deercountry | 15 . JOHNUARY

[ Of course that wasn't enough. It never is unless it really, really hurts.

For a beat, John lets the distance hang and the crush of breathlessness take them both. He's waiting, implicitly, for Asriel to take his hand again; he's waiting for grudging permission to continue whatever they're doing here. But Asriel just sets his jaw, and John thinks, oh. They could die of stubbornness. That tracks.

God breaks first. ]

Well. [ He flexes his hand awkwardly in Asriel's, drawing attention to what he really doesn't need to. ] Solid effort.

[ Time to get literal, he could say, but he suspects Asriel would unbutton his shirt without blinking and they wouldn't be any better off. He honestly respects it. ]

[ leaning closer reminds asriel that he's wondered previously about john's unusual eyes, but generally, that's not a thing you just ask a guy about outright, so he's kept it to himself. looks aside, it's his interest that asriel cares about more. ]

I wouldn't expect it to be easy.

[ he says it as someone might about deciding to climb a mountain or hunt a lion. ]

That's why you start small. It's for the best anyway, when lacking for reliable data and samples. It's just a matter of accounting for scale after that, not to mention the power inherent in the specimens themselves. I get the impression there isn't a lot you couldn't do with enough potent blood, assuming you're willing to take the risk.

But still insufficient.

[ no point in sugarcoating it; a failure is a failure. he isn't resisting any more than he has the other times they've just been sitting here holding hands, but he leans away from john a bit more unconsciously. asriel knows it will get worse if they intend to keep testing. he's anticipating it.

asriel's stubborn willingness to die was apparently enough to draw stelmaria back from wherever she's been, too, their disagreement set aside in the face of some deeper existential need to be close after something like that. she's breathing as hard as asriel is too, but that will settle. ]

Last chance?

[ he isn't sure what happens after that, but he knows how far he's willing to go. ]

[ Beatrice hadn't been joking when she'd wanted to invite the horrid man who she'd seen accused of so much mayhem over for tea. The small house that she shared with Battler had been prepared--though in a magical sense and not just a physical sense. When John enters through the front door, he finds himself not in a simple living room but instead a strange sitting room where the windows look out over a garden of golden roses and golden butterflies flit from flower to flower amidst sunlight.

A strange goat-headed man in the uniform of a butler or footman greets the Emperor Undying with a bow and gestures that he be followed towards the table next to the windows where brilliant sunlight shines down upon the seated figure of the Golden Witch.

Beatrice stands as John approaches, half-curtsies. The table is laid with a tea service, complete with a teapot from which a curl of steam escapes. ]

Welcome! It's so nice to finally meet you in person.

[ Her voice is sweet, almost sickly in the cloying, welcoming sense of it. John may be dangerous, but Beatrice is equally confident in her own danger--even more so on what she now clearly considers her own turf.

Not that there's going to be any trouble, right? ]

[ God murmurs, without particular rancor: ]

Does anywhere?

[ He could turn the blood to dust and ashes, given a moment to gather himself; this is apparently not that moment. He swipes at his mouth with the back of a wrist, in an utterly human gesture. He examines the blood smear with vague fascination, which is maybe a little less relatable.

Regardless, he breathes carefully through the nausea and shuts his eyes to focus on the question. ]

At the gate.

[ Close enough he could stagger to it from here, but standing up does not currently appeal. ]

[Okay, that actually does get him to crack a grin despite the situation.]

...Heh, fair enough. [He shakes his head, amused, and gestures again for the man to get on his back.] Alright, come on, I'll get you there. We can take it to my place, if you want. There's enough bathrooms there nobody's likely to notice someone holed up in one for a bit.

[There is nothing awkward about inviting a guy you punched in the face over inciting chaos that got your house burned down to the rebuilt version of that house, okay. It's fine. It's all fine.]

Edited 2023-02-14 05:17 (UTC)

[ Taking piggyback rides from his enemies is going to be a thing, apparently. First the vampire, now the guy who dresses like a vampire. This is an immensely normal way to spend a Tuesday afternoon.

John gives up on dignity wholesale. It's not like he had a lot going for him, cursed with eldritch food poisoning by a guy hawking candies in exchange for your soul. ]

Cheers.

[ With a shudder of breath— and in demonstration that he is not a total asshole— the blood turns to dust and ashes. John slings an arm around Qrow's shoulders and lets the man take his weight, and leaves no smears more unpleasant than a faint pale grime of powder. He thinks this is very decent of him, personally, as he squeezes his eyes shut and tries to parse what the fuck is going on inside his body. Really an interesting new experience, not knowing. Fun way to keep him on his toes. ]

[Watching all the blood John puked up disappear into dust is profoundly unsettling, honestly. A reminder that he is, in fact, dealing with a god--albeit one that's currently been kneecapped by more powerful gods.

The thought gets pushed to the back of his mind; they have no cause for enmity now, after all. There hasn't been for months, and John has been a surprisingly friendly enemy, in that time. And for all his own bluster, Qrow isn't actually an unkind man. He walks to the lamp slowly so as not to jostle him, taking brief pauses if the man's distress seems too severe.

The warp of the lamp is probably unpleasant, so it's only around then that he speeds up, letting the man down as they reach the downstairs bathroom nearest the door without a further word. And if there's a slight thump against that door, rather than the sound of footsteps walking away, that surely doesn't mean anything, right? Certainly it's not as though the door has just been casually blocked for his privacy by someone who could be doing literally anything else right now. Right?

Obviously.]

[ It'd be embarrassing for God to bolt to the toilet, right? But he's choking back heaves as they get in the front door— he doesn't even get a chance to take in the decor, which makes a lot of frankly bizarre choices with gold filigree and clocks— and only just makes it. Whatever Qrow's doing goes plainly ignored; for a guy who should be able to split his attention across a solar system, puking up gore sure keeps him occupied.

The sounds are unpleasant, for a bit. This time it's a stomach, which is kind of funny.

This would probably be distressing to anyone with a normal relationship to disemboweled human organs. ]

Do you think, [ rasps God, just loud enough to carry, ] they didn't realize it wasn't meant to be literal? Puking your guts out.

[Unpleasant, sure, but he's heard worse. Hell, he's seen worse in Trench alone, what with the time that girl chopped herself to bits with a chainsaw and he and Ozpin were forced to clean it up.

He answers, from the other side of the door:]

If I had to guess, that's probably why they did it. Apparently gods love puns. Who knew.

Edited 2023-02-14 06:34 (UTC)

[ Well! It's better than choking on nothing or coughing up organs, so John will consider this one of Trench's lesser inconveniences. He is unaware of the blurb viewable through an Omni. ]

No, please. You start.

[ He spreads his hands at the list of questions on the table, looking only tired and vaguely resigned. ]

Waver Velvet was grateful for many things that had come his way since arriving in Trench. Chief of which being that he was himself for the moment...

If, perhaps, with a little extra. As one last smack in the face, Madame Generosity had seen to turn him into a centaur once more in a reflection of Bausphonette's joke from the previous summer. It was possible that he might never be free... But this was okay.

"I'm already apparently attending Idiot University, but I'm sure I don't need you to teach me about the little death. I already know what that one is, thanks."

[He blinks on confusion and - oh. Ah. He hasn't seen this man in a while. He settles into the chair - by practically draping his legs over it - and ignores his blurb.]

Ah. Hello there.

[He looks down at the questions and... hm.]

'What do you think builds trust between people?'

[ it's true, they aren't holding hands this time, so this is a marked improvement over the last time. asriel does look at the Omni, though, which causes him some visible confusion. ]

Out of respect, I am going to give you the option to reconsider.

[ because if he reads this, he can't unread it. ]

[ John splays his free hand in defeat, still holding Asriel's hand with the other. He is less blase in his movements now; he does nothing to risk the way they're anchored. ]

That was my shot. If you have desperate measures in mind, I'll hear it.

[ John waves this off, even as he catches on the shift in Asriel's expression. There is a flicker of concern in his face, but his tone remains patient. ]

We don't seem to have a wealth of options. Shoot.

[ It's funny: this is the kind of ally he would've killed for, a year ago. Back before he threw start small out the window; back before he got really mad. When the risks seemed less like risks and more like the inevitable.

Now he just sits in the same familiar bar and listens to the same familiar plan for deicide. John drinks his beer. ]

Blood might be the crux of it. Here I thought I was an expert, and that's gone out the window... I've yet to crack the system. [ He hasn't really been trying for a while now. ] Every time we turn over a new stone, we find puzzle pieces.

[ Brings them back to Riteoir, really. The things you can do with local magic; the ways you can turn the system in on itself. ]

[ asriel gives john a look that says you asked for it and then starts reading, a lot more nicely than it deserves, but that's mostly because that's just how he sounds. this is probably more awkward for him, but he gets through it with the same resolve as anything else. ]

And there's a photogram to go along with it.

[ there's a good chance he now thinks the rest of the profile's just bullshit anyway. what kind of number is 10,036? ]

[Martin remains frozen in place as his eyes land on the stranger, welcoming the new Sleepers to the world, and apparently trying to ease the transition from squid to person. It's nice to see the examples in this world of people showing kindness to complete strangers.

He's still frozen in place as the man approaches, and he tries to will his muscles to respond. He tries to raise a hand in greeting. He tries to speak. He even tries to just blink his eyes to show that he is, in fact, present in spite of his predicament, but it's all to no avail. Instead, all he can try to do is... think loudly, he supposes, and hope for the best, even though he's not confident it will do any good.

I, uh. I seem to be kind of... stuck?

[ Immediately, John looks as though someone has slapped him; he leans back in his chair to let this sink in. His eyebrows go on a multi-stage journey. The silence hangs between them, in the wake of that.

Murmured, like an aside: ] Probably better I don't ask about the photogram.

[ He settles back in, laces his fingers as though they are now going to have a reasonable discussion. Like they're back at a research table, and not whatever this is. ]

You know, I'm glad they got the little death bit in there. Be a shame to miss the low-hanging fruit.

[ was that a dirty joke ]

[ asriel considers it. he really considers it. that makes him tense enough to start grinding his teeth, and he shakes his head. ]

Nothing I am desperate enough to try.

[ he dislikes admitting this because it feels like failure. ]

If we bare our souls and suffer for it, it gets what it wants. If we sit here until it tires of the game, it's forced us to play along, so it gets what it wants.

[ he's tallying up every grievance and saving them for later. ]

I'll choose the path of least resistance for now and retest in an hour. There's work to do anyway, is there not?

[ he will endure holding hands longer to maintain some dignity. ]

Put enough pieces together, and eventually, an image starts to take shape.

[ it took him most of his first life to defeat one false god, and now he's exploring the idea of talking on several, so he knows this isn't a sprint. asriel maintains a pace that's more like a machine than a person, though, which is easy for the low, low price of working to the exclusion of all else. ]

There are answers in that city; it's just a matter of getting them. The rest is testing, but that will take time. Equipment and samples don't appear overnight.

[ asriel already likes to hear himself talk, but the beer loosens him up to a bit of thinking aloud as well. ]

Does that mean I'm counting you in? You can say no, but you should still teach me some of those tricks of yours. It would be a shame to waste them.

You would approve of it.

[ by now, asriel has determined that john's sense of humour is exhausting at best. occasionally something lands, but this is like accidentally finding out more than you ever planned to know about a coworker and now having to reevaluate how you view them as a person. ]

That's a strategy, I suppose. Ridiculous talking points because we're being coerced into having conversations.

[ oh no, not conversations. he really says it like it's the worst thing he can think of, but it's not how he planned to be using this time right now. ]

[sansa has learned to hide her reactions well. all the same lady's ears go flat. of course this was always a possibility, and sansa curses herself for not thinking of it. at least her bio has very little relevant information in it. her nametag has an illegible palimpsest, where 'sansa stark' has been written on top of 'alayne stone' which is, in turn, written on top of 'sansa stark.' thus far sansa has taken very little notice of it, but now it occurs to her that an illegible scrawl where a name is supposed to be might look interesting and memorable, which she is currently trying very hard not to be.

well. perhaps she can get some useful information out of this, at least. she glances down at the cards in her hands, wondering how much information she can withold before it looks like she's hiding something.]

What family tradition do you value the most?

[putting down evil necromancers, for one. fortunately there are traditions among the starks that sansa values higher. somewhere her omen is laughing.]

Well, we've always looked after each other and the North. We put the survival of our people before the politics of the realm. The winters in my world are very long, and my family has always done its best to see our people through them.

[she forces herself to meet john gaius's unsettling eyes and offers a faint, sympathetic smile.]

I should hate to force anybody to answer questions [she would!! it would make them distrust her!! it's much easier to befriend someone and simply get them to tell you what they're up to. she might have attempted this with john if she hadn't run into his sworn nemesis first.], but I think perhaps whoever brought us here doesn't feel the same way.

John, to his credit, keeps an incredibly straight face. It is clearly a struggle. He sits back, eyebrows raised.

"I believe you. I'll ask you something else, if you'll forgive me."

There is a beat of hanging silence, a building sense of dread, and then:

"Why the long face?"

Because he's a horse now. Get it.

15 . JOHNUARY

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sorry this took so long; tea for two

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speed dating!

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i'm sorry that this is the worst lmao

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