lostcarnival | this is no place, but here I am

Entry tags:

this is no place, but here I am

Who: John Childermass & Jonathan Strange
Where: Childermass's trailer
When: day 161
What: Strange got canon updated! as such, he & Childermass are going to actually talk about things for once.
Warnings: none, will edit if needed

It took Strange a few minutes to regain his bearings now that he was back in the carnival. He had gone home, he had delivered that box to Childermass, he had brought magic back to England, helped destroy a fiend of a faerie, and most importantly of all, he had saved Arabella. And? He got cursed for his troubles, trapped in a tower of darkness with his mentor turned enemy turned friend. But the faerie's curse was only tied to his world and apparently not the carnival. Because as soon as Strange arrived back on carnival grounds, he felt something lift. The curse was still there, lingering on his person, but not actively hurting him anymore. And what a relief that was.

He still looks far too tired, though. Almost dying does that to a person!

And it's after those moments where he regains his bearings, checks to see how long he's been gone, and reunites with his daemon (they were still in Greysol? All the better) that Strange realizes there's one person he desperately needs to see: Childermass. How much of all this did he know? How much of all this did Strange need to tell him? Because of course he was going to tell Childermass what happened, even if Childermass was now further behind than he was. Strange wasn't the sort to keep a secret in the first place.

So instantly, he makes his way towards a mirror, intent on just barging in on Childermass's trailer...before Strange pauses, thinks again, and decides no, he should actually knock this time. As such, he makes his way to the supervisor's grove on foot. And once at the trailer, Strange loudly knocks on the door. "Childermass? Are you in?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Thankfully, a supervisor's trailer is somewhat larger than the average trailer over in the backyard. Still, trying to fit a four hundred pound seal in is quite the sight to behold, enough of one that even Childermass will raise his eyebrows at Siobhan briefly, but there are more important things to comment on than the literal seal in the room. He looks back up to Strange.

"Don't suppose you brought all of Hurtfew along with, did you?" He asks, although he clearly doesn't expect an answer on that as he carries on without much pause. If Hurtfew had arrived spontaneously with the man, well, he'd probably have already heard. As it is, something's off here, which leaves Childermass pursing his lips into a thin, thoughtful line while he looks Strange over.

From over by the counter, of course, where he's taken up leaning idly. With a seal more or less between him, it's not like he can get a closer look anyway.

"But the carnival can't be why you vanished after. Even the Ringmaster wouldn't be able to hide that tower you dragged to England from Venice."

Childermass will be able to get a closer look sooner as Siobhan moves herself out of the way of the two men, carefully turning around so that she can see them and the door. This also frees Strange from being pinned to the wall, and he takes a few steps forward, hands behind his back as he does so.

His hair's still messy, and there's a bit more gray in it, but the most noticeable thing is just how damn tired Strange looks. After all, he almost died. Even with the brief period of recovery he had back home, that's still not something one can bounce back from easily (though Strange is trying his hardest to bounce back easily.) The curse didn't follow him here, but that doesn't remove the effects it had on him back in England.

"I'm still not entirely sure why we vanished. To be honest, I was out of sorts during the whole vanishing process--though I would assume it was due to the faerie's curse." There's plenty of other options, of course, but that one seems to be the simplest.

"And no, I didn't bring Hurtfew with me. Nor did I bring Gilbert Norrell either." Norrell's name is said with a small little laugh, a sharp contrast with the usual disdain Strange would have shown for the man before his trip back home.

And for as much as they make fun of the idea of 'mutual acquaintances' showing up, such as Gilbert Norrell, even Childermass isn't immune to looking even a little put out over how, no, Strange hadn't brought him along. It isn't so much that he misses the man and his endless complaints, but even that shouldn't doom someone to being stuck only God — and perhaps the Raven King — knows where.

Though it's hardly a feeling that will last. Noticing just how tired Strange himself looks is what spurs him to action instead, turning to go fetch a kettle while his daemon, of the same mind, flutters over to the shelves to seek out the tea. If the man looks like he's about to keel over on the spot, it's the least they can do.

"A pity. I would not have minded having both here where I could keep an eye on them," he will admit that much out loud, even. "Though a curse... That at least that explains where that darkness came from. Speculation was you'd created it yourself in a fit of madness."

As Childermass goes off to fetch the kettle, Strange takes that as an invitation to sit down. And it's only when he finds a seat and he's sitting down in the chair that he realizes he really doesn't want to get up. He's not sleepy, exactly, but Strange knows that if he gets up, he'll immediately want to sit back down again. Besides, it's better to explain these things if he's seated.

"It turns out you needn't have worried about telling me of my future. I've recovered my sanity here but when I returned to England, I was thrust back into the state in which I left: utterly mad. Any memories I retained of the carnival, I shoved into the same category as the memories of pineapples and candles. Possibly true, but possibly madness."

Which at least in Strange's mind, is a damned nuisance. He could have done so much differently had he remembered his experiences with the fae here! He could have saved himself and Norrell as well as Arabella and Lady Pole.

"I summoned a faerie, learned Norrell had summoned the faerie as well, went to confront him, found Arabella, and got cursed for my troubles. Although," Strange remarks, with a little frown, "I'm surprised you didn't know already. Didn't I explain it in the letter?"

The letter in the box with the finger, sent to Childermass via Drawlight. The letter that Strange doesn't know Childermass never received because Henry Lascelles is a grade-A dickhead. Strange honestly can't remember if he explained it or didn't—a side effect of the madness, he assumes, his memory's not as good as it was.

"You might have," Childermass says, going about taking the kettle down and filling it with water while the crow dawdles over which tea to bring down.

She's sorting through what's up on the top shelf and considering every option rather seriously. It's all for naught, in the end, since there isn't exactly that many different kinds up there. Black tea and... more black tea. Earl Grey is inevitably chosen, mostly because it smells the best to her. It's also a blend from a bit after their own time and that alone was curious enough to 'borrow' it from the cookhouse. Several bags in beak, she flutters back down to land on the kitchenette's counter while Childermass carries on.

"But I was only able to get the box back. I'm afraid Drawlight never made it to me, so the delivery came secondhand. I did come across your letter to Lady Pole later on, but that had more regarding your plan in it than what else had gone on."

Edited 2017-09-26 01:31 (UTC)

A brief look of anger flashes across Strange's face. He didn't?! That idiot! Three messages, all he had to do was deliver three messages, and Drawlight couldn't even do that? Oh, when Strange returned from the carnival back to England, they shall have words! He's about to open his mouth to launch into another complaint about Drawlight...but right. How could he yell at the man in the first place? He was stuck in a pillar of darkness, away from England, and Lord only knows if he'll see Drawlight again.

Urrrrrrgh. This 'preventing Strange from jumping headfirst into nonsense' thing sucks.

"That explains a few things," Strange grumbles, with a frown. Of course the problem now is, he's gotten so wrapped up in his petty grudge vendetta that he's forgotten just exactly what part of his story he was telling Childermass about in the first place.

"Still, I'm glad you were able to at least obtain the box. I couldn't have done what I did without your help." And it's said honestly. Because while Strange ended up going into faerie to save his wife anyway, Childermass helped save Lady Pole. "What else do you wish to know?"

Never would be the answer to when he'll see Drawlight again, but as Strange doesn't inquire further, Childermass won't say as much.

"What I missed after you arrived at Hurtfew would be a good place to start," Childermass prompts. He had arrived just in time to see the place caught in the tower of black and then vanish. That had been a lot to take in, with no way of ever knowing what truly transpired there after his departure.

Tea deposited on the counter, the crow clicks her beak and looks up at him.

"You aren't going to tell him what he's missed first? He's been pestering you about home forever!" She scolds him and that, in turn, just has him frowning at her, although the expression lacks the real bitterness it had held for her before, and then moving on to setting the kettle to boil before saying anything more.

"Neither of us is going anywhere, Pythia," he scolds her right back. "At least not truly until our contracts are up. There's time."

Pythia? A brief look of confusion flits across Strange's face before, from the floor, the seal pipes up, "Good. All our names were rubbish anyway."

Well, she's not wrong. Strange gives a little shrug before he turns the conversation back to their world, back to what happened in England. "I'm afraid I need to start even sooner than that. I went to faerie to rescue Arabella but I...I failed. As a result of my efforts, I was cursed by one of the fae. The tower of darkness was that curse. It was designed to kill me—and it damn near succeeded in doing so."

It's said in a very matter of fact tone of voice. He almost died. That was a thing. "I took myself and the tower to Hurtfew in order to seek Norrell's help in freeing Arabella and breaking the curse. There are very few things, however, that can release someone from an enchantment. We focused our efforts on the death of the enchanter. And there are very few magicians in England who could kill a faerie to begin with. So we summoned the one magician who we were certain could do so: John Uskglass."

And here, Strange knows Childermass will have questions, so he stops talking for a moment. After all, killing a faerie? Summoning the Raven King? Two equally ludicrous ideas. And there was so much magic thrown about and so many grand ideas that Strange and Norrell desperately tried at the last minute, that it wouldn't surprise Strange if Childermass didn't believe half of what he said. But then again, he had to tell him. Partly because that's what happened but mostly because out of anyone here, only Childermass would understand the significance of summoning Uskglass to begin with.

He's right. Childermass does have questions, too many of them all jumbling up at once for him to pick one out and ask immediately, so instead he pauses, turns, and stares — somewhat disbelievingly — at Strange. Well, killing the enchanter to break the enchantment made enough sense, actually, but that last part.

The worst part about the last part is he feels like he already knew this, but that's impossible, isn't it?

"You summoned John Uskglass," he repeats quietly, slowly turning away from the stove and leaving the water to boil, for now, still trying to wrap his head around that one. How? When? And most importantly— "Did it work? Did he answer your call?"

"I think so." And there's a moment where Strange just looks so goddamn happy, the happiest Childermass has seen him in ages. Of course, that moment's ruined as he starts to ramble: there's a perfectly good silence for him talk over, after all.

"Norrell and I used a summoning spell, one of my own doing. We had the rocks, the river, the trees name Uskglass as we had no idea of the man's actual name. The spell was chaotic but it worked. I could feel it work, all the power and all the magic flowing through the two of us! And I saw someone in the chaos: I believe it was him."

Because of course it was the Raven King! Who else would it be, who else could he have summoned? Strange can think of no answer except Uskglass himself. Granted, the Raven King didn't exactly end up being much use in the whole murder a faerie, save Arabella part of everything, but who cares! It still happened!

He saw him. Of course, that would make sense. Why shouldn't the Raven King come when called by his own spell? But if he was back in England, then where did he go? Where? He knows Strange can't answer that, with how he and Norrell and all of Hurtfew Abbey vanished, but he can ask, suddenly very serious-sounding (or at least more than usual), "What did he look like?"

A man in black robes, he's already filling in the description for himself, but that's disconcerting. Maybe he'd seen a painting before. Or a sculpture. There's enough around, scattered throughout England.

On the counter nearby, Pythia looks up from prodding the bags of tea about and, rather than telling him to get the cups out already, she looks up makes an uncertain, questioning noise at Childermass.

"Just like the painting of him I saw at the king's palace," he answers. A little huff from Siobhan draws Strange's attention and the look from her causes Strange to wince slightly. Right. Childermass wasn't there when Norrell and he attended on the king, he's got no idea which painting he's talking about.

"He had long black hair, I'd imagine almost down to his waist. Quite pale, as to be expected, and closer to my height than Norrell's." There's a pause, as Strange mulls it over, trying to remember every small, minuscule detail of that fleeting glance he had. "Oh! He wore long black robes. I was too far away to see what particular style."

Strange, at least, is interpreting this tone as Childermass being simply curious as to what the man looks like. After all, he is Northern and they still speak of John Uskglass in reverent tones. But why was the other magician so damn serious at the idea of what the Raven King looked like?

Nothing has every truly called Childermass's attention to the hole in his own memory. It's a small one, to be sure, one that simply doesn't come up for much reason. It made more sense to him that he had simply found Vinculus alive, getting him down from the tree in the nick of time, but for some reason he finds himself thinking about that moment as Strange rattles out his description of the Raven King.

It becomes less a matter of seeming so damn serious about it to more like he isn't even paying attention at all. If anything, he looks more uneasy and unfocused now than anything else. Why is he thinking back to that time? That moment? Sure, it involved the Raven King's book, but that has nothing to do with—

Thankfully, the kettle going off jolts him out of whatever his mind must have wandered to and he refocuses on Strange, blinking.

"Ah..." From there, he turns quickly to move the water from one coil to another before flipping the stovetop off.

Pythia hops back some as he does this, chiming in quietly, "Are you alright?"

To which Childermass gives a noncommital answer of, "Why wouldn't I be?" Before turning to go track down a pair of mugs from the cupboards. He carries on like nothing happened since he would rather pretend as such. "And then what? The Raven King answered your summons, but he didn't stay?"

As Childermass goes to get the kettle and Pythia starts up a conversation with him, Siobhan lightly nudges Strange's foot. "We need to—"

"Ask him about what happened while we were trapped," he murmurs in return. "Yes, we do need to do that." Because staring off into space, losing track of the conversation to think about something else? That's a very un-Childermass like thing for the man to do...which only makes Strange wonder why it happened in the first place.

But, Childermass asked a question, so he will answer. Strange nods before he continues talking. "That's correct. Norrell and I tried to coax the Raven King back by placing all of English magic in his hands. Though something went wrong with the spell and we placed English magic in the hands of Sir Walter Pole's butler instead." Yeah! That was a thing! A thing that Strange still has no idea why it happened in the first place and is obviously confused about. What about the nameless slave, the king in the north, caused the spell to latch onto Pole's butler, of all people?

"Everything worked out in the end, though. Norrell and I traveled to faerie, I rescued Arabella, and the butler struck back against the fiend that had captured her." Strange's tone of voice implies that he's ending the story there, despite the fact that there's a few questions lingering about that Childermass will undoubtedly want the answer to.

As un-Childermass like as it had been for him to do, it appears the strange unfocused pause has already passed from his own thoughts. There's no further oddness and, in fact, here's a part where Childermass himself can fill in a little of the story. While he obviously can't answer why trying to call the Raven King back got them one Stephen Black instead of John Uskglass, he does add as he puts the tea together into the mugs he's pulled down, "Their butler had been similarly enchanted, so it at least makes sense why he would want to be rid of the faerie as much as anyone else."

Tea poured, he'll bring them over and take a seat on the other side of the kitchenette table, careful not to step on Siobahn as he does. He'll set a mug down in front of Strange.

"No milk or sugar, I'm afraid," he says as he does so, "I've not yet thought to stock much else in here."

Which is something he should do eventually, seeing how he has so much more space to himself in a supervisor's trailer than he ever did out in the general backyard. That's something to think on for another time, though. As he gets settled at the table, Pythia flits over to join them, taking up a perch on Childermass's shoulder once more. She'll huddle close to him after landing and he'll absently reach up to absently pet the feathers along her neck.

"But I do not understand what you mean by placing all of English magic in anyone's hands, either the Raven King's or the butler's. There's still magic in England. More than anyone is capable of dealing with now, for that matter."

Edited (edit b/c google says english use milk and not cream??? idek man idek i'm not a tea scientist) 2017-10-02 05:37 (UTC)

As Childermass sets the tea down, Strange picks up the mug. He simply holds it for a bit, just wanting to feel the warmth through his hands. As he does so, Siobhan lifts her head up so that she can rest it on the table, keeping Pythia and the magicians in sight.

"It was an attempt at being respectful and trying to get the Raven King's attention again. The spell was for the rocks, the trees, et cetera, to place their magic in his hands as an attempt at showing fealty to their true king. Maybe then he would come back to Hurtfew and we could petition him once more." Because summoning the Raven King was impressive and all, but at the time, that didn't solve the problem of Arabella being trapped in faerie.

Though, Strange can't help but smile wryly, taking a little sip of his tea. "And yes, I know there's plenty of magic in England. I was the one who opened those doors in the first place."

Yes, he would know, because he did, and it's hardly a shock that he would look so smug about it, at that. Childermass refrains from rolling his eyes since he actually is grateful for magic's return. That doesn't mean, however, that he won't point out, "And left me far too many new magicians who also all think they know better than I do, for that matter."

With no great library of books on magic to fall back on or to help teach them with. It's an interesting dilemma, to be sure, though not one he has to worry about for now. The carnival is outside of that time and space, so it'll stay until he can get back to it.

"All the better," Strange remarks. That smug smile fades into a smaller, more gentle smile as he continues talking. "England is full of magicians. Anybody who wants to use magic should be able to do so."

Granted, Childermass is still right: it would probably be better should Norrell or Strange be there in the first place, if only because some of the new magicians would be liable to listen to them than to Childermass. But it's not like they could do anything about it now, could they. After all, Strange doesn't have any idea how to break the curse in the first place.

"You'll do fine, though. You managed to keep one magician out of trouble for who knows how many years, you should be able to wrangle a few less troublesome magicians."

Magic returning to England, the end goal Childermass had always been after. Eighteen years and then some to get there, at least in his case, but he's still a private man. As much as it would be possible, now, to share that goal with Strange, the idea of sharing it with anyone at all is still a new one. No one's ever known what he was after, putting up with Norrell for as long as he did.

So, he won't. Instead, he'll simply point out, "With the help of Mr. Segundus, certainly, but it will be some time yet before they look at me and see an equal."

And therein lies the real problem, but he doesn't actually sound too worried about it. It just is what it is. He'll adapt.

"As it is, I do have more important things to deal with than whatever nonsense they'll undoubtedly get up to."

He takes a sip of his tea as Childermass talks, but that can't hide the small grimace on Strange's face as Childermass mentions one of the banes of his existence: the English class system. Because he's right! Though the two men are both magicians (and, in the privacy of his own thoughts, Strange will admit that he probably thinks Childermass the better magician), there will still be those in England who refuse to listen to a servant, even if that servant has been privy to the ins and outs of English magic.

Despite the nonchalant tone, Strange knows this is going to suck for Childermass. and that grimace acknowledges the fact that yeah, Strange knows this is going to suck. But the other man mentions one conversation thread that Strange can't help but latch onto.

"Perhaps you can tell me about the more important things?" Strange hopefully asks.

This is sheer nosiness on Strange's part. Childermass has always had an agenda, that much is obvious, but maybe now that he's brought magic to England then shunted out of the way due to the curse, Strange would be able to figure out more about what that agenda is.

Considering the threat to Childermass's own point in time is gone along with Hurtfew, Norrell, and Strange all, discovering his agenda is going to be far easier than even the other magician may have suspected. It's something he's struggled with, the idea of sharing what he's found with either Mr. Norrell or Mr. Strange. In the end, though, he had meant to drag Vinculus back to Hurtfew, to them, and now he's left the unbearable drunkard with Mr. Segundus and the other magicians for the time being.

So when Strange hopefully asks, Childermass will lean closer, just what little he can from across a table even though it means putting his elbows up on the tabletop to do so.

"I found it," he says and, while it's somewhat uncharacteristic for him to let anything even remotely like excitement show, he can't help it. It's there. Just a bit of it. He won't grin, but he certainly looks like he wants to. "The Raven King's book. After years of searching, I finally found it, just before you vanished along with Hurtfew Abbey."

And that's likely not to be a coincidence, but what it means exactly isn't something he yet knows.

Well, well, well. So a thing like that actually existed? Strange had heard rumors, whispers, occasional references to it in one of Norrell's books (and he knows that there would be more references to it in Norrell's other books, the ones he never read) but he honestly didn't know the book was real in the first place. And for Childermass to find it? Normally, Strange would write it off as a stroke of luck and leave it at that. But for Childermass to find it just before he vanished...Strange frowns before vocalizing the other magician's faults.

"I wonder...you finding the book before Hurtfew Abbey vanishes. English magic being put in the hands of Sir Walter Pole's butler. Hurtfew Abbey having all the necessary components to summon the Raven King in the first place. And then later, both of us arriving here and signing on to the same faerie carnival, independently of each other. It's all too neat to be a series of coincidences."

But what that means exactly, Strange also doesn't know. He only knows that it's a worrying feeling, having aspects of your life line up in such a neat way. Still, there's more to talk about than just these coincidences which probably aren't. And Strange does want to learn about this book. "What does the book say?"

All a part of the Raven King's spell, perhaps, so Childermass won't scoff at the idea. He also won't suggest such an idea. Neither Strange or Norrell would be able to accept it, he imagines, that their actions were somehow not entirely their own. If it were himself — and at this point, it has been, at least once — he might be similarly annoyed, but only if it was anyone besides John Uskglass. That's the man he has always truly been in the service of, even if he never deigns to meet him. Knowing he can still be summoned... He's still out there...

Childermass won't let his mind wander down that path, though, and Pythia agrees, taking a nip at his ear to keep him on track. He cringes at it, even if it didn't really hurt all that much.

"What?" He complains quietly at the daemon, though she only gives him a beady look and a huff, feathers puffing. Of all the things for a crow to be jealous of, of course it would be a raven. Anyway, he turns back with a shake of his head and a sigh, because he doesn't have good news for Strange's question.

"Ah, that, that I do not know. There isn't a soul left alive who can read the King's Letters."

Siobhan badly represses a little giggle at Pythia's actions. Neither magician nor daemon can figure out what's on Childermass's mind, but the fact that Pythia has progressed from shy and nervous to nipping at Childermass's ear shows Strange just how far the man's gone in accepting her. Which honestly? Is damn reassuring.

Though, the news about the King's Letters is less reassuring. "Damn," he simply states, with a 'what can you do' sort of sigh. "I've no idea when or if I'll be able to actually read the book, so I was hoping for a summary. That is, unless you have it with you?"

He might not be able to read the book but Strange would at least like to look it over before making such a blanket statement. Because, at least in Strange's mind, this is obviously a pen and paper sort of book. And who knows, Childermass is so secretive and so cagey about his personal life that having the book with him isn't exactly a far-fetched guess.

Badly repressed giggles go blatantly ignored as Childermass goes on to, unfortunately (or maybe not, since the idea of dragging Vinculus along is horrifying in itself), give his head a shake.

"I do not," he admits. "I left it behind, safe and drunk in the care of the other magicians." Yes, that's right, not safe and sound. Safe and drunk. Because that man is anything but sound. "Which is for the best, as I'd rather we not lose the book should something happen to me out here. At least that way they might be able to figure it out if I fail to bring a translation key back."

Edited 2017-10-19 20:19 (UTC)

Strange nods—but then pauses because wait, what? The book was drunk? Obvious question here, how can a book be drunk, but then again, it is the book of the Raven King. Perhaps it was a magic book? After all, the menagerie has all sorts of mystical creatures and faerie itself is weird to begin with. Perhaps the library of John Uskglass played host to an alcoholic book!

If so, good Lord those poor magicians. Having to deal with no more books in England was bad enough, but if the most important book they had on hand was capable of getting drunk...visions of Childermass, Segundus, and Honeyfoot chasing around a book that was somehow scurrying around on the floor in a drunken fashion play in Strange's head. The mental image is friggen hilarious and he can't help but smile.

"Does the book have any particular preference to alcohol? Perhaps if you bribed it, it would be more amenable to translation."

Any particular preference for it, he asks. Sure. Childermass has the answer to that and it's—

"Free," he says blandly as if thinking about the situation back home at all is something he's found less and less funny over time. While it was undoubtedly amazing to watch all the newer magicians try and deal with Vinculus, it still came down to him having to keep an eye on the wild and rarely sober man.

"Bribery only does to keep him in one place most of the time, but he can't read himself, so a key is needed no matter what. Anything else would take years."

Well of course he can't read himself, books don't have eyes. Strange, unfortunately, is still stuck in a 'literal book' mindset, failing to realize that Childermass is talking about a person. As such, he still finds the situation quite funny and that smile still plays on his face.

"I assume you've already got ideas in mind of where to find a key?"

Because of course he would. This is Childermass. The man never did anything rash of halfway thought out.

And that's the mindset Childermass will leave him in until he either asks or figures it out himself. There is some minor humor to it, how Strange must be picturing a literal drunken book. The question about the key, though, now that he's surprised the other magician hasn't figured out yet.

He raises his eyebrows at Strange over it, stating, "Why do you even think I'm here, Mr. Strange?"

In Strange's defense, he's known this book existed for all of five minutes. Still, he puts the pieces together fairly quickly, giving Childermass a wry smile as he leans back in his seat.

"How I wish I would be there when you'd have to explain how you obtained the key. I'm sure half of them still have their thoughts poisoned by Norrell's thoughts on the fae. You'll have arguments for days!"

Because that's why Childermass is here: a year and a day to figure out how to translate the damn thing. And yes, Strange will reluctantly admit that Norrell may have been right with regards to certain aspects of the fae...but that little petty part of him doesn't really want to admit it.

Oh, that very thought only gives Childermass a brief flicker of dismay. He hadn't actually thought how how he would explain where the key came from, but now that Strange mentions it, he can only react by shaking his head. No, no, absolutely not.

"If you think I'll be telling them anything about this misadventure, you really are still mad," he tells him. "Mr. Segundus and Mr. Honeyfoot, perhaps, but maybe not even them. Better to let everyone assume I found it while searching the farthest reaches of the Raven King's kingdom than to bring up faeries, of all things."

"Then I'll simply tell them myself when I return to England. After all, I plan on telling Mister Norrell about this."

But that's different and Strange knows it. It's best to not hide one's experiences with the fae when you and your friend are possibly going to be dealing with the fae for the next who knows how long. Back in England...he's certainly somebody will end up summoning a faerie. There's too much magic there and too many people who follow his ideas for it to not happen. But at least for Childermass, it's less of an inherent danger than it is for Strange.

"Still though, you should tell them eventually. If only because some of my exploits would serve as what not to do!"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

this is no place, but here I am

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject