in my peripheral sight, i reach out for you — but when i turn my head, i’m in an empty room.

@svperposition. call.

     ‘ Ach du großer Gott! Do you speak any sense at all? ’ 

     Felix has to pause. He rubs at his eyes, certain that he can feel a headache coming on, and wants nothing more than to just... skip this confusing nonsense. His grasp on the English language has improved greatly in the years since he and Charlotte came to London, but he feels like he did the first day they arrived, listening to the two of them. 

     He realises, belatedly, that this is no excuse to forget his manners. 

     ‘ --- Apologies. I don’t understand. ’ 

astrificare‌ / miss oswald.

        ❝ there i was, ‘bout to ask for the pony i never got as a child. ❞ she’s not sure how he’d have magicked a horse out from his pocket, anyway, not a real one, and she knows mr chilcott would have her out on her ear for bringing one inside the pub, anyhow. god knows how they’d get it out. so she looks thoughtful, for a moment, tries to imagine what she could come up with that he might not have on him, just to try and catch him out. ( clara likes mr wagner a lot, and she reckons they might even be friends, but where’s the fun in making this easy for him? )  ❝ a rose? no, that’s too easy. way too easy. bet all the girls ask for one of them. ❞ she perches on the edge of the table, and drums her fingers against the metal of the tray.  ❝ an embroidery needle. ❞

        if the expression on her face would speak, it’d be gotcha! she’s sure he’s not gonna have one of those hidden on his person.

     Felix watches her expectantly. He makes a move when she mentions the rose, but stops a second later when she seems to have changed her mind. She’s hard to keep up with, Miss Oswald, for a multitude of reasons --- but he can see what she’s trying to do, just from the look on her face, and he can’t help but smile. Now, he doesn’t quite understand everything she asks of him, but he understands that she wants a needle. 

     He dips his hand into the inside pocket of his jacket, and he rolls the proverbial dice. Where there was nothing, there’s suddenly a thin, pointed sewing needle, which he produces with the same smile he’s worn every other time he’s done it. The coins he’s pushed back into his other pocket vanish the moment they’re no longer useful. In their place, too, there is soon a flower; a rose that has no right to fit into the pocket he pulls it out of. They’re both offered out for her to inspect, and they are both perfectly real.

     ‘ Better than a pony? ’ 

@amaeliad.

     ‘ Stop moving. ’ Felix takes her hands without another word, less because he worries she won’t understand him --- she’s been speaking perfect German this whole time, that isn’t a cause for concern --- and more because he’s gotten used to the quiet. Besides, he needs to concentrate. She’s hurt, and he can fix that, but he needs to pay attention. He allows himself a sigh and finally looks up at her. ‘ You have to think of something pleasant. Something nice. I don’t know why, you just do. Please. It will help. I’m going to help. ’ 

astrificare‌ / miss oswald.

        he’s a funny one, ain’t he — and clara likes the funny ones, the ones that don’t fit inside the neat little boxes society’d like to shove ‘em into. she doesn’t know how he does it, either, but it’s got to be some sleight of hand, doesn’t it? she can’t see it, no matter how closely she watches his sleeves, or the palm of his other hand, but that’s how all the stage magicians do it. he just happens to be a pub one—and regardless of how he does it, there’s wonder in it, all the same. life’d be boring if you didn’t enjoy things, even silly things like this.

        she tucks her tray under her arm ( got to look like she’s working, at least, even if it’s not the rush yet ), and raises her eyebrows.  ❝ what, anything? anything at all? ❞

     ‘ Anything, yes. ’ Just about anything, at least, but he hopes she knows not to ask for something... ridiculous. Felix still has to be able to produce it from inside one of his pockets or from up his sleeve, after all. And there’s... some other rules. It gets a little complicated, and it’s mostly chance, luck, like a game of dice. That means it’s normally the safest bet to create things that are only the size of his hand; he might hurt himself otherwise. And that wouldn’t be fun, would it? That would likely only make Miss Oswald’s work day all the more stressful, too. He wouldn’t want that; she’s only ever been kind to him, where a lot of people have been less so, as he owes her as little inconvenience than he can manage. ‘ Nothing alive. I cannot do alive. ’ 

@astrificare.

     He likes this. Not the Rose & Crown, per se, but he likes the company of most of its customers and Miss Oswald seems more than happy to indulge him when it comes to showing her his tricks. So here he sits, smiling so brightly, pulling objects from thin air. More accurately, he’s conjuring them up from thin air --- a party trick that never gets old. It’s coins, mostly, but the more she smiles, the more outlandish he’s tempted to get. 

     It isn’t even about showing off. He just knows how nice it is, the thrill of the impossible. 

     ‘ Tell me something. I will --- make it appear, yes? ’