Amanda and Manuel - Monday
Jun. 30th, 2008 04:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xp_daytripper posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
xp_logsAs per their email exchange, Amanda visits to talk to Manuel about what happened to her.
He felt exposed outside of his room. There was nothing beyond those walls to shield him from the others and there was nothing to shield them from his jumble of chaotic emotions. The trouble of reconizing his own emotions as opposed to another's was increasingly difficult, but within his room, he was in the safe confines of a prison, resembling alot like solitary confinement. Except this prisoner had the freedom to leave. Leaning over the counter, he dragged the razor over his skin, letting his thoughts wander freely, fascinated by the blade. Why on earth did people cut themselves with a razorblade when there were much easier ways to die? Who would want a prolonged death like that, when it was easier to go outside and step in front of a bus? If _he_ were to end it all, would he do it with a grand bang, or would he slip beneath the surface, hidden and die alone?
His thoughts were distrupted by a knock on the door and Manuel ran a hand over the one size of his face, testing the results of the new blade. Reluctantly, he stepped away from his task and headed to the door, topless and with the other half of his face covered in shaving cream. He was less than pleased when he discovered who was on the other side of the door. "I hope you have good news," he started, giving her a once over to confirm that she was indeed in one solid piece. He stepped back, leaning on the cane and allowed her to come in, bringing up the towel over the clean side of his face.
"And 'hello' to you too," she said, but without rancour - Manuel was still Manuel in a lot of ways. "As for good news... I'm not as crazy as I was the other week?"
"Your timing, as usual, is impeccable.I was _just_ thinking about you." He closed the door behind her and headed back to his previous position in the washroom. Naturally, he continued to shave as though they were friends who didn't have a history worthy of a headache. Things with Amanda were never simple. It was a wonder they hadn't gotten worse as she got older. On second thought, maybe they had. "You were supposed to tell me about that week. Conviently, I'm sure you've been busy."
"More 'completely out of my mind' - I didn't think you'd want that particular emotional mess on your hands." Speaking of which, she was having to concentrate on the shielding techniques Emma was teaching her, to keep the worst of the jumble manageable. Distancing herself from the memories helped a lot, and meant she wasn't bombarding Manuel with that particular emotional maelstrom. "Besides, it's sort of hard to put into words. It's not every day your consciousness and body get merged with a city."
"And that is unusual?" he mused. "Being out of your mind, I mean." Manuel's right leg trembled and he sat up on the counter to ease the weight off it. After two strokes, he turned the sink on and rinsed the blade. The strain over his brow was the only sign of faint mixed emotions he was getting from her. He paused, staring at himself, marveling how poorly he concealed it. He knew the critisim had no grounds because he was sure if it hadn't been Amanda, others wouldn't notice as much. "Merged with a city..." he repeated after her and his tone was flat, almost unbelieving. "You'll need to explain that better."
She resisted the urge to poke her tongue out at him for the comment about her sanity and instead ran her hand through her hair, trying to think of the words. "Something happened in London. We're still not 100% sure what, but whatever it was, it didn't work the way it was supposed to. London... woke up, I suppose is the best way to put it. Came alive, at in terms of having a consciousness. And it called me for help." Wow, that didn't sound pretentious at all. "My powers now, they latch onto the energy of cities instead of mystical objects. Rack screwed with them when I was a kid and when I remanifested, it was like I'd been reset, back to where I was supposed to be. Cities speak to me more than the whole nature thing, so I'm an urban witch instead of a Wicca Mother Goddess type. And that's what London latched onto, my powers. We got there, started poking around, and I got sucked into the London Stone. My mind kind of merged with the city, I suppose is the best to put it."
He listened with great interest, more than he had meant to and by the end of it, he was finished shaving and dragging the towel over his other cheek. His eyes remained on her. "This taps into lore of the suburbs and sounds like magic revolving around legends, if you can grasp that. It makes a great deal of sense, if you're a believer." He did not say where he stood, but she should know. His heritage spoke for him. "Will this continue to be a problem, say, if you go to Scotland where Magic is predicted to be stronger than in most other countries?" Would this be a problem whenever she decided to travel? From what he saw, she traveled a fair bit in the short time he had been here.
"Funny you should say legends - when I got sucked in, these... spirits of London got forced out. Protective guardians, I s'pose, but the only ones around for them to fight were our lot." She grimaced. "And I have no idea - you might have noticed I haven't been travelling so much. Even in France I was sticking to the rural bits, avoiding the cities where I could." With a sigh, she managed a small grin. "I s'pose it'll be a matter of waiting and seeing?"
"Hmm, yes. When something tragic happens. Until then, you have to wait, correct?" He was way past trying to do anything active regarding life outside of the mansion. The cane saw to that and it was revolting to see he had fell into a quiet, boring routine as resident space filler of the mansion. But this wasn't about him. It was about _her_. Running a hand over the other side, he did so again to the other cheek and pulled the towel off his shoulder when he was satisfied. His eyes flickered to her reflection in the mirror before applying some aftershave and sliding off the counter. The cane would always be there, next to him and he made his way into the room, fetching a shirt. He could do very little to help her.
It was strange, the familiarity of the situation, watching him shave and talking as if there was nothing unusual. Like they'd done a hundred times when they'd been together. Her cheeks stained slightly pink, she glanced away as he pulled on his shirt, focussing on derailing that particular memory path before it got to embarrassing places. "Well, I'd rather try and avoid the tragedy thing," she admitted. "Especially since after I got spat out I spent two weeks wandering homeless and completely out of my mind. As in, full on hallucinations, didn't know who I was, eating out of rubbish bins, that sort of thing." She shrugged. "My brain kind of overloaded with the whole thing. Emma and Sofia are helping me put everything back where it belongs, but in the meantime, sometimes the memories are a bit much. Like in Norway."
It was already in an embarrassing place as he had his back to her,but felt her emotions wash over him and he only amplified it. His eyes glowed and he sucked in a breath, closing them and pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. He leaned heavily on the cane. "You should address your problem more directly than piecing it back together." Was he talking about her problem or his?
Seeing him react, she was almost tempted to try the shielding spell to see if it was still effective at blocking him, but she wasn't sure how he'd take it. Possibly as some kind of insult. "How do you mean?" she asked instead.
"You're in a mental state that is open to the possibiliy of another form of magic. This would be a," he paused, reopening his eyes and despite faint glow or the impression he wished to push on her, Manuel kept his physical distance. "It would be an opportunity for you." He stopped again, struggling for the words. Struggling for what he was trying to say and ended up having to sit down on a nearby chair. He rested the cane clumsily to the side, but it started to slide. Manuel made a grab for it, but he missed and it clattered to the floor. A sigh of irritation errupted from him and he closed a fist only to reopen it, rubbing his brow. It shielded him from the look she was giving him, or rather, trying not to. He could _feel_ it. And yet he couldn't finish his thought, any of his thoughts! They were sluggish and frustration reddened his face. "You should leave."
"If you want me to, sure." She approached his chair, bending to pick up the cane and lean it against the side. "We've been talking about me all this time... how about you? You seem a bit stressed. People still giving you grief?"
"No," he said, brushing a hand over his face and up to his brow again. Her proximity didn't help him. "I'm afraid they've moved onto other things. The novelty has worn off. Minor problems with Laurie, but that is all." He dismissed it as fast as he had brought it up. "Please leave Amanda. This is trying my patience and in a minute, I will be past being polite."
She bit her lip. "Of course. I'm sorry." Immediately she pulled back, heading for the door. "If there's anything I can do, email me, yeah?" she asked, hand on the doorknob.
He couldn't concentrate, couldn't focus on words enough to speak them now. Instead, Manuel waved a hand dismissively, gesturing for her to leave because of the sudden inability to communicate his thoughts.
It was enough. Amanda left, closing the door behind her and sealing him up against the mansion's emotions once more.
He felt exposed outside of his room. There was nothing beyond those walls to shield him from the others and there was nothing to shield them from his jumble of chaotic emotions. The trouble of reconizing his own emotions as opposed to another's was increasingly difficult, but within his room, he was in the safe confines of a prison, resembling alot like solitary confinement. Except this prisoner had the freedom to leave. Leaning over the counter, he dragged the razor over his skin, letting his thoughts wander freely, fascinated by the blade. Why on earth did people cut themselves with a razorblade when there were much easier ways to die? Who would want a prolonged death like that, when it was easier to go outside and step in front of a bus? If _he_ were to end it all, would he do it with a grand bang, or would he slip beneath the surface, hidden and die alone?
His thoughts were distrupted by a knock on the door and Manuel ran a hand over the one size of his face, testing the results of the new blade. Reluctantly, he stepped away from his task and headed to the door, topless and with the other half of his face covered in shaving cream. He was less than pleased when he discovered who was on the other side of the door. "I hope you have good news," he started, giving her a once over to confirm that she was indeed in one solid piece. He stepped back, leaning on the cane and allowed her to come in, bringing up the towel over the clean side of his face.
"And 'hello' to you too," she said, but without rancour - Manuel was still Manuel in a lot of ways. "As for good news... I'm not as crazy as I was the other week?"
"Your timing, as usual, is impeccable.I was _just_ thinking about you." He closed the door behind her and headed back to his previous position in the washroom. Naturally, he continued to shave as though they were friends who didn't have a history worthy of a headache. Things with Amanda were never simple. It was a wonder they hadn't gotten worse as she got older. On second thought, maybe they had. "You were supposed to tell me about that week. Conviently, I'm sure you've been busy."
"More 'completely out of my mind' - I didn't think you'd want that particular emotional mess on your hands." Speaking of which, she was having to concentrate on the shielding techniques Emma was teaching her, to keep the worst of the jumble manageable. Distancing herself from the memories helped a lot, and meant she wasn't bombarding Manuel with that particular emotional maelstrom. "Besides, it's sort of hard to put into words. It's not every day your consciousness and body get merged with a city."
"And that is unusual?" he mused. "Being out of your mind, I mean." Manuel's right leg trembled and he sat up on the counter to ease the weight off it. After two strokes, he turned the sink on and rinsed the blade. The strain over his brow was the only sign of faint mixed emotions he was getting from her. He paused, staring at himself, marveling how poorly he concealed it. He knew the critisim had no grounds because he was sure if it hadn't been Amanda, others wouldn't notice as much. "Merged with a city..." he repeated after her and his tone was flat, almost unbelieving. "You'll need to explain that better."
She resisted the urge to poke her tongue out at him for the comment about her sanity and instead ran her hand through her hair, trying to think of the words. "Something happened in London. We're still not 100% sure what, but whatever it was, it didn't work the way it was supposed to. London... woke up, I suppose is the best way to put it. Came alive, at in terms of having a consciousness. And it called me for help." Wow, that didn't sound pretentious at all. "My powers now, they latch onto the energy of cities instead of mystical objects. Rack screwed with them when I was a kid and when I remanifested, it was like I'd been reset, back to where I was supposed to be. Cities speak to me more than the whole nature thing, so I'm an urban witch instead of a Wicca Mother Goddess type. And that's what London latched onto, my powers. We got there, started poking around, and I got sucked into the London Stone. My mind kind of merged with the city, I suppose is the best to put it."
He listened with great interest, more than he had meant to and by the end of it, he was finished shaving and dragging the towel over his other cheek. His eyes remained on her. "This taps into lore of the suburbs and sounds like magic revolving around legends, if you can grasp that. It makes a great deal of sense, if you're a believer." He did not say where he stood, but she should know. His heritage spoke for him. "Will this continue to be a problem, say, if you go to Scotland where Magic is predicted to be stronger than in most other countries?" Would this be a problem whenever she decided to travel? From what he saw, she traveled a fair bit in the short time he had been here.
"Funny you should say legends - when I got sucked in, these... spirits of London got forced out. Protective guardians, I s'pose, but the only ones around for them to fight were our lot." She grimaced. "And I have no idea - you might have noticed I haven't been travelling so much. Even in France I was sticking to the rural bits, avoiding the cities where I could." With a sigh, she managed a small grin. "I s'pose it'll be a matter of waiting and seeing?"
"Hmm, yes. When something tragic happens. Until then, you have to wait, correct?" He was way past trying to do anything active regarding life outside of the mansion. The cane saw to that and it was revolting to see he had fell into a quiet, boring routine as resident space filler of the mansion. But this wasn't about him. It was about _her_. Running a hand over the other side, he did so again to the other cheek and pulled the towel off his shoulder when he was satisfied. His eyes flickered to her reflection in the mirror before applying some aftershave and sliding off the counter. The cane would always be there, next to him and he made his way into the room, fetching a shirt. He could do very little to help her.
It was strange, the familiarity of the situation, watching him shave and talking as if there was nothing unusual. Like they'd done a hundred times when they'd been together. Her cheeks stained slightly pink, she glanced away as he pulled on his shirt, focussing on derailing that particular memory path before it got to embarrassing places. "Well, I'd rather try and avoid the tragedy thing," she admitted. "Especially since after I got spat out I spent two weeks wandering homeless and completely out of my mind. As in, full on hallucinations, didn't know who I was, eating out of rubbish bins, that sort of thing." She shrugged. "My brain kind of overloaded with the whole thing. Emma and Sofia are helping me put everything back where it belongs, but in the meantime, sometimes the memories are a bit much. Like in Norway."
It was already in an embarrassing place as he had his back to her,but felt her emotions wash over him and he only amplified it. His eyes glowed and he sucked in a breath, closing them and pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. He leaned heavily on the cane. "You should address your problem more directly than piecing it back together." Was he talking about her problem or his?
Seeing him react, she was almost tempted to try the shielding spell to see if it was still effective at blocking him, but she wasn't sure how he'd take it. Possibly as some kind of insult. "How do you mean?" she asked instead.
"You're in a mental state that is open to the possibiliy of another form of magic. This would be a," he paused, reopening his eyes and despite faint glow or the impression he wished to push on her, Manuel kept his physical distance. "It would be an opportunity for you." He stopped again, struggling for the words. Struggling for what he was trying to say and ended up having to sit down on a nearby chair. He rested the cane clumsily to the side, but it started to slide. Manuel made a grab for it, but he missed and it clattered to the floor. A sigh of irritation errupted from him and he closed a fist only to reopen it, rubbing his brow. It shielded him from the look she was giving him, or rather, trying not to. He could _feel_ it. And yet he couldn't finish his thought, any of his thoughts! They were sluggish and frustration reddened his face. "You should leave."
"If you want me to, sure." She approached his chair, bending to pick up the cane and lean it against the side. "We've been talking about me all this time... how about you? You seem a bit stressed. People still giving you grief?"
"No," he said, brushing a hand over his face and up to his brow again. Her proximity didn't help him. "I'm afraid they've moved onto other things. The novelty has worn off. Minor problems with Laurie, but that is all." He dismissed it as fast as he had brought it up. "Please leave Amanda. This is trying my patience and in a minute, I will be past being polite."
She bit her lip. "Of course. I'm sorry." Immediately she pulled back, heading for the door. "If there's anything I can do, email me, yeah?" she asked, hand on the doorknob.
He couldn't concentrate, couldn't focus on words enough to speak them now. Instead, Manuel waved a hand dismissively, gesturing for her to leave because of the sudden inability to communicate his thoughts.
It was enough. Amanda left, closing the door behind her and sealing him up against the mansion's emotions once more.
