As Others See – Chapter 4
By Jedishampoo T (PG-13) for now, will change to M later (definitely). Some language, sexuality.
Summary: A magical misfire ends with the wrong Howls in the wrong worlds. Howl's Moving Castle (Movie) crossover with Howl's Moving Castle (book). This Chapter: More of getting to know people, character development, blah blah blah.
Author's Notes: This is mostly an excuse to play with the people involved and see how I might make the movie characters would deal with Book!Howl and the book characters deal with Movie!Howl. WARNING: Most of it will be T-rated and lightly humorous but I'll switch it to M later, for SEX. And what I plan to do to the characters is not very nice in some ways, so be warned, you may hate it. Bwah hah.. It's all so very, very, wrong, I'm sure, but I couldn't help it. You'll see. ;) Thanks to sakura haru and sharpeslass for their betas!
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in this story, Diana Wynne Jones or Studio Ghibli does. I'm just playing with them.
x x x
Chapter 3: Getting to Know You
Howl sprinkled a pinch of pink gol-powder into the air, spoke the word, drew a circle in front of him with his finger, and stepped forward. Into an invisible barrier. Again.
He glanced over at Sophie and Michael where they sat at the table, Calcifer floating above his grate between them.
"Third time's the charm, right?" he said, in a hopeful voice. Despite his two failures he felt much better than he had two hours ago. At least he was doing something.
"Are you sure you're doing it correctly?" Sophie asked in a weary voice, leaning her head forward into her hands. "It doesn't look like anything's happening."
"It's happening, Sophie, you just can't see it," the earnest Michael said. "Right, Calcifer?"
Green flames grew and shrank over Calcifer's somewhat sinister-looking blue face. "Yup. But you're being blocked. I can't tell what's causing it."
"Maybe you need more gol-powder," Michael suggested. He stood. "We were running pretty low, anyway. I should go get some more. Uh. Howl. Do you want to come with me?"
"No," Howl and Sophie said in unison.
Surprised at her refusal, Howl looked at her. He knew why he hadn't wanted to go. The thought of seeing their world was an enticing one, but he would rather keep working on the home-spell. He was too worried about Sophie to waste time exploring. His Sophie, that was. He raised his eyebrows at the other one.
"We should keep him where Calcifer can keep an eye on him," Sophie explained. "And Calcifer can't go without landing the castle."
Howl and Michael both rolled their eyes. "I just want to keep working, anyway," Howl told them.
Michael only looked relieved. "I'll be back," he said, and practically ran to the door and turned the square knob to yellow. It slammed behind him, and then there was silence.
Howl grabbed a cloth rag from the bench and bent over to erase the chalk line he'd drawn on the floor. He would have to draw it again; now there was gol-powder mixed with the chalk. He wondered if perhaps Michael was right, and he'd been using too little.
"He really just wants to run by Cesari's to see Martha," Sophie said.
She was speaking to him. Howl was somewhat surprised by this. "Martha?" he asked.
"My other sister," Sophie said. She stood and walked over to a closet and returned carrying a little broom and dustpan. She handed him the dustpan and jiggled the broom at him. Howl got the idea. He bent over and laid the pan on the floor, and let Sophie sweep the chalk into it.
"My Sophie's sister Lettie works at Cesari's," he said. "It just reopened. She doesn't have a sister Martha." Though Howl had known a Martha or two…
"I wonder where Lettie is, anyway," Sophie said, and turned to empty the dustpan into a little bin next to the bench.
Howl waited a couple of moments, but she didn't seem to want to continue chatting with him. So he shrugged inwardly and began to look over the books on the magic bench, wondering if he'd missed something that could help him.
"I suppose I should make lunch," she began again. "You are probably hungry."
"No," Howl said, keeping his voice light and friendly. "Thank you, though."
"Hmph. Well, I'll make some anyway. Michael and Lettie and whoever she returns with may want something." She paused for a moment and looked him up and down. "Though you should be hungry. You're a little thin."
Howl laughed out loud, which seemed to startle her a bit. But she'd made him feel even better. She'd sounded so much like his Sophie in that instant. "So I don't look exactly like him, then?" he asked with some satisfaction.
"You look a lot like him," she replied, staring at him with brown eyes-- his Sophie's eyes, odd with that red hair. "It's rather spooky, actually. Except for your eye-color, which hasn't faded as you'd said it would. They're still too blue."
"My eyes are blue," Howl told her. Since she was staring at him so intently, he felt a little more free to examine her in return. Perhaps her hair was the wrong color but Howl certainly couldn't call it unattractive. The dark yellow of her dress suited it, bringing out golden highlights shining among the pale red. With her big brown eyes, she looked like one of those fanciful paintings of Fall in Her Youth.
His eyes involuntarily slid down to look at the rest of her. Her figure, as he'd noted earlier, was nearly exact in size and proportion to his Sophie's. In fact, he rather thought the style of her dress would suit Sophie. It had one of the new lower waists that allowed the fall of the skirt to flare out in a saucy manner at the hips. And the bodice was modest but cut cunningly just so to accentuate her firm little bosom--
The sweat that broke out on the back of his neck caused Howl to realize where his thoughts had led him. He looked away in a hurry. Books, he thought. Crossing spell. He wasn't going to ogle a strange girl. Though he comforted himself with the idea that she was Sophie, in a way. And it had certainly been much longer than ten minutes since he'd thought about sex, thus disproving the statistic he'd ruminated upon earlier that morning. And he was only human, after all.
Perhaps Sophie had read his thoughts, because her cheeks flushed a little. But she didn't glare at him, or slap him, only turned away to dig through the larder. Howl didn't watch her as she bent over, not at all.
"So are you from Wales, too?" she asked him after a few moments of laying out bread and cheese.
"Wales? No," Howl told her, glad of the not-silence. "I've been there. Too rainy for me. I'm from right here in Ingary. Well, you know what I mean."
"Ah," Sophie said. "Well, Howl is from Wales. If you go into Howl's bedroom you can see it from his window. He hates to go there-- he always catches cold-- but I know he feels comforted by its being there. And now I'm talking too much about personal things. Argh.."
"It can't hurt for us to compare notes," Howl said, a bit surprised. "I wouldn't have minded seeing this place under other circumstances. And you only said it because you care about him, and I can't fault you for that."
"Hmmm," Sophie said. Howl could hear her as she sawed at a loaf of crusty bread, and the thunk as she sliced at some heavy cheese. "The problem is that you're actually listening to me, as well as talking to me. So tell me some more. When are you getting married, for instance?"
"I don't know, exactly," Howl admitted. "That's up to Sophie. Soon, I hope."
"Ah," she said again. Then, casually, "Tell me about her."
Ah, thought Howl. She was being so nice because she was curious and wanted information. Wanted to know what her Howl was experiencing. He couldn't fault her for that, either. And conversation went two ways; he might learn something, also.
"You look like her," he said, wondering what else to say. "Except for the hair. Hers is shorter, and a sort of silvery color, very pretty. There were some things that happened. A witch cursed her, and--"
"Hmm. I know the story, I think. How very odd, that someone else has lived my life." Sophie didn't sound very happy about it. But she continued. "You're different from Howl, though."
"I'm glad to hear it," he interjected. He wasn't too happy himself to think that he wasn't perfectly unique. He did feel better, however, to think that such was a general human failing, and not simply a failing of his own. He'd been told he was vain. Of course, she'd said that her Howl was vain also. This was maddening.
"I was trying to say," she said with a significant look and a threatening wave of her knife, "that then it must stand to reason that she's not exactly like me."
"True," Howl admitted. So he told her about Sophie, how sweet she was, how giving, hoping that this girl didn't take it to mean that she wasn't. Once he got started, he couldn't seem to stop. It was strange to realize, suddenly, that he was talking to her. It was easy, actually. Before his Sophie, he'd been rather close-mouthed himself. Of course, he hadn't had anyone to talk to, except Calcifer.
"Calcifer is practically her devoted slave, which is more than he ever was for me. And I've known him for sixteen years."
"Sixteen?" Sophie broke in. "Calcifer? You've only been with Howl for what-- five, six years?"
"It's all a drop in the bucket to a fire demon," Calcifer said.
"So?" Sophie replied. "It still means it's different. You're all different." She sounded happy at the notion.
Howl thought he knew how she felt. "We're all still special," he told her in a soft voice. He wondered if he was trying to convince her or himself. "You've been through a lot for him, I think, and that can't be discounted or duplicated. And I'm sure he appreciates it and still will, when this is all over."
"You're thinking about it too much. Oh! We're out of my favorite tea. Is that the door? Thank heavens, it's Lettie and Ben. Hello."
She sounded glad for the distraction. He could talk to her, but she was not the demonstrative sort, and Howl had embarrassed her. He really, really missed Sophie right then.
So he looked at the returning beauty Lettie, and the sharp-featured, sober-suited man who followed her in with a somewhat dumbstruck, melty expression. Some things were universal, Howl was coming to learn.
"That's him, Ben," Lettie said, removing her coat and pointing at Howl. "Isn't it the strangest thing? Sophie, where's Michael?"
Sophie developed a mulish expression, but introduced Howl to the newcomer. Howl watched the other wizard. The man stared back at him.
"How intriguing," Wizard Suliman said. "He's not Howl. But the resemblance is remarkable."
"So I've heard," Howl mumbled to himself.
The man shook his head. "I'm sorry I took so long. I was in the middle of something important." But the expression he shot at Lettie made Howl suspect that he'd still hurried through the something important.
"Sophie? Michael?"
"He's getting more gol-powder," Sophie finally told Lettie. "And probably visiting Martha."
"Gol-powder, eh?" Suliman said, staring. "Nice thinking. But I don't think that's going to do it."
Howl set his hands on his hips and sized up the other fellow. He could tell instantly that he, Howl, was a bit more powerful and experienced despite the other man's advantage in years. Still, Howl couldn't turn down friendly help, not in this situation.
"Oh?" he finally replied. "What do you think, then?"
The man was still gazing oddly at him, and Howl didn't think he was being sized up in return. Suliman's expression showed that he was still clearly in the Wow, he really looks like Howl, how can this be? stage. But Suliman answered, if somewhat incoherently. "I think it's going to take parts."
"Parts."
Sophie perked up. "You mean like in the yard?"
Suliman shook his head. "No, from my workshop. For me to go to your world-- dimension-- and arrange things. You," he said, pointing at Howl, "could probably manage it without parts, if you weren't so closely involved. But it was your concurrent spells that caused it in the first place, so you can't go there unless Howl comes back here. And I think it'll take both of you doing it at the same time. Hmm. This is tricky. I'll have to go home and work on it."
"You just got here, Ben!" Sophie objected. "At least eat some lunch first."
Suliman looked over at Lettie. "Don't mind if I do," he said. "It'll take a while to build, anyway."
Howl sighed. He was going to be stuck here forever. Perhaps he'd try the gol-powder spell one more time. Third time's the charm, he thought, not really believing it.
x x x
After lunch Howell figured it was time to work on getting home, to break that strange barrier he could sense, blocking his most inconspicuous attempts to cross over. But every time he approached the table where the books and spell ingredients were, Markl ran over to see what he was doing. "Are you going to try the spell again?" he'd ask, or "what do you want me to do?"
Howell dearly wanted to tell the boy to bugger off. But the ginger-haired tyke was so young, and so eager; and just too cute to rebuff. He'd made Howell smirk a couple of times during lunch. And besides, Howell told himself, he didn't want to blow his cover.
So he tried exploring, but exploring didn't get him much further. Howell first found a closet and a bedroom. The latter was full of women's things yet still managed to look completely unused. He shut the door on that room to find Sophie pausing in her dishwashing to stare at him oddly. Her room? he wondered. Did she live here?
She certainly seemed very at home here. But come to think of it, his Sophie treated his castle the same way. She didn't live there, though, at least not yet; her stepmother and stepfather made sure of that. And she never visited alone. A Martha or a Lettie accompanied her, always.
Of course, this Sophie had the old lady-- the Witch of the Waste, though they called her Granny here-- for a chaperone. And she was plenty frightening, though Howell had already discounted her as a threat. Mostly. She was the same Witch he'd known, or this world's version of her at least, but she had no fire demon, no powers. The only threat she posed was possibly to his virtue. Her eyes followed him more assiduously than did Sophie's, and the look in them could be described only as lascivious.
He opened another door and found another small bedroom, tidy but slept-in. He shut the door guiltily.
"Go on in," the old lady cackled. "Just give me a few minutes to get up and join you."
"Granny," Sophie sighed, taking off her apron and sitting at the couch. She looked at Howell, then looked down quickly and smoothed her green dress. The gesture drew his eyes inexorably toward her figure. Very like Sophie's, he thought.
"Don't be greedy, young lady," Granny said. "Sides, he likes it. I need a cigar."
"Two a day. You promised," Sophie said in a somewhat schoolmarm-y voice.
"All right, Miss Bossy. I'll wait 'till after dinner."
Sophie merely smiled at this, glanced again at Howell, then glanced away.
Howell couldn't comprehend it. When he'd teased her, she'd gone all injured and shocky. It must be something in the tone of voice, he mused. Or there was a history here he didn't understand, and couldn't ask about.
Frustrated, he stomped over to the last downstairs door, next to Calcifer's hearth. It led outside to a small, rounded, grassy yard.
No one followed him out, which was a good thing. But he also found no metal plates stored here, no other magic junk for spell-assistance, and that was a bad thing. Howell set his hands on his hips and looked up at the blue, blue sky, and let the afternoon sun warm him while the high-altitude fall breezes cooled him right off again.
"Grrr," he said.
"What's wrong with you?" came Calcifer's voice from beside him. Calcifer had turned around in the hearth to face the outside, and was watching Howell with narrowed yellow flame-eyes. "You've got Sophie all worried, and me, too. If you don't straighten up, then she'll never marry you, and then where will we all be?"
"It's not all that bad, surely," Howell told the little flame, thinking furiously. His eyes flew to his hand, and the ring upon it. He realized for the first time that it wasn't the right betrothal ring, his ring, and that it wasn't even on the correct finger.
He wondered again what his Sophie was doing at that moment, and realized that he missed her. He understood her. Sure, she could be a little cold, and she'd never have kissed him when he was passed out or have visited him in the bathtub, but surely that would all change once they were married. Wouldn't it?
"Bad? Aww, maybe not," Calcifer answered. "She'll never leave you. I just hate seeing her upset."
"You always did like her, didn't you?" Howell asked, looking at the small orange face and feeling very clever.
"Maybe," Calcifer said. "Except that time when she cleaned the fireplace and tried to put me out. Or when she dumped a bucket of water on me."
She did that? thought Howell. That sweet girl? He could hardly believe it. It might be pushing it, though, to try and get the whole story. So he just said "Yeah?" in a noncommittal tone.
"Guess she had to," Calcifer admitted. His flames snapped when he laughed.
Howell had an idea. "Calcifer, we've known each other a long time, right?"
"If you think sixteen years is a long time."
Sixteen? History he didn't understand, and couldn't ask about. Howell shrugged mentally, and chose his next words with care. "I need help with something. Something important. But I can't tell anyone in the house, even you, because it's a surprise. A good one. Where do I go? Who do I ask for help?"
Calcifer's eyes narrowed again and he was silent. Howell felt some trepidation at the pregnant pause, but Calcifer was only thinking. "Well, if not me, then I'd say Sophie. If not her, then I'd say nobody I know of. You'll just have to figure it out for yourself, like you always do."
"Ah," Howell said. What a depressing life this fellow had, he thought. No Wales to go home to. Howell wouldn't try to find it himself unless it was as a last resort, or else risk getting even more lost than he was already in this world. And this world's Howell had no apparent friends, except those here, cozy little family that they were.
But they were not his, Howell's, family. And he would have to find help somewhere. He came to a decision. He left the sun and the wind and went inside.
"I'm going out for a bit," he announced to the 'family.' He added a smile, his very best and most sincere, for the benefit of any hurt feelings. "I won't be long."
Sophie stood from the couch, and smoothed her gown again. Howell was momentarily distracted once more by the slide of her slim fingers on the green fabric, and the curves they caressed, and then he realized she was following him to the door. She leaned forward, clearly expecting a kiss. Howell screwed up his courage (odd, that) and offered her a quick peck on the mouth. Her lips were warm and soft. She smelled like Sophie.
He stood back, quickly, and turned the knob randomly to pink. The door led to a grand, bustling city. It certainly looked like Kingsbury. Howell wanted to cheer.
"Will you be home in time for dinner, do you think?" Sophie asked.
"I'd like nothing better," Howell told her with complete and utter sincerity.
x x x
End Chapter 4
Sorry for the lack of action so far, but it ain't really that kind of story. I need them all to just sorta get to know each other before I mess with their heads. Thanks AGAIN MUCH to those who have commented already, and thanks for reading! Please comment, let me know what you think!