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nihiladditaenihilperdidi · 8 months ago

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The Apprentice || Rune + Enoch || September 23rd, 1924

Rune: Rune kept still in his chair. His satchel slumped at his feet. Gulden coin weathered nearly smooth, rolled between his knuckles. He stared out the window. Despite his faraway look he was listening, curious of the stranger across the room and his unskilled, unsubtle investigation.

More entertaining than the watered-down beer in front of him that promised not only a bitter taste in his mouth but offered no relief whatsoever.

The coin was tossed in the air. To play or not to play.

To play.

"Hoi." Wrong country, and Mr. Blonde was heading for the door.

"Mierenneuker," he muttered, snatching and shouldering his bag, he followed the same path to the closing door.

"Oi!"

His clothes had seen better days. Worn from months aboard a ship. Skin soft but misleading, scars littered the left side of his face, callus on his fingers. Hair in need of scissors, or a knife.

Enoch: Enoch sighed as he tucked away his leather-bound journal back into his bag. Why wasn’t he getting the answers he was searching for? He couldn’t be that far off when it came to his investigation. Maybe his questions weren’t clear enough, or perhaps he needed to make them easier to understand. Either way, today was a bust as the blonde headed out the door of the bar as he thought about his predicament. There were murmurings of unfathomable beasts, the most curious things happening, yet no proof of these events ever occurring. But Enoch was determined to get to the bottom of this, even if it meant it would kill him. He just needed to figure out how.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t hear the stranger calling out behind him. It was the second time that Rune called out that Enoch finally registered that someone was trying to get his attention. The man turned, a brow raising as he regarded the other, taking in his appearance –a juxtaposition to his own pressed and well-tailored outfit that spoke of a comfortable livelihood.

“Yes?” he inquired, looking at the other through the gold circle spectacles he wore.

Rune: Rune slowed to a stop, adjusting his brown vest and combing his fingers through his hair. Not his best outfit, but still, had to be worth a look.

"You ask strange questions," he said, Dutch accent thick as the oncoming fog. The corner of his mouth twitched. "University?"

Enoch: Enoch regarded the stranger curiously, stopped by the question. “Mm, yes, I am an academic at the university,” he stated as he looked at the other again. “I’m trying to do research,” he stated innocently enough. “Why?” Did the stranger have some of the answers he was looking for?

Rune: "Academic," he repeated, as though the word were a new creation. Tasted alright on his tongue.

His ears didn't itch. So far.

"What does you want to know?"

Enoch: Enoch nodded when asked if he was an academic. “Mm, I study that of what makes up life.” There was a pause as he debated if he should continue. “Well…there is a science I’m trying to understand better. The unknown and unseen.” He paused, seemingly contemplative as he debated how to best describe what he was after.

Rune: Interesting explanation. He wondered, briefly, if it was for his benefit. His accent, his grammar, if something gave him away.

The man was still here, and that was equally interesting.

And then, he laughed. A quiet sound like a sigh, looking away for a moment.

"Magic."

Enoch: Enoch’s eyes seemed to light up at the word, his fingers snapping at it with a slight smile. “You see, yes. Magic is a type of science…one that eludes us but…I know it’s there.” He just hadn’t found proof of it. “Things that happen without explanation, and what’s curious is that I believe it’s all around us.” But anytime he brought up his theories, he was looked at like a madman. “What do you know of it?”

Rune: "Some people, they call these miracles." He wanted to understand how narrow or wide his field of vision was. If the academic salivated at magic but scoffed at prayer.

He glanced over his shoulder. Despite the encroaching weather, the streets were lively enough. Too much for this conversation.

"We talk somewhere else. Yes?"

Enoch: Enoch listened to the heavily accented words, taking into consideration this view on magic. “Miracles…” he echoed, turning the word over on his tongue. Ultimately, he nodded at the thought of this. “Mm, it is another way to explain the unknown.” Not completely scoffing at the idea, but not fully convinced. Enoch didn’t consider himself a man of God.

“Yes, perhaps over a warm drink, we can talk.” He considered the stranger for a moment longer before turning towards the street. “There’s a bookshop not too far from here, and they have coffee and tea if you’d indulge me.” If the stranger agreed, he'd start leading the way.

"I'm Enoch by the way," he offered, reaching out a hand to shake.

Rune: Rune nodded once to the word, as though an old friend. That very word had been his first in English. His first step in the realm of magic.

"OK." His flat cap was pulled from his back pocket and fitted. Just a smidge too large for his head.

The hand was given a quick glance. His hand offered, index finger placed to Enoch's pulse. Good name. Healthy body, he gathered.

But what name to give?

He swallowed thickly. "Rune." One name each.

Enoch: A flicker of a smile crossed his lips when the stranger agreed to join him for a cup. Perhaps his luck was finally taking a turn. However, he didn’t pin all his hopes on the man as he took the lead toward the shop. He stopped when he offered a quiet introduction, the corner of his mouth twitching upward at the name given.

“Rune?” Like the runes he had found in ancient scrolls and texts that spoke of elder gods and beasts whose names he couldn’t even pronounce? “Fascinating.” Then again, Enoch wasn’t a common name either.

“A pleasure, I’m sure,” he nodded as he brought his hand back to tuck away into his coat and nodded to the shop. Paper & Pen Co. It was a short walk to it, and once Enoch reached the wooden door, he’d pull it open with the soft ding of a bell announcing their arrival. It was a pleasant bookshop, as one would imagine. Shelves were filled with books, books were stacked at the end of the aisles, and the distinct smell of flowery tea was in the air.

“Greetings, Matilda,” called out Enoch as he ventured in. He was a usual by the looks of it. There were tables towards the front of the establishment where they could take a seat as the footsteps of a young woman approached them with a smile.

“Welcome again, Master Enoch and company. What would you like tonight?” The shopkeeper smiled pleasantly, a mousy woman with dark braided hair and a meek demeanor but a sharp wit in her eyes as she regarded the men.

Rune: For some reason, his new acquaintance seemed pleased by his name. His smile lingered just a second too long for pleasantries. He didn't mind. Every subtly arrested his attention. Hunters were not unheard of in this country, but nothing tingled. Not an itch in his ear, nothing. After sixty years of navigating the mysteries, he was allowed this bit of confidence.

As though anyone would assume him over thirty, at best.

Scents of vanilla, leather, and grassy notes all hit him at once. An atmosphere both nostalgic and comforting, like his fireplace in Amsterdam. His shoulders sagged an inch.

"Ah..." What was the word? It was on the tip of his tongue. He looked to Enoch in defeat.

"Whatever you drink... "

Enoch: Enoch carefully unbuttoned his jacket, regarding the woman, with a smile as he saw her approach. “Tea, if you don’t mind. It’s absolutely frigid out there.” He looked over to the man accompanying him and nodded. “One for him as well,” he ordered as he folded his jacket to rest along the back of the seat and neatly tucked the scarf and gloves into the pockets before taking a seat. The man was dressed in dark blue slacks and a white long-sleeved collared shirt with a purple vest and a matching bowtie underneath. His gold-rimmed glasses neatly matched his attire and combed back blonde hair. He looked well off, given the attire he wore; he was definitely not someone who worked a laborious job.

“And could you bring the honey and milk?” he asked with a smile as he looked over to Matilda who nodded and turned to fetch the order. “So Rune…” He dug in his satchel to bring out the journal he had written his questions in, ready to take notes. “Tell me what you know of these miracles. Have you encountered any recently?” he asked as he slowly took a seat, pen poised at the ready to take notes.

Rune: The man was well-made. Appearances neat as a pin, he wondered how often he got his hands dirty. He thought of his mentor, and the same question asked of him, all those years ago.

His outfit wasn't nearly as prim. Dark blue slacks and brown vest, tweed flat cap a blend of the two colors. His long-sleeved shirt, just one size too large, held together with sleeve garters, might once have been white. It was an uninteresting mystery.

The cap was placed on the table. His worn leather satchel at his feet. In this light, one could assume anything of his origin. Of the many scars on the left side of his face, along his jaw, cheek, and surrounding his ear. Enoch was free to speculate. Whatever he felt from his mind, he would not judge.

He half expected Enoch to lick the tip of the fountain pen.

"You want you -" he paused, took a breath, brown eyes caught the sleeper's gaze. "You want to know all of them?"

Enoch: Curiously, Enoch studied Rune, trying to place where the man may have come from. What mysteries could he unravel just by looking at the other? He noted the weathered look of his attire and how it was slightly too big for the man. Likely, they were hand-me-downs, given how well-loved they looked. What else could he gain from just looking at the stranger? Ah. The scars. They told a story, ones that Enoch imagined to have been doled out in a fight. But what would cause them? And while his mind curiously concocted speculations of how they got there, he was more interested in learning what ‘magic’ the other had encountered.

“Mm, perhaps not all of them, depending on how many encounters you have had…but rather your most recent ones. What were you doing? How were you feeling? Where were you?” He spoke slowly, having picked up that English perhaps was not Rune’s first language, reminding Enoch that he needed to continue his studies. Latin was going well. And as if Rune had read his mind, his pink tongue darted out to lick the tip of the pen before it fell on the page, dating the entry with today’s date and titling it Interview with Rune.

“Hmm, I apologize, is Rune your first or last name?” Ever the inquisitive scholar.

Rune: Was that a prediction of the future, or just the character of man before him? Either way, he smiled to himself. As far as he was concerned he had won a bet with himself.

He was being watched. Studied. He felt he should sit straighter, chin high and proud, but instead, he leaned forward, chin in hand.

He could have a little fun.

"You're right." He allowed the moment to breathe. "It was a fight. Many fights." He pointed to his ear. "My father, my neighbor, a unruly pirate." That hit his ear wrong. A? An?

"No, not hand-it-downs. I don't eat much. The food here is no good," he laughed, leaning back and tugging at his shirt.

He met Enoch's eyes again.

"Felix. From Amsterdam. And now, you want to say... I'm good guesser?"

Enoch: Rune's smile seemed to catch Enoch off guard; why was he smiling? But little did he know the other was about to reveal the reason or that he was proven right. Instead, Enoch leaned back in his chair, one leg crossing over the other as he propped the journal on his knee to write as he looked over the stranger making his assessments. But before they could get too far, Matilda made it back, holding two cups of tea and carefully balancing a few small containers holding milk and honey as requested.

“Thank you.” He took the small container of honey and poured a generous amount into his tea, stirring in some milk. “It’s one of the few places you can find a proper pour,” his English-accented tones came out as he fixed his drink. “But, as you were saying-“

Now nothing would have prepared him for what came next.

“Oh? What am I right about?” he asked curiously, unaware that Rune also in turn was reading him like a book. Enoch lifted the cup to his lips to take a sip, though he pulled it away with a cough as the stranger answered his unspoken observations. Icy-blue hues widened as the man continued. Every ‘guess’ Rune made was as if he was answering all of Enoch’s questions. Ones that he was sure he had not spoken aloud or made such observations obvious. So how in the world was this happening? The teacup was set down on its saucer with a sharp clink.

“Felix from Amsterdam…” he echoed the name softly, setting his pen down, nestled between the pages. “No…not just a good guesser. It’s almost as if you are reading my mind…” Now it was Enoch’s turn to lean in with interest.

Rune: Both hands dropped to his lap as Matilda returned with refreshments. He bowed his head, mumbling a thank you. His smile reached his eyes with ease. She seemed nice enough, and only somewhat interested in their conversation. Not enough to pretend she had business in their little section, but enough to admire from afar.

His fingertips traced the rim of his tea cup. Despite the cold, it was cold he wanted, and cold he would wait for.

"Almost," he scoffed.

"Think of something. Anything. Anything to do. It can be done. The right words, right hands, right... marks on wall. Save people. Save yourself."

But that alone wasn't enough to awaken a sleeper, was it? What else?

"You want more?"

Enoch: Enoch’s gaze fell to the teacup, noting how the man didn’t immediately go for it. Perhaps it was too warm for his liking, but with frigid fingers, the scholar was content to curl his fingers around the warmth and capture it. He enjoyed the flavor of the sweetened drink for as long as it lasted until he was stunned enough to set it down and turn his full attention to Rune. Almost. Ah, perhaps he was reading Enoch’s mind! Or he was very good at deducing from small tells from the blonde’s appearance. Perhaps he had been too expressive, and Rune had read him like a book.

“And you believe this to be true? Have you done it yourself?” Enoch had books on curious expeditions, stories that couldn’t be explained, and things happening that were strange and unusual. He wanted proof; he wanted to be on the cusp of this knowledge to better understand it.

“Mm, as a researcher, I am interested in studying things like this. I’ve read encounters and strange tales, but to make things happen with just some marks on the wall or a string of words?” He paused as he relented and picked up his teacup again. “It could change the world.” His gaze sat squarely on Rune, tempted by the offer. Sure…he’d bite. “My thirst knows no bounds,” he said with a slight chuckle, taking a sip from his drink.

Rune: Everything he said left a mark, just not a bullseye. More difficult than pretty words, it seemed. His former mentor had said as much. Some people were born with a gift. Born believing in their imaginary friends, and no one told them otherwise.

A scientist, determined for the tangible, would prove to be the greatest challenge. But he would bet money on himself.

He could sit in this warm little bookshop for hours retelling every significant event in his life, every wraith, every spell, but nothing as impactful as a demonstration.

Rune looked over his shoulder. Smiled at Matilda again. He positioned his chair with his back to her.

"The world doesn't want to change. Belief is..." He motioned with his hands, a pressure holding down an object. "You cannot summon a demon at Charing Cross, but," now, at last, he drank his tea. Finished in just a few swallows. The cup was returned to its saucer. He rubbed his fingers along the delicate rim once more.

No longer watching Enoch, the mage concentrated. His gaze became determined. The porcelain began to weather from crisp white to dull yellow. The dainty watercolor artwork chipped and fell away. Within seconds, all that remained was the saucer and pile of dust in its center that was once the cup.

Enoch: Enoch could be persuaded under the right conditions. He was just stubborn when it came to it, and it was all due to his training and his mentor. Eliminate all possibilities and what you were left with must be the truth. Most of the time this worked, but it was a difficult task, especially when he was pursuing magic of all things. And if Rune had sat in the bookshop, Enoch would have diligently listened to each word, taking notes of each story to review in his warm home, but it would do little to convince him that they were more than just that. Stories. Too many times, he had come across false accounts of magic, yet he swore there had to be an explanation for these phenomena.

Brows furrowed as Enoch regarded Rune quietly, listening carefully as he began to explain.

“Right…” he followed along, his gaze dropping to the finger that slowly circled the edge of the cup. Enoch took another sip before setting his drink down, watching curiously as he waited for something to happen. And it did! Gradually, at first, but right before his eyes, the cup grew old and collapsed into a small pile of dust. Was this a trick? A ploy Rune had set up with Matilda? Reaching over, he carefully pinched the dust to let it fall through his fingers in silent astonishment.

“How?” He finally mustered, his pale gaze lifting back to Rune as he studied the individual. He reached a handout, indicating to inspect the other’s hand. “If I may…”

Rune: This was all the proof he needed to know Enoch's worthiness. Had he not believed in any capacity, chances were slim he could have cast such a spell so quickly.

"Careful." The saucer was pushed aside. "Not good for lungs."

Rune's eyes were on the table. Despite his confidence, all of his age and experience, there was this moment seconds after revealing the truth that he waited for the worst. To be called the Devil's child. An echo of a man's voice from 1867.

But Enoch proved once again just how interesting he was.

Dark eyes met light. Quietly, he turned his hand palm up and placed it in his. Olive sun-kissed skin, soft. Light scattering of here and there freckles. Rough and callused fingertips. Hands that have seen a hard day's labor, but that was all they were.

"I'm alive and I shouldn't be. They call that miracle. When I was a child, I scream so loud I broke the floor. The wall spinter. That was my first."

Enoch: A faint smile danced on Enoch’s lips as he rubbed his fingers together, feeling the grains of fine dust between them, letting it fall as he considered the implications of this. “This is brilliant!” Enoch finally spoke, clearly excited by the display of magic. Sure, part of him was skeptical of what had just occurred, but he couldn’t deny it. There was something afoot here, and it wanted to better understand it, even if it meant studying Rune.

Enoch’s cooler hand reached out to take Rune’s hand, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he leaned over to peer at the fingers, the calloused skin that spoke of hard labor mixed with magic. Enoch’s touch was gentle as he traced the palm, almost as if reading those lines before he let go of the other, his gaze meeting those dark hues. “Your whole life is a miracle then,” Enoch quietly agreed as his attention went to the disintegrated teacup. “Any chance you can make it whole again?” Given Enoch's inquisitive nature, he had so many questions, and Rune probably could tell. “How…. where does it come from?”

Rune: Rune's smile gradually returned. That curiosity had entranced him. Not the Devil's child to Enoch.

"I wish you spoke my language."

Rune tore his gaze away in thought, rubbed his chin, and sighed. The idea which came to him was risky. Perhaps a little too bold this soon. He pushed the idea away, for now. If English failed, he would circle back.

Ah! Another thought.

"Do you speak German?"

Enoch: The remainder of the tea was forgotten for now; instead, his pen had been picked up in excitement to jot down what he had just witnessed from the other. As he wrote down the details, he nodded gently.

“I wish I did too,” but he wasn’t familiar enough with the Netherlands to speak fluently. Now, as for German, he nodded. “Yes, I do!” He had spent some time with a colleague in Germany, working in his lab, collaborating on a project that would hopefully lead to a breakthrough in the physics field. “Don’t make fun of my accent,” he teased as he noted even this detail in his journal.

“Tell me your story, Mr. Rune…”

Rune: Enoch would have looked up to see a very pleased mage. A smile that indeed reached his eyes and wrinkled his temples. Many feelings at once. To be better understood, to speak his childhood language, to have another connection.

"My father only spoke German at home," Rune explained in the very language. "Ah!" he leaned back in his seat with relief. "You've put up with my terrible English. You will not see a furrowed brow here."

His hands fell into his lap.

"Where do you want me to begin?"

Enoch: Tonight had been a rousing success, content that he was making what felt like progress. He appreciated the smile he got from Rune, noting how this time it met his eyes, and it seemed genuine.

“Really?” replied Enoch in German. “I’m holding you to that. But I know your time is precious, so shall we get started?” The pen gently turned between Enoch’s fingers as he made a note along the margins before looking up again.

“Well, why don’t we start from the beginning?” While he had other questions he wanted to ask, he decided it was best to get a retelling of what started all of this in the first place. The scholar leaned back on his chair, and as Rune would begin, he’d jot down interesting facts or details in shorthand. He hoped this would be the first of many encounters with Mr. Felix Rune.

Rune: He had to find the humor in Enoch wanting the beginning when at first he had only been interested in the most recent. Nothing like a splash of magic.

His time was precious?

"That's funny." Realizing he had said that out loud, he shook his head. One step at a time.

His eyes closed. The beginning meant revisiting a very unwholesome place.

"I was born at sea. My mother, Japanese, was smuggled aboard my father's ship. She died before they reached the Netherlands. He tore me out of her belly."

He raised his finger. "First miracle. He wasn't caught, second miracle. I survived on canned milk and mushed hard tack. It keeps going. A man who lost every hand of poker suddenly succeeds when his son's around. Poker, dice, horses. And one day he loses, and I'm to blame. He beat me so badly, and I'd had enough. I screamed so loud my chest ached, and the floor, the wallpaper, it began to disintegrate. You want the beginning, that's my beginning. 1861."

Enoch: “Hm? What’s funny?” he didn’t quite understand the joke but didn’t press on it when the other shook his head and dismissed his inquiry. While curious, he was interested in Rune’s background, so when he started, he took note of the highlights. He recognized that Rune didn’t have to share any of this, but he appreciated that he was. The scholar nodded as he followed along and frowned when he should have.

“That’s quite a start.” But one thing didn’t add up. 1861? And in the year of our lord, it was 1924. Some quick math told Enoch that Rune should have looked much older than he appeared. The man looked like he was in his late twenties or early thirties. Enoch was only thirty-one himself!

“Wait…that doesn’t…make sense. Unless you’ve found the fountain of youth…you don’t look like you’re in your sixties.” The pen was set aside again. “Is whatever you have powering you….responsible for this?”

Rune: Just a series of words. Saying the truth as though retelling a story he had read in a book. He wanted to believe that was all it was. That he had finally separated from emotion, but he could see his father as clearly as ever. His voice, deep and rasp, still haunted him.

"You can say that. I told you; you can save yourself."

He licked his lips.

"People like me, we're everywhere. No two are alike. Sometimes I play poker with them." From his pocket, he pulled two weather-worn dice. The only items ever stolen from his father. He rolled them on the table. Seven.

"Sometimes this. And... sometimes I say, "I bet a year of your life I win."

Enoch: It was finally dawning on the scholar what Rune had meant by ‘saving himself.’ “Ah, you mean cheat death,” he stated, a brow raised as he studied the other. It was exciting that others practiced magic, the proof that Enoch needed and had been searching for so long.

“You know, I’ve heard of ancient beasts that bestow power like that. Deep in the jungles or caves, in the most forgotten and remote places of the world…” It made him curious to go on an adventure and discover these mysteries. Where had Rune’s magic come from? But his attention soon fell on the dice that were pulled out. Icy blue tones studied them, watching them as they hit seven. Lucky. Enoch reached out to inspect the dice, his fingers poised to pick them up, when the other’s last words caught his attention.

“You…gamble years of other people’s lives?”

Rune: Rune wondered if they had finally hit a mortal brick wall. Maybe not. Scientists he had read about were generally morally ambiguous, but some ceased progress for the belief they were going to Hell if they continued.

Some people wanted answers no matter the cost.

"If they win, they get one of mine," he assured. "If you're worried I'm snatching innocent lives, don't. I play with my kind." He smirked, "I play with people I don't like."

Enoch: Enoch fell in the latter group. He wanted answers no matter the cost. It was clear to see that in the way his eyes shone. He was excited by what this new discovery could provide him with. But he did tread carefully as his fingers curled back into his palm, and he leaned back in his chair, foregoing touching the dice for now.

“Given how you look, I would say you are lucky. What happens when your luck runs out?” The academic picked up his pen instead and started writing down this new information. “How does the transfer happen…and how does it feel?” There was a pause as the sound of the pen against the journal was the only thing heard for a little bit.

“Would you be willing to come to my lab and donate some of your blood for my studies?”

Rune: "Feels like... the taste of mint. Yeah. All over my body. When I lose, feels like my skin is covered in mud. Oldest I've ever looked is..." He had to think. He didn't really know. "Forties," he supposed.

Just when he thought the interview was heading towards another demonstration, here Enoch was asking for blood, like some Verbena. He laughed.

"Are you going to lock me away in your lab?"

Enoch: The pen continued to mark against the journal, jotting down how the feelings of years being exchanged felt. All of this was fascinating, and it drew Enoch in.

“Forties…still young given your actual age,” murmured the man as his brows furrowed. “So how much do you know about your powers?” he asked, then paused, surprised by the laugh at his inquiry. He looked up, those brows relaxing as he smirked at the question in response.

“Ah, no, you’d be free to go as you please. I’d like to run some tests, but you are the first who has…allowed me this much time.” Too often, Enoch stood on the other side of a slammed door on his face, so this was refreshing.

Rune: "You might have had a conversation like this already. Someone could have second-guessed themselves and snatched the memory like plucking an eye."

He swiped the dice from the table and began to juggle.

"You need to be more careful. People will call you crazy, but some people," his hands stilled, "they'd rather everyone remain asleep."

Enoch: This revelation left Enoch pensive. It hadn’t occurred to him that his memories may have been altered if he had contacted others.

“How….would I know? Or is there a way to prevent it?” Rune made a good point. “Is there…a way for me to learn this?” he asked, his mind trailing back to his previous thought.

“How did you get your magic?” But by the sounds of it, the other had been born with this innate ability. Was it possible for someone like Enoch to study his way into magic? Maybe something he could explore unless he had to steal it from its source.

Rune: That was the question he had been waiting on. More than learning from a distance, there was doing, becoming. He couldn't force an awakening.

"Of course." A blanket response to the first two questions. The dice were gently rolled from one palm to the other. "Some are born with it. Others live normal lives. And one day they wake up and realize there is more to themselves."

He gestured to Enoch. "You know, but you think it's everything else but you."

The dice were pocketed. His satchel brought to his shoulder.

"I want to be there when you awaken."

Enoch: One thing that Rune would soon discover if he hung around Enoch long enough, was that the scholar was full of endless questions. His thirst for knowledge had no end. Though, to awaken was a different thing all together. How would Enoch go about that if he didn’t know what he was looking for. Rune’s answer wasn’t satisfactory, and it would leave the academic to ruminate on it well into his evening long after their departure.

“If what you say is true, you might have to guide me there,” he chuckled as he watched the dice disappear and Rune looked like he was getting ready to head out by the way he shouldered his satchel. Enoch moved to fetch payment for the tea, with a little more to replace the disintegrated teacup that Rune had used as an example. Oops.

Rune: Rune was smiling when he realized what Enoch was doing. A little extra payment was more than a kindness. If he could have turned something into gold as an apology, he might have. Maybe.

"How far is your lab?" Knowing he could speak German freely, he would continue to do so, but in private. The looks he'd been given since arriving were annoying enough without making matters worse.

Enoch: Enoch picked up his tea to finish the remainder of it before closing up his notebook and sliding it into his bag as he too got ready to head out. He thought the conversation was ending there but was pleasantly surprised when asked about his lab.

“Oh! Uh, so I work at the campus downtown. My lab isn’t too far away from there. Maybe a ten-to-fifteen-minute walk away.” Though it was dreadfully cold outside so it would feel worse the longer they stayed out. “If you’d like to come by now, you are more than welcome to!” Even though it was the evening, and it was getting late, the excitement of a new discovery stoked Enoch to press his luck. “Would you like to?” He formally extended the invitation.

Rune: Those eyes were alight once more. It was a good look. Following Enoch to his lab had been his intention. When inquiring if he would be locked in his lab he had been listening for a lie. The scholar had crafted a good rapport.

"If I'm going to watch you awaken, you'll have me a lot longer than a single evening."

The mage leaned forward an inch, his tone private as he asked, "Is that what you want?"

Enoch: Everything that Enoch had said was true to character. There was no ill intent behind his words, and so far he had been truthful about his endeavors. He didn’t wish to lock Rune away. The last thing he needed was to cross someone who had access to magic such as the stranger did. However, as the other leaned in, it took the academic a moment to pick up on the more private tone and consider them.

“Perhaps…depends on what it takes to awaken.” He nodded towards the door, shifting to take the lead. “Maybe you can enlighten me as to what I should expect or how to best prepare to ‘awaken’.”

Rune: A noncommittal noise escaped him as they left. What did it take indeed. He had only tales to go by. Not a single first-hand account to his name. His reason for being here was completely selfish, but it wasn't blind and cruel.

On the street, despite how sparse, Rune switched to English.

"I know you go someplace else. It is like trial. You follow path that feels right, you find pillar with your name, it is your..." He made the shape of a ball in his free hand. "It is your knowledge. Your magic."

Enoch: A wry grin crossed Enoch’s lips as he gave Rune a sideways glance as they exited the establishment. Well, that wasn’t promising. This entire evening had been on a whim, and he potentially was inviting a madman into his lab for the sake of curiosity, but there were worse things that could have happened. Enoch tugged his coat closer to him, sinking into his scarf as his blue eyes trained on Rune, listening to the description of what he might encounter on his quest for power and magic.

“Do you have any idea where?” he asked as he walked down the street, following the other’s lead as he too switched back to his native tongue. The soft English accent was present as he carried the conversation as they passed the street shops. “And what type of magic is it, or is that dependent on the person?”

Rune: Rune took a breath. No matter how much he explained it was never enough. That wasn't so much on Enoch as he felt his skills were lacking. To have lived so long, explanations should have been flawless.

"It's your mind," he shrugged. His Dutch accent had returned with a vengeance. "I didn't - I don't remember doing."

His free hand slipped into his pocket. Anything to keep warm.

"I'll explain later. There are different magicks. When you awaken," not if, "you will master one."

Enoch: Eventually, Enoch would get it, but he named the novelty of the concept for his lack of initial understanding. “Oh…that makes more sense.” However, there was a noticeable dip in excitement because, for a millisecond, Enoch thought he was going off on an endeavor that would take him to mystical lands. He honestly needed to get his nose out of the books that filled his head with these grandiose ideas.

“If you’re sure,” he grinned, though skeptical of his ’awakening’. The scholar walked briskly down the sidewalk, directing them toward his lab.

“Not much longer now.” He would point to the buildings they passed, the tone of the architecture had changed the closer they got to his lab.

“I’ve read of different types of magicks.” But that’s what they were, not real things that could be measured. This entire evening might be a fever dream he wakes up from in all honesty.

Rune: It might have made sense, but there was little confidence in Enoch's tone. The mage looked at him, curious. Mind magick was relatively new for Rune. A necessity more than anything else, and usually accompanied by disappointment. It was this insatiable seeker, as well as the frustrating barrier of language, that made him reevaluate telepathy.

The further they walked the taller the buildings became. Ivy climbed determinedly to the weathered roof. The architecture reminded him of a Byzantine church.

A mad scientist, like the Etherites and their obsession with steam engines and solar power. No one was the wiser that A.E. Becquerel was a mage. That's who Enoch reminded him of.

Rune kept his distance from all of that. As fascinating as the Matter Sphere was, that was far too much reading and research for his tastes.

But not perhaps for Enoch.

Rune broke his silence with a single question. "What have you read?"

Enoch: Enoch was a creature of curiosity, and now that he had tangible proof that magic was real, he wanted more! But it was true; the barrier to communication and lack of understanding posed a frustrating hurdle he would have to overcome. As they walked down the sidewalk, those blue eyes slid over the grand arches and architecture of the institution as they neared his laboratory, down an alleyway. It was tucked away, made of mostly glass, so you could see his equipment and benches as you neared the space. With a jingle, Enoch took out his keys and looked over his shoulder to Rune when asked about his reading.

“Ah, scripts, accounts of strange and peculiar things happening worldwide. Traces of magic but without any exploration of it.” The white-haired man turned to push the door open, leading into his laboratory, gesturing with an arm.

“Welcome to my home away from home.”

Rune: Not the worst place to start, Rune nodded absently. That was how so many began. Connecting dots to inexplicable events.

"Have you liste - heard of exorcism?" If there was any other place for Enoch to explore, perhaps a religion. So many mages hid behind the cross.

The mage made a noncommittal noise as they entered. Not so much a response, but a spell. Enoch hadn't lied about anything, but an associate, a professor, or someone else could have led him on this path.

He clapped his hands once, rubbed, and slowly separated his hands. Seemingly random gestures, but the hum was a test for traps, and his hands, a test of recently-used magick.

"I like. The glass," he pointed, smiled politely.

Enoch: If anything, Enoch was resourceful; he knew where he could start, and so books were his best friend. Once they entered, Rune would see that soon enough given the stacks of books piled in various corners of Enoch’s laboratory. The white-haired man looked over his shoulder when asked about exorcisms, and he raised a brow but tentatively nodded.

“Yes, I have, but…I must confess, I’m not fully aware of their reality.”

It was funny coming from a man who had just witnessed magic and read of eldritch horrors that granted powers. Science and religion rarely intersected, and while Enoch wasn’t the type to scoff at it, he wasn’t a devout man. And, well, it was hard to hold religion to those scientific metrics. The academic raised a brow as he looked at the mage, taking notice of these small gestures but not questioning them. Little did he know that Rune was checking for traps. The mage would find that until now, Enoch had been telling the truth, nothing nefarious about the academic. His words were true, as were his motives, and no traps were laid to capture the magician for further study. Rune was free to go at any point he felt uncomfortable.

Rune: A tension in his shoulders lessened, allowing them to slack as he smiled, earnestly this time.

"Mind if we continue in German?" he asked in his second tongue. There was no one here to judge as there might have been on the street. People stared enough without giving them yet another reason.

"You could fill this room with history and application and have room for more. I've never taught anyone." Though he had witnessed his mentor in action and experienced as an apprentice.

"It's a matter of where to begin," he mused.

He turned to face the scholar.

"You want my blood, don't you?"

Enoch: Enoch shook his head, inviting the conversation as he switched gears as well.

“Of course, you’ve been so patient as I stumble along,” he chuckled as he moved to drop his bag by his desk.

“Yeah? I really like it. Lots of good light and good science gets done here,” he grinned as he gazed at his open laboratory.

“I have been told that I’m a very good student, so I’m looking forward to learning what I can from you.” The white-haired man rounded the desk as he moved to lean against it, arms crossing as he stared at Rune, surprised by his earnest response.

“Y-yes, actually, if you don’t mind. I have everything here for it.”

Rune: "Good science." Humor laced his tone and complimented his smile. Sounded like something an Etherite would say. Certainly, that was the kind of mage Enoch would be. The kind of mentor he needed. And here he was with Euthanatos. They would just have to play their cards.

The corner of his mouth tightened, fighting off a smile.

"Go ahead, vampire."

Enoch: Enoch looked at Rune with a raised brow, hearing his words echo before he nodded. “Well, I guess it’s subjective, but I think my work is solid.” Enoch read many books and tried to stay up to date with the latest discoveries, which was hard since so many were tight-lipped about their research. He had to attend meetings and gatherings, which were hard to do without being directly invited. But Enoch was resilient, and he managed. Now, it would be his turn to approach the stage with his discoveries once he harnessed what Rune was willing to teach him.

“Thank you,” he graciously accepted the offer, feeling his luck having changed in the span of a night. How fortunate he had run into someone so receptive to curiosity. “I can’t promise it won’t hurt, but your sacrifice is greatly appreciated,” grinned the white-haired man as he pointed the other to take a seat. Meanwhile, he milled around his laboratory, selecting the tools he needed to draw a few vials of blood. Having directed Rune to sit on the stool beside his bench, Enoch set up the needle, tube, and vials in a metal sheet; all looked clean and well cared for. “I don’t usually get my source so directly. My samples come already in their vials.” Translation: this meant Rune might not appreciate Enoch’s blood-drawing method.

A rubber tourniquet was applied to Rune’s right arm, and thankfully, gloves had become a thing by this time, which Enoch donned as he pressed two fingers against the inside of Rune’s arm to determine where it would be best to prick the other. “So why are you helping me?” he asked curiously, his blue eyes trained on the work, hoping he wouldn’t mess this up too badly.

Rune: "Sacrifice," he said, gravely. "Should I put my affairs in order?" His smile gave him away. He wasn't that concerned, or he wouldn't be here.

Rune watched from his seat. Petite enough to cross his legs comfortably, hunched over, chin in hand. No one had ever asked for his blood. Well, not like this. Taken without his permission, certainly. A knife across his palm for some pagan ritual, certainly. But no mad scientists with a taste for hematology. First time for everything.

Only once the tourniquet was applied did he sit up straight. Eyes fixed on Enoch's handiwork. He flexed and stretched his fingers and made a fist. Interesting.

With a gentle hum, he closed his eyes. Fingers snapped three times like a whisper. He just... needed to see seconds into the future. Peace of mind knowing he wasn't about to be covered in a red misadventure.

"Told you, I want to be there when you awaken."

Enoch: Enoch wasn’t one to laugh or crack jokes, but with Rune’s easy demeanor, he found himself chuckling at his humor.

“No, far too soon. I don’t think I’ll be taking that much today. That wouldn’t make you a good subject to study,” mused the bespectacled man. Enoch’s smile seemed to fade as more serious matters were attended to, and he busied himself in prepping Rune for his donation. It was easy to get things sorted, and the scientist noticed the finger snaps and these small gestures and murmurings Rune had displayed ever since entering his laboratory.

“What is this one for?” he asked curiously as he prepped the needle. “Yes, I’m a bit worried about this ‘awakening,’ but I’m here for the ride.”

Fortunately for Rune, it wouldn’t be as gory as Enoch mentally prepared himself for, but he would be bruising up the next day. But with a pinch and a prick, the needle was in place, and Enoch siphoned off samples of blood into clear vials that he’d set aside after capping each full one. In total, he’d take four vials of Rune’s blood. He’d hold a pad to the needle, drawing it out and covering the wound immediately.

“Thank you. You honestly are helping me so much.” Coveting the samples, Enoch would put them in the back, wanting to preserve them for future studies.

“Do you have any questions for me?” He didn’t want to keep Rune too long since they had already spent quite an amount of time together this evening. After all, the man was free to go when he’d please.

Rune: He didn't consider himself a comedian. Certainly not in the ranks of Buster Keaton, but hearing someone's smile in their voice did sometimes lessen the burden on his shoulders. Gracious, curious, humorous, and blessedly free of vexation. Enoch was good company.

And all thought flew underneath the crack in the door at the stab of Enoch's needle.

"Hm?" The man was perceptive, but it had gone over the mage's head just how sharp his observation skills were.

His foot tapped irritably. Tried to put himself on the black sand shores of Iceland, back on a rocking, relaxing ship, anywhere but here, but another vial was being filled, and the noise tethered him back to the lab.

"Mhm," was just a sharp noise through his nose. Well, what do you know, he didn't appreciate needles.

Forcibly loosening his jaw, he asked, "It's what you want, to awaken?"

Enoch: Enoch tried to be pleasant through something that wasn’t the most comfortable, especially for someone willing to entertain his curiosity without much judgment. But Enoch noticed that he didn’t get an answer to his question, which was fine because he needed to prepare to retrieve his sample.

The prick was quick, and while time marched along at the same steady pace Enoch was familiar with, he noticed that Rune wasn’t particularly fond of it. Then again, no one was. The vials were inverted as those blue eyes drifted back to Rune, a dark brow raising in question. Did he want to awaken?

“I don’t know if it’s possible for me, but yes. It would be such an experience to study and document along the way!” Enoch briefly left, only to return, studying the other. “You want to help me reach that, right?”

Rune: The mage remembered to breathe only after Enoch's footsteps reached his good ear. This wasn't the worst experience in the world; the fact that he could only hear properly out of his right ear was proof of that.

No one said a lesson couldn't begin now.

"Of course it's possible," he managed through his teeth. "If you believe I've done magic, you can believe the same for yourself."

His dark eyes found green once more, refusing to look centimeters down at the source of his distress.

"Yes." It was a question he felt the need to regard as seriously as possible. Just another little push for Enoch's benefit.

Enoch: The man observed rune quietly, noticing the way he breathed only when he came back. He really didn’t like that, now did he? The academic made a note of this, not wanting to take too much more if it caused the mage such distress.

“Well, it’s different when I see what you are capable of.” It was hard to rebuild a teacup and saucer. “Well, at least you believe in me,” Enoch gently smiled as he secured the wound with gauze and wrapped it.

“I’m sorry if that was painful. I’m still getting used to doing that.” At least Rune hadn’t turned into a pincushion tonight. “But what would we do to have me awaken?” he asked curiously, pulling up a chair to sit, entertaining the conversation for however long the other wanted to keep him company.

Rune: Slowly his fingers flexed, spanning wide and curling in. He pressed his thumb where the needle had once been. Doing so was a comfort.

"There's no we," he raised his chin with a singular nod. "I can't force you to believe me." He didn't have to be an expert on the subject to know that would fail.

"I know this: when you realize your capacity to manipulate reality, you'll never be the same. If I give you a spell, and you know you can cast it, you'll awaken."

Enoch: Enoch watched the bandage indent under the thumb, his attention drifting back to the owner as he quietly listened.

“Ah,” he blinked a little when it almost felt like a teacher was correcting him. He winced slightly and nodded. “I think I understand now. It comes from within me...” And that would prove to be problematic because…what if there was nothing to awaken within the chemist? The man chewed on his lower lip, a habit he had whenever he faced anything that caused a spike in his anxiety.

“Then I suggest starting small,” he finally said, looking up with a soft smile.

Rune: "Start small," he echoed. It wasn't beneath him to heed the suggestions of his first apprentice. He was in the dark with only a short-wick candle, now. The more illumination the better.

So, he thought, what did he begin with? The differences in their experiences would be vast. He was born lucky, deteriorating walls and floors with his screams, and hearing dead voices behind his broken ear. The real magic was in harnessing the innate and shaping them to his will.

So what could a sleeper readily believe?

He looked up, stared at the offensive fog beyond the laboratory windows.

"Is there someplace private we can be outside?"

Enoch: Enoch nodded at the echoed thought. If he needed to believe in it, something small to concentrate on could be possible for the scholar to focus on, even if it was to light a candle or move a piece of paper. He didn’t know what type of magic lay dormant in him if any at all, but the man was excited to be a student again.

It was true he didn’t possess any innate abilities like Rune, but he was willing to try. Perhaps this effort would be his folly, but that has yet to be seen.

“Oh…um…” Dark brows furrowed as Enoch thought about where they would have privacy outside. “Perhaps in one of the outskirts of the gardens,” he nodded and looked around his laboratory. “Would you like to go there now?”

Even as night approached, Enoch was too excited to find rest tonight, willing to chase this dream wherever it led him.

Rune: Rune was back on his feet. He hesitated only a moment, but knew his decision was wise; this room would stifle any magical attempt. They needed nature, however small, and still, privacy.

"Mm. But... don't bring your jacket." In fact, Enoch was given a once-over. Studied no differently than a valet with his master's latest fashions.

They would have to subtract more when they arrived. To demand his shoes now might cast doubt on his legitimacy. Didn't want to startle his apprentice so soon.

His satchel was slung over his shoulder, looking at the scholar expectantly.

Enoch: Enoch watched the mage quietly, watching him as he thought something through until a decision was made. But he was surprised by the expectation. “It’s cold out,” he stated, but given the expectant look, it silenced the academic. Begrudgingly, Enoch would do as he was told, not taking his jacket with him as he gathered his bag and a few things to jot down notes with.

He couldn’t help but brace himself to face the elements outside as he led the way out of his laboratory, locking it behind him.

“It’s this way,” he nodded towards the other as he turned to lead the way back into campus, knowing the layout of the grounds like the back of his hand.

Enoch would weave them down a quiet path that passed buildings and classrooms until he veered off towards a more desolate part of campus. Eventually, it opened to a serene green space with a singular bench. The space wasn’t very big, but it was green and private, as the mage had requested. They were away from school buildings, typically where the horticulturists found refuge with their plants.

“Is this okay?” A chill in the air caused the Englishman to shiver, but he tried to ignore it the best he could for now.

Rune: Despite the differences in their appearance, there was an authority behind his eyes that Enoch regarded with sincerity. He saw a reflection of himself behind his eagerness. He was but a shadow of his former mentor, but he would chase that pillar of retrospection in his honor. He still hadn't lost hope that someday they would meet again. The stories he could now share...

They were on the cusp of autumn, but the weather insisted upon winter. The fog helped no one but the duo. An ideal circumstance; the more uncomfortable his apprentice the better.

His satchel was dropped against the bench, admiring the tiny space and the height of the buildings that surrounded him at a distance.

"Mm." Now, to truly mirror his former teacher. He gestured to Enoch's feet.

"Your shoes." He gestured away; expression soft but neutral. "Socks, too."

Enoch: Enoch was not a fan of the cold or of being uncomfortable without his jacket. His arms were crossed over his chest as he quickly walked through the grounds to reach their destination, and once he did, he’d set his things on the bench, his fingers gingerly rubbing over his arms as he looked at Rune. But when the other motioned towards his feet, the blonde seemed surprised by this request.

“What?” The soft English tone reflected his discomfort with the ask. “Why?” Though he wouldn’t fight the other much on it after waiting a minute for a reason. Eventually, Enoch leaned down to untie his shoes and step out of them carefully, setting them neatly by the bench, followed by his socks, folded and set atop the brown leather shoes. His skin was pale through and through, with a smattering of freckles across his cheeks and nose.

“I’m not fond of this,” he lightly complained as he adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, looking pointedly at his instructor.

Rune: He recognized the scene for what it was. Half of the magic he knew had been a walk over jagged stone. He couldn't imagine the experience differing for the sleeper in front of him. One could hope. After all, Enoch hadn't been born into this life. Maybe it made all the difference.

But, to keep things fair, Rune removed his boots and socks as well, pushed beside his satchel.

"Come. Stand here," he instructed. A glance was given to the buildings once more. Rounding every probability of being caught. At this hour, this weather, this location, it was highly unlikely.

"How do I feel?" Rune offered both of his hands. Cool to the touch. A dead man's hands. Had been that way since childhood. The more spirits he'd seen, the colder his hands became. They were near the heart of a city, and one as old as London; there wasn't much he could do to escape the chill.

"I can make us warm. I sing, and we'll be warm. Do you believe me?"

Enoch: There were a few things that were pet peeves for the academic, and it was not getting a direct answer or being acknowledged. And while it wasn’t entirely the case here, he didn’t immediately appreciate not getting an answer to his question but instead instructed to follow orders. His lips pressed together as he looked towards where he was told to stand. Feeling the gravel and dirt underfoot was uncomfortable, and the situation made him feel dirty. He was used to being well in control of things, so letting go of that was proving to be a challenge as he stepped forward, arms still tightly crossed over his chest. But he appreciated the gesture when the other removed his boots and socks to join him in said discomfort.

Blue eyes lifted to the buildings as well, noting how desolate the area was, and surely everyone was already in bed, hardly paying attention to the two men in the garden. Besides, most of those rooms were empty classrooms.

“I’m feeling a bit silly, barefoot out here in the cold,” he replied honestly as he turned his gaze towards the other. But it took him a second to realize that Rune hadn’t asked him how he felt but rather how the instructor felt.

“Oh…” His face grew warm as he realized this and looked at the hands stretched out to him. Reaching out, he’d take them on his own, his touch warm compared to the coolness that greeted him.

“Cold,” he replied and kept his hands in Rune’s. Enoch took a deep breath when asked if he believed the other, and he nodded. After the tea cup demonstration, he believed the other could do it, but why through singing? “I do…”

Rune: Enoch was a good sport about all of this. Made fewer complaints than he had when he'd started his year of apprenticeship under Gisfrid Kraus. But, this was only the first hour of the rest of Enoch's life. Mage or no mage, he deserved praise for being patient.

The corner of Rune's mouth curled; cheek tight with a fought smile. He had managed to catch that inquiry as though his own thought.

"Spells rarely change from their creation," he explained. "This spell is Swedish." That he didn't speak a lick of; the spell had been one learned phonetically, nothing more.

"It started as a distraction. A sea shanty. Listen and follow me. You're going to cast a spell."

First, a hum. His singing voice was nothing to write home about, but neither were it nails on a chalkboard. Notes of a deep voice sung shallowly, without heavy gulps of air between verses. Maybe to someone it was melodic. Maybe even pretty.

And the longer he sang, the warmer his hands became. That same warmth eventually transferred to Enoch's hands, his wrist, up his arms to his neck and chest.

Whether Enoch could cast the spell was insignificant; what mattered was believing he could. It was why Rune insisted on holding his hands. Offering his warmth no differently than a shared blanket. But, his apprentice didn't have to know that.

Enoch: There was much to gain from this, even though the Englishman was doubtful of his skill. He was here for the ride as he gently breathed out and entertained Rune as he nodded in agreement to go along with it. Overall, the mage would find out that Enoch was patient and curious, the latter proving to be the driving force behind his tenacity to pursue the impossible. Both a good and bad trait, but that could be debated later. For now, though, he gave in to the request as he was told to step up and take hold of those much cooler hands.

“I’m going to cast it?” he repeated skeptically as he curled his fingers around Rune’s. Dark brows furrowed, but ultimately, he nodded in agreement as he listened to the other start.

At first, Enoch felt silly for this, not someone who liked to call attention to himself, much less sing in front of practically a stranger. So it would take some time and coaxing for him to follow along in a much softer tone, blue eyes darting to look around the garden, hoping no one would stumble across them and find them suspicious enough to turn in. But something strange was happening: the longer they sang, the more he could feel the heat start at his fingertips and slowly crawl up his arm and encompass the rest of him. That coldness that caused Enoch to shiver was overcome by the heat that radiated from Rune. It was pleasant and surprising, giving the academic the courage to follow along in the singing.

Rune: Fake it until you make it wouldn't become an aphorism until 1973, but the sentiment was alive and strong in Rune's training. He felt the transfer of heat slowly descend to his feet and smiled through it, knowing Enoch would soon feel the same. He whispered, "You're doing it," in German, slipping effortlessly back into their Swedish shanty.

His grip slowly tightened, eyes opening to watch Enoch's expression. Was this enough to awaken a sleeper?

Enoch: It probably would take a few repeat sessions to convince Enoch of any magical skills, but what he felt was undeniable. It was like the warmth was wrapping him up like a blanket as it worked up his arms and over his torso until it reached his legs and, eventually, his feet. And clumsy in his singing, he paused when he heard the other praise him for ‘doing it.’ Those furrowed brows lifted in amusement, doubtful of his contributions to this.

“I don’t think so,” he replied softly, but it did prove for a second time tonight that Rune was the real thing. How lucky he was to run across someone like him? How many months had he chased these notions and been labeled a lunatic pursuing the impossible? These thoughts muddied his concentration, the academic stumbling with the words as doubt grew, but he tried his best to catch up and match his teacher.

Rune: Stumbling was something Rune hadn't prepared for, but quick thinking loosened his grip on the scholar's hands, taking just enough away that perhaps, perhaps he would see it as his own mistake. His confidence couldn't win every battle, but he had hope in Enoch. He wanted this for him.

And in doing so, needed to present failure as an option.

Enoch: As Enoch stumbled over his words, he noticed two things. One was how Rune’s hands loosened their grip in his, and secondly, the warmth seemed to revert, and while his feet had grown warm, they suddenly were exposed to the cold air, as if someone had moved the blanket off of them. And for a moment, there was the doubt that maybe…he was contributing to this. Could it be that Rune was heavy lifting and he was helping in some small way? Since all of this was new, he didn’t know what to think as he picked up where he stumbled and continued humming with his mentor. Fingers tightened around the other as his gaze met Rune’s dark hues, studying the man before him. How was it that a spell could hold the power to provide such warmth?

Rune: Rune did his level best to prevent a smile from dimpling the corners of his cheeks. Cleverness could trip over a terrible poker face, and if he lost Enoch now he might lose him for good.

But that pulse of warmth he felt when those fingers retook his, he couldn't explain. His song became just a little bit lighter, and his eyes just a smidge brighter.

But, he realized too late, he was trapped. He couldn't be the first to end the song! It had to be Enoch, and he didn't yet know the man's patience.

Enoch: Enoch watched his counterpart, listening to the words that had started to become familiar to him as he spoke them a bit clearer, yet he didn’t understand what he was saying. Part of him wanted to dissect every detail of this moment as he felt warmth wash over him, comfortable against the cool wind that had picked up.

At that moment, the world only existed with them in it. It was quiet except for their voices softly echoing the sea shanty, Enoch unaware of almost calling Rune’s bluff. He, too, had started wondering how long this would last, feeling that blip of extra warmth as his grasp tightened against his teacher. Luckily for the other, Enoch’s grip would loosen after a few minutes, bringing their hands down until he slowly pulled away from the other, the chanting ending.

Rune: Rune was formulating a plan of how to end this spell without giving himself away. The best he could come up with was simply too obnoxious for his tastes, but he was ready to playfully slap Enoch's cheek and say he was too tired to continue when his apprentice saved him the trouble. There was a saint somewhere looking out for him.

He soon clasped at his shoulders, hugging himself, surprised to finally see his breath with each exhale.

"Let's get back inside."

Enoch: Enoch looked down at his slim digits, spreading them apart as he flexed them in mild wonderment at what he felt.

“So why did a sea shanty cause that?” he asked as he curled his fingers gently against his palm before looking up at the other. He lingered close enough to his mentor for a moment before stepping back, the gravel reminding him to put his shoes back on. The blonde gratefully drifted back to the bench, taking a seat to brush off the gravel and dirt that clung to his pale skin before he put his socks back on, followed by his shoes.

“Alright,” agreed the academic, but glancing at his pocket watch told him it was relatively late. “Perhaps we should pick up this lesson at another time?” suggested Enoch as he stood up, regarding Rune. The academic was currently staying in an all-men’s inn. Not the most comfortable, but the rent was cheap, and he had somewhere to rest when he didn’t want to spend time in the lab. Did Rune have a similar accommodation?

Rune: "I don't have the history," was Rune's apology. "I know spells can be made, but, no one's made a new one in a very long time."

Back to the bench, to his socks and shoes.

He was staring off at nothing as he laced, thoughtful.

"It comes from the same place as casting. When you cast, it's... it's the same as crying or screaming. It's where those feelings go."

Hearing himself, he knew how ridiculous it sounded, but the truth sometimes was. Still, he shook his head in frustration.

"You've believed me so far."

Enoch was right. The hour was late. He didn't know how time got away from him - that rarely ever happened.

He stood by the other man's side, satchel draped across his shoulder as he now looked to the sky. Still fresh from the docks, he needed to find a place to be. He knew himself; he'd find a bar and gamble himself to a respectable amount of coin, only to sleep at the crack of dawn. He felt luck was on his side, tonight.

"Another time," he agreed. "Say when and where."

Enoch: Enoch nodded. He was a bit disappointed, but it was within his nature to be curious and seek to understand the intricacies of new things, especially something like magic. Though emotions sometimes eluded him, he understood that it was from that core that drew someone’s power. That could be problematic because Enoch himself didn’t feel emotions strongly. Sometimes, he was labeled as being insensitive or dull to other’s emotions, including his own. On that front, was he doomed?

The blonde kept these thoughts to himself as he again nodded in agreement. “I do, and I’m still shocked that tonight has even happened. I’ve been afraid to end it because if it’s a dream, I don’t want to wake up.” But everything had to end, including tonight.

“Well, you know where my laboratory is. So please feel free to come by. Don’t be a stranger.” The academic shifted his weight, growing cold almost immediately now that they weren’t casting that warm spell. “So, where are you going now?” he asked curiously as he led the way back towards the city streets.

Rune: They had the walk back to the laboratory - or from the path Enoch took, back to the streets - to enjoy one another's company. The scholar wasn't the only one reluctant to part ways. There was a sinking cold stone in his stomach. The next meeting would be different. Something would go wrong. Or, perhaps, he was concerned he would never see him again. Ridiculous apprehension based on nothing but probabilities. Where had his insufferable confidence gone?

"Find a bar, lull them into a false sense of security with my terrible English, take all their money," Rune smiled, winked.

Enoch: Enoch had gathered everything from his laboratory except for his jacket, but he could get that the next day. He’d suffer in the cold for now. But it was true; neither of them seemed to want to part ways, and Enoch even considered inviting the other when he got an answer.

“Devious. I should be weary of having a teacher like you. I might start developing bad habits,” teased the Englishman as he lifted his hand to adjust his glasses. “But I wish you all the luck in the world. I’m looking forward to the next time we meet again.”

Enoch smoothed his hands over his shirt and vest, glancing at Rune with a gentler smile.

“It has been wonderful to have run into you. Thank you for taking pity on this poor fool.” With that, the male reached a hand out to the other to give it a shake before parting ways. He’d be staying a few blocks away, not terribly far from the school or his laboratory.

Rune: "You make it sound like it won't be tomorrow." But, they were amongst people again. A couple chatting and laughing nearly brushed his shoulder. It was back to that terrible English.

Dark eyes fell to his hand, and the same as before pressed his finger to Enoch's pulse. He didn't have to this time, he wanted to.

"Tomorrow," he assured, turning in the opposite direction.

#the apprentice #enoch #rune #whisperedfromthevoid

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ltwilliammowett · 6 years ago

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The Batavia Mutiny or the Batavia Graveyard Massacre

Replica of the VOC Batavia (c) wikipedia

On 29 October, Batavia set off for Batavia (Jakarta) for the new flagship of the VOC Vereenigde Oost-indische Compagnie, the Dutch East India Company. It was to supply coins (260,000 gulden) and silverware worth about 30 million euros today, 30 cannons, two antiques by the artist Rubens and sandstone blocks already worked for a portico. According to official figures there were 316 (some sources said 341) people on board, including officers, traders, soldiers and passengers. The command was given by the experienced merchant Francisco Plesaert, the captain was Ariaen Jacobsz who led the Batavia in a convoy of seven ships.

But already in the North Sea the convoy was torn apart and so only three ships came together again, the Batavia the Assendelft and the Buren. On the way to the Cape of Good Hope there were more incidents on board. Pelsaert and Jacobsz clashed, which was due to Jacobsz drinking. This led to the Captain teaming up with a certain Jeronimus Cornelisz. Cornelisz was the third most important man on board and was a bankrupt pharmacist from Haarlem. At some point both forged a plan to get the Batavia into their hands and tried to instigate a mutiny. They did so by attacking the highest ranking passenger, 27-year-old Lucretia van den Mijlen / or Jans, who was on her way to her husband. She was chosen because she had her own cabin and only travelled with her mags, but also because she had rejected Jacobsz's advances. She was attacked in the middle of the night by masked men "hanging the Lady van den Mijlen overboard on her feet and indecently abusing her body". Later she claimed to have recognized the voice of Jan Evertsz, a man dedicated to the captain. Jakobsz and Cornelisz hoped to win several supporters for the mutiny by a disproportionate representation of these measures. But because the lady recognized her attackers, the mutineers had to wait until Pelsaert would arrest the culprits, which didn't happen because he had been ill for a long time.

On 4 June 1629, during a clear full moon night, the Batavia ran from the lookout to the Morning Reef at the Houtman Abrolhos (Lat. 28º 29.422S, Long. 113º 47.603E), off the coast of Western Australia, despite warnings.

FOURTH JUNE, Monday morning, on the 2nd Whitsunday, with a clear full moon (2) about 2 hours before daybreak, during the watch of the skipper (Ariaen Jacobsz), I lay in my bunk and suddenly, with a rough, terrible movement, felt the ship's rudder kicking, and immediately afterwards I felt the ship being held in course against the rocks, so that I fell out of my bunk. Then I ran up and discovered that all the sails were in top, the wind southwest, that the course at night had been northeast and north, and that was right in the middle of a thick spray. There was only a small surf around the ship, but shortly after that you could hear the sea breaking hard around you. I said, "Skipper, what have you done by your ruthless negligence to put this noose around our necks?" (from Pelsaerts journal)

The Batavia runs onto the reef (c) Pelsaert’s Journal

A desperate attempt was made to save the Batavia by pushing the cannons off the board but nothing helped and so Pelsaert decided to evacuate the ship. During the evacuation, 70 men remained on board including Cornelisz who planned to repair the ship and then kidnap it to India to sell it and its cargo. The survivors landed on Beacon Island. Commander Pelsaert, Captain Jakobsz and about 40 men set up camp on Traitor Island. They had saved some ship's supplies, barrels of biscuits and some water. But there was no fresh water springing on these coral islands. That's why Pelsaert decided to look for help and sail to Batavia with all those who were with him. It took them a total of 33 days to get there. But this help was misunderstood by the survivors on Beacon Island and so the island where the commander was became the island of traitors.

On arrival at Batavia, the Batavia boatswain was executed on charges brought by Commander Pelsaert for outrageous conduct before the loss of the ship. Skipper Jacobsz was arrested for negligence, again on Pelsaert's word. Seven days later Pelsaert was sent back to save the survivors, but it took him 63 days to get back.

The so-called mutiny or massacre of Cornelisz is based on the reports of the survivors and the report of the commander himself. Therefore, please do not take the whole thing for granted immediately, and consider it with caution.

During this time the survivors renamed the island the Batavia’s Graveyard, because they recognized that they would die without water and food on this stretch of land. The Batavia sank and with it Cornelisz and all the men left behind. But he and the other survivors used the bowsprit for rescue and came to the cemetery. There he immediately scraped all able men around him, turning the sails of the Batavia into a tent for himself and confiscating all firearms, knives and swords. He orders his subjects to build driftwood rafts. During this time he makes the plan that if a ship should come to the rescue he would use it as a pirate ship.

Cornelisz rescue and the beginning of the massacre (c) Pelsaert’s Journal

But everyone who could become dangerous to him had to be killed, so he sent the soldiers under the command of Wiebbe Hijes to the High Island to let them search for water and food there. Of course he doesn't keep his promise to pick them up again and believes that the men there are dying. He also sends large groups of castaways to Verraderseiland and Robbeneiland. There is no drop of water on any of the islands. At the Batavia cemetery only the faithful of Cornelisz remain, the sick and weak are added and the women he and the others hold as sex slaves. The most attractive, Lucretia van den Mijlen , was reserved for him. Probably from principle since she had indirectly prevented the first attempt at mutiny.

The masscare (c) Pelsaert’s Journal

The killing begins at night, first the strongest are removed, then the sick, women and children.

Parts of the Mass graves on Batavia Graveyard (c) National Geographic

Cornelisz men lurk near the tents, and as soon as someone comes out to pee, they cut his throat and bury his body. They also ask people to fish with them and then drown them in the sea. And some are tied up and then forced to go into the water themselves. From the 9th of July this also happens during the day, smaller groups who are put to die on the other islands unfortunately survive and are then slaughtered. At the Graveyard similar things happen, and the dead are thrown into mass graves. While Cornelisz plays with life and death, something else happened on the High Island. Because the soldiers under the command of Wiebbe Haijes had survived. They had searched on this island after they found no water and found on the neighbouring island Cats Island (now known as West Wallibi Island) which. But after some people who had escaped the massacres on the other islands had reached their island and told of Cornelisz's reign of terror, Haijes began preparations to ward off a possible assault by the murderers. Everyone on Cornelisz's side tried to pull the soldiers to his side, who were warned by a smoke signal that he had agreed with Haijes to find this water, that these men were still alive, failed. He himself went to them, travelled to Cats Island to use his powers of persuasion to lure the men into a deadly trap.

The rescue and the end of the mutiny (c) Pelsaert’s Journal

Here he met the end of his cruel reign. He and 5 of his men were overwhelmed and bound. Cornelisz was kept alive, but his companions were duly executed. On 17 September Pelsaert reached the stranded with the Sardam.

On the 17th. do. in the morning, at dawn, our anchor lifted again, the wind north; were then about 2 miles from the high island, ran towards it for. (45) - Before noon, as we approached the island, we saw smoke on a long island 2 miles west of the wreck, also on another small island near the wreck, which we were all very happy to find alive in the hope of finding a large number, or rather all people. - So I sailed by boat to the highest island that was closest and took a barrel of water, ditto bread and a barrel of wine; when I arrived there, I saw no one to wonder about. I jumped ashore and at the same time we saw a very small yoke with four men rowing around the northern point; one of them, called Wiebbe Hayes, jumped ashore and ran towards me and shouted from afar: "Welcome, but go back on board immediately, because there is a group of villains on the islands in front of the wreck, with two sloops intending to confiscate the yacht". (from Pelsaerts journal)

After a brief confrontation with the remaining mutineers who gave up immediately after facing a supremacy, the interrogations took place and after everything was cleared up, the verdict was pronounced on September 28. The condemned were to have their right hand cut off and, in the case of Cornelisz, both hands, before being killed on the gallows.

Cornelisz is hanged on the island; the other followers in Java are condemned and partly tortured to death (c) Pelsaert’s Journal

JERONIMUS CORNELISZ, from Haarlem, pharmacy, and late under the merchant of the ship Batavia, on Monday the first of October, when he asked for the baptism, to Seals Island, to a place prepared for them to exercise justice, and there first, to cut off both his hands, and then he will be punished on the gallows with the cable until death follows, with the confiscation of all his money, gold, silver, monthly wages and all the claims he may have here in India against the General's profits. East India Company, our Lord Masters. ( from Pelsaert's Journal)

In the end, after all was over and all mutineers had been executed, out of 316 (341) people on board the Batavia only 116 survived. The actual number is complicated because of the number on board the ship when it left Holland, some people left on the voyage or died, in addition one person was picked up in Sierra Leone and an unknown number of children was born on the voyage or died on the island. On 5 December 1629 the Sardam returned to Batavia with the other survivors and recovered a load of coins and jewels. The smaller perpetrators, who had been whipped, keel-pulled and dropped from the court arm as punishment on their way home, were executed. Wiebbe Hijes and some of his men were rewarded with a promotion for their resistance to the mutineers. Hijes became sergeant and the other non-commissioned officers, of course, received a higher salary.

Parts of the wreck, some cannons and the stone portico (c) western australian museum

Ongeluckige voyagie, van’t schip Batavia, nae de Oost-Indien … Amsterdam 1647 (Pelsaert’s Journal)

To what extent these narrated events actually coincide with the talking is questionable. The whole thing is based on witness statements and the report of Pelsaert, who in turn could only give witness statements and the statements from the interrogations, since he himself was not present. It is known that there were mass graves, also that many of them had been killed by force, but there were also graves with deceased that did not show any violence. That there was violence, but whether everything went as described, well that cannot be proven.

Sources:

Mike Dash, Der Untergang der Batavia. 2007

Ongeluckige voyagie, van’t schip Batavia, nae de Oost-Indien … Amsterdam 1647 (Pelsaert Journal)

M.R.C. Fuhrmann-Plemp van Duiveland (Hrsg.): Der Untergang der Batavia und andere Schiffsjournale und Originalberichte aus der großen Zeit der niederländischen Seefahrt im 17. und 18. Jahrhundert. Horst Erdmann, Tübingen 1976

https:// www.huffingtonpost.com.au/2016/07/01/the-batavia-mutiny-and-massacre-of-1629-is-still-rev ealing-secre_a_21422401/

https:// web.archive.org/web/20150417144427/http://www.spiegel.de/wissenschaft/mensch/batavia- massaker-die-blutspur-des-schrecklichen-jeronimus-a-1028583.html

https:// www.nationalgeographic.com.au/history/australias-most-infamous-shipwreck. aspx

https:// historianet.nl/techniek/scheepvaart/psychopaat-aan-boord-dood-de-sterksten-het -eerst

http:// museum.wa.gov.au/research/research-areas/maritime-archaeology/batavia-cape-inscri ption/batavia

#the end of the batavia #voc batavia #mutiny #article #tw: violence #long post #age of sail #dutch history #my article

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