sweethymns | OPEN RP POST QUATRE

[He stops, eying the crows as they hop around him. It's not that he doesn't trust them, it's just that... well. He's seen what kind of damage a murder of them can do. He's prone to keeping a respectful distance in a group like this.

This line of thinking is derailed when Amelia says she's a witch, though.]

...a what? [Um, did he hear that right?]

Hang on a sec.

[She squats down and uses her fingers to pluck five long strands of her hair.]

Ow. Ow. Ow. Ouch. OW, felt that one.

[And she delicately hands out each strand one by one to them.]

There you go. Thank you for last month. Keep up the good work.

[There's a pause and she thoughtfully plucks out another hair and holds it out to a crow who gracefully takes it with its beak.]

He's probably around right? Either way, send him a message. I'm dealing with him. [Gestures towards Booker.] He's not from around here and I don't have the skills to travel like he does. I need advice. Preferably by tomorrow.

[The crow that received the sixth hair nods and then one by one, with their payment in their grasp, the birds all fly away. Amelia stands up, dusting herself off and faces Booker.]

Anyways. A witch. Crows, witches, they kinda go way back.

[this isn't very helpful at all]

[Booker is so... confused. Why is she pulling her hair out? Why is she giving them to the crows? Why is she talking to the crows?

He's seen strange, probably even weirder in Columbia. But this is a different sort of unusual than the blind extremism found in the city in the sky. The notion of a witch was bordering on the occult, and that was something he had no experience with.

He just blinks when he's gestured towards, and when Amelia explains further, he just kind of stares, not sure what to ask first.]

You're...

...not crazy, are you?

You pointed a gun at me in my house and said you're from 1912.

I am from 1912!

[Granted, this is a bit hypocritical of a man whose daughter is an omnipotent traveller between alternate realities and the like. And a witch is probably a tame claim compared to a freaking floating city in the sky and gene-altering vigors. Maybe this is one of those instances where science is confused for magic? Who knows in these worlds. (It isn't, Booker.)]

See, we're both mental! We're even.

[She throws her hands up in the air.]

Let's just head back to my house and I'll explain a little more and why I think I can get you to where... Well, wherever you want to be!

[Ugh, well. She has a point there.]

Fine. But I already told you; I don't have a place I belong. I don't know where the hell you'd send me.

[He can't go back to his timeline -- he should be dead there. And he doesn't want to poke his nose into any other worlds. His experiences with that has been shaky at best.

And besides, what if by making some other place his home -- someplace more reminiscent of his own time, perhaps -- undos everything he worked for? He doesn't want another surge of Comstocks existing, and he doesn't think he's smart enough to unravel the complex web of timelines to avoid that happening.]

Then you can... Well, for now, there's just me.

[She starts walking back to her house.]

I said before, it's a good thing you landed in my house. I'm a witch. I'm used to the abnormal because I AM one. No one else in town has ever been aware of it, nor do I let them know.

So even if you don't belong anywhere, you at least found a place with me that matches your shade well.

Edited 2016-09-18 01:05 (UTC)

[He follows, picking up his pace to catch up with her. He still has too many questions left unanswered.]

So you're an actual witch. As in, you're using magic? Real magic, not science that everyone likes to think is magic?

[He doesn't comment on the fact that it's a good thing he landed in her lap; because, honestly, it's so true that he feels like it doesn't need to be commented upon. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise, if he can figure out what exactly being a witch entails.]

There's a difference between science, where there are laws, and mostly clear causes and effects in play, and magic, where in general one has the potential to make something out of nothing.

And remember when I said I was old enough to mind myself?

[Okay... he supposes that makes as much sense as it possibly can, to someone unfamiliar with magic.]

Yeah...?

66.

...What's 66?

[Because there's no way she means that's her age, right? RIGHT?]

I was born in 1948. It's now 2014.

[Her smile is a little wry. She never really minds revealing or talking about her age, save for when she does have to cover up on documents and normal company...]

Although, I do pass for my late twenties pretty well, don't I?

...

[w h a t]

I'm younger than you. You could be my grandmother.

W-Well! Now, THAT's a little rude?!

[okay she lied she minds, but honestly, what did she expect?!]

You're technically older than I am!

[YEAH TAKE TAHT]

[A scoff!]

I know what you're thinking, and no, I'm not technically anything. Just 'cause I was born in 1874 don't mean that I've lived every year up until 2014. Do I look like a 140 to you?

Edited 2016-09-18 01:40 (UTC)

You hopped a few decades, so you're basically 140.

[GRUMBLING AGAIN. 66 years old and yet...]

Uh huh. Whatever you say. Listen, no need to be ashamed about escorting a handsome young man around town. I didn't see anyone judging.

[HIs tone might be deadpan, but the words are obviously indicative of a tease, despite everything.]

[She glares at him and sniffs prudishly, flipping her hair behind her back. Real mature. Nothing, but mature here.]

You look like you're about, what, 5 or 7 years older than me? I'll give you that much.

[REAL MATURE]

I'm not sure if that's supposed to be a compliment or not. But I'm 38, if we're keeping score. So I guess it's a compliment.

[He's vaguely amused enough by her reaction that he almost forgets what they were initially talking about. Booker keeps walking, letting her pride heal a little for a moment or two before he says anything else.]

So why did those crows need your hair? You said it was payment?

[She gets too caught up in these kinds of things and it makes her curse herself for not being more of an adult. Ah, well what can you do. She replies promptly enough.]

I mentioned that they're my eyes for the parts of town I'm not usually in or when I need to gather information about anything out of the ordinary that's cropped up.

[A shrug.]

I'm like an unofficial overseer in a sense. I like where I live. I prefer that nothing bad happens to the people I live alongside with.

And they use my hair for their nests. One, a witch's hair is imbued with years of magic that has a variety of uses including protection.

Two, they like shiny things.

Yeah, they do. [He knows that much about crows, at least, given his... associations with them in the past. He decides to leave that part out for now, however.]

Do "bad things" ever happen in this town? [You wouldn't be able to tell from looking at it, Booker thinks.]

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