stormandwind | INBOX: lastvoyages

He can't help that he does a second sweet for Ex Altiora while he's looking through, just because. After all, that was what they were here to talk about and she had called this her work space. Just because she didn't know the books by the name 'Leitner' didn't mean that she didn't have one, or several. When you opened up your understanding to encompass multiple worlds, you also opened it to realizing that there was multiple versions of the horror you knew that could exist as well.

He does turn when he hears the slight thunk of the tea pot on the table, flickering a smile at her as he goes to take his seat. He'll wait till she pours out before starting to talk.

"I don't suppose you're-" he swallows, considers again. It's always so difficult. "It looks as if you're a meteorologist, to judge by your shelf. Or possibly a writer of fairy tales."

"I have a friend on board who's fond of fairy tales, and a little girl back home who would appreciate new stories. I started keeping an eye out for books that avoid certain tropes." No damsels in distress for Glaki, and she's careful about anything that kills off the heroine's mother. For Shiro, her favorites are ones where monsters aren't the villains.

"You aren't entirely wrong, though. I'm a weather witch. I was born with an innate magical connection to all weather as well as a few other elements of the natural world, like the tides, or the flow of magma. It's an extra sense for me, and I can use or manipulate it, within limits." She smiles crookedly. "So I can predict the weather, I just don't use tools to do it."

He's newly arrived, so it's hard to say if he'll stop doing this, but his mind immediately categorizes her as having some manner of connection to the Vast. He takes a moment to examine whether or not that makes him nervous to be alone in the room with her, given his last experience with an avatar of the Vast, but given that he had actually survived his encounter with Michael Crew and that the whole thing had ended in poor Michael's murder by a rather amped up Daisy, well...

But no. He's fine. He's not sure if it's because of his own changes and the revelations he's been privy to since then, but it also might just be because she's done up tea for him and spiced biscuits. His life has ruined all manner of perfectly normal things that he'll no longer be able to think about without considering the ways they could be made unpleasant and terrifying but tea and biscuits have, thankfully, remain untouched. He's not sure what he'd do if he lost tea and biscuits. He resolves not to find out.

"How very interesting. I've met someone like that previously, though he wasn't born like that to the best of my knowledge. Struck by lightning as a child, actually."

Tris wraps her hands around her teacup as she answers. "My first student got his magic from a lightning strike, so that isn't impossible where I come from. It just wasn't the case for me. Before I learned to control my power, most people saw me more as a danger than as a child."

She is in control of it now, being the corollary of that statement. At least so long as the Barge doesn't prevent that control, and she has multiple safeguards to mitigate the risk.

He takes a sip of his own as he nods along to what she's saying, his mind working as he considers something he'd like to ask. He doesn't want to ask it, precisely, but hopefully she'll understand what he's doing. Or at least that he'd like to know.

"I met a woman named Iris and a gentleman by the name of Quentin, both of which seemed rather up front with their abilities. It does seem to be rather... common around here. To share that sort of thing."

He reaches over for one of the biscuits.

"At least in my small sample of experience."

It wouldn't be the worst thing, really. After all, it seems like every kind of monster back home knew what he was, knew better than him really. Half the time it felt like he was learning his own ways from their snide little comments. Jude Perry, for all that she'd been particularly dismissive, had also been particularly illuminating, er, despite her affiliation.

Tris has always been perceptive, and she takes a guess at what question he might be stepping around.

"I come from a world where magic is widespread and common, but my particular varieties and... potency, I suppose... are very rare. I've never been as widely accepted back home as I have been on the Barge. The four most common reactions to my power were fear, doubt, envy, or wanting to use me." Never her foster family, but even they were sometimes hard to trust in a world that treated Tris very differently. "Lack of those pervasive attitudes makes it easier to be open here."

But Tris, who didn't tell her own mother about scrying the wind until she'd been on board for months, isn't about to tell Jonathan that he's not entitled to his own secrets, especially at first.

"And-" he stops himself, closing his mouth, breathing in deep as he reformulates his words. This... this is going to be a trial, honestly. It feels like he's trying to go up a wall in a Morris Marina;' he needs the information but he's got to get it using the lease helpful means.

He breathes out.

"If you don't mind sharing, I would be curious to know if you have been used, Miss Kal-El." He continues. "If you find the dangers here, specific to the barge, present significant threat to that... openness."

Fortunately Tris is willing to share information these days.

"It's rare when everyone is in their right mind. A little over two years ago during an event that caused amnesia, I lost control. I started throwing off lightning, which of course was upsetting enough that it fed back into itself and got worse. Someone offered to help me control it in exchange for an unspecified favor. I was terrified of killing anyone, so I agreed." She's aware it was foolish, but that was the point. She couldn't remember who she was or any of the things about her life that made her wary in the first place.

"Once we were back to ourselves, I thought I'd managed to escape any real harm. Then he contacted me, asked for information, and threatened to possess my body and use me to murder the people around me if I refused. I have precautions in place now, but for months, I didn't go anywhere unless I was accompanied by someone ready to stop me by any means necessary. Whatever power you do or don't have, I'd take it as a favor if you never shake hands with Bill Cipher."

He'd been following along with the rest of it before the name came up, or rather, before the issue of the handshake came up. He lets her finish, though, before lifting his own scarred fingers.

"I am well aware of the price one might pay when they are desperate," he says with a turn of his hand. It's followed by a snort. "And there is nothing you could do to make me deal with 'Bill' any more than is absolutely necessary. He..."

He shakes his head and wishes, suddenly, that he'd thought to take the time to have a cigarette back in his room before he'd come here.

"Suffice to say that I am familiar with his type. And want as little to do with them as possible."

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