being blind drunk or waking up in strange places. Or kidnapped. By Margo.]

Maybe I will, uhm, when I get used to things here. It's just-- a lot. Really.

It is.

( if there was one thing they could agree on, it was that. this place was a lot. )

Take it one day at a time and don't try and do everything at once. You're going to be here tomorrow too.

[Small throat-noise that might be agreement, or it might just be Quentin snorting at the tablet and not really saying yes or no to that. Because drinking. Has it own set of problems.]

We're going to be here forever, aren't we? That's just, like, not what I was hoping for. Didn't you imagine being dead as something... else?

I can't answer that question. There were some people here and then they weren't. I don't know if they went back to where they came from or went elsewhere.

( but he's curious, he'll admit. )

And yes, of course I did. But, I can't do anything about that right now. I'm trying not to dwell, you know? Nothing good comes of that.

( and he already had a lot of other things to dwell on. )

You’ve been here for months, and no one knows anything. It’s just— it’s frustrating and a little much? You know?

[Not to mention disheartening and not boding well for Quentin’s chance of figuring anything out soon, and just being here for a day and half and the darkness is already getting to him. The way it makes the days and nights bleed together in to one long, endless night.]

And you can just do that? Not dwell? Is this where the drinking comes in?

( audio | un: warlock )

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