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If you name it safe, then I so put my faith in your judgment. I will arrive as soon as I am able.

All right. Thank you.

( And so, our hero Adonis Casey goes forth to make sure that the studio is really freaking clean, okay.

The place itself isn't really extraordinary - an old shop, which between Max's efforts and his powers has been made into a workable space. At least this time the door is attached, unlike his old studio, which Anne never had the misfortune of seeing, paint once a dark green but now faded and chipped. Donny has left the door open, so she can wander in if she likes - the front room is sparse, probably used to be a shopfront, but the windows have been boarded up - there is a doorway leading through to the next room, which is much more interesting. Donny is just perched on what might have once been a shop counter, waiting for her arrival (or the knock, to indicate it.) )

[ Anne won't take that long to get there, since she's already proper for visitations. She takes an umbrella along, of course, to save the curls of her hair and the silk of her dress, but the rain is more a drizzle than a downpour. She has suffered worse, and in the mud no less.

A knock? Excuse you. Better to have someone announce her, but there is none of course, so she simply strolls on in and announces herself. ]

It is I, Anne Boleyn.

( He will hire someone to pop up at the appropriate moment and announce her! Maybe. One day.

Okay no, that seems a little creepy.

Donny looks up from the sketch on her lap when she walks in, hopping off his perch and doing his utmost to bow. ) It's uh, it's g-good to see you, m-- m-my lady.

( That seemed like an improvement, but, who knows. Crossing the space, he ruffles his fingers through his hair, and points to the back room. ) Um, this is the uh, the w-work room?

( There's no door, which means he can't hold it open for her, and he hesitates. Should he go through first, or should she? ) Um.

( Okay maybe the look on his face shows how much he is overthinking this. )

[ Yes, she nods in greeting, amused at his constant attempt at etiquette. Well, is that why he has requested her help? She wonders how she could help where Max couldn't.

As she has not been invited past that door, Anne will give it a moment longer before she just walks over to stand in the doorway, but not actually crossing over. If he just wants her to look in, sure, but that's kind of boring compared to going inside. ]

( There's an awkward moment (of course there is) where Donny just stares at the door way, too, before realizing: ) If you'd-- l-like to uh, to see?

( And chewing at the side of one of his fingers, for a second, not biting the nail but the skin around it, before he realizes what he's doing and hugs his arms across his chest. )

[ At the invitation, her own smile widens despite his obvious and rather imposing discomfort (at times it is almost a weight upon her shoulders), and she holds out hand hand despite his awkward attempt at the fetal position while standing. ]

By your lead, then?

Uh, yup.

( The look he gives her is grateful, before he steps through the doorway, turning almost immediately and walking backwards a couple of steps. ) I'm still uh, t-- t-tidying up, a little, ( But there's broken glass in neat little crates, organised by color, careful arrangements of bottles, and the place is actually really tidy for... something that he claims needs more tidying. ) Um, b-but uh, over here is w-where the stuff is.

( A table, old and certainly having seen better days, but still sturdy. The wood might have once been light, but has darkened with age and the polish is worn away except for small patches. Laid out is a cloth, with ornaments and pendents arranged over it. Some have less vibrant color, but the ones closer to the front are newer, with far more colors, different intensities. ) Uh, I got the m-metallic salt stuff? For staining and stuff, and uh.

( As an example, he picks up a rose ornament, red most intense at the base and lightening towards to the tips of the petals. )

[ Both hands touch to her breast at the sight of the small flower, and she leans in close. ]

Beautiful! How I love roses. How is it you create such perfection?

( A little grin, and he holds it out, tilting his head to indicate she might take it. ) If, um. It's y-yours, if you-- l-like.

( But then a pause, as he chews over his lip, brow a little furrowed. He told Belle, other people who hadn't known him so long as Anne knew, and surely...

... here it's so complicated. But here, to have powers almost seems normal. And more importantly, it seems-- like respect. To tell her, really. Otherwise it's like lying. )

I have m-magic.

( Steady, but quiet, soft, and watching her all the while. ) Fire magic.

[ Yes good, just what she intended. She looks shocked, though, and humbly so. The humility is only partially faked, though, as she is truly amazed by such beauty.

As she pokes it around in her hand, there are myriad reactions that subtly ripple through her at his little admission. Little and yet so, so large. She is careful not to be too obvious about it, but these are not things she knows yet to prepare for. Here for so long and again, she feels but a babe in a land that has grown so old it dies.

This is not her world. ]

Magic?

[ They aren't her people. ]

I met someone who claimed magic earlier still, and I saw him make a castle. Fire does not seem so great.

[ She will have to make them hers. All of them.

Anne's gaze moves up to meet his, and a charming smiles plays at her lips. ]

Unless you make it now, for I have yet to lose the cold clinging from this day's walk. Then it might seem like the true gift to man that ever it were.

Edited 2013-09-19 06:28 (UTC)

There a-always-- always a b-balance. And-- here d-different magic works uh, w-works other ways.

( earnest, before his gaze drops to her dress, frown slight. Gently, he sets his hands at her shoulders, heat hitched up, and there's a sudden spike in the temperature around him, only around them, before the entire room is warmer, drying out any moisture in her clothes. )

T-too uh, too warm? Or o-okay?

[ No matter how well she acts, how solid her smile is, there is a quick stiffening when Donny puts his hands on her, both for the boldness in it's own right and then the realization of what he's to do, or something like.

The rising temperature makes her panic, and Anne's breathing begins to heighten and shorten at once, though she doesn't pull away or change her tone. She thinks he's like to burn her alive if she says the wrong thing, in a cruel ironic fate that should be delivered from a witch. ]

No. No, I would think...this is well. This is well.

( as terrible as he might be socially, he can pick up on some things - the shudder of breath, the familiarity of it sounding wrong, and immediately he drops his hands from her shoulders and takes a step back, affording her more room.)

I d-don't-- I don't use m-my magic to um, to h-hurt p-people. Just-- I know there w-were uh, witch hunts? Used t-to be. They--

( a sad, shaky breath, and he pulls away. ) It's not all b-bad.

[ She seems to calm as soon as he lets go, another twist on their interaction that she hasn't yet connected. Too busy being happy for not being roasted like a suckling pig. At least...she is comfortably warm, that's nice. ]

You are more like a hedgewitch, then, yes? Harmless.

( He bristles, glances over his shoulder with something almost like reproach, if Donny were capable of making such an expression at anyone at all, let alone Anne.

I'm Atlas, he wants to tell her, I'm something, but he knows it's not true and much as some spark rises. He helps people, he changes things, and he is not harmless. Sometimes he's destructive without ever meaning to be. )

I t-try to-- I k-keep people safe from um, from other m-magic.

( Softly, but with something stronger in it than most of his speech. ) N-not harmless. C-careful.

[ And if Anne were a lesser woman, a standard woman, she would have shrunk at the mere suggestion of his displeasure. A mad witch you want not to be about. It seems to go, and become something else, but Anne may have more trouble than normal reading him now that she suddenly thinks she should be suspicious of him.

Now which stutters are real, which are feigned? But why would he tell her at all? Because it is so normal here, no doubt... So normal where he is? What was that he said about others, and someone else also did... ]

Like a superhero. Mine, now?

N-not-- not a superhero.

( He doesn't like that word, the presumption of it, the way it glorifies what they are and what they do. Superheroes are the glory hounds, the media depiction and the myths. ) They-- d-don't care about p-people. They just c-care about-- about image and-- and it's all t-twisted up.

( Donny shakes his head and moves closer to the table, shoulders dropping unhappily as he idles brushes the ornaments with his fingers. ) Forget it.

( it was stupid. )

[ She is used to him getting more and more upset as their conversations progress; it seems to be habit. Rarely does it fluster her on this level, but maybe because the urgency feels that much more, either for herself or maybe for him. For some reason.

It was a word that woman had used, how can Anne know? There seem to be so many terms for these special vigilantes and their entitlement in outlaw. The reminder of that only makes her bridle in turn, both hands resting on her hips, the rose having been slipped into her skirt's pocket. It doesn't matter that he's already calmed down, or 'forgot it', whatever he says. ]

You need not lose your head so about me, sir, when only just a heartbeat ago I was to learn of this world. Expect me to be so quick a study I am to now read your mind? Speak in such plain a tongue to me and then expect like in like. Do not dismiss me a fool.

Sorry.

( she's right, she wouldn't know, and there's a long moment where all he can think of is bringing his knocked up to strike his own jaw, bruise it to purple and black.

He doesn't, just rests his palms on the table ad shakes his head. ) I'm-- v-very sorry. I d-don't think you're a f-fool, or-- ( a slow exhale, and he sounds calmer. Be steady.
Atlas is steady.) At home, p-people who um, call themselves superheroes-- it's about status. Like, um-- I d-dunno. If knights w-were just focused on b-being a knight, and n-not-- not p-protecting.

( slowly, he turns, but at least he's manage to explain it calmly, for all the slowness in it.)

I d-don't think I'm g-going to b-be like a legendary knight. But it m-means-- it means I have m-more time for other p-people.

( and a shrug. It's not like he ever said he was a vigilante, exactly. Just that he has magic and wants to help people.)

[ She remains silent during his explanation, though the trigger has already been struck. She already felt on the defensive because of this new information, but to feel that her intellect is also failing her in such a case only is a blow to her ego.

She is patient because she thinks now if she leaves she may never see him again; no matter should her mind change, he seems timid as a rabbit despite all his powers. It makes her angrier, to think he could be fooling her with an act, because why should he at all be fearful of her when he can clearly turn her into anything he wishes? She's not the church, and certainly no agent, so it isn't as if she would put him to fire, anyway! ]

I have known both great and poor knights, and there have been both wicked and just kings. I care not what you call yourself, and to worry not overmuch in such a thing is my advice to you.

[ Protecting people from others with magic, the whole secret thing... It's all she can think. He would be an outlaw, this would be illegal, the way he helps people would be illegal, and so he is a vigilante.

In her time, at least. ]

What do you call yourself, then?

( A moment, startled, before his expression softens. There's finally a smile, but it's very sad.)

N-no one would um, b-believe in-- if they knew it was Donny.

( he can't tell her.)

"It"?

[ What could be worse than telling her he has magic, really. But she doesn't push, in this case she thinks she's willing to accept just this much. ]

This topic seems to upset you so, enough that I must ask why you thought to tell me?

He.

( reprimanding himself, rubbing his forehead as he tries to fix this. He has to keep talking because this is Atlas, and Atlas is important to him.)

I'm n-not-- good at w-words, like you and M-Max. Or smart. I know I'm st--stupid. B-but um, but-- when I use m-my magic I c-can-- do stuff. I'm not useless, anymore.

( because that's what he is the rest of the time. He is earnest, but not overwhelmed or wound up, the way he has gotten before.) And, I-- you asked how I m-made the g--g-glass. I didn't, uh.
( a quiet huff, another attempt at a smile, as he rubs his neck.) I d-didn't want t-to lie t-to you.

[ Maybe it had been a mistake to use the word harmless, and she now regrets it, as that had been an attempt to calm her own soul more than his. Even Donny, lest she not forget, is a man as much of a witch. Maybe it's best she address the sort she knows how to handle best... The man. ]

...And so I suppose you did not. I suppose then that the little glass rose in my pocket is apt, and shall signify your offering of trust this day. You have given me a token, Master Casey; a piece of your soul.

[ Smoothly, as if her temporary toppling by this news had never happened, she dips in a curtsy near to her knees meant for play as much as it is for respect. If nothing else, respect for a raw power, even if it be not from God. ]

I am humbled.

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