He will. [Palamedes shrugs; yeah, like, that's just something to be assumed as default? He's gonna.] And I'm not surprised he would ask; Lyctorhood offends him, and he wouldn't have any other context to proceed from.
[Here, the detail carefully placed down to both absolve Viktor of any further assumptions about what he might know (from, at least, Palamedes) at the same time he circles around 'other context' like one might circle a landmine.
He considers: the first cavalier, although God doesn't like that term, which implies some level of difference; the confirmation that there is someone who might fit this description without other context, given God has just said so and volleyed in that bit about his-eyes-not-his-eyes; Cytherea's play for revenge tied so inexorably to Canaan House, and to Lyctors.
For the first time Palamedes' perfectly even expression breaks, brow furrowing and frowning deeply, as he takes a couple seconds to decide which type of live grenade to throw on the landmine.]
'Awkward' for your Lyctors, I imagine, because an outsider wouldn't not assume the origin point for the megatheorem— that's what I've been calling it, sorry— is you. Similar and dissimilar, as no one who's never been to Canaan House would know the work was left incomplete.
[A beat, while he drums his fingers, but then he pushes back from his desk and stands to pace around it on God's side, away from the covered art pieces. Here is the frank admission of The Academia, the same as when he'd woken up on a couch and started in about River bubbles.]
What Tridentarius did to herself and her pompous cavalier was a disaster; she's good, but she did all the steps without bothering to give a shit about him, so it doesn't surprise me that she couldn't see all the way to the end. And Harrow— [ah. eh. he shakes his head; no, let's just casually imply that what Harrow did to herself was also ghoulishly wrong, but in a very different way, and move on.] Well, I wish she'd have followed the same trail as I did, but I assume there wasn't time.
Now, Cytherea was upset with you, which I can only assume means she figured it out somehow, too. They invented it from nothing, they lacked the distance to see it wasn't done; I can believe that. Don't mistake this as pity; I can't even begin to fathom how it would have been worth it. Of course, I'm speaking about allowing your Lyctors to leash themselves to an incomplete version of— of the work.
[Which is valid but blame-shifting pettiness unless one happened to come into information that confirmed a complete version somewhere else, like perhaps the knowledge of where God's eyes come from. There's an idea he has about that, but it's too unformed to be of use, so he'll go on with the other one:]
Is she alive? Your... whatever you'd like to call her. Did you know they weren't finished?
no subject
[Here, the detail carefully placed down to both absolve Viktor of any further assumptions about what he might know (from, at least, Palamedes) at the same time he circles around 'other context' like one might circle a landmine.
He considers: the first cavalier, although God doesn't like that term, which implies some level of difference; the confirmation that there is someone who might fit this description without other context, given God has just said so and volleyed in that bit about his-eyes-not-his-eyes; Cytherea's play for revenge tied so inexorably to Canaan House, and to Lyctors.
For the first time Palamedes' perfectly even expression breaks, brow furrowing and frowning deeply, as he takes a couple seconds to decide which type of live grenade to throw on the landmine.]
'Awkward' for your Lyctors, I imagine, because an outsider wouldn't not assume the origin point for the megatheorem— that's what I've been calling it, sorry— is you. Similar and dissimilar, as no one who's never been to Canaan House would know the work was left incomplete.
[A beat, while he drums his fingers, but then he pushes back from his desk and stands to pace around it on God's side, away from the covered art pieces. Here is the frank admission of The Academia, the same as when he'd woken up on a couch and started in about River bubbles.]
What Tridentarius did to herself and her pompous cavalier was a disaster; she's good, but she did all the steps without bothering to give a shit about him, so it doesn't surprise me that she couldn't see all the way to the end. And Harrow— [ah. eh. he shakes his head; no, let's just casually imply that what Harrow did to herself was also ghoulishly wrong, but in a very different way, and move on.] Well, I wish she'd have followed the same trail as I did, but I assume there wasn't time.
Now, Cytherea was upset with you, which I can only assume means she figured it out somehow, too. They invented it from nothing, they lacked the distance to see it wasn't done; I can believe that. Don't mistake this as pity; I can't even begin to fathom how it would have been worth it. Of course, I'm speaking about allowing your Lyctors to leash themselves to an incomplete version of— of the work.
[Which is valid but blame-shifting pettiness unless one happened to come into information that confirmed a complete version somewhere else, like perhaps the knowledge of where God's eyes come from. There's an idea he has about that, but it's too unformed to be of use, so he'll go on with the other one:]
Is she alive? Your... whatever you'd like to call her. Did you know they weren't finished?