terriblepurpose: (25)
Paul Atreides ([personal profile] terriblepurpose) wrote in [community profile] deercountry2021-12-08 04:28 pm

let me look at the sun | open

Who: Paul Atreides, open
What: Event catch-all
When: Month of December
Where: Archaic Archives, streets of Trench, the forest's edge, memories
Notes: Go ahead and contact me at [plurk.com profile] terriblepurpose or by PM if you'd like to discuss any starters or suggest new ones! For tagging in your character's memories to Paul, feel free to start with whatever your preference is.

Content Warnings: Violence, body horror (lockjoint), death, religious extremism, extensive Dune spoilers, suicidal ideation, funerals, grief
megatheorem: (210)

[personal profile] megatheorem 2021-12-25 06:28 am (UTC)(link)
[Puzzles within puzzles; did space travel predate the need for prescience, if its source is only found on one desert planet? Did they plod around one star like the Nine Houses do, until someone accidentally found something better? What would the complex mathematics look like, to plan a perfect journey through space before it happens?

Much to think about. Economics are less his concern, but he gives Paul a sympathetic look all the same, thinking of all the pre-Resurrection secrets and so on that have yet to be uncovered back home. Even secrets as recently as a few centuries ago...

But. Worms. Big worms, big worms that enjoy this spice as much as the next prescient navigator, it seems—]


It's a renewable resource? I'm assuming the worms were around before the spice trade.

[And if they are still around, following a thing that is mined in - one also assumes - large quantities to fund an empire, well... What is it! Different sand?

He scoffs, leaning his elbows on his knees and drumming his fingers on the wet terrace again, Thinking. Big worms and a mystery product...]


I can't believe not a single person thought to look into what it is. How long have the mines been operating? Someone ought to be fired for gross oversight. [Incredibly stupid!! Ugh!] Or they could have at least asked the worms.

[Hah, but also: yes, he's noticed that little crumb of worm theory. The creatures unique to the only planet that produces this miracle drug — Palamedes isn't sure how that couldn't be obvious, and so he wonders if Paul means to imply that this Space Guild, or whoever else, is just ignoring it because big worms aren't as profitable, or something.

He doesn't know anything about economics. But what came first, the worm or the spice melange? Now that is the puzzle.]


Four hundred meters, really? That's horrifying.
megatheorem: (246)

[personal profile] megatheorem 2021-12-29 03:16 am (UTC)(link)
[Palamedes glances at Paul with what can only be described as brief concern; he's seen a big monster worm up close? Palamedes can't say he's sure he'd be able to keep it together if he faced down a void full of teeth, and he likes to believe he's faced down some somewhat-comparable horrors. He supposes he can see the merit in something so unthinkably horrifying that it loops back around into being awe-inducing.

Maybe. Paul talks about these worms — An open eye full of teeth — far more evocatively than the actual creature would be to him, Palamedes Sextus, standing in front of one, he's sure. Let something be said for the drama of it; he hums, brow quirked as he takes in the cinnamon smell, putting a pin in that for later.]


That's one of the nicest things anyone's ever said to me. A genuine top five. Having the right questions is my hobby, after all.

[Haha. But really, actually. He thinks for a moment.]

You said you were born somewhere else, but — it sounds like it suits you. Your Arrakis. A place like that demands someone treat it with the proper respect, I imagine; you could.

[And like a tidy punctuation mark, the sound of hooves scuffing along the terrace drifts over the steady drip-drip-drip of the rain. Palamedes looks up — Ah, he says — and then moves to stand, offering Paul a hand as he does.

The magic deer is here. Maybe they should talk to it. Hmhm.]


That's our cue. Remember: I'll be along within the hour to help with those crystals, so try not to go anywhere else before then, alright? Specifically not any more of these.

[He wags a finger in a circle; these, the memories. Please, sit still somewhere. He nods and turns to look at the deer.]

Okay? See you soon.

[Good news: he will be there inside an hour, as promised. Bad news: hubris in the form of his own stupid crystal joints, but he'll get to those after.]
megatheorem: (019)

[personal profile] megatheorem 2021-12-30 07:02 am (UTC)(link)
[Ungenerously, Palamedes thinks Paul's crooked house is a pitiful sight upon first approach. He and Camilla have been hunkered down in a windowless box for nostalgia and habit's sake, and at least Paul's choice of residence isn't a deeply haunted mansion covered in gargoyles, but — well. It's an idle thought first formed out front, and then again on the stairs. At least Canaan House had once been opulent.

He's come prepared, supplies in the satchel he's been wearing over his Sixth robe and under the complementary Sleeper cloak. It took almost no time at all to gather the things he assumes he'll need to do this thing, especially after a quick survey of his right ankle, where a fat crystal has blossomed to life in the time it took to wander Canaan House; Paul's everything is further along, but recalling the observation in the memory...

It will be a process. If Palamedes had his way the removal of crystals would be step one, after he trails the mouse up into Paul's... sitting room; but Paul has set out tea and mugs, so. Palamedes stands in the doorway, one hand idly settling on the cracked door out of habit, what-happened-here, while he looks at the state Paul is in.

Well, it could be worse. Continuing their conversation about their respective homes as if they'd not been interrupted by such a literal scene change bothers him not at all; he lets out a short puff of breath, not quite a laugh.]


Me? God, no. I made Warden at thirteen; my work before and after consumed nearly every waking minute, and a handful of sleeping ones, too.

[Haha. He crosses to sit, rearranging the lump-that-is-satchel under the Sleeper cloak as he does.]

That, and getting the appropriate clearances to open a hatch somewhere for anything other than a construct doing maintenance would take ages. I used to drive people mad, sending so many letters. I always told Cam that the inter-House post would be dead without my help.

[A shrug. Ah, youth! But yeah, that's a no;] We didn't even have windows.
megatheorem: (031)

[personal profile] megatheorem 2022-01-01 06:49 am (UTC)(link)
[Palamedes very nearly objects and moves to make Paul put down the mug, good God, he can pour his own tea, he can hear crackling — but he figures that the display has a purpose, and who is he to deny Paul what dignity he can muster? He remembers the way Paul had spoken of what's happened to his joints in the tone of someone talking about personal failure, so; Paul can pour tea. In the meantime, Palamedes tugs at his outer cloak, so he might free this satchel and set its contents down like Paul's knife. He doesn't understand the gesture, merely that it is one - that's enough.]

A — what, seeing all that sky, all the time? The ocean was worse.

[Hah; it's been strange but not, say, particularly undoing to be away from the Sixth for so long. He's deftly handling it, the way he deftly handles the flap of his satchel and begins removing what he's deemed the relevant medical supplies: scalpels (a few, in case), a small towel (on which he piles the rest), a pair of scissors, some tiny plastic bags (they are, in fact, snack size! but who's keeping track). He notably lacks anything like a roll of bandage, but: necromancy. That one is the easy part.

As an afterthought he picks up the mug and sips his tea, giving it an appreciative hum, compliments before he has to do something unpleasant with scalpels to several parts of Paul.]


The desk is fine. The rest depends on you; I'd proceed under the assumption that the smaller ones will be the easiest to remove, and therefore the most painful. That said, those would most likely be in the hands, naturally more delicate than the shoulder, for example.

[Personally, he's endlessly thankful that nothing horrid has bloomed into his own hands; that would make this, ah, even more difficult. But he means it: it's Paul's choice which joint to start on. He sips the tea again in the meantime, giving him a moment to think it over.]
megatheorem: (251)

[personal profile] megatheorem 2022-01-04 03:33 am (UTC)(link)
[Ah, bold, to start with the hands. Palamedes nods, nudging Paul's hand first to slide the towel under it; he is going to worry about the mess, actually, because this isn't his... hovel. Not that he'd bleed all over the Sixth bunker like some kind of berserk soda machine, but it's the principle of the thing — and, although he carefully won't put the thought to words in case that lessens the effect, it's to create a more reassuring atmosphere.

It's a towel. He realizes this. But a little order while he does this dangerous and precise thing to Paul's hands can't go amiss, so: it's a towel, and it's very important.]


You said you can control your — responses, more or less, right? But that's likely going to aggravate this further if you do it right now, so please resist the temptation. I won't lie: it's going to hurt.

[More than crystals buried in the joints? That remains to be seen. He pauses; it's easy enough for his necromancy to hold someone still, which should help, but as this is not a very pressing emergency... This time, he will Actually Ask. (Sorry, Gideon, all those months ago.)]

If you're okay with it, I know a similar trick, but you'd have to focus pretty intently on letting it happen without fighting back.

[Cool. He has selected a scalpel, and rubs his thumb over what looks like the most swollen joint in Paul's fingers, to get a better mental picture of where the flesh ends and crystal begins. He glances up at Paul's face — perhaps they should try one without tricks first, see how that goes? He'd said for Palamedes to start when ready, so very deliberately he presses scalpel into skin for the first incision.

Pros: he's pretty familiar with how the insides of bodies work.

Cons: it is a goddamn scalpel and no one in the Nine Houses believes in anesthetic.]
megatheorem: (307)

[personal profile] megatheorem 2022-01-05 04:44 am (UTC)(link)
[Hmm — yes, it could have been worse. Palamedes is impressed with Paul's level of control; that's definitely a well-honed skill, and he wonders idly exactly what kind of training results in this. He remembers Paul in the rain, there-but-not — somehow, this feels like the opposite kind of control, to be so present in the moment that the most minuscule twitch can be restrained.

He dabs at the cut with a wrinkle of the towel, returning Paul's sheepish relief with a brief small smile of his own.]


I'll take those in order, I suppose — the trick is making you hold still. It only hurts if you try to fight me, unless I catch you before you can blink. Then I assume it sucks royally.

[Then the perils of dry eye become an issue, that is, but never mind. He shifts the scalpel away from Paul's finger to, as delicately as one can perform a dissection, pull the two sides of the incision away from each other. Enough to see the seam between crystal and bone, which — hmm. He's going to have to wedge a scalpel in there to pry it off, isn't he.

In a minute.]


Necromancers learn the basics of anatomy, and after that it depends on the House. The Ninth specializes in bones, for example, but I could tell you a story or two about desperately trying to take Bone Morph Resonances for the credits.

[Like a super cool kid, that Palamedes and his exams. He shifts the scalpel again: it's time to wedge and pry.]

You're doing well, [he says first, softer; then:] But really hold still for the next few minutes.
megatheorem: (109)

[personal profile] megatheorem 2022-01-06 03:46 am (UTC)(link)
[The Trick (tm) is easy, and once he reminds himself that performing the work and being careful with these parts a live person are not mutually exclusive, so is the remainder of the removal. Having the necromantic hold to focus on in the background serves as a kind of anchor, rather than a split of his attention; it's a reference point in the — admittedly — messy rest of the thing. A steady trickle of thanergy here, the precise movement of his hands there, a murmured story or several about bone morph resonances — and then it's done.

At some point he'd fallen into the kind of fugue state one can only be in when so entirely focused on the work, and placing the final crystal down to pile gently with the rest brings him out of the rhythmic pattern of it; he blinks back to now, watching Paul while he wipes his hands on the last semi-clean corner of the towel. It's hardly actually clean, but never mind it now.]


The who? It isn't hard — [don't get an ego, Cam's voice helpfully pipes in from so many relevant memories, aha-] Well, I already live in one of them.

[He makes a face, a smile that isn't quite sure Paul isn't going to abruptly fall sideways and yet is still endeared by his odd enthusiasm. He moves to cross back to the chairs, pausing a moment to touch Paul's shoulder — careful now, and ah, he wipes an errant smear of blood with his thumb as an afterthought. It makes no tangible difference to how much blood either of them has on himself, but, you know. Habit.

Now, speaking of people who should sit, sir...]


I'm fine. [Well. He's favoring one leg over the other as he turns to sink into the chair, but he's not as bad as Paul! The bar has been set. Give it a few minutes, because he's not going to let this thing fester, but he's patently exhausted.] You should sit, too. Before you fall over. I only brought one towel, but...
megatheorem: (031)

[personal profile] megatheorem 2022-01-06 07:55 am (UTC)(link)
[Oh, look at him go — Palamedes knows this mood, the almost adrenaline surge of getting through a dangerous and frightening thing without real harm. Of course, most of his experience with such a mood has been after exams, but... same difference, ultimately. Necromancer exams are, as a general rule, a little dangerous no matter what.

So: he sinks a touch further into the chair, grateful right now to not be moving, and sips the fresh-not-fresh mug of tea with relish. The exhaustion that settles over him does so with the satisfaction of a job well done, and with a glance over at the sticky pile of crystals on the desk, he allows himself a completely earned surge of pride in the work; he did this thing! He did this thing over and over and he did it well, and Paul's myriad half-formed sentences and elated tea-chugging are compliments he'll gladly take.

Flesh crafters but not like that gets a raised eyebrow, and he remembers "Bene Gesserit" and wonders what the "Bene" is supposed to signify, now that it's shown up twice in Paul's mentions. He'll ask that one later, too.]


Technically, you didn't ask. [Palamedes just made declarations and then turned up, but will he apologize? No, not even a little. He takes a longer gulp of tea, to think.] I couldn't have let you go on like that. Not trying isn't an option I've allowed myself.

[And Paul put in the effort in that memory to help him, which means they cannot be anything less than friends now. Palamedes' personal take on friendship may be more all-or-nothing than most, but it's gone well for him thus far. Why mess with the perfect formula when it works? Silly.

But he knows enough people who just don't ask for help because they are brilliant and stubborn and filled to the brim with pride, and Paul seems to hover around that particular set a lot of the time, so—]


It's not easy. [So he understands the logic, he supposes, even if he doesn't get it.] Well! What I'm saying is you can ask me. Officially and everything. You can ask Cam, too, she won't pry.
megatheorem: (296)

[personal profile] megatheorem 2022-01-07 06:34 am (UTC)(link)
[It's not a vow or a promise, but it is — something significant. It's telling of Paul's life up to this point that he seems to treat so many things as an exchange of sorts, a deal between players in some grand game that he's been raised to know how to play. Palamedes isn't too sure what to feel about that, conceptually; it sounds very Third, and he doesn't like all the implications he could heap on that, so—

Well. He makes a mental note to not do something about it, specifically, that isn't his business — but to remember it.]


Thanks. I mean it — genuinely, thank you. And for the bread, [which he will take, heedless of how his hands are mostly dried blood smears by appearance; just Nine Houses things.]

I do have something you could help me with, actually. Depending; how closely were you paying attention during all that?

[He waves a piece of bread crust he's torn off at the desk; All That, and he assumes Paul, even while under the knife, will have picked up a thing or two about the method of the work. It is already obvious what he's going to ask, Palamedes thinks, but he still explains:] It's my leg.
megatheorem: (246)

[personal profile] megatheorem 2022-01-07 07:30 am (UTC)(link)
[Palamedes hums around a nibble of bread, amused; yes, this is his kind of joke, continue. And don't focus too hard on how he's probably going to pull this bread apart more than he's going to actually ingest a significant portion of it, that will be enough. He's already thinking about the ankle surgery, or rather, looking over at the desk again—

He may not be avoiding the issue, but he did neglect to bring, say, double the supplies. The scalpels are easy enough to clean, but oh, the towel... Always this damn towel.]


I'm ready if you are. Are you? You gave up a lot of blood. ["Gave up," because of how much of it is in crystal form, aha--] If you're sure, let's do it.

[Where should he put this leg... He sits up with only some effort (he's tired, still, whew) and leans down to wiggle his shoe off. Let him know which piece of furniture he should ruin next in this place.]
megatheorem: (103)

[personal profile] megatheorem 2022-01-07 08:24 am (UTC)(link)
[Palamedes nudges his shoe to one side, rolls his sensible grey sock down and his sensible grey pant leg up, and sits back up again to arrange his skinny legs on the table. It's just the one, but it's more comfortable like this; and it's very much obvious where the crystal has formed beneath the skin, apparently very quickly, a splotchy dark mess sticking out of his ankle. He frowns at it like it's merely inconvenient, which it is, to be fair.

But. Everything is blood and more blood here, it's all blood, and from what he's understood of the nature of whatever mysterious magic sludge now creeps around his veins, it doesn't make sense.]


Supposedly, [he says abruptly after a moment of contemplative silence, briefly attempting to bend the ankle and then super not doing that anymore, ow-] whatever's in me now won't manifest until I'm cut open, however that ultimately works.

[Exposure to the air? Anything that sounds less insane than "it just does that"? He is a flesh and bone individual, his necromancy works, and yet the darkblood literature claims it needs to be coaxed into existence with other magic. A fun puzzle box, then, stuck in his leg.

He shrugs. Whatever pops out of him in a few minutes will be very fun to poke at, certainly.]


That said, this is the only one, promise.
megatheorem: (233)

this can wrap shortly?? :thinking: at last

[personal profile] megatheorem 2022-01-10 08:26 pm (UTC)(link)
[There's a level of on brand he aspires to, not that the blood smell is intentional, but if it were. He aspires also to not twitch when he's cut, although he has no qualms at all about making all kinds of noise about it.

First he says,]
Wow! Damn — ouch. You're so much steelier than I am.

[Ha ha ow, the fuck. Paul's ability to endure all of these incisions is insane to think about. Palamedes has the robustness of wet paper that bleeds more paper, gritty and dusty, dark as it crumbles out from under the cut.

He shoves some bread in his mouth to silence himself just a little bit, but still leans forward to stare at the operation as Paul goes on. Every movement gets a huff and a pained mutter out of him, unabashed. Yikes... super ouch...]


Let me see — hmm, nope; bad.

[Bad, the way the dark mass embedded in his ankle seems to jiggle, almost, when he pushes at it with all the magic he knows how to use. Of course it's a contradiction: darkblood manifests with magic, and magic makes the crystals worse; making it worse to make it easier to pull it out should work, he hopes?

Perhaps? He grins, like okay, no more interrupting, he's good.]


I'm done messing, I'll stop.