multiversallogs | → i've lived a lot of different lives, been different people many times

Who: Irene Adler & Sebastian LeMat.
What: 'Have you graduated to stealing towns yet?' and other vital existential questions.
Where: Irene's apartment, Syriac Well.
When: Not too long after this.
Warnings: None.

For all the outward shimmer, Irene Adler is an intensely scheduled person. Her work, her play- it's all carefully organised so as to maximise her efficiency and minimise her chances of ever waking up to the sound of Militia boots on her floorboards, or worse. And Baedal can always offer worse, no matter what rock bottom one tries to imagine. It's all stored in her phone. She wasn't lying when she called it her life- she meant it in a rather more dramatic sense, of course, but there was always the simple matter of convenience.

Sebastian isn't named in the virtual diary- no one is- but he's there, his visit expected and arranged for and privately extremely welcome for reasons which go beyond simple curiosity as to what leaving and returning was like. He's odd, is the slightly petulant but exceedingly fond description of him Irene has settled upon; it's meant to be a temporary description only. She'll find something more fitting later. In the mean time, it's a compliment. Odd is interesting. She's missed him. After all, in her dizzying serious-unserious world, she's often surrounded by people who haven't even stolen a street.

She answers the door in clothes casual enough to just pass for I threw this on unthinkingly, which is flattering nonsense. The very first thing he gets is a kiss on the cheek. "Look at you, dear. I stand by previous comments. Do come in."

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She chuckles at dragons- but that's just the problem, hearing all these stories but never getting to live them. She feels nostalgic for something she's never had.

(And let's face it, the reality of seeing the dragons he's talking about would probably be much less enjoyable than wanting to see them; an idle daydream can't eat you alive, or not literally).

She raises her eyebrows at his questions, taking a thoughtful sip of tea. "Ask away." No promises on how she'll answer.

"If, suddenly, you found out you could to magic, what would you want to do with it? How do you think it would change your life, for good, ill, whatever?" Sebastian remembers how he felt when he learned, but as an adult now, a little more perspective on the situation would be good.

"I'd do what I do right now," she says, sounding almost surprised and answering immediately, "just with different methods."

Maybe it shows a lack of imagination- or maybe it's just that Irene knows who she is and what she wants, and is at heart intensely practical. Magic is magic; as beautiful and terrifying as she finds it, she's sure that if she had it, she'd put it to work like any other skill with a supreme lack of romanticism.

"That's it, right there. That's the biggest and most difficult problem I keep coming up against - the non-magical world has so many options for what you can do or who you want to be, and in the wizarding world, your choices are strictly limited." Muggle children are taught that they can grow up and be anything if they work at it, while wizarding children know they'll run a shop or push useless paper for the Ministry.

"When did you stop falling for it?" she asks. (The idea of asking before posing personal questions has occurred to her at some point in her life, but it's never really been her).

"I think I was about seventeen? It was a very late night and I asked my then-girlfriend what she planned to do when the war was won." It's unsaid, but unconsciously there's something to the way he speaks that suggests he'd never felt the need to answer that question for himself. "And she laughed as if it was the funniest thing she'd ever heard."

Irene's lashes lower- the expression that passes across her face is the sort that she doesn't usually show when she's as perfectly coiffed as this, because it works best when she looks more human. As it is, it's gentle enough to jar with the rest of her.

"I think they try to do that here," she says suddenly, smiling like she's joking despite what she's saying and admitting. She returns to the subject at hand immediately and smoothly. "So. You want to open doors to doors to doors where previously there have only been -- or people have only been aware of -- walls." A beat, and, "You love it, don't you." She sounds openly fascinated, because she'll never experience that devotion to home or any concept of it.

"I do." When he speaks, there's a hint of fear but no uncertainty. "If it works, and it must, it'll be a revolution."

"There's a long history of infighting, wars, dictators, and the like, but everyone who made a bid for power did it on an individual basis - more control for them and their followers. No one's done it to give away power." Sebastian truly believes that it's possible and he'll push for it, but he won't go to war to bring it about. With the sorry state of the wizarding world as it stands, he's well aware that he doesn't need to.

Irene has known politicians, activists, soldiers and leaders. She’s played their game, or played a game which has run parallel to theirs, but her rebellions have always been for herself and no one else.

"That's rare enough, no matter what the universe du jour is. Would you accept a vote of confidence?" Her tone is anything but confessional. She sets her teacup down, perfectly calm. "If we shared a world, I think you'd be my plan A."

I think you can do it would sound insincere.

"I'd accept and appreciate it." Knowing that he can set it in motion is vast gulf away from knowing that a thing will work. Along with being a damn fool endeavour, it's the right thing to do and he can't help but try. "And, on the upside, no matter how poorly it goes, it can't be worse than the last go-round."

Ha, ha. Your 'humour', such as it is, isn't funny, Sebastian.

→ i've lived a lot of different lives, been different people many times

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