palamedes THEE sextus (
megatheorem) wrote in
deercountry2021-12-08 10:25 pm
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Entry tags:
semi-closed
Who: Palamedes and associates
What: a librarian loose in the city (closed starters)
When: early Dec
Where: Around (tm)
Content Warnings: necromancy stuff, possible mentions of violence and suicide
plotting comment is here if you would like to go wild with pal 😌
What: a librarian loose in the city (closed starters)
When: early Dec
Where: Around (tm)
Content Warnings: necromancy stuff, possible mentions of violence and suicide
plotting comment is here if you would like to go wild with pal 😌
🥺 cam!!!!
That's neither here nor there, however: Palamedes has returned to the Archives. It's not his second visit or even his third; not even abysmal book-sorting can keep him away from the place with the books in it, and he's even learning a trick to it: if he leans back from his notes and sighs with the precisely correct amount of weariness, he will spot on a nearby shelf a book that might prove interesting for the, hm, dozen or so things he's decided to look into so far. You know, as a casual hobby.
So things are going alright for him, mostly. It isn't a weary sigh that draws him this time down a row of stacks in a more obscure... corner? This building makes no sense, but it's not a part he's been to as often, he's pretty sure — either way, it's a different Gut Feeling that compels him to pause at this particular stack and look down it. And oh — Camilla.
It feels like a small age ago that he'd quipped to Harrow on the beach here that Camilla-will-be-along, and it has been a small age since he's seen her, and now! There she is! Here, in this infuriating library (lowercase, derogatory)! Palamedes allows himself a heartbeat to sink into his emotions at just the sight of her, then:]
The locals think the being in charge of this Archive leaves it a horrendous mess on purpose. It doesn't get more charming the fourth time, believe me.
[Hi. So. Before he's in big trouble for his various stunts, allow him a brief interlude to flash her a smile.]
I knew you'd come.
🥺 pal!!!!
but the alternative is—what? continuing to poke about the city on criminally little sleep? better, she thinks, to hunker down here for the evening, searching for answers she's fairly certain she won't find. at least she can pretend to be productive; at least she can somewhat amuse herself as she weaves through crooked aisle after crooked aisle, imagining what, exactly, palamedes would think of such sights. books sitting on the floor! the floor. all that priceless information and priceless paper, treated so, so poorly...
...it still hurts, on some level, to think of pal, though cam knows that he isn't gone. not really, given all that he has—they have—to do, and yet there's a stark difference between listening to excited extrapolations and watching fingerbones flex.
and there is an even starker difference between watching fingerbones flex and spying a tall, thin, all-too-familiar figure pop into view.
well, first things first: cam doesn't do surprise. she tenses, yes; she turns; she stands stock-still as she takes in the sight of a dead man standing at the end of this aisle, but there is no outward emotion as she calmly assesses the situation. what little she knows of this world is—it makes this plausible, she supposes, though highly unlikely. unless this is... something else entirely? river-related, perhaps. a necromantic trick.
except that pal smiles at her, his face lighting up in that heart-achingly familiar way—and cam's shoulders drop, tension eking from her form. i knew you'd come. if she's honest with herself—if she admits that she is human, that she allows herself to hope—then there is very simple reason she'd made the library a priority stop:]
I knew you'd be here.
[in a different form, perhaps, but here he is! here they are—and as cam is still cam, as she takes a few steps forward to better see the person she hasn't seen in months:]
You're covered in dust.
[listen: she will have a dry comment or two in a few seconds. she will. she's just currently Going Through Itâ„¢ in a very understated, cam-like way, sir, so please understand.]
no subject
But only part. They are who they are, and who they are is the best; of course Cam is here now, against the impossible odds. Palamedes has become a little more familiar with the impossible in these past many months, and so it simply makes sense that he's no longer residing in his own bones (well, beyond the way one is supposed to do that) and Cam is here because she knew he would be. It falls perfectly into place the way nothing else ever quite does except for when it's them; that, and the sight of her, the sound of her voice, is enough.
Like, if this were a trick, it would be expert level; someone less attuned to how they operate would have Cam comment on how dusty he is first thing. He looks down at himself, like yeah, he sure is! Oops!—and ignores it as a state of being as he closes the distance between them to hug her tightly. Not long, not lingering, but it's been a while and some reassurance that they're both solid goes a long way.
And also, about the dust, sorry:] You too.
[Then he steps back, and they are both dusty, and this library sucks some serious shit (but wow, paper!), and yet. He feels better; something shifts that sits the world upright again, despite all the (squid) mysteries.]
The Ninth are here, and — God. He's shorter than I imagined.
[cool shit right cam]
i'm BACK
...well. fingerbones scurrying up her forearm can't possibly compare to pal's stick-thin arms wrapping around her; she allows herself a second—just a second!—to appreciate the fact that he is, as always, taller than her, arms wrapping about her waist with ease, before she grants a perfunctory pat to his stick-thin ribs. of course pal found a way to come back? of course he did. not that cam wants to think about squids; she would, in fact, prefer to forget that portion of their existence, but: pal is here! pal is back.
and that comes with, like, many a gross Thought, so: she isn't going to think about it! necromancers will do whatever necromancers believe is necessary; cam is merely along for the ride, hence her deep breath as she comes to terms with a) pal being back, b) the ninth being involved, and c) god floating somewhere in the background. sure! sure. anyway, as she accepts that she is, in fact, covered in book dust:]
Maybe you're too tall.
[she's just sayin! and she's also right—but, with one last pat to pal's too-sharp shoulder blade:]
What do you mean, the Ninth? [hmm!] The Necromancer?
[last she saw of gideon, you see... well! you know! shit happens!!]
beeguns all over this thread
But hmm, you know, interesting news about Gideon? Palamedes makes a face; not the face that isn't going to tell Cam everything, because that face doesn't exist, but the face that needs a handful more adjectives to describe just how Fucked Up his brief meeting with Harrow in the River was, for context about the Ninth? Maybe?]
I almost feel like I'm committing some kind of sin every time I see him around. [short god... we don't stan] Besides that: yes! And the cavalier. Both of them. Separately, too, which is a relief in ways I cannot completely fathom right now, besides that somebody needs to have a talk with God.
[And he holds a hand up, like, not that he's saying that should be him!—but like, if it were? Gideon is having the time of her life eating fried dough all the time and Harrow is Harrow, so, given all of the available options, perhaps Palamedes would be the best choice. To talk to God. About some things.
He's already put several pins in several new mysteries, Cam. It takes all of his focus to not spit them all out at her right this second, at once. This consideration is a mark of his unending loyalty and care...]
Anyway, the Ninth are... still very Ninth. Did you see the hideous mansion with all the staring statues on it not far from here? That's them.
besties back at it!!!!!!!!
...but, you know. squids. one reason, at least, she squeezes her eyes closed before pulling away from pal's strangely reassuring warmth. why couldn't they simply disappear into the stacks o' books and ignore everything else? a real question, even as she thinks back to, like. all of canaan house.]
No, but it's very fitting.
[she remembers the bones littering the hallway to the ninth's quarters, when she had to go check on gideon that one time? shit sucked, honestly, so:]
If the cavalier is back— [maaaan, she is NOT the person to understand/explain this.] What's the last thing you remember, Warden?
when do they get sixth house letter jackets
Well, here they are. God is in town. Squids. Himself, as he must cop to being among the growing list of oddities happening to them both lately.]
I was writing something down. [This is the honest truth, but since it's entirely unhelpful, he offers instead:] And I'd asked Nonagesimus to make us something that articulates, while I was—indisposed.
[It's us, because of course it is. Anyway, he hopes Harrow did that? He didn't ask when they reunited on the squid beach, because there were bad ideas about bone rapiers to be had.
He decides Cam doesn't need to know about bone rapiers just yet. She's already having a Day. He leans his elbow on a poorly-organized bookshelf (derogatory lean) and takes off his glasses to clean them, frowning. He also didn't ask Harrow if she knew about Gideon being in her head back then...
He's had other concerns.]
They were — sharing. The two of them. No one bothered to pick up the hints I magnanimously left about the work being too crude to be finished, so there they were!
[Dingus tier, honestly. He squints at Cam in a very particular way that means to convey that the Ninth are, actually, weenie dinguses, and no one listens to him when they definitely should.]