boxbot | voicetesting

[credence sits in mr. graves' hospital room with a stack of wizarding newspapers. he thinks someone should be there when he wakes up. it's better than sitting in his own room. he is not, technically, allowed to leave the wizarding hospital. that's ok, because he has nowhere to go. the food is fine, and he has been given his own robes. a kind of spell has been put on him to prevent his magic, such that it is, from escaping. a very good wizard is coming all the way england to help him. modesty has a new family. it's strange, not having anything to worry about. he allows himself to feel hopeful. soon, he'll be a real wizard. he'll have a wand. once they see that he's not dangerous they'll let him go. he was asleep when the senator died. they can't blame him for that. and he did them a favor, really, with ma. chastity was an accident. thinking about her makes him feel like he's falling apart, so he doesn't. he thinks about mr. graves.

this mr. graves is a new mr. graves. it isn't the man who hurt him. he's a good man, who fought bad wizards, like the old (false) mr. graves. he will wake up and meet credence, and they will be real friends. everything will be fine. he reads his newspaper.]

Edited 2017-06-29 03:14 (UTC)

[ Percival has been awake for a little while, he realizes, yet reluctant to open is eyes. The rest of his senses inform him that he is on a bed, in a place that smells of the overwhelming cleanliness reserved for places where people are born, recover from illness, or die.

It's...not terribly comforting, all things considered. His fingers flex against the blanket.

There's also the steady breathing of someone else present in the room along with the occasional rustle of newspaper, the sound of heels on a polished yet soft floor beyond a closed door, and so Percival tilts his head slowly in that direction before opening his eyes to take a look at just what is going on.

The closed door is there, and so is a chair. A young man sits in said chair, reading a newspaper just a little more wide-eyed than Percival would expect from someone his age, somehow. Also his haircut is a travesty.

It's that last thought, the energy to be dismayed at someone else's hair on their behalf that convinces Percival he is, more or less, physically safe in the moment. Safe enough at least to clear his throat, though the noise is both loud in the empty air of the room and quieter than he's used to hearing his own voice. Fitting. ]

Hello.

[ It's a question, somewhat, without the demand to be answered. Maybe he should be more forceful about that, but above all else, Percival is tired, and he's not sure what this change of venue means. ]

[credence startles at the noise and folds the newspaper with a little more haste and rumpling than he meant to. he's not sure if he should stand up. mr. graves hasn't? but maybe he can't? he sets the newspaper down in the stack.]

Hello.

[he swallows. the room is very quiet. and very white. there aren't many places to look besides mr. graves, though he tries to find them.]

It's--I'm Credence. I found you.

[he doesn't know what mr. graves knows, or remembers. liberty island. a wisp of smoke turning into a boy. screaming for help with a throat badly parched. miss tina and her sister. the hospital. the president? credence isn't sure he remembers it all himself. he certainly doesn't remember how he got there, except that he felt he had been there before.]

[ Percival watches Credence look this way and that, feeling as though he's missing some context. Usually he's dressed down someone before they start being unable to look him in the eye, and yet...I found you jangles loose a selection of memories - shifting shadows turning into this boy, who knew his name, sits prominently in the forefront now - and he nods, once, before shifting his arms behind him to force his way to sitting upright.

It doesn't hurt but there's the echo of memory of just how much it did before pain became something he stopped keeping track of. ]

That you did.

[ Another swallow, and a frown as he tests his ability to remain sitting. So far, so good. There's even water with ice still in the jug. In the moments Percival stares at it, trying to decide whether or not it's more or less trustworthy than Credence is, he runs a hand through his hair and decides to hell with it. He'll die of thirst, of whatever is in the water, or of something else at some later date.

A few swallows and another cough before he feels a little less like the edges are stuffed with cotton, but now he's got a handle on why that might be preferable in some cases. In his case, most likely. And yet. ]

Why did you?

[ Not 'how'; not exactly, anyway. ]

[credence frowns, looks down at his feet and then back again.]

I wanted to.

[he doesn't quite understand the question. why wouldn't he? he nods at the glass of water.]

This is the hospital. They--the president said not to let anything in here from outside until your people checked it.

[ Credence's answer only serves to confuse Percival, uncertain why wanting to would be a criteria in the first place, much less sufficient; his confusion is there, in his face, something too soft to be a scowl but nonetheless sharp, as if staring might answer the questions he's unsure how to pose.

The comment on the President's orders is nearly subconsciously processed. An active sense of threat, then, things uncertain or unanswered.

It occurs to him he's not clear on how long he was in that room with no windows and no doors. Or just how long he's been here.

There is only one glass for the water, which Percival turns his attention to. One hand holds it still while the other pours and he drains it almost immediately. Refills the glass twice before he feels like his throat is somewhere close to functioning without needing him to clear it every five breaths.

When it's empty this time, he still refills it, before setting it back on the bedside table. ]

Have you been here since you found me?

[ 'Your people.' Where are Credence's people, then? ]

[credence watches mr. graves drink the water, perhaps a little too closely, and nods.]

I can't leave. I need...help.

[it occurs to him mr. graves might mean literally here, in this room, watching him.]

I have my own room, though.

[but he regrets it as soon as he says it, and looks down. of course mr. graves would know that. he isn't stupid.]

Edited 2017-06-29 06:13 (UTC)

[ A slightly raised eyebrow at Credence's answers, but. His expression relaxes just a little, though he's not exactly comforted that Credence isn't allowed to leave. ]

What kind of help?

[ His suspicions are edging on uncomfortable - a scrap of conversation, before, with Tina Goldstein, watching his own face gloat during, the boy's presence after, but it would be foolishness not to ask.

Besides, eventually a nurse is bound to interrupt them. ]

You were upset, when you found me.

[ Percival looks away in that moment in favor of pulling himself to his feet. Anyone decent soul would be upset at the state he was in, his mind chastises, but the statement remains.

Someone had the good sense to spare him the indignity of a backless gown, at least, though the completely closed one he has on is only a slight improvement. Percival blinks at his own toes on the floor before reaching for the glass of water and offering it, wordlessly, to Credence. ]

I--

[credence stands up awkwardly to take the glass and clutches it, doesn't drink it. he can't quite meet mr. graves' eyes but that's mostly because he's distracted by the rest of him.]

I need help with my magic. It's wrong.

[he takes a breath. he knows the words for it now, but that only makes them harder to say. he can't help but wince a little.]

I'm--I have--I am--an obscurus. When I found you I was...hurt. I don't remember much. I wasn't in my right mind. I'm sorry.

[he looks down into the glass. mr. graves will probably hate him once he knows what he did. everyone will hate him. this was a mistake.]

Edited 2017-06-29 06:46 (UTC)

[ It's wrong earns another arched eyebrow but Percival lets him finish without interruption, hands at his sides. For the briefest instant he wonders at the location of his wand until he remembers why it wouldn't be in his possession any longer anyway, and instead rubs his palms on the fabric of the gown. ]

You should drink that, [ he offers instead, reaching out to touch the boy's hand around the glass. ] It helps.

[ He turns his face towards the window and squints at the light, uncertain if it is really midday or if the windows are enchanted, before glancing back at Credence. He's never been in the isolation ward here long enough to find out for himself. ]

How were you hurt?

[credence's eyes flutter shut at the touch and he drains the glass without thinking. it keeps him from having to answer right away.]

I wasn't in my right mind. They--I was breaking all the buildings and they tried to stop me.

[he clutches the empty glass, staring into it. the water hadn't helped as much as mr. graves touching his hand.]

They did stop me. I don't remember very much, just--then I flew away.

I see.

[ Without thinking of it, Percival takes the glass from Credence's hand, turning to set it back on it's table next to the jug before the boy startles himself and breaks it. ]

You don't have to apologize to me. As far as I'm concerned, you did nothing wrong.

I have you to thank, in fact. I don't suspect anyone... [ His jaw clenches, a bit, and Percival swallows. ] It seems unlikely that anyone would have found me, if not for you.

Are they treating you well, here?

[a rare, genuine smile flits across credence's face. he had been hoping for forgiveness but he'd never expected absolution.]

Yes, thank you. It's nice here.

[he wants to comfort mr. graves but he doesn't know how. he sort of leans forward a little.]

You shouldn't blame them. Nobody else could see you in the Statue of Liberty.

Edited 2017-06-29 07:55 (UTC)

Good.

[ Still he should be...with people, Percival thinks, not tasked with watching over sleeping antisocial victims of sociopathic megalomaniacs. But Credence leans in, only slightly, which has Percival's hand coming to rest against Credence's shoulder, worried that the boy is going to pitch forward suddenly until he speaks. ]

I suppose I shouldn't. [ He narrows his eyes, looking into Credence's face before sighing something that might have been a laugh, coming from someone else. His hand remains where it is. He doesn't know how to explain the disgust and frustration and hopelessness that knowing someone else pretended to be him and fooled everyone he knew and worked with, that a lunatic like Grindelwald stole his entire life and got away with it. For however long. Long enough, certainly. Burdening someone else with those emotions seems foolish at least, selfish at best.

The door opens; a nurse bustles in, immediately making noises about rest and energy, but Percival shakes his head and stops her from going so far as to shoo Credence out of the room, though she does get close and his arm drops to his side again. ]

I would rather have proper clothes, thank you, and a chance to eat before I'm bombarded with more visitors. [ 'Visitors'. He isn't sure that Seraphina Piquery would classify as a 'visitor', actually, but it gets his point across.

A glance at Credence. ] Would you like to join me?

[credence leans into the touch, inching closer. he's relieved mr. graves hasn't asked any questions he doesn't know the answer to, like how could you see me and why didn't you die. he can feel his face flushing under mr. graves' scrutiny and he ducks his head. his eyes follow mr. graves' hand as it drops away, and he smiles, a little, at his curt formality with the nurse. he'd only ever seen the old mr. graves employ the same conscious charm. he realizes now he didn't know him very well at all. with clarity borne of relief credence can see how desperate, and how blind he had been. he doesn't want this mr. graves to know about it. he glances back up at mr. graves.]

Yes. [too quickly.] For lunch?

[he glances at the clock. it says 'stable.']

Yes. Or breakfast, as you like, but you've been awake for longer than I have.

[ Percival gives Credence a bit of a smile before raising his eyebrow, pointedly, at the nurse who is still hovering, in his opinion. If she expects him to eat in this gown (or in this room) as if he were an invalid incapable of otherwise, she has another think coming.

It's not until she moves away to tap at one of the wall decorations with her wand that he considers that her reaction might have been different, if Credence wasn't in the room.

His clothes appear from the newly-revealed storage in the wall, and a folding screen flies out after it, which means he steps away from Credence in favor of heading in that direction. The nurse asks if he would need help and Percival huffs a little. He's never done well with hospitals and fussy caretaking. ]

There are thousands of people in this city alone who manage countless buttons without the help of a wand; I suspect I'll be fine.

[ He is pointedly not asking after said wand, and also pointedly disappearing behind the folding screen. ]

[credence grins and ducks his head.]

There might not be any bacon left.

[what. why did he say bacon. you could eat bacon in sandwiches. he should have said eggs. how do people talk to each other. what even is a joke. he watches the screen surreptitiously, more because he doesn't know where else to look than because he thinks he'll see anything interesting. he still feels vaguely guilty, though. ]

I'm sure between the two of us we could convince the cooks otherwise.

[ If Percival's tone is anything to go by, Credence's joking protest has hit it's mark. The screen is fairly solid, though the images (much like photographs and paintings) move occasionally, the flowers blossoming and dying while Percival squints at his buttons and triple-checks that they're in order.

It's time consuming, but it also gives him a moment to take stock of the new collection of scars from his weeks-long encounter.

He doesn't spend too much time with that, lest the nurse take it upon herself to see how he's doing, so after a few moments he appears...a little rumpled looking, honestly, but the buttons are done so he'll take the success where he can find it. ]

Onward, then?

[credence smiles, not sure why anybody would think he could convince anyone of anything--but it makes his heart skip a beat to think mr. graves thinks it's worth pretending. he watches the flowers, then he watches mr. graves--it's a little startling to see him looking so much like he remembers, but not quite. it makes him think how the old mr. graves was like a character on a movie poster (maybe a magic one), never changing, always making the same gestures over and over again. he should have figured it out. he realizes he's staring at mr. graves instead of following him, so he nods and starts walking rather abruptly.]

To the kitchen?

[credence hadn't explored the hospital very much, although he was desperately curious. he didn't want to get in trouble, or in the way.]

Edited 2017-06-30 00:17 (UTC)

[ Eventually someone is going to tell him that Credence doesn't smile all the time, and Percival will be briefly confused.

As it is, he doesn't notice the staring as he's already gone into the hall, looking first left, then turning right. ]

There's a dining hall and an attached garden.

[ Though he does frown to himself, adjusting his stride so that Credence is more alongside than behind him. ]

Have you been taking all of your meals in your room?

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