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(no subject)

Who: Regulus Black and YOU
What: Catch all, we’ll see where this goes
When: Early June
Where: Wherever Regulus goes
Warnings: None at the moment, but individual threads will include warnings if necessary

[OOC: Individual thread starts for various other threading ideas will be in the comments, if you have an idea for a thread other than the options presented, hmu on plurk or PM to plot.]

Exploring the farmhouse
On one hand, Regulus was grateful to have been rescued from those forest people who’d restricted his movements quite a bit. On the other, they had fed him and given him shelter, and the freedom and what was on the other outside their dwellings wasn’t impressing him much.

A decrepit farmhouse full of rat droppings wouldn’t impress anyone, in Regulus’ opinion.

He found the garden and the study the most interesting parts of the farmhouse, the places he liked the most.

The garden, for the enchantment placed around it to grow the plants. The plants themselves were uninteresting, but the magic around them was interesting. He could read some of them – earth, (wo)man, sun/time, growth, but he had absolutely no intention of touching them, he was smarter about magic than that. But this was a place where magic existed and that was comforting.

The study was interesting for the books, more specifically, the astronomy books. One look at the stars at night and he knew he was not on earth anymore. Where was he specifically? He had no idea. But though he couldn’t read the language used in the books, he recognized the star charts and could now easily pick out the different constellations. It was a puzzle for him to mull over in his copious amounts of spare time.

Visiting the lake
There was nothing unusual about the lake, and this disappointed Regulus. For a week, he’d watched the forest people shout angrily at it and spit at it, and when he’d tried to sate his curiosity as to why, they would just get fluster and shuffle him away from any direct line of sight of the lake.

Clearly that meant that something was hokey about this particular body of half-frozen water.

But it was just a lake.

However, now that Regulus had moved to the farmhouse and his movements were no longer restricted by the forest people, Regulus found himself coming here, standing on the shore or walking along the edge, again and again, like there was a mystery to unravel. He knew the forest people wouldn’t be forthcoming about their secrets, but maybe if he studied the lake, he’d figure something out.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"That's about two days longer than the lunar cycle where I'm from," Regulus said, tucking away this information for future reference if needs be.

But oh, this young man was getting up to get tea now? Alright, Regulus would accept tea right now. He wouldn't be British if he did.

"I can do without." It was the tea that mattered. Regulus would miss cream and sugar, but once he had a supply of tea, he could just keep replicating it. "What kind of tea is it?"

Eleven grinned and gave a shrug.

"It's native to this world, so I couldn't say what to call it. But it isn't terrible."

He stopped to retrieve twin blades leaned up out of the way and affixed them to himself.

"My name is Eleven, by the way."

"That's an apt description of what passes for good in this place." Don't know what it's called, but it isn't terrible.

The swords give Regulus another chance to rethink this whole interaction and if he should just turn and leave.

Tea with a young man who wielded two swords? Godric's tits. Not that just one sword would put Regulus at ease.

But, still, tea.

"Regulus Black," he said. "Are the swords necessary here?"

Eleven laughed as though Regulus had told a joke and flashed another grin as he gestured and began to walk. It took a few moments to register that the man was obviously rather newly arrived and didn't appear to be armed himself, so perhaps he had good reason to be worried.

"Sorry," he said, turning a rueful look on him. "We've been under threat since the moment we arrived in this world. Weapons should never be far from hand."

That said, his expression sobered to something more concerned. "Can you fight?"

Can Regulus fight? "With magic," Regulus said, not at all liking what he was hearing.

"What have you had to fight?"

Eleven's shoulders laxed, content that the man should at least be able to defend himself. Not that they're terribly likely to come under threat on their way to the farmhouse kitchen, but the wolves did seem terribly offended by his mere existence often enough that he never strayed anywhere without his blades in easy reach.

"The undead, primarily. If you have any fire magic, that should help more than most."

"Fire isn't too difficult to start." Harder to control once it was started. Sometimes that mattered. Sometimes it didn't. A tinderbox like this - it mattered.

"What did you do to piss off the undead?"

Eleven opened the door to the main hall and held it open, then turned back toward Regulus with a faint frown.

"It isn't that we did anything specific, but more that we're alive. Undead things crave warmth, so they seek us out for ours."

He stepped inside, head tipping. "How was it that you arrived in this world?"

That was a bit of interesting information.

"That's different from the undead I'm familiar with. Is someone controlling them?" Regulus asked as he passed through the door.

"I woke up in a mine, wandered around a bit. The forest people then caught me and kept me in their hovels until that woman named Karsa noticed me. She informed me about this farm and now here I am. How did you arrive in this world?"

Another person from the mines. Eleven gave him a curious look as they passed through the parlor and into the kitchen proper.

"Um," he said helpfully, setting to rifle through a few sparse and worn cabinets. "Also the salt mines." His tone suggested that this was an oversimplified explanation of that event.

"But ah, Unhalad and Anurr control the undead. They are also fairly different from what I'm accustomed to in my own world."

Regulus looked around the kitchen and wondered if this is what all muggle kitchens were like. He'd been in exactly zero muggle kitchens. He'd take Eleven's lead.

"How do they control the undead?" he asked, followed by, "What are the undead like on your world?"

Eleven handed off a kettle to Regulus, certain the man could manage to fill it with water. The range Eleven lit himself with a careful touch of fire.

"The undead in my world.." He'd thought he knew where he was going with that, but Eleven paused with some consternation to search for a better way to explain the difference. "Well, they aren't cursed by an incurable cold, and don't seek out the living for warmth. I suppose there are more similarities than differences, otherwise."

He shrugged. "As for how they're controlled, I only have the ability to guess."

Regulus stood there just holding the kettle like he didn't know what to do with it, because that was the complete truth. What did one do with a kettle. It looked vaguely like a teapot. But in his experience, teapots already had tea in them.

This kettle had nothing in it. And he didn't know what he was supposed to put in it.

"The undead in my world are reanimated corpses controlled by the person who reanimated them." He spoke distantly, looking down at the kettle, but not exactly focused on it. He was speaking from memories that he was keeping a tight control over so they didn't overwhelm him. "They do whatever their master wills and only that. You can either break the spell reanimating them, which is difficult, or destroy them with fire."

Eleven blinked at him, torn between interest in the topic at hand, and addressing Regulus' apparent lack of understanding for what to do with the kettle.

"...You're meant to fill it with water and put it over the heat," he said, words somewhat meek, as though afraid he might offend by explaining this most basic of kitchen tasks.

"The ah, undead of all worlds seem to have a weakness to fire, at least."

"Huh?" Regulus tilted his head in confusion, breaking out of his thoughts. But then he pulled his thoughts together and looked down at the kettle.

"Oh," he didn't seem offended by Eleven's directions. "That's how this works... We have house-elves back home who do all the cooking. And my mother would never let me learn house-elf work."

He didn't understand where he was meant to get water from in the kitchen. So he just let his wand drop down from his sleeve to fall into the palm of his hand. And thankfully, water was one thing a wizard could conjure, so that was how he filled up the kettle. He followed through with putting it on the flame Eleven had made.

Regulus felt rather proud of himself for learning this new skill.

"So Unhalad is making an undead army? But he... summoned us here, also?"

House elves. He'd met an elf once, though he hadn't seen her lately. So some people employed them as servants.

Eleven looked over Regulus, surprised to see what he recognized as a wand, like what Lily used. There was a barrel of fresh melted snow water, but well, if he could conjure it magically, he supposed he wouldn't argue so long as it was clean.

Moreover, having servants usually meant nobility of some sort, and now Eleven had new reason to be self-conscious of the fact he had been kneeling in dirt a few minutes ago.

"Yes.. The intention was to kill us and then raise us as his undead slaves, but we were rescued and have since been avoiding his grasp."

Edited 2021-06-12 07:12 (UTC)

Nobility, only in aspirations. The Black family was the closest thing the wizarding world had to nobility, them and the other 27 pureblood families who kept the purist traditions. No monarchy ruled the wizarding world, but that didn't stop the sacred 28 from prancing around like they were just as titled.

But Regulus was entirely fascinated by the process of making tea.

"That seems like an unthought-out, short-sighted plan. What good would we be to him dead that is superior to us being alive? Would I keep my magic if I became undead? In my world, no, the witches and wizards turned into undead do not keep their magic."

Eleven rummaged around for a satchel of tea leaves and set about procuring a teapot to hold them in while they awaited the water.

"That's different from both this world and mine," he noted with mild curiosity, "But the advantage seems to be that the undead can be controlled to do his bidding."

"So if Unhalad makes us undead, I'd keep my magic and then he'd be able to use it?" Regulus asked.

He nodded, solemn. It was a grim prospect, and an awful fate he wouldn't wish on even the Merchant himself for his sins.

"That's the idea."

"Huh," Regulus said, letting the implications of that sink in.

"So... does he not know we're here?" he asked slowly. "In this farmhouse?"

"Hm. Unhalad sent raids through Sa-Hareth in search of us before, so if he knew we were here, I expect we'd at least see some of his undead in this area. But he was also stronger, then.."

Eleven leaned up against the counter, arms folding while they waited.

"So, either he isn't aware of our presence here, or he does know but doesn't have the strength to attack us."

"What do you think it-"

And just then, the kettle started hissing and making a high pitch noise.

Regulus stepped back, away from it, "Is it supposed to do that?"

Eleven shifted his weight back to his feet and flashed a smile to Regulus. He took the kettle off the heat and moved to pour the steaming liquid into the teapot.

"Yes. That's how we know the water has reached temperature. And now," he said, setting the kettle down and replacing the lid on the teapot. "We need to wait for the leaves to steep."

"Huh," Regulus gave the kettle a wary look. But if this was how tea was made...

"So what do you think it is?" he asked, undeterred from his previous line of questioning.