ʙᴇᴇᴘ ʙᴇᴇᴘ, ʀɪᴄʜɪᴇ (trashing) wrote in valloic, @ 2022-03-01 13:14:00 |
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Edwin had no intentions of getting his fortune read. He’d already been down that road with Adam, and his future had contained nothing good. Every reservation that he’d had about having his fortunes told – that it would only give him vague bad news that he could barely understand and do nothing about, had no ability to prepare for because he didn’t know what it was – had wound up coming true. When he’d found himself transported into the Sphere, he had almost been relieved, because it meant he could finally stop worrying about whatever it was it had meant. It had done nothing but heap more worries upon the ones that had already been gnawing on him since he’d arrived here. Especially with the news that he was supposed to remain isolated his entire time here. Friendless and alone. Which, really, should have been a comfort, as that had been his entire life up until the month before he’d magically appeared in a different universe. But he missed that companionship from home, and even if his intention had been to stay friendless here until whomever realized their mistake and sent him back, it had still stung. Even still, he was curious about any type of foresight. He’d been told when he got home, he wouldn’t remember this place, but he hoped even if he didn’t remember, a greater understanding of the foresight would stick subconsciously so that he could better help Robin. And Richie’s foresight sounded intriguing. Honestly, the whole of Prigany did. What little they’d talked about on the Network was different than Robin and even Adam’s version of the skill, and there was no better way to understand the essence of a thing than to study all of its different variants. Which was how he found himself at the Prigany market the Tuesday after he’d been released from the Sphere. It wasn’t hard to spot Richie, having what looked like a friendly conversation with someone, possibly joking with them. Edwin hung back until the other person left, and then he approached. “Mr. Tozier, correct? A pleasure to finally meet you in person. I’m Edwin Courcey.” Prigany wandered around Vallo frequently. For the most part they stuck with the lush greenery of the ever-changing forest, but they went into the city sometimes too - their caravans were impressive with their dedication to woodwork and their large rear wheels and side walls that sloped; some of them were meant to travel and others were meant for more of a backyard retreat type of thing - a reading room, a place to sit and watch the grandkids playing in the grass, or to sip on a hot mug of mulled wine. Some were colorful, some had stained glass, others had patio doors - they were comfy though, and Richie always liked hopping back and forth between the various caravan options. When they were in the city he tended to help out on their market days - they set up outside and inside (should one desire a more private reading), with their crystals and gems and tarot. And Richie had his own crystal too - a pen given to him by Max, which helped boost his visions similar to the way Ras’s potions did. He was perched on a table where he had his set-up going on, lanky limbs leaning against the edge and chatting it up with anyone who came by. Prigany also sold their own wares too - spells on scrolls, herbs, even little fun chocolates that added a bit of whimsy. It was how they made their living, and always had, so - Richie respected the hustle. One of Destiny’s grandchildren, Tiara, had been asking him about El - he talked to her a bit before Edwin joined him and Richie grinned, pushing his glasses up on his nose. “Hey, yeah,” he greeted. “Nice to meetcha. You’re the foresight research guy?” Or he seemed like he was doing research, anyway. Asking questions and stuff, very professional ones. Edwin wasn’t entirely certain how he felt about the title of foresight research guy, but he supposed he’d take it if he had to. He’d yet to meet anyone else doing this sort of research here – though he rather hoped there was, with so many subjects available – and so at the very least, it was at least somewhat accurate. “I’ve been attempting to learn more of magic in general in this place, though yes, my focus thus far has mostly been on foresight. There are only three people that I’m aware of in all the world back home, and so passing up this opportunity would be a waste. I’m Edwin Courcey.” “Richie Tozier,” the gangly muppet (but he made it work) introduced himself, officially, offering his hand for a shake before moving to sit at his designated table with the grand flourish of an entertainer, first and foremost - he may be flashy and somewhat bombastic, but he also knew his shit when it came to automatic writing. Prigany taught him and he hadn’t looked back, taking to it like a duck to water. So he gathered his supplies - pad of paper and the pen his husband had gifted him with, turning the crystal-infused writing utensil around and around in his hands, in between long fingers; he’d already washed it in mugwort soap, which was a trick he’d also learned from Prigany - mugwort always helped give things a boost as well. He’d found it to be pretty solid in terms of advice, and he liked the earthy scent to the herb too. “I told you how it works, right? It’s like scrying, I guess - I go into the zone and the vision comes out through my hands even if my face looks weird, so I’m drawing what I see. And it’s like a record of that.” He did drawings all the time - it also helped that he liked to sketch too, probably. Sometimes did when he was a kid but not with a whole lot of skill; he’d gotten better these days. “Did you have something specific you wanted to focus on, for the future?” Edwin nodded, pulling out his own notepad and pen as Richie gathered his supplies and laying them down on the table. When Richie started speaking, the pen stood up on end, wrote the date, and began to transcribe what he was saying in small, neat writing. “And can you recall what you see at the end of it?” Edwin asked. “Or is the drawing a necessary component of the foresight?” “I can recall it, yeah,” Richie nodded. “Sometimes I add to the drawing but for the most part - it’s there.” When he and Elain first tried it, they’d sort of used the paper and the pencil as a way to brainstorm - it wasn’t considered the end all of their vision, when they dipped into the zone, and seeing it on paper also meant that they could discuss what they thought they’d seen too. But Richie’s visions were sort of burned into his brain, making an imprint - a sear into the Seer, and he didn’t forget them. They stayed. They didn’t dissolve like a sugar cube plunked into water. He did a few quick little pen strokes on the paper first, before flexing his fingers so they wouldn’t cramp up if he gripped a little too hard. “Only three people in your world have foresight, huh? That’s crazy. There’s like a whole baseball team’s worth of psychics here.” “So I’ve gathered,” Edwin said, taking a glance around him at the other Prignay stalls. An entire coven dedicated to honing their foresight; such a thing would have been completely impossible back home. He doubted, in fact, that anyone with foresight had ever met one another back home. He knew that Robin never had, which left only the gentleman in Germany and the gentleman in India meeting one another. He thought it very unlikely. “Though, I suppose that Vallo also has a habit of pulling extraordinary people into this reality, so perhaps it shouldn’t be too surprising.” Not Edwin, of course. Edwin was extraordinarily ordinary. But it didn’t take much in the ways of the powers of observation to realize that he was in the minority of Outlanders. “I’ve had quite enough of having my own fortunes told though,” Edwin said, circling back to Richiei’s earlier question. “It never serves me particularly well. Are you able to tell just a general fortune of some sort?” Sometimes people just wanted something general, Richie didn’t judge. Other times they had a burning question and wanted to zero in with laser-sighted focus; either way, it was all good to him. “I can do a general fortune, yeah, and just see what I see. I’ll start - and like I said, it’ll look weird. So don’t get alarmed, I’ll snap out of it,” Richie replied, smoothing down the paper - an unconscious gesture, something to sort of work out the last of the energy before he would begin to drift to that other place. Past what they could observe here, beyond the present - being able to ‘see’ into the future definitely required a good bit of concentration, and before he hadn’t always thought he’d be able to sit still enough to accomplish it. But he had. Let’s do this thing, then - more smoothing of the paper and he needed to find something to zone out to, some kind of white noise. In Prigany’s main forest caravan, it was the ticking of the retro cat clock on the kitchen wall - eyes darting back and forth with each passing second, tick tock, tick tock. Here, it was the crinkling of the bags of candied tarot cards - he could hear Tiara organizing them at her mother’s table and he shut his eyes, becoming that sound. That crinkle and swoosh. Swoosh and crinkle. His lashes fluttered closed. He relaxed. Muscles went loose. A second later, his eyes flew open and showed no pupil or iris, but all white - blank and bright, like guiding stars. Richie’s hands moved though, as he was trained (and skilled) enough to know how to direct the flow without thinking too much of it. He drew with the pen Max had given him, sketching quickly. It was a house. A cottage, really - with a fountain that was nestled amongst an array of perfectly ornamental flower beds. There was one bed in particular, one of roses that resembled red velvet - or at least, that’s how Richie saw it in his mind. His hands captured the detail of the petals with the aid of the crystal, bringing clarity to the drawing and the dewdrops on those roses looked like tiny diamonds which was what he unconsciously tried to convey. Then he was wrenched back, jolting, as the blank look in his eyes receded and he blinked behind the lenses of his glasses. “Well - “ Richie glanced down at the drawing, turning the pad around so Edwin could see. “Does this look familiar?” Edwin jumped a little when Richie’s eyes snapped open, white and empty and entirely disconcerting, and then gave a quick, furtive glance around to see if anyone had noticed him doing it. He narrated what Richie was doing to his pen, quiet and low so as to not break the trance, frowning a little as the image began to materialized on the page. It seemed, somehow, familiar. When Richie turned it towards him, Edwin felt a spark of annoyance. He’d asked for his fortune not to be told; whatever his future held, he’d rather not know what it ws. But the spark was very quickly smothered under the implication of seeing Sutton Cottage on the paper before him. “Yes,” he said, nearly reaching for the paper and then drawing his hand back. “That’s Sutton Cottage. Where did you see that?” “Hard to say - I wasn’t focusing on you specifically either, but sometimes things just come to me,” he shrugged and, well, sorry. Richie was pretty good at this shit but he hadn’t been at it as long as Destiny had - she had a way of picking and choosing, plucking future visions like fruit from a bushel and just knowing; she could zero in on one thing or ignore something else, but for Richie, he mostly had to take what he could get. This was what he got. At least it wasn’t doom and despair - or another dick storm. That one was really weird, but then again, that was Vallo for you. He squinted, making a few other notes and quick sketches on the page. “It kind of looked like the forest here? I mean, I know what’s around Skyhold so the surroundings were sort of familiar. Definitely seemed like an out of place cottage though.” Houses showed up all the time in Vallo - could be a sign? “It’s not in a forest at home,” Edwin said, sharper than he’d intended, trying to mask his excitement and his longing. No, Sutton Cottage was surrounded by endless countryside, though there was a treeline, where the warding was. The treeline certainly wasn’t enough for anyone to mistake for a forest, however. “Do you think that could mean that it’s here? Or will be here?” He wasn’t sure if he managed to keep all the hope out of his voice – Sutton Hall appearing in Vallo wouldn’t make up for Robin’s absence, but it was very nearly the next best thing. Richie had visions of things appearing before - he’d seen houses or pets, for example, but never. Uh. People. He couldn’t predict the comings and goings, necessarily, though he imagined he’d be able to make big bucks if he was able to. If that sort of monetary compensation mattered (it didn’t). But then again, there was no predicting what a lot of Vallo would do - he got hints, sometimes, little threads of the woven tapestry to grasp onto and ultimately follow to its inevitable conclusion but Vallo being all too helpful was rare. Still, he had a positive feeling about this. And he wasn’t one to ignore his gut feelings when it came to scrying. “Could be here - soon,” was his best guess. The forest also shifted, so pinpointing an exact location was difficult - still, knowing the place wasn’t situated in a forest at home helped. “I don’t have a date or anything, sorry dude - no one’s ever that exact with the future. It like, changes all the time so it’s hard to grasp it. But I’ll keep an eye out for a rose garden?” “No, no one ever is,” Edwin said, wryly. It was the same with all of them that he’d seen. Vague visions of the future that could mean nearly anything until the actual event happened. This, he was happy enough to note, was at least more clear than Robin or Adam’s visions. He glanced once more at the drawing, and reminded himself, forcefully, that he wasn’t here to lollygag at his potential future, but to get information about foresight in general. “When did you realize you had this ability?” he asked instead. The drawing Edwin could have, so Richie carefully tore the piece of paper free from the pad and handed it over. No charge. He didn’t charge for this sort of thing anyway, not the way Prigany did - mostly he just liked to hang out at their markets to get practice in, and they were happy to give him the space to do that. “When I got here,” he admitted since he hadn’t been aware he could do this shit prior to Vallo. “So a little over a year ago. I think I’ve always had some kind of...weird mind power or whatever, me and my friends all did. The type of thing that runs in families and tends to crop up in like, supernaturally charged parts of the country - which for us was the upper east coast. But I just never realized. I guess sometimes we have a way of dismissing shit if it doesn’t line up with how we were taught the world works.” Because psychic? Ha. Mind-reading? Unnaturally good with maps and getting around, never getting los, the way Eddie wast? Nope. If anyone had brought that up to Richie he would have thought they were tripping balls. He scratched his cheek, the sounds of the small pop-up market (and the smells - incense and herbs and something floral, and the sweetness of spun sugar) filtering in around him; he was happy here. Seemed to fit well, and he was always grateful for the opportunity. “I also think it was like, triggered in a way? When you stare pure evil in the face, you don’t walk away without being changed somehow.” Edwin understood enough the habit of dismissing things that didn't line up with the way people thought the world worked. It was a big part of how magic was kept from the non-magic parts of the world: most people, if they saw magic, dismissed it out of hand. Part of his job was determining which slips could be ignored and which ones needed intervention. Even he'd been caught up in the way he thought the world worked. It had taken Robin, who'd never known magic existed before Edwin has unwittingly showed him – with the very same imbuement that was now causing the pen to take down all of Richie's words – to ask questions and see the world in a new light for Edwin to see anything he wasn't already expecting to see. "The man I know developed foresight after being cursed," Edwin said. "The cursing happened the same day as his unbushelling, so it's impossible to know which of the two things did it, though I suspect it was the curse." He wished there were more case studies to know for sure if that was how these things often happened. He hadn't thought to ask Adam, either. "What do you mean by pure evil?" Edwin had his brother, but he didn't think he'd characterize Walt as pure evil, and while Walt had certain changed him, he doubted it was in the same way that Richie was talking about. Richie grinned, a wry smile of his own. “Curse makes sense,” he agreed. And he tried to parse out how to explain IT to someone without sounding confusing as hell - because, honestly, even he and his friends had trouble understanding that whole...thing. He fiddled with the pen in his hand, twisting the crystal-infused gift around a couple times before setting it down. Having something to do with his hands always helped his focus too - it was part of the reason why he’d been a smoker for so long, though being involved with musicals here, preserving the integrity of his voice, a kick in the ass from Adora, and not wanting to taste like an ashtray when his husband kissed him were all reasons why Richie had cut back a lot. Quit entirely for the most part, really. “Our town was infected by this evil thing that crash-landed there from space,” he said. “Before Derry was even Derry. Like basically since the beginning of time. It wasn’t a person, or like - a creature, but...IT. That was its name, if something like that could even have a name. But it had a hold on everyone and everything even when it was asleep. Like crime would happen and the police never investigated, or everyone’s parents were shitty and abusive, it was just gloomy, and every couple of decades it would come up from the sewers to take various forms, usually that of a fucking clown called Pennywise, and...kill a lot of kids. To eat. To sustain itself through hibernation and the cycle continued. Until one summer when me and my friends forced it back into hibernation early, then we had to return to our crappy hometown when we were adults and finish it off,” he shrugged, blue eyes glancing down, watching the now-blank pieces of paper on the pad. “ITs true form was - we called it the Deadlights. Like this whole other realm beyond the physical - IT was omnipotent. And if IT showed it to you, you went crazy. I saw the Deadlights when we faced off with it and I think that’s what kickstarted my visions. Maybe I’ve always had the ability to do this but seeing that shoved it to the forefront and I had to learn to channel them.” That’s where Prigany came in. Edwin resisted the urge to point out that it hardly took an evil space creature for all those things that Richie had mentioned – abusive parents and families, gloomy atmospheres, uninvestigated crime – to happen quite on their own. Unless Richie’s world was entirely different from Edwin’s, then he likely already knew that and was still talking about something beyond the usual type of awfulness. He nodded instead. “And how have you been learning to channel them?” he asked. “Are there any specific techniques you’ve been taught which you’re able to speak of?” Shit like that happened on its own, but oh boy - Derry was a literal pit of evil. It was like some caul just over the whole town because of Pennywise, but Richie supposed it was difficult to explain to someone who hadn’t grown up there and hadn’t actually felt the hopelessness. It was a whole different brand of hopelessness too - the kind that followed you, clinging the same way the trauma did, like a wet garment. Like the scent of rot and decay did in a person’s nose; it wasn’t going away. It followed him, even when he’d peaced out of town the day after graduation with a packed suitcase, a bus ticket, and a pocket full of graduation money. Beverly was also right. They all would have gone the same way Stan had if they didn’t kill IT, and that was difficult to explain too. He didn’t want to go into it, and it probably wasn’t relevant to foresight research anyway. His mess was his own mess to deal with. “I was taught how to read tarot cards but didn’t take to it as well as the automatic writing - it’s called psychography,” he replied, motioning to the setup here. “I do it often enough that it kind of lets the energy go someplace so my brain doesn’t hurt. Before, I’d have visions randomly smacking me upside the head - but when I draw, it’s more focused and lessens the chaos of it, if that makes sense.” Probably not. But he was over here doing his best. Hopefully this was helpful. “Like a dam,” Edwin noted. A way to control the flow of visions instead of letting them metaphorically flood the mind. It seemed a useful tip. Robin had gotten better at controlling his own visions back home, to some extent, but there was no harm in having multiple ways at his disposal. “And when you had visions randomly, was it the same? With the… the eyes?” he asked, unable to find a more delicate way of phrasing the question. “Pretty sure it was,” Richie grinned. He didn’t have a mirror at the time to be able to tell for sure, but - he could make guesses, even if having a vision of him having a vision hadn’t occurred either (that was some Inception shit right there). “I’d just kind of zone out and then snap out of it, or they’d show up in the form of dreams and I’d wake up suddenly. I don’t really have dreams anymore. Not like that.” So yeah, it was exactly like a dam. Being that his foresight ability was still kind of new to him (known to him), there was a lot of mental trash to sort through and a lot to get used to. “My face looked like that...when I was in the Deadlights. Or at least my friends told me it was, so. I guess it’s sort of like - just drifting off someplace else for it. A fugue state.” It wasn’t like that for everyone but not everyone’s foresight abilities worked the same either. Edwin nodded, thinking he understood that at least. That too was much like Robin, who was very unaware of the world in general when he had his own visions. Edwin frowned in thought, moving aside his pen and taking up his notepad. He skimmed quickly through their conversation before returning the notepad to where it was, and the pen resumed its ready position, and started writing again once he started speaking. "I think that's all I have for questions for the time being. Was there anything else you wished to talk about, in regards to your foresight?" Richie considered it - but no, he probably said all he needed to. Otherwise it was just going more into the Deadlights, like actually talking about what he saw there, and he’d rather save that for his therapist. Not someone who was a fellow Outlander and just trying to do his nerdy research thing. “Nah, I’m good. Hopefully it helped you?” he said, pushing his glasses up on his nose. “Invite me over for tea when you get that cool-looking house and we can talk about more shit,” he added with a wink. Richie did love to talk - and he loved making friends. He was a social person by nature, even if he had times where he wanted to be alone too. Those times were few and far in between, however. “Oh, and wait - you like chocolate?” He got up and plucked one of the miniature tarot card candy bags from Tiara, who swatted at him - but otherwise didn’t put up much protest. “Here, these are the best.” Prigany also dealt in enchantments - it was possible that their chocolates held a little bit of a feel-good elixir to them, but no one could confirm or deny. If they did, it was nothing harmful or addictive - just something to put a little pep in your step. Edwin was interested in what was seen in the Deadlights, but while most people wouldn't accuse Edwin of bring particularly sensitive, especially if he had questions, even he wouldn't start asking questions about something that seemed so traumatic. He took the bag of chocolate, feeling a little awkward about doing so – Richie had just finished answering his questions without complaint or recompense, and now he was handing over chocolate – with a muttered thanks. "You don't have any other magic than the foresight, do you?" Edwin asked for clarification. "Otherwise I'll have to escort you in. It's warded." At least, he hoped it still was. He glanced at Richie's drawing again, but if the treeline and the hedge maze came with the cottage, then they didn't appear in the drawing. He folded it up and slipped it into his breast pocket. “I don’t think I do,” Richie shook his head. He’d thought about seeing if he could pick up on some transmutation or enchantment from Prigany, but that just seemed - weird. Like fitting a puzzle piece into the wrong slot - it didn’t exactly complete the picture and he wasn’t built for that kind of magic the way someone like Max was, who had been born a mage and damn well knew it. Even if Richie would most likely be able to learn with a lot of dedication and practice. Then there was the fire totem, which he’d connected with, but the rock itself was magical - he couldn’t normally shoot fire from his hands. Would be cool if he could, though. “Guess you’re gonna have to make sure I don’t explode, or whatever the ward is.” Some people had some intense ones around here - like, damn, guys. Trauma, much? (Not that he should talk). "You're not going to explode. Is that a thing that actually happens here?" It was a horrifying thought. "No, you'll just… think that coming was a mistake, and will turn around, or be afraid of crossing the threshold. The more powerful your magic, the more powerful the warding, and fighting against it even if you know what it is isn't possible." He had been lucky both that he and Robin has taken a motorcar their first time to Sutton Cottage, and that his magic was weak enough that he hasn't tried to wrestle the wheel from Robin. "The hedge maze might try to trap and kill you if you enter it though, but hopefully if you've made it through the initial warding you'll already have an invitation from me to be there." That sounded fun - but in a different kind of way than bleeding from every orifice or getting turned into a goldfish and bunged into a park pond or something. “Cool,” Richie said cheerfully. A good-natured spirit was in his nature - he found it difficult to be much of a downer, for the most part, but when he had a bad day that was when he really spiraled. It was a special kind of manic energy he was gifted with, as part of his personality. “But yeah, I promise not to show up unless you’ve invited me. I’m kind of a trashmouth and lack social graces but I’m not that rude.” Most of the time. “I don’t know if ‘cool’ is the word I’d use for it,” Edwin said, dryly. He’d been trapped in the labyrinth himself, once, and it had been one of the single-most terrifying experiences of his life. He wouldn’t wish it on – okay, well, he might wish it on his worst enemy, but only a little. “It used to also double as a tourist attraction,” Edwin admitted. “The gardens, and the hedge maze and the rest, I mean. There were quite a few visitors the first time we went.” Now that it was his, Edwin didn’t know how he felt about that. But he suspected that the attraction was what brought in enough revenue to maintain the place, and he hadn’t had the impression that Flora Sutton herself had been expected to interact much with the visitors. What was it about hedge mazes that were undeniably creepy? Richie didn’t know but he definitely didn’t want to be stuck in one where he’d get turned around, so, he’d appreciate the assist. “Well, hopefully you can just...live in it, if and when it shows up here,” he noted. “Or do something else with it. No pressure to turn it into a tourist attraction. Sometimes it’s nice to have pieces from home. Sometimes not.” Skyhold, where he lived now? Nice, and he knew the fortress held a certain meaning for Max in both good and bad ways. The Neibolt house, popping up in the woods and looking like it had been teleported straight in from the hellhole that was Derry, Maine? Cobbled together from wood and bad vibes, the windows stained with soot and who knew what else, everything literally crumbling? Not so nice. He was glad he’d burned it down, with assistance. There was no missing that place, not in the slightest. “Yes,” Edwin said, a little distantly. He would very much just like to hole up in the place, except somehow it didn’t seem right to keep it from the rest of the world. He had no intentions of taking down the warding; the last thing he needed was unannounced magicians showing up at his house to do god-knew-what. His brother might have been unable to harass him any longer, but his brother had had friends. But Sutton Cottage was lovely, and Flora Sutton had put her heart and soul into those gardens, and it seemed like it would be greedy, in a way, to keep them all to himself. “Sutton Cottage will be one of the nice ones. I’ll be sure to invite you if I find it.” |