[By now, Palamedes should know better than to touch any antlers. It's the mystery that gets him; the wondering how the powers that be here decide whose memory will be trotted out to be observed by strangers. He isn't particularly worried that someone will catch him in a moment of shame — he's a librarian, his lowest moments are mostly trying to write poetry as a lovesick preteen — so either way: the pull of mystery is strong. It's the powers that be that make him uncomfortable, not the least because of the way people talk about the gods (plural! madness!) here.
And yet.
Here he is, unceremoniously deposited into another's memory, remaining still in the spot he finds himself so as not to... disturb? He's mostly been pulled straight into the action of these things, only dropped in to witness the thing as an outsider when the memory was his own (another thing to theorize about, if he can), so— well, he supposes he should just watch. Besides, that's... a much older iteration of the giant he'd briefly met, hm? He'll just watch.
The one man - Sherwood - is as necromancer as they come, Palamedes thinks, if only because no one else would cheerfully be hefting a skull around making promises about it. Something about the silent, ritualistic behavior about the other man, the... nebulous one, makes him uncomfortable in a sick way; a writhing dread in his stomach.
Resurrection, the necromancer says; Palamedes congratulates himself for being right, and then immediately feels a sharp tug of horror when he realizes the source of energy for this necromantic trick. Despite himself he takes a hasty couple steps forward from his watcher-space, almost stumbling—]
Wait—
[But this a memory, isn't it, and can't be changed; the carnation-man clutching the skull is going to be siphoned clean out of existence no matter what Palamedes does, and he can only watch in fixated horror as the entirety of a person is spent to call up — some kind of revenant.
He looks at the spot where a person had stood for a long beat, then at the strange new construct-revenant, then at Ives. He doesn't even know if he can interact with this particular vision, but he clears his throat louder than necessary and has only one question, first:]
no subject
And yet.
Here he is, unceremoniously deposited into another's memory, remaining still in the spot he finds himself so as not to... disturb? He's mostly been pulled straight into the action of these things, only dropped in to witness the thing as an outsider when the memory was his own (another thing to theorize about, if he can), so— well, he supposes he should just watch. Besides, that's... a much older iteration of the giant he'd briefly met, hm? He'll just watch.
The one man - Sherwood - is as necromancer as they come, Palamedes thinks, if only because no one else would cheerfully be hefting a skull around making promises about it. Something about the silent, ritualistic behavior about the other man, the... nebulous one, makes him uncomfortable in a sick way; a writhing dread in his stomach.
Resurrection, the necromancer says; Palamedes congratulates himself for being right, and then immediately feels a sharp tug of horror when he realizes the source of energy for this necromantic trick. Despite himself he takes a hasty couple steps forward from his watcher-space, almost stumbling—]
Wait—
[But this a memory, isn't it, and can't be changed; the carnation-man clutching the skull is going to be siphoned clean out of existence no matter what Palamedes does, and he can only watch in fixated horror as the entirety of a person is spent to call up — some kind of revenant.
He looks at the spot where a person had stood for a long beat, then at the strange new construct-revenant, then at Ives. He doesn't even know if he can interact with this particular vision, but he clears his throat louder than necessary and has only one question, first:]
Did you know she would eat him?