"Oh...I suppose I kind of had Atticus tucked away in my room most of the time you've seen me. Hunter gave it to me the second day I got on board. He had some thoughts about my magic since it's a little similar to the glyphs he used, but it wasn't really hitting the mark. Atticus has as much magic as I do, so I can use it to cast instead of my own personal cache. Kind of convenient, really." Though talking about past temps, that reminds him.
"I told TK she could talk to you, by the way. About what we talked about on the Narrenschiff. I dunno if she will or not, but just wanting you to have a heads up, she's got permission to ask."
"Oh...uh, Taylor? Bug lady?" He had kind of just been calling her all sorts of things, TK, T, Taylor, there were going to be so many more by the time he was crossing the finish line, he's sure.
"I got my permanent warden right after we got back. Got my shit all unlocked too, which is nice. You never know you miss a spell until you can't use it for months."
"Just know it's like reaching for that thing that's always on a specific spot on your desk and it's just not there. Frustrating." And even if he didn't use them every day, not having some available was still irritating, because sometimes he did need them.
He hooks his ankles, swinging his legs as he considers the question before shrugging, "We were friends before, so that hasn't really changed, but...I feel like I'm going to frustrate her, and I actually do want to graduate, you know?" Because he can't imagine that even with all her shit, he hasn't really met anyone as patient as Sheehan, and his waffling and having to be coaxed forward to revelations has to be irritating, even if he didn't let it show on his face.
He gives a warm, inviting smile. "I can't see Taylor getting frustrated by you," he assures him. "She's been resilient so far, and god knows she's been through hell. So don't worry about that, alright? Just keep doing what you're doing."
Being open with people, being honest. "I'll keep you on track from my end, don't worry."
"Hmm. Well, I'm glad you're confident on that front." He's not so much, but he has no reason to try and frustrate her on purpose.
The open and honest part really isn't his forte though, despite his will to get shit done. "You gonna wrap my knuckles with a ruler when I dig my heels in?"
He gives him a Look. "Is that the strategy I've used with you before?" he challenges, setting down the oars and searching out the cups so he can hand them to Hanna.
"It was a joke," He grumbles, at least having the decency to look a little guilty about it, grabbing two himself despite a very unsettled feeling rising in Hanna's stomach.
He isn't so sure he's ready to spin that roulette wheel, but here he is, not like he can bail now.
Hanna isn't entirely sure that he believes him given what he knows he could see. There are a few things he'd been decent about keeping to himself. The only two people that even know what his body looks like were his choice to give up, once to save Vincent from having to kill him in some messy way, the other when he helped Taylor with her inability to control her powers. He still wonders about that, the way she'd felt what it was like to be him. It doesn't tell her how he got that way, but it was far more information than anyone had ever had.
"I'm fine." He lies, kicking his feet back and forth just for something to do, looking behind him towards the east, waiting for the light himself, "You...You can ask, just can't promise I'll want to answer," He manages when he isn't looking at Sheehan. Because sometimes truth is easier to handle when you can fill in the why's and how's yourself rather than leaving someone else's mind to wander.
He doesn't like these mind games that the Admiral plays with them. Yes, you can help fix the ship, but only if you're forced to reveal something about yourself that you might not want to. He's not sure he wants to intrude on anyone in that way.
Still, he's here and Hanna has enough trust in him for that, so he doesn't force it.
"If you say so," he says because the light is starting to form under the water and Sheehan can't help but turn to look.
As the light starts to hit, it seems to create a sort of projection behind Hanna. It flickers as if playing an old reel of film, but the image starts to come in more clearly.
Hanna doesn't look much different than he does now sitting before Sheehan, he's still small, though perhaps more solid, younger in the face, his hair cut shorter with tighter curls. That isnt really what would catch anyones eye though, as a blue light emits from his eyes and mouth, pouring out of him as if his head was a lampshade.
If you look closer, tilt your head a little you can see more of him, his own hand clutching the handle of an 8" chef knife, buried into the skin just below his collar bone. Without much hesitation as the wound starts to bleed, he pulls the knife further down in a sharp line, carving himself open in what seems to be a small kitchen, a bit dated with its 70s cabinetry but warm and homey to contrast the small teen on his knees in the middle of it, more blood than just his own soaking into his jeans.
Hanna, the one actually sitting in front of Sheehan, turns his head to try and see what the light might be revealing, but he sees nothing, glancing back at the other man with a raised, cautious eyebrow as if to say 'well? What's the damage?'.
Hanna is spared any truly revealing parts of Sheehan. Superimposed on him is simply his uniform from the War. It isn't anything new, nothing that Sheehan wouldn't tell him.
But what Sheehan sees is - difficult to watch. Still, he does, and he can see what the boy is doing, but he doesn't know why.
For a moment, he's frozen, then he's clearing his throat and looking away from him and gestures for Hanna to collect the water in the cups. "Something I'm sure you don't want me to know."
The look on his face gives it away before he can, that sinking feeling returning as he very carefully watches for emotion on the other man's face.
"You looked good in that uniform, by the way," he manages out, dipping his two cups in the water, focusing on holding them now they they're full in the way that the strange magic pulls at you to drop them.
"I'm not offering up any guesses of what it was, so you're gonna have to tell me." As much as he doesn't want to hear it, he still wants to know. There is a mental file in his head, noting who knew what, how much, why and how. He wants to update Sheehans as much as he doesn't want to.
He looks down at himself, brushing his hands across his shirt. When Hanna gets the cups, though, he takes the oars to start to steer them back. "Everyone looks good in the uniform when they're twenty two," he says fondly, looking over his shoulder a moment.
"I saw - " He hesitates for a few heartbeats. "I saw you taking a knife to yourself in the middle of a kitchen."
Hanna probably would have been rejected from the draft if he'd grown up in a time it had been active, not thinking he'd look that great in one even if it was tailored to fit, but that's just him. He steadies the cups on his knees when Sheehan starts rowing them back, but when he talks again, that wasn't the answer he wanted.
"Don't tell Taylor." Is out of his mouth immediately, not quite panic, but quick, short. And then, "and I wasn't doing it." Which might seem contradictory to what Sheehan saw, but he's tone is firm.
"I won't tell Taylor," he promises with a firm nod. "Do you - want to set the record straight with me? I believe you, Hanna. Don't get me wrong. But if you want to explain, we have a bit of a trek back, so I'll listen."
"I know about it, yes," he says with a hesitant smile. He's close with Arthur and John, after all. He's well aware of possession and all the other forms it might take.
It's a dumb question seeing as he is rather aware of John and Arthur, but he thinks it's at least a little different.
"Well, where I come from, ghosts can't manipulate physical shit the way a person can. Sure, you can have the usual banging doors, flickering lights, but to actually harm someone effectively? They have to possess you." He knows how young he looked there, that he'd almost shrunk in on himself after, the way that his body adjusted to the magic, to life support. It made him feel like his shoulders were too big for his body, disproportionate when he looked in the mirror.
"I had a run in with one once that didnt end well, and since ghosts are just...pure energy and emotion, the feelings they have that tie them to the world, they're pretty strong. But they can get twisted." He's calculated in the way he adds truth to little lies, easily to follow, nothing out of place, repeatable.
Sheehan nods once, taking it in, thinking through what Hanna's told him before and what he's hearing now. He said he wouldn't ask questions, so he doesn't.
"I'm sorry that happened to you, Hanna. It seems like it caused a lot of hurt to you."
Hurt in more ways than physical, considering the way he's acting about it now.
He's trying very hard to shove the uncomfortable feelings down, the parent trap he'd met down in the underworld he hadn't mentioned to anyone bubbling under the surface once again. Terminator hadn't asked, and thankfully he was one of the only people who had seen it aside from Lucy. Thankfully, judging by what Sheehan had said, that was all he'd seen, nothing else.
The shrug paired with his little smile is familiar, "it's part of the gig, you know? Rookie mistake. It's not quite sorted, but I'll get to it. Eventually." Just one of those things that slip your mind.
"You can ask, by the way. I feel like you've earned at least one question. But like I said, I reserve the right to veto."
Sheehan nods but doesn't ask for a moment, thinking of how he wants to say it. He doesn't believe all of it - considering Hanna's proclivity to do almost anything to avoid being uncomfortable.
"You don't have to use humor to diffuse the moment," he tells him. "Why did the ghost want to kill you?"
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Re: Island port
Re: Island port
"I told TK she could talk to you, by the way. About what we talked about on the Narrenschiff. I dunno if she will or not, but just wanting you to have a heads up, she's got permission to ask."
Re: Island port
Is there someone on the ship he doesn't know? He wouldn't be surprised.
Sheehan looks over his shoulder into the darkness, still steadily heading out.
Re: Island port
"I got my permanent warden right after we got back. Got my shit all unlocked too, which is nice. You never know you miss a spell until you can't use it for months."
Re: Island port
He rows them out a little ways, then pauses when they get close enough. He doesn't want to go out too far, after all. "How do you like her?"
Re: Island port
He hooks his ankles, swinging his legs as he considers the question before shrugging, "We were friends before, so that hasn't really changed, but...I feel like I'm going to frustrate her, and I actually do want to graduate, you know?" Because he can't imagine that even with all her shit, he hasn't really met anyone as patient as Sheehan, and his waffling and having to be coaxed forward to revelations has to be irritating, even if he didn't let it show on his face.
Re: Island port
Being open with people, being honest. "I'll keep you on track from my end, don't worry."
Re: Island port
The open and honest part really isn't his forte though, despite his will to get shit done. "You gonna wrap my knuckles with a ruler when I dig my heels in?"
Re: Island port
Re: Island port
He isn't so sure he's ready to spin that roulette wheel, but here he is, not like he can bail now.
Re: Island port
He leans down and trails his fingers in the water, waiting for the light.
Re: Island port
"I'm fine." He lies, kicking his feet back and forth just for something to do, looking behind him towards the east, waiting for the light himself, "You...You can ask, just can't promise I'll want to answer," He manages when he isn't looking at Sheehan. Because sometimes truth is easier to handle when you can fill in the why's and how's yourself rather than leaving someone else's mind to wander.
Re: Island port
Still, he's here and Hanna has enough trust in him for that, so he doesn't force it.
"If you say so," he says because the light is starting to form under the water and Sheehan can't help but turn to look.
Cw: self harm/body horror
Hanna doesn't look much different than he does now sitting before Sheehan, he's still small, though perhaps more solid, younger in the face, his hair cut shorter with tighter curls. That isnt really what would catch anyones eye though, as a blue light emits from his eyes and mouth, pouring out of him as if his head was a lampshade.
If you look closer, tilt your head a little you can see more of him, his own hand clutching the handle of an 8" chef knife, buried into the skin just below his collar bone. Without much hesitation as the wound starts to bleed, he pulls the knife further down in a sharp line, carving himself open in what seems to be a small kitchen, a bit dated with its 70s cabinetry but warm and homey to contrast the small teen on his knees in the middle of it, more blood than just his own soaking into his jeans.
Hanna, the one actually sitting in front of Sheehan, turns his head to try and see what the light might be revealing, but he sees nothing, glancing back at the other man with a raised, cautious eyebrow as if to say 'well? What's the damage?'.
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But what Sheehan sees is - difficult to watch. Still, he does, and he can see what the boy is doing, but he doesn't know why.
For a moment, he's frozen, then he's clearing his throat and looking away from him and gestures for Hanna to collect the water in the cups. "Something I'm sure you don't want me to know."
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"You looked good in that uniform, by the way," he manages out, dipping his two cups in the water, focusing on holding them now they they're full in the way that the strange magic pulls at you to drop them.
"I'm not offering up any guesses of what it was, so you're gonna have to tell me." As much as he doesn't want to hear it, he still wants to know. There is a mental file in his head, noting who knew what, how much, why and how. He wants to update Sheehans as much as he doesn't want to.
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"I saw - " He hesitates for a few heartbeats. "I saw you taking a knife to yourself in the middle of a kitchen."
Might as well be blunt.
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"Don't tell Taylor." Is out of his mouth immediately, not quite panic, but quick, short. And then, "and I wasn't doing it." Which might seem contradictory to what Sheehan saw, but he's tone is firm.
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He looks stuck for a moment, weighing his options. Explaining meant sharing more if he wanted to make it clear, and...he didn't really.
His fingers tap against the cups when he can't just let go and do something else with them.
"Maybe, just a little." He finally decides, lifting a cup so he can bounce his knee. "Do you know anything about posession?"
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"But you may need to give me details."
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"Well, where I come from, ghosts can't manipulate physical shit the way a person can. Sure, you can have the usual banging doors, flickering lights, but to actually harm someone effectively? They have to possess you." He knows how young he looked there, that he'd almost shrunk in on himself after, the way that his body adjusted to the magic, to life support. It made him feel like his shoulders were too big for his body, disproportionate when he looked in the mirror.
"I had a run in with one once that didnt end well, and since ghosts are just...pure energy and emotion, the feelings they have that tie them to the world, they're pretty strong. But they can get twisted." He's calculated in the way he adds truth to little lies, easily to follow, nothing out of place, repeatable.
"This one just really wanted me to die."
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"I'm sorry that happened to you, Hanna. It seems like it caused a lot of hurt to you."
Hurt in more ways than physical, considering the way he's acting about it now.
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The shrug paired with his little smile is familiar, "it's part of the gig, you know? Rookie mistake. It's not quite sorted, but I'll get to it. Eventually." Just one of those things that slip your mind.
"You can ask, by the way. I feel like you've earned at least one question. But like I said, I reserve the right to veto."
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"You don't have to use humor to diffuse the moment," he tells him. "Why did the ghost want to kill you?"
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