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27 March 2011 @ 11:00 am
his need for it controls him  
WHO: Gemma Doyle & you.
WHERE: Various parts of the plot-affected City!
WHEN: 25 March - 29 March, varying times. Girl won't be sleeping for the duration of the event. Also, please specify the time/place of your post!
SUMMARY: Gemma is wandering around her magical Victorian-land, and you're welcome to join her. Please check out her Permissions Post if you'd like to have her magic your character in any way.
FORMAT: Paragraph to start, whatever afterwards.

I didn't mean to.

London was brilliant. The fog had cleared off for the time being, and the sun was shining through. This was the London Gemma loved, the London she had missed. Men walking purposefully towards their clubs, women bustling about the stores as they searched for purchases. Everything was perfect.She only wished Ann and Felicity were here to see it. But she knew that Fee was in Paris, making women in trousers the latest fashion, and Ann was away with her acting troupe, becoming a star. She was happy for them, really. Soon Gemma herself would leave for America, and even though they would all go their separate ways, they would still be friends, they would still keep in touch. They had seen too much together not to.

It isn't my fault.

Smiling, Gemma stretched her arms towards the sunlight. It was beautiful. There was no other word. At any other time, the pure perfection of everything would have given her a moment of uncertainty, but not now. She had wanted this so badly and for so long that she had stopped caring. Nothing mattered but the fact that she was in the right place and time, she was home. How it had happened was irrelevant. Something in her mind told her that as long as she stayed in London, everything would be alright. It was childish, yes, but she had ceased to be anything but a child.

I can't control it.

The night before, she had felt tortured, had felt a tearing-burning-damnable pain. And the fact that it wasn't physical pain just made it all the worse. Oh, no, this was unimaginable pain that came straight from her heart, her very soul, spawned from her acceptance of the knowledge that she could never willingly return to her own time, that she would be an outcast here forever. She had friends, yes, but she knew that none of them could ever understand; they were at least familiar with this time. She had to learn everything about it, but there was just too much. The ache had started out as just a dreadful mental prickle, and then oh, God, it had spread like wildfire through her entire being. Her body and mind had been a blazing prison, holding her hostage and refusing to let her break out. She couldn’t explain it any other way. Every rational thought was left behind as the magic reacted to her mounting pain, almost a year in the making, doing its best to sooth her in the only way it knew how, without barriers, without restrictions.

Please don't be angry.

Home. That was where she wanted to be, and that was where it had taken her. Rather, brought to her. Even her brand of magic couldn't take her out of this dimension; instead, it had brought part of her world there. But once it had happened, she had no power to complain. The magic was in her, pulsing quickly through her body, taking control of its poor, anguished master. Gemma could hardly know herself when in that state. Not that she had known herself before, really. But the magic took away all the uncertainty, all the aching and fear. It saw her, better than she saw herself. Part of her was thankful. She deserved a respite, didn't she? She had worked so hard at appearing to be in control, even as the insomnia and anxiety mounted. She deserved to let something else take the reigns for a little while. She deserved the rest.

You just cannot keep things caged.
Current Music: rodeo | garth brooks
Dr. Henry Phillip McCoy: Primping and preening!
*OPEN* Hank McCoy & Amanda Waller, early Saturday evening
bluepurrymuffin on March 28th, 2011 12:32 am (UTC)
Research? What did he know about magic, after all? There wouldn't be a terrible amount he'd be able to learn by observing it either way, but perhaps he could get by on curiosity alone. But then, perhaps even that was an excuse, he thought as he smiled over at Amanda.

When they entered, he found himself in a blue tailcoat with a black cravat. His hair was curiously curled and bound in back with a bow, and a silver chain suddenly extended from his pince-nez to a pocket in his vest. The cane was entirely inexplicable, but it was the shoes that bothered him. They didn't seem to be shaped quite right, and he would love to be rid of them. But this seemed to be the minimum admittance fee, and so he would tolerate it.

He glanced over at Amanda and smiled. "Magic can be a very interesting thing, don't you think?"
if (defined or != "") { print "
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Amanda might have been a good deal more pragmatic than Hank when it came to these matters - or just more pragmatic in general. She didn't understand much about magic, knew she would never know enough about magic to mean a damn thing, so she just tended to keep people in her pocket who did know something about it.

But she wouldn't turn down some time with Hank on the town, even if the town was some enchanted version of New York turned all Victorian London on her. Reminded her of that Beatrice woman. Hrm. Note to self: Deal with her later.

Amanda was in similar regale, and tried not to think about it too much, because good lord, this old stuff was uncomfortable as hell. Like some of it was trying to shove her organs through her chest.

One arm wrapped around Hank's, hoping he wasn't too warm in all that.

"I dunno, my last big experience with magic involved an Incubus."
Dr. Henry Phillip McCoy: Hmm?bluepurrymuffin on March 28th, 2011 08:20 am (UTC)
He might've been warm, but luckily the recent cold snap had leveled things out somewhat. Besides, with the company he was keeping, he was in a light enough mood that anything, even these horrid shoes, would be worth it.

"An Incubus? Nasty things, from what I've heard."
if (defined or != "") { print "
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"Incredibly nasty. And bizarre. So let's move on." That whole trip into Not-Hell had weird incest vibes all over it with that guy trying to get Eve's powers, never mind all the murder magic.

Stepping lightly through the streets, matching Hank's pace, a pleasant, subdued smile lighting the edges of her lips. She had forgotten what having this kind of freetime - and this kind of life - was like.

"You look nice, by the way."
Dr. Henry Phillip McCoy: I'm quite sure.bluepurrymuffin on March 29th, 2011 12:31 am (UTC)
"Oh, well thank you." He glanced down at his feet. "Though these shoes may just kill me. This era's attire certainly wasn't designed with comfort in mind!"

As they continued down the street, something to that had been nagging him from the beginning. "The curious part is, I don't believe I was wearing shoes before we entered."
if (defined or != "") { print "
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"Yeah, I imagine having to cram opposable toes into shoes approved by the Queen can't be any fun. But you'll make do with that, just like I'll make do with this corset." Hoofh. She missed modern fashion and being too old to have to care about any of it immediately.

"Magic doesn't fuck around. It says you're in Victorian England, it'll hand out shoes too."

A little squeeze around the arm.

"So, instead of focusing on how history never got the idea of comfort, what shall we do?"
Dr. Henry Phillip McCoy: Big smile!bluepurrymuffin on March 29th, 2011 01:28 am (UTC)
"Yes, I'd imagine that would be uncomfortable," he'd actually been afraid to compliment her due to a suspicion she'd found the wardrobe unpleasant. "But I find the hat quite fetching!"

He reached his other hand to pat her arm.

"There are certainly no shortage of sights to explore, though I'm uncertain whether I have the appropriate currency for any eatery here."
if (defined or != "") { print "
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"We've already had a bunch of dinner dates, Hank. I'm thinking maybe something a little more off the beaten path."

Her eyes turned upwards towards the sky, knowing it wouldn't be too long before the sun fully set and night came in, leaving the city cold, stark, and an old sort of attraction enveloping it, and them with it.

"How about we find a park or something? Then you'll get to take those shoes off, too."

Plus some privacy.
Dr. Henry Phillip McCoy: How very interesting...bluepurrymuffin on March 29th, 2011 03:14 am (UTC)
He fiddled with his glasses a bit. This chain was something he wasn't used to. "Yes, that would be pleasant. I believe we're nearing Trafalgar Square, certainly we could find somewhere there."
if (defined or != "") { print "
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She nodded her head once softly, picking up the pace just a bit - would be good to have a little spot to themselves.

Wasn't long before they were in the square, off to a spot where they could have a sit on a fountain edge and just... enjoy the atmosphere.

"From ballet to magic. Though that kind of thing is inevitable in our lines of work, isn't it?"
Dr. Henry Phillip McCoy: Most excellent! :3bluepurrymuffin on March 29th, 2011 03:35 am (UTC)
He eased himself out of those horrid shoes and slipped out of the socks. Twiddling his toes, he let himself just enjoy the freedom for a moment.

"Oh, most certainly! Next time we'll be dealing with an alien invasion." He was only half-joking, of course. The odds were certainly in its favor.
if (defined or != "") { print "
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"I almost wouldn't mind. It'd remind me of home. The stress, the yelling, the stress, the gunfire, the stress, sending people to shut down whole motherships, the stress..."

A chuckle. Very much like home.

"Its been nice, getting away from it all. And getting to choose how I get pulled back into it."

An idle hand now resting on Hank's rather large back.
Dr. Henry Phillip McCoy: So it would seem.bluepurrymuffin on March 29th, 2011 04:54 am (UTC)
"Wouldn't be dissimilar to the work I was doing back home." Just from what she said there, he was strongly reminded of Abigail. She'd essentially described an average day at S.W.o.R.D.

"It is always preferable to have some control over one's own life." And it had be some time since last he had that. He inched a little closer to her, one paw playing in the water behind them.
if (defined or != "") { print "
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"So there's another thing we have in common."

"A little control. Enough to give you a whole life that has nothing to do with saving the world, and everything that comes with it. A personal life, for once."

A sigh out. Pleasant. This was a kind of control that Amanda didn't have to worry about. There were no lines to cross. No need to have someone else constantly acting as her moral compass.

"Hey, Hank." She said, her smile beaming a little wider.
Dr. Henry Phillip McCoy: I'm quite sure.bluepurrymuffin on March 29th, 2011 05:49 am (UTC)
"A chance to do things right, without the--well, without most of the same people trying to spoil it." There was, after all, still Osborn. ....And Scott.

Seeing her smile, though, something in him melted. "Yes, Amanda?"
if (defined or != "") { print "
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She didn't say a thing.

Just kissed him, lightly.
Dr. Henry Phillip McCoy: schmoopity schmoopbluepurrymuffin on March 29th, 2011 06:36 am (UTC)
Oh. Well, as if that should've been so unexpected.

Maybe there was some momentary surprise, but it passed quickly, as he gently placed a hand on her cheek and gave himself into the kiss.
if (defined or != "") { print "
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Held it. Deepened it. Held it again.

Finally, broke it.


But she smiled when she said it.
Dr. Henry Phillip McCoy: Most excellent! :3bluepurrymuffin on March 30th, 2011 02:21 am (UTC)
He gave her a mildly embarrassed smile. "I do apologize for that, but...well, that's me."
if (defined or != "") { print "
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"Nothing to apologize for. I knew what I was getting into. And no point getting all frustrated about something you can't change."

Fingers lazily rolled up in that long blue mane of hair, breathing out slowly as Amanda drank in more of the night air.

"I think that makes us officially dating, Hank."
(no subject) - bluepurrymuffin on March 30th, 2011 03:34 am (UTC) (Expand)
Dr. Henry Phillip McCoy: It's really quite simple.
bluepurrymuffin on March 30th, 2011 12:24 am (UTC)
It was getting a little late, and they'd found themselves in the square again. Hank noticed the shoes right where he left them, and wondered if he shouldn't pick them up again before leaving. Never knew what they might be equivalent to.

Glancing over to Amanda, he asked: "So, what shall we do next?"
Gemma Doyle: Back → Refusing to see.sorcerously on March 30th, 2011 01:34 am (UTC)
Gemma hadn't been paying attention to much of anyone that evening; it was just so nice to be able to see the stars and moon properly, not drowned by electric lights. She couldn't think of anything else. So she didn't notice when she walked by the couple, her head tilted back too far towards the sky to utilize her peripheral vision.
if (defined or != "") { print "
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"Well, I don't know. Are you tired of Magical England yet? We could go home - or make like teenagers, find some roof or hill to watch the stars on, drinking wine we snuck out of one of our uncle's cabinets."

Ah, youth. A few strange, odd memories, of being a young girl dating. So long ago, though. Having a laugh at nostalgia, not letting herself get buried in it.

After all, right here, right now, was going pretty great.
Dr. Henry Phillip McCoy: Oh hello!bluepurrymuffin on March 30th, 2011 02:46 am (UTC)
"Well, I'm short an uncle, but the wine sounds delightful.."

He trailed off when he noticed Gemma, with a flash of recognition.

"I believe that's one of Angelica's friends, I recall seeing her at the wedding." So he took the liberty of calling out to her, "How are you this evening, Ms. Doyle?"
Gemma Doyle: Look → I can hardly believe it.sorcerously on March 30th, 2011 10:13 pm (UTC)
Hearing her name called startled her, and magic rushed to her fingertips as her head snapped around to look at them. Recognition only took a moment to set in, though, and she smiled politely when it did, folding her hands behind her back after giving a curtsy. She knew him, even if she wasn't familiar with his lady-friend. Seeing someone with blue fur was awfully hard to forget, after all. "I'm very well, thank you. And yourself, Mr. McCoy?"