Amelia Eva Steinbeck 📚 Teacher 📚 Witch 📚 Available for pop culture consultation regarding the arts, literature, and other foreign mediums of expression.
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NAME: Amelia Eva Steinbeck BIRTHDAY: February 28th FAV CAKE FLAVOR: Mixed berries, whipped cream, and lemon curd
WHAT THEY WANT MOST FOR THEIR BIRTHDAY: For her AP Lit. class to pass their test w/ a 3 or higher.
[He has to bite his lower lip to stifle a laugh, having a distinct feeling that it wouldn't be appreciated— but she would scold an ancient orb of highly destructive magic as though it were a misbehaving student, wouldn't she?]
Just a reaction, I think. It won't consume anything I don't offer it.
[Or it never has before. He doesn't believe it's going to start now.]
—did you just wag your finger at it?
[He can't help commenting on it. That's awfully endearing.]
She just. Puts her finger down and doesn't answer his question... This lady...]
Well, that's good to know. I was concerned it would try to absorb any hint of magic. If I had to, I would have used a strand of my hair to keep it at bay.
[Amelia is almost done. But she has one more thing to say.]
... I'm sorry I made you self-conscious about your chest hair. It looks fine. There's nothing unnatural about it.
[Oh, she's not even going to acknowledge it. Why is that somehow more attractive to him? Really, it's incredible that he even has a thought to spare for that given his current situation, but he supposes that means her work must be going well—
Until she says that and he catches himself blustering again, almost choking on air.]
I'm not— self-conscious.
[He is. He can't get undressed in front of his cat. In his defense, she's a very smart cat.]
[Is that what she sounded like? Amelia has to stop and reflect for a second because as straightforward as she can be, she realizes that her behavior can be baffling.
She sighs and shakes her head.]
I wasn't angry, Gale. Baffled, more like it.
... Even at my age, there are still times when I'm not the best at expressing myself and it leads to misunderstandings. I apologize.
... I'm done with the construction. You can just lie there while I apply it to your body.
[The block of rune text that she had written out starts to oscillate, stretch, and then float down to Gale. The lines start to glide across his injured parts and the sensation is initially prickly, like ice.]
This isn't healing magic; think of it as a reversal of your body's former state. It's not pleasant but I've added some lines that will numb you to the sensations of being unfractured.
Let me know when you're ready and I'll begin the incantation.
[That, at least, gets a faint snort of amusement in response.]
Imagine the scandal.
[But for the matter at hand, he simply nods, his free hand curling against the edge of the cot to grip it, his gaze following the rune text as it descends. A shiver runs through him, but the sensation is undeniably magic.]
I'm ready. However unpleasant it may be, it's better than a fractured arm— and of course, I trust you.
[Which means he is willing to bear no small amount of discomfort for her to do what she must to aid him.]
[She clears her throat with a cough, takes a deep breath, and starts the incantation. The sound coming from her lips is harsh on the ears and guttural. In contrast to her usual spellcasting, there was an ominous quality to this type of magic. The runes on Gale's skin shine brightly and then dim down. For a split second, the icy sensation spikes up until there's none at all.
The wizard's fractured bones start to thrum and vibrate and although there's no hurt to be felt, it should nonetheless be startling as the unpleasant sound of bones indicates the reversal and reattachment, all sliding back into place. Amelia's voice fades and the magic is free to complete itself.
For one final time, the runes glow brightly and disappear completely. Amelia sighs with relief and then looks at Gale's face with concern.]
[The contrast with the magic he's seen her perform so far is sharp, the words harsher and the feeling of it just a bit heavy, the same way different schools of magic have a different resonance. No two are exactly alike, and he supposes that principle must apply elsewhere, and as ever, his curiosity is piqued.
He lets out a shuddering exhale as that icy feeling peaks and then vanished, feeling his muscles pull tight as he can feel his bones reworking themselves, the unpleasant crack and pop of them ringing in his ears. It's remarkably painless, though certainly not comfortable— but he's hardly going to complain about her doing him this favor, especially since it was a greater hurt than any of his potions would have been able to mend without the aid of a healer.
There's a dull ache running through him as the runes glow once more, and when they vanish, he meets Amelia's gaze and nods, carefully lifting his arm and then bending it at the elbow, towards his chest.]
Well, how about that. Good as new, it would seem.
[He props himself up with his other arm, just to be safe, and returns to a seated position, still bare from the waist up.]
Thank you. A marvel, as always. I appreciate you taking the pains to mend my miscalculation.
[Her shoulders relax and Amelia runs a hand through her hair. The witch's mastery of magic is well-earned but now and then, there are situations where she could have messed up, this being one of them. The quality of her magic allows less precision but it wouldn't do for reversal.]
Let's rest for a minute before heading out. I want to make sure the spell settles and that there are no abnormalities.
... With that being said, you can clothe yourself again.
Agreed— and powerful as you are, I imagine magic of that caliber must have some effect on you, as well.
[Resting is just fine by him, even if he remains pleasantly surprised by just how renewed he feels. She really had done wonders, work to rival any cleric's, though the method was quite different.
He reaches for his tunic as she points out that he's free to get dressed, and feels his face flush hotly as he clears his throat, sliding one arm into it at a time.]
Best not to remain exposed in the middle of a dungeon, I suppose, yes. Wouldn't want to— catch a chill.
[Lame. He huffs at himself as he pulls it over his head and neck, then tugs it downward into its proper place, reaching up to comb his fingers through his hair so that it's tousled properly.]
Though on the subject of clothing... Amelia, I have another favor I would like to ask you, if I may.
It takes a lot of concentration, but I managed it. I'll bounce back quickly.
[She is pressing her thumb to the side of her head and making circles while politely looking to the side so that Gale can put his tunic back on. When he asks for a favor, she turns back to look at him, putting her hands in her lap.]
[He turns to face her once his clothing and hair are sorted, swinging his legs over the side of the cot and letting his hands come to rest against the edge of it.]
Well, I was hoping... that is, if it wasn't too much trouble— you might be able to give me a bit of assistance with my wardrobe.
[Hear him out.]
I'm largely happy with my usual fare, but we've been granted the incredibly rare opportunity to access whatever we like from countless worlds, countless eras— I'm afraid I don't know where to begin. I do realize that in many ways, while here, I could stand to... modernize, a bit.
[She's not Berna when it comes to fashion, but she's learned some useful tidbits from her friend. And when it comes to men's clothing, well, she has Michael to thank for that as well.
So she nods.]
I can help. We'd have to find a floor that's akin to a clothing department or the like and it should give us what we need. The staff members will probably offer better assistance to fill in any gaps I've missed.
That being said, I think you look fine in your usual fare too, Gale. But if it's new and different clothing you want, then that's what we'll aim for next.
[He looks relieved when she seems amenable to it, and offers another smile— he knew he'd asked precisely the right person.]
It would be much appreciated. While I've no doubt the staff could be of some assistance, those relationships are remarkably less personal. As a friend, I feel you know my personality well enough to be able to tell if something is 'me' or not, hm? I trust your opinion.
[And did she just say he looked fine in what he normally wears? That's an Amelia Steinbeck-flavored compliment if he's ever heard one.]
Of course, I'm not looking to do away with the old entirely. I'm still myself— but it would seem a terrible waste of the opportunity we've been given not to try new things.
[Amelia's lip quirk slightly; what he said has seem to strike a chord with her.]
You're definitely a more adventurous person than I am. If it hadn't been for my friend, I would be content to keep the same wardrobe for decades at a time.
But trying new things is good. If anything, I think you'll find modern clothing from my world rather comfortable.
Ah, I see— you've been through this very dance yourself, haven't you?
[He chuckles, his smile quirking to one side. Well— knowing she's much older than she looks, though he still hasn't dared to guess for fear of saying absolutely the wrong thing, he's sure she's found herself in a similar situation.]
I imagine you've seen fashion change quite a bit in your time. I do look forward to seeing how comfort might differ. While as a wizard, I'm fortunate enough to dress largely in cloth while out and about, but fashionable and practical as the leather bits can be, they're sometimes a bit cumbersome.
[... He's not incorrect. She's seen the changes in fashion, but only indirectly for the first few decades. The direct witness has only been recent in the past two decades which is still a lot.
She's missed a lot and has seen a lot.
Amelia ignores this self-reflection by directing her attention on Gale's world instead.]
Are there warriors who wear heavy armor? Or does armor type vary by need and skill? I would surmise that the materials would also differ such as leather versus plated metals and such.
[He nods at her estimations; he's become intimately familiar with more different types of armor in the last several months than he'd ever thought to, given that his own needs were so specific. Traveling with a group that occasionally needed their resident wizard to weave a bit of enchantment into their gear meant he'd seen a great deal of it as it passed through their camp.]
It indeed depends on the wearer's skills and specific needs— a front-line fighter is likely to wear heavy armor, but not always. A monk, for instance, would find that to be a hindrance, and tends to go without any armor at all. Someone like Astarion prefers something light, a bit of leather and nothing more, just enough to keep a dagger or stray arrow at bay. For me, anything heavier would be a hindrance when casting spells, inhibiting movement and causing distraction.
[All of this duly noted. She didn't bring her notebook with her this time but she'll commit it to memory if she can.]
It all makes enough sense. Everyday life in my world, depending on where you live, doesn't have as many inherent dangers so armor and the like is largely not needed.
[She stretches out her arm to look idly at her sleeve. Aside from her sturdier but stylish knee-high boots for their dungeon crawling, the rest of her clothing is largely what she wears every day.]
I've enchanted clothing before but not often. I find it's more important to reinforce my body's defenses with magic. I'd have to think differently if I was in a world like yours.
There's some of that to be done, as well— though largely along the lines of the shield you saw me provide earlier. There are any number of temporary augments that can be offered through magic to aid in one's defensive or offensive abilities, but I imagine that's something our differing schools have in common.
[He, too, is committing the information she offers to memory; he's as interested in what her magic has to offer and simply how it works in her world as she is in his, and these exchanges are always among some of his favorites. Talking magical theory and application with Amelia has become one of his favorite pastimes.]
That said, I'm glad you're not at risk quite so often where you're from. I know no world is entirely safe, and the fact that you can take care of yourself as well as you do tells me you've more experience than even many in my own world might boast, but I've certainly gained a new appreciation for what full-time adventurers go through these past months. It's not an easy life.
You might surprise yourself. Parts of it are quite entertaining— it's not all ghouls and gore.
[The countless riddles and puzzles he's encountered, seeing historic sites firsthand, learning the history of a place by venturing through its remains... though he doesn't much care for the circumstances, the scholar in him has quite enjoyed the hands-on opportunities he's been granted.]
That said, I am partial to my tower. Given the chance, should I ever find myself returning to Waterdeep, I think any adventuring will become a part-time endeavor at best. It's been terribly difficult, being away from my library so long.
[He aims to keep the conversation lighthearted, though there's something about his smile that doesn't reach his eyes.]
That said, you've been an excellent adventuring companion here. I've quite enjoyed today, fractured arm and all.
He doesn't know if he'll be alive to return at all.
Even Amelia could sense the morbidity behind his hope of being able to return to Waterdeep and his library. He doesn't know if he'll be able to one day rest from his adventure, look back on it with relief, and laugh with his companions about their trial by fire. It is more than possible that his life would end and regret would color his existence.
Happiness was not a guarantee to anyone, even to magic users of renown and skill such as themselves. When Gale had revealed his secret to her, she had accepted it without question, showing no fear towards the necrotic magic within. It hits her again, that empty, clawing feeling of anxiety toward possible loss.
I would be sad if he was gone.
She hadn't put it in words back then. If she gave the words life, it would bring up other horrible feelings, the failure of the person that she is, and—
She doesn't say anything for a long minute. It's a sobering silence.
And then without a word, Amelia reaches out to brush Gale's hair away from his face and behind his ear.]
He feels his heart skip a beat— or perhaps only half— as she reaches towards him and brushes his hair back from his face, her fingers gently ghosting against his cheek. She's done it before, but it's different this time, no longer with the air of a teacher straightening someone's collar but softer and more personal, somehow.
His smile falters, just for a moment, but not because he's unhappy. He feels his chest squeeze tight in a way that has nothing to do with the orb's discomfort, and a bit of lightheadedness that he's certain has nothing to do with the illithid stowaway in his head. She'd said nothing, but he can almost feel those unspoken words hanging in the air between them, even if he can't quite decipher what they might have been.
He only knows that their friendship has come to mean a great deal to both of them. That, he does not question.
Lowering his voice as though they're sharing a great secret, he smiles again and asks:]
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Just a reaction, I think. It won't consume anything I don't offer it.
[Or it never has before. He doesn't believe it's going to start now.]
—did you just wag your finger at it?
[He can't help commenting on it. That's awfully endearing.]
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She just. Puts her finger down and doesn't answer his question... This lady...]
Well, that's good to know. I was concerned it would try to absorb any hint of magic. If I had to, I would have used a strand of my hair to keep it at bay.
[Amelia is almost done. But she has one more thing to say.]
... I'm sorry I made you self-conscious about your chest hair. It looks fine. There's nothing unnatural about it.
[god]
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Until she says that and he catches himself blustering again, almost choking on air.]
I'm not— self-conscious.
[He is. He can't get undressed in front of his cat. In his defense, she's a very smart cat.]
Only— startled. You almost sounded angry.
[What in the nine hells was that about, Amelia?]
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She sighs and shakes her head.]
I wasn't angry, Gale. Baffled, more like it.
... Even at my age, there are still times when I'm not the best at expressing myself and it leads to misunderstandings. I apologize.
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No, no, I was hardly offended, just a bit perplexed. I suppose this is a— new step in our friendship, after all.
[Can he joke about this? He'll joke about this. It will definitely diffuse the tension.]
I don't take my shirt off for just anyone.
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[Ah, the levity of Amelia.]
... I'm done with the construction. You can just lie there while I apply it to your body.
[The block of rune text that she had written out starts to oscillate, stretch, and then float down to Gale. The lines start to glide across his injured parts and the sensation is initially prickly, like ice.]
This isn't healing magic; think of it as a reversal of your body's former state. It's not pleasant but I've added some lines that will numb you to the sensations of being unfractured.
Let me know when you're ready and I'll begin the incantation.
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Imagine the scandal.
[But for the matter at hand, he simply nods, his free hand curling against the edge of the cot to grip it, his gaze following the rune text as it descends. A shiver runs through him, but the sensation is undeniably magic.]
I'm ready. However unpleasant it may be, it's better than a fractured arm— and of course, I trust you.
[Which means he is willing to bear no small amount of discomfort for her to do what she must to aid him.]
I'll be the ideal patient, I promise.
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Let's begin.
[She clears her throat with a cough, takes a deep breath, and starts the incantation. The sound coming from her lips is harsh on the ears and guttural. In contrast to her usual spellcasting, there was an ominous quality to this type of magic. The runes on Gale's skin shine brightly and then dim down. For a split second, the icy sensation spikes up until there's none at all.
The wizard's fractured bones start to thrum and vibrate and although there's no hurt to be felt, it should nonetheless be startling as the unpleasant sound of bones indicates the reversal and reattachment, all sliding back into place. Amelia's voice fades and the magic is free to complete itself.
For one final time, the runes glow brightly and disappear completely. Amelia sighs with relief and then looks at Gale's face with concern.]
Try moving your arm. And then sit up if you can.
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He lets out a shuddering exhale as that icy feeling peaks and then vanished, feeling his muscles pull tight as he can feel his bones reworking themselves, the unpleasant crack and pop of them ringing in his ears. It's remarkably painless, though certainly not comfortable— but he's hardly going to complain about her doing him this favor, especially since it was a greater hurt than any of his potions would have been able to mend without the aid of a healer.
There's a dull ache running through him as the runes glow once more, and when they vanish, he meets Amelia's gaze and nods, carefully lifting his arm and then bending it at the elbow, towards his chest.]
Well, how about that. Good as new, it would seem.
[He props himself up with his other arm, just to be safe, and returns to a seated position, still bare from the waist up.]
Thank you. A marvel, as always. I appreciate you taking the pains to mend my miscalculation.
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[Her shoulders relax and Amelia runs a hand through her hair. The witch's mastery of magic is well-earned but now and then, there are situations where she could have messed up, this being one of them. The quality of her magic allows less precision but it wouldn't do for reversal.]
Let's rest for a minute before heading out. I want to make sure the spell settles and that there are no abnormalities.
... With that being said, you can clothe yourself again.
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[Resting is just fine by him, even if he remains pleasantly surprised by just how renewed he feels. She really had done wonders, work to rival any cleric's, though the method was quite different.
He reaches for his tunic as she points out that he's free to get dressed, and feels his face flush hotly as he clears his throat, sliding one arm into it at a time.]
Best not to remain exposed in the middle of a dungeon, I suppose, yes. Wouldn't want to— catch a chill.
[Lame. He huffs at himself as he pulls it over his head and neck, then tugs it downward into its proper place, reaching up to comb his fingers through his hair so that it's tousled properly.]
Though on the subject of clothing... Amelia, I have another favor I would like to ask you, if I may.
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[She is pressing her thumb to the side of her head and making circles while politely looking to the side so that Gale can put his tunic back on. When he asks for a favor, she turns back to look at him, putting her hands in her lap.]
Mm? What about?
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Well, I was hoping... that is, if it wasn't too much trouble— you might be able to give me a bit of assistance with my wardrobe.
[Hear him out.]
I'm largely happy with my usual fare, but we've been granted the incredibly rare opportunity to access whatever we like from countless worlds, countless eras— I'm afraid I don't know where to begin. I do realize that in many ways, while here, I could stand to... modernize, a bit.
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[She's not Berna when it comes to fashion, but she's learned some useful tidbits from her friend. And when it comes to men's clothing, well, she has Michael to thank for that as well.
So she nods.]
I can help. We'd have to find a floor that's akin to a clothing department or the like and it should give us what we need. The staff members will probably offer better assistance to fill in any gaps I've missed.
That being said, I think you look fine in your usual fare too, Gale. But if it's new and different clothing you want, then that's what we'll aim for next.
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It would be much appreciated. While I've no doubt the staff could be of some assistance, those relationships are remarkably less personal. As a friend, I feel you know my personality well enough to be able to tell if something is 'me' or not, hm? I trust your opinion.
[And did she just say he looked fine in what he normally wears? That's an Amelia Steinbeck-flavored compliment if he's ever heard one.]
Of course, I'm not looking to do away with the old entirely. I'm still myself— but it would seem a terrible waste of the opportunity we've been given not to try new things.
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You're definitely a more adventurous person than I am. If it hadn't been for my friend, I would be content to keep the same wardrobe for decades at a time.
But trying new things is good. If anything, I think you'll find modern clothing from my world rather comfortable.
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[He chuckles, his smile quirking to one side. Well— knowing she's much older than she looks, though he still hasn't dared to guess for fear of saying absolutely the wrong thing, he's sure she's found herself in a similar situation.]
I imagine you've seen fashion change quite a bit in your time. I do look forward to seeing how comfort might differ. While as a wizard, I'm fortunate enough to dress largely in cloth while out and about, but fashionable and practical as the leather bits can be, they're sometimes a bit cumbersome.
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She's missed a lot and has seen a lot.
Amelia ignores this self-reflection by directing her attention on Gale's world instead.]
Are there warriors who wear heavy armor? Or does armor type vary by need and skill? I would surmise that the materials would also differ such as leather versus plated metals and such.
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It indeed depends on the wearer's skills and specific needs— a front-line fighter is likely to wear heavy armor, but not always. A monk, for instance, would find that to be a hindrance, and tends to go without any armor at all. Someone like Astarion prefers something light, a bit of leather and nothing more, just enough to keep a dagger or stray arrow at bay. For me, anything heavier would be a hindrance when casting spells, inhibiting movement and causing distraction.
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It all makes enough sense. Everyday life in my world, depending on where you live, doesn't have as many inherent dangers so armor and the like is largely not needed.
[She stretches out her arm to look idly at her sleeve. Aside from her sturdier but stylish knee-high boots for their dungeon crawling, the rest of her clothing is largely what she wears every day.]
I've enchanted clothing before but not often. I find it's more important to reinforce my body's defenses with magic. I'd have to think differently if I was in a world like yours.
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[He, too, is committing the information she offers to memory; he's as interested in what her magic has to offer and simply how it works in her world as she is in his, and these exchanges are always among some of his favorites. Talking magical theory and application with Amelia has become one of his favorite pastimes.]
That said, I'm glad you're not at risk quite so often where you're from. I know no world is entirely safe, and the fact that you can take care of yourself as well as you do tells me you've more experience than even many in my own world might boast, but I've certainly gained a new appreciation for what full-time adventurers go through these past months. It's not an easy life.
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I'd probably be able to adapt but I get irate by one or two monstrous vagrants as it is. Having to deal with that constantly?
[God, she feels she'd age another 10 years.]
Still, I'm not unappreciative of the current exercise we're in the middle of. Better a taste of it than not.
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[The countless riddles and puzzles he's encountered, seeing historic sites firsthand, learning the history of a place by venturing through its remains... though he doesn't much care for the circumstances, the scholar in him has quite enjoyed the hands-on opportunities he's been granted.]
That said, I am partial to my tower. Given the chance, should I ever find myself returning to Waterdeep, I think any adventuring will become a part-time endeavor at best. It's been terribly difficult, being away from my library so long.
[He aims to keep the conversation lighthearted, though there's something about his smile that doesn't reach his eyes.]
That said, you've been an excellent adventuring companion here. I've quite enjoyed today, fractured arm and all.
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He doesn't know if he'll be alive to return at all.
Even Amelia could sense the morbidity behind his hope of being able to return to Waterdeep and his library. He doesn't know if he'll be able to one day rest from his adventure, look back on it with relief, and laugh with his companions about their trial by fire. It is more than possible that his life would end and regret would color his existence.
Happiness was not a guarantee to anyone, even to magic users of renown and skill such as themselves. When Gale had revealed his secret to her, she had accepted it without question, showing no fear towards the necrotic magic within. It hits her again, that empty, clawing feeling of anxiety toward possible loss.
I would be sad if he was gone.
She hadn't put it in words back then. If she gave the words life, it would bring up other horrible feelings, the failure of the person that she is, and—
She doesn't say anything for a long minute. It's a sobering silence.
And then without a word, Amelia reaches out to brush Gale's hair away from his face and behind his ear.]
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He feels his heart skip a beat— or perhaps only half— as she reaches towards him and brushes his hair back from his face, her fingers gently ghosting against his cheek. She's done it before, but it's different this time, no longer with the air of a teacher straightening someone's collar but softer and more personal, somehow.
His smile falters, just for a moment, but not because he's unhappy. He feels his chest squeeze tight in a way that has nothing to do with the orb's discomfort, and a bit of lightheadedness that he's certain has nothing to do with the illithid stowaway in his head. She'd said nothing, but he can almost feel those unspoken words hanging in the air between them, even if he can't quite decipher what they might have been.
He only knows that their friendship has come to mean a great deal to both of them. That, he does not question.
Lowering his voice as though they're sharing a great secret, he smiles again and asks:]
What was that for?
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