deercountry | 16 . spring catch-all

[ So: this is new. For a moment John is openly astonished, almost wondering, as he looks at the whites of his own eyes— and then Waver has closed a hand on his wrist, and he goes stumbling along behind, clumsy with his new height. It's refreshing as hell but also terribly inconvenient, being taller. Being different.

He can still feel the life and death of the city around them, so he can settle into this body like an appendage he'd been paying no attention to, adjusting to Waver's legs and arms as though he's shaking off pins and needles. ]

Twice? [ He's focusing on the important bit here. ] Seriously?

What, she didn't tell you about her Waker?

[He asked, dryly. It was good that John didn't fight him as he found an empty quiet room in the far corner of the archive. The difference in their eyes suggested that he couldn't access the powers of the Necrolord Prime.

That was fine. All he needed was a body with better Magic Circuits to defend himself. ]

About how she assaulted the skinny Brit for merely offering her a warm cup of tea and a scone while she dried herself off with his cloak? About how he clocked her blood magic and made a Counter on the fly?

[He grinned-- not a kind expression-- and closed the door behind them. ]

I dropped her for a good half a minute. Enough time to leave.

... The only reason we'll have trouble today is if you try something. In the meantime, I'm not letting you run off with my body until we sort this.

Edited 2023-03-29 16:10 (UTC)

[ Sure, it stings that someone else got to scoop her out of the water. There would've been a nice symmetry to it, if it'd been John. The beaches here might not be scenic, but they're a fair sight better than the other one. And then maybe they could've hashed things out there on the sand— maybe she would've let him gather her up. Maybe she would've given in easy.

It doesn't matter. It would've stewed; the blowup would've come. He doesn't want to think about this right now. ]

I wasn't planning on a joyride. I mean, no offense. I'm sure there's plenty to enjoy. [ He's just digging this hole deeper. ] I'm listening.

.... The last thing either of us need is Apollonia taking control of Anna because she saw your eyes in my face and trying to kill the both of us. Again.

[Again, he wasn't mad at Anna-- but Alexandria had been ill prepared for a Lyctor, even if she was one that shouldn't have existed. Waver was certain he could deal a bigger blow now the he had more information, but it didn't change that this was still functionally a Saber versus Caster fight.

Saber would always have the upper hand by the strength of their physical prowess alone.]

...I also have people that depend on me here, and they have enough trauma to deal with-- without you in the picture.

[Jun Ushio-- although, Waver knew that one of his boyfriend Falco's disappearances was partly due to John's influence as well. It was amazing, how having one single player in a foreign configuration on the board fundamentally changed the game that was being played.

Satisfied that John was going to play nice for the moment, Waver leaned back against the door and examined his hands. He was used to the long, almost spindly bones of a man that had grown too quickly in too short of a time that he was. Being... More average in many ways was strange on its own.

He felt strange in this body.

Waver heaved a frustrated sigh.]

... Annoying as this is, it's still a good sight better than last year.

[ Waver says Apollonia, and his expression flickers, eyes lifted from inspecting his new fingers. John splays his borrowed hands as though in defeat. ]

You can stop giving me reasons not to kill you. I'm sold. I'm on board. You would be astonished how many times a day I don't kill people.

[ This is just one more inconvenient trial among inconvenient trials. But it always rattles him, when they step into what he's always thought of as his domain: the human body. His own body. It's been so long since he didn't have absolute control of himself, easy as breathing or easy as thought— he feels wrongfooted and confused, like this, his necromantic awareness constantly shifting back to center his usual body and getting shunted a few feet to the side. Fascinating stuff from the perspective of thanergetic link theory, but not great to experience. ]

Which bit?

Oh, I don't know. The Killer Moths. Walking into the sea.

[Waver shrugged-- and the swiftness in which the accusations died and the practiced nonchalance slipped into place was very indicative of Waver's true nature: that of a little alley cat that snarled and swatted at anyone and anything that came near, but really just wanted to be left in his dumpster in peace.
His hands itching for something to do, Waver compulsively reached for cigarettes that weren't there and heaved another sigh when he came up empty.

He took to drumming on the door with a stranger's fingers, feeling his way through the local leylines as if in search for something that others couldn't fully identify. ]

It'll be a bother if someone walks in on us like this, [He grumbled, and continued his work. ]

[ It's been a long time since then. A hell of a busy year. John slouches in his borrowed body, fidgets with his new hands. He cards those fingers back through long hair and spares a moment of awkward sympathy for someone who isn't here, how she hated the way it tangled. ]

You don't think we could pull off the impressions?

[Flatly:]

Not unless we gouge each other's eyes out.

I'd offer, but it might go against the spirit of the no murder bit.

[ Also, he doesn't say, his would just grow back. His being the eyes of the body he's currently inhabiting, not the eyes of the body he's left behind, decoupled as it is from a divine well of thalergy— unless there are factors here he can't see— but now's probably not the time. ]

Any possible fixes come to mind? Might be the evolved form of the handholding curse going around.

[ The one he never figured out a cure for, other than time. ]

[It really was against the spirit of their truce-- and, thus, Waver set back to work. Turning to face the door, he ran his fingers along the edge in search of loose spots or other irregularities that might compromise it's security.]

Sounds like that party game I heard about in the movies, where teenagers lock themselves in a closet and... Get busy

[A snort. He has never seen the purpose of such games, if he was honest with himself.

Satisfied that the door was secure, Waver then placed a hand over the locking mechanism and focused. Everything, living or otherwise, had it's own supply of mana and a series of circuits that allowed it to flow through it's physical body. The circuits in John's body, from what he could tell from within, were certainly better than what he was used to...]

I'm locking us in anyway, [he said, and with a visible spark released a small burst of mana into the lock that he had rested his hand on.]

I'd set us up a better privacy screen, but that's a little more intensive. This should work, at least for a while.

Is that a suggestion? I mean, I'm flattered.

[ This is a joke, not least because Anna would gut them both. Still: he watches with open interest as Waver works his magic from John's own hands. ]

If we're here for a while, I'd like to hear the theory behind that technique. Given that it so outstrips my own. [ It's dry sarcasm without particular bite; he is interested. ]

[He stepped away and cast John a sharp, knowing smile in reply. ]

And reveal all of my secrets?

Please. I'm the Worst Kind of Mage, but I'm not stupid.

And a scholar. [ Being rebuffed doesn't seem to rattle him: John just turns to examine the workspace, his posture casual in Waver's body. ] I'll trade you. Call it another party game... truth for truth.

Easy stuff to pass the time, you know. What's the worst kind of mage? [ And, as a funny aside: ] I don't get to answer that one or whole schools of necromancy start dreaming up civil wars.

[Despite the eyeroll, Waver stopped to consider this question. John wasn't someone he made a point of interacting with, but the whims of the Patrons seemed to think it was necessarily. Running a hand through the short hair on the body he was in as compulsive action, Waver levelly regarded John.]

I'm a scholar that doesn't make seeking out the Root of Knowledge the main point of my craft, [he explained, not missing a beat.]

Most of my peers believe that it is where Magic exists in it's purest form. I call it 'magecraft' for a reason: actual magic and science cannot coexist.

... Is that a factor on your Earth? What's left of it, anyway.

Edited 2023-03-30 16:46 (UTC)

[ John considers this, approximates it to his own world, gets halfway to a bit about the Root of Knowledge and its relationship to the Tree of Knowledge and how humanity didn't do a bang-up job with that the first time round—

And then he falters, because Waver goes for the throat. There is a moment's uncomfortable silence, then he tips his head to take the point. ]

Science is just our system of describing the world, and magic is all the bits we didn't expect. The stuff we needed new systems to describe. I could show you some great papers on the essentials of necromancy, the mathematics behind the energy transfer... Hell, I could write a few on the systems here. Even if peer review would kick my ass.

Ugh. Peer reviews are the worst.

[And for a second he realized with incredulity that this mundane sort of complaint was something that they had in common. ]

It's interesting that they compliment each other on your Earth. The advances in biological sciences have wrecked the possibility of making human-like homunculi. I've only met one that was successful in my entire life, and she was so cloistered by her clan that she didn't know how to use the brick of a cell phone she had been given.

[ Instead of digging at him, Waver seems willing to run with this. To talk shop. He leans a hip against the table and settles in to do nothing, carding his fingers again through his unfamiliar hair. ]

Catch me up on homunculi. What's her story?

I met her a handful of times over a decade ago, in the middle of a ritual we were on opposing sides of. It's not like I knew her personally.

[Of course he was willing to talk shop. They had nothing better to do, and it gave him time to think. Frowning thoughtfully, Waver folded arms that were unfamiliar and leaned against the wall with the slovenly air of someone who focused too much on the internal machinations of the mind instead of more ordinary, mundane affairs.

Sucking in a breath, Waver continued.]

I just know the rumors about her clan, [He ammended, thinking of the spunky young woman with the ethereal aura and an suble strength that reminded him of a steel cable wrapped in silk.]

Einzburn was the name. They had mastered the art of crafting Homunculi over the course of generations. I'm willing to bet since the very dawn of magecraft as we know it. Mage clans are notorious for being untrusting, and tend to strictly keep to themselves.

Especially the older ones.

All I can say about her is that she comported herself with the confidence to stand beside and support her chosen Knight, although I suspect that she was not the one originally partnered with that legendary figure.

It was the mid Nineties, and I remember her speaking about how Japan was the first time she had driven anywhere that wasn't her clan's property. The unseen parts of her team had given her one of those chunky bricks they called phones-- but, when someone finally called, she got so flustered that she shoved it at me.

...It was like watching someone realize they were holding a bomb. Good thing I knew how to answer.

[Doubly good that the call was actually for him.]

[ He wants to pry at the nitty-gritty, the theory, the overlap between worlds. But the story is honestly too good to pass up, and so John gets comfortable. He makes a soft sound of amusement at the description of the brick phone, the fluster of a manmade girl. ]

You'll need to walk me through what a Homunculus is made of, and made for, after you tell me who was on the call.

[ They have time to kill, and for the moment, the air between them isn't frozen with tension. For a little while, they can bear this. ]

An unknown party-- obviously someone on the Einzburn's side, and obviously the tactical part of their team.

[Frowning irritably, Waver told him the basics of the beast that had stalled the course of the mage war that he has forced his way into in Japan. If questions arose on matters of the Holy Grail War, Waver answered crisply and left the details vague.

A mage doesn't reveal all secrets, after all.

His own role had been simple: he was the line of communication between his partner and the rest of the teams that had been called under a temporary truce to fight the eldritch summoning of flesh, tongue-tacles, cillia, and other vicera.

The call had been a strategic ploy-- where the best place was to coordinate a multi-pronged killing blow on the abomination born of the imagination of the duo that hunted down the town's children and slaughtered them in the night.

At the end of it, he sighed-- wearied of his own life and aggrieved by the memory of witnessed horrors.]

... I guess you see now exactly why I'm not bothered by the What of you do and the how you do it. Just the Whydunit.

Edited 2023-04-09 18:11 (UTC)

16 . spring catch-all

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Cw: type moon, flesh monsters, reference to slaughtering children