deercountry | april catch

Entry tags:

april catch - all

Who: viktor and others, open to all with some closed prompts
What: some late march/early april logs, including some tdm stuff. i'm happy to attach something else on if anyone's interest in doing something specific
When: late march through april
Where: various

content warning; terminal illness, arcane season 1 spoilers, likely game typical beast gore/body horror, potentially ableism mentioned, claustrophobic imagery

open prompts.

fishers of dreams - the lighthouse, early april (tdm)

a. while awake

[if you've been roped into this lighthouse business too you may enter to find a man already there. he seems vaguely disgruntled by the business, offers vague greetings but otherwise sticks to scribbling in his notebook. it looks like schematics and formulae, but anyone with an eye for either might notice they tend to trail off and start in odd bursts.

viktor will offer to cook when evening falls (or whatever seems to be the right mealtime in this place) so maybe that is a better time to strike up conversation. the smell coming from the kitchen is heavy on whatever spices the place stocks, promising pain to anyone who doesn't have the stomach for that sort of thing. worse if he finds the rotgut liquor tucked away, which he will pull out and offer despite smelling more like turpentine than anything edible.

these tricks of the eye though, flashes of people vaguely recognizable, he chalks it up more hallucinations. last month was mushrooms, so this? irritating, far more distracting, but it followed the pattern.

it isn't until later in all this he'll track whoever is with him down.] Did you see someone else come through? There, just up the stairs.

b. nightmare

[trying to reach the odd lighthouses is fruitless, the shadows converge and when the dark clears the area seems more closed in than before. it shouldn't be, he was just outside on the shore, yet now the dark sky seems to hang too low, lower still, suffocating.]

What now? This is another illusion of sorts, is it not? One this place is so fond of. [viktor sounds more irritated than anything, maybe defensive since the grip his has on his crutch is white-knuckle tight. in the distance seems to be a lighthouse, though the light is far and the area is so stifling, promising a tunnel that will close and snuff out the light entirely.

it's ridiculous of course, the walls are not that close, certainly not enough for this suffocating grip on the lungs and throat. there's no real explanation, less so when a few steps forward and the ground begins to dot with great metal cables, the distinct, sickly sweet smell of chemicals in the air. there are pools between them where the ocean should have been, this time shallow spills of what could be gasoline or something similar, slick rainbow puddles, oily and difficult to walk through without slipping or sinking.]

(ooc; for this one please, feel free to add your own character's nightmare in any flavor at any point!)

odds and ends - willful machine, early april

[viktor can be found around the vendors often enough, especially those specializing in scrap metal, tools or small machinery. for the most part he doesn't stick out, except for the fact often his massive omen often accompanies him, some sort of huge pink salamander/axolotl that he'll lean against or ask rather politely to help carry larger purchases.

he doesn't seem to notice or care about any attention, though the creature will blink curiously around. feel free to approach or find him haggling rather intently for such a stick of a man, accent thickening when it gets heated enough. maybe you want the same scrap? or are looking for something and he's standing nearby enough to notice a lost look and offers assistance?]

[one might also find him about by the sound of a nasty coughing fit. he stands with his back curled, a rag to his mouth as a makeshift handkerchief. it's a wet cough that shakes his entire frame, and when it's over his sniffs and clears his throat, straightening.

the cloth is stained in a pale color that catches the perpetual moonlight of april. paleblood, that he regards for a moment before folding the cloth in on itself with a small frown.]

closed prompts.

jinx - willful machine, late march

[viktor doesn't stay by the lamp exactly. he would usually but he hardly sees the point when this person he's meeting knows him by sight as far as he can tell. it leaves him feeling comfortable to wander within eyeshot mostly of the lantern, strolling down the canal docks to find a place to stand and watch the boats cut slowly through the water.

he likes it here, he thinks, in this district. the noise and foot traffic, the winding canals and dirty water, the boats bobbing to and fro - it wouldn't be a bad place to set up. a lab that will double as his home because he doesn't see the point in separating the two any longer, even if he can practically hear heimendinger's tutting about his work-life balance in his ear. it will be closer to the vendors, less of a hike to acquire what he'll need to start fresh. first a new brace for his leg and back, then some basic experiments into lunar energy to get a feel for it.

his lungs flare and burn, minor enough he manages to swallow it down without reaching for the rag in his pocket. he makes a note of the severity and timing, adds it to his growing mental list that seems to indicate his illness does indeed remain but is diminished. promising, if he's being optimistic, but at the moment he feels only a sense of irritation that now he doesn't know the timeline of his own life. one he might be shortening drastically with this ridiculous stunt.

a sigh and viktor goes back to watching the boats, trying to clear his head. he considers trying to message vi and ask her opinion of this but... no, he doubts he'll get anything. he's not sure if he disgusts her as a class traitor or amuses her in truth. better to just see for himself what he's gotten himself into like a fool.]

allen - willful machine, early april

[the 'grand tour' doesn't amount to much yet, the lab area just a large, empty space dotted with a few tables and a couple of desks, not even a chalkboard he's been keeping an eye out for or something that could do the same. one of the desks at least is littered with junk, at the moment tools and the starts of a knee brace, a table nearby with all the scrap he's managed to grab that could be useful in the future. one corner has a cot, maybe he'll clear out whatever other small rooms the place has later for a bedroom proper. maybe not.

viktor seems satisfied with it as he gestures around, and rio has commandeered one of the tables for her own to lie across.] A solid start, I think. I like this area, this eh... Willful Machine, that is.

[he'll never admit part of it is the boats. everyone's allowed a sort of childish interest, right? they're soothing, even if they lack the motors that fascinated him.] Have a seat, if you'd like. How have you been since the tombs?

wildcard.

[as i said, feel free to ask for anything else, including other tdm prompts, i am more interested in seeing the worlds built by others for the archway prompts so i didn't include any here. my plurk is

dichotomy or you can dm me here!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[No no, she's a gem and he will let his legs inevitably fall asleep for her, for sure. Palamedes hums and shakes his head - all good! - and fiddles with one of these frills. Gently, of course. Fascinating...]

Camilla would default to me, [he says, with a light shrug. There are some aspects of their necro-cav relationship that lean into what could be called tradition - that is, that the necromancer calls the shots in times of serious action - and it's more comfortable to fall back on those old habits even in a place removed from the Nine Houses entirely. In both scenarios it leaves Palamedes to decide what to do in all this; the difference is simply that were she here, he wouldn't have any trouble. She defaults to him — she also tells him when he's being an idiot and likely to get them both killed.

So that's fun. The situation.]

Momentum is what I've been running on, [he can concede that much. It's been working, and his handful of treasured people here stop him from drifting too far, more or less.

He waits until Viktor has settled on the couch and then leans his head back on the other seat, looking up at him with - for a moment - pure exhaustion. This is the thing he just decided not to talk about, and here's Viktor, asking him in such a way that he can't just lie to him. That it's this over the experience itself that bothers him is another one of those handy compartmentalizing tricks, but - Viktor would find out eventually, anyway. Even if the Sixth were not committed wholeheartedly to The Truth, all Viktor has to do is catch a witness giving Palamedes a haunted look behind his back, and the jig is up.

So, alright. He makes another face, looking up at the ceiling.]

You're fine— I'd have told you eventually. It's true, what they say about rebirth. What irks me is how long I was, you know, a squid again. I'm not sure about the average expectation when it comes to... time lapsed, let's call it, but I'm fairly certain mine was abnormally long. The dumb fucking ocean— [nope. no. he's fine, he's taking a breath,] —has a mind of its own.

[He traumatized at least one teenager by taking so long to wriggle out of the depths again! Truly, what the hell!]

It was dark. I wasn't aware of myself and then I was. There's no discernible trick to it, and I'm not eager to go through it again to figure one out.

[if he didn't already like pal this would have easily tipped him over. shockingly viktor is very fond of rio, and people who treat her well always get an immediate boost in his book. it makes him smile softly to see them together, rio's little tail thump and sleepy closing of her eyes. it's getting easier not to picture her floating in that tank, a corpse in everything but name.]

Ah right, would that be the necromancer's job in this partnership? [makes sense, and he can't help but wonder how many of these partnerships are like pal's and how many are a disturbing imbalance. call him pessimistic but he has a hard time believing there aren't plenty who don't treat the bond with the same respect. he is also incredibly jaded for some wild reason. might be all the classism an biases thrown at him. weird.

ah momentum, and viktor feels a touch guilty when he sees the look that crosses pal's face. he feels he might have put a bit of a bump in the road there without meaning to. he bites his tongue from apologizing, especially since his motivations were purely selfish and based on his own fixations with death.

better to listen to it with the gravity it deserves, tapping a finger idly against his knee brace as he takes it in.]

Sometimes I wonder if we are lucky or not with this rebirth business- maybe more so if I am lucky or not. For example, should I die to my illness what happens then? Do I return to a fixed point and simply die again, then again? Does the time get shorter, is there some miracle where it all simply goes away for the price of one death?

[his lips thin, that is... much more than he's ever said outloud to anyone. equal exchange he supposes, offering a vulnerable spot for poking at one of pal's unintentionally. he glances back down with a humorless smile.]

We'll just have to make sure nothing like it happens to you again at least. What is all this research business for if not creating a better world, or at least better tools to live in it? Less... oceanic whims. [he can't even say that dryly, more with a level of bitterness at some of those whims.]

[He's learning what the tail thumps mean slowly but surely. This one is for frills? Then he'll keep doing that, and definitely have a numb leg or two if she falls asleep on his lap. Ah.]

Ideally, the whole thing is perfectly balanced, but most people will hear that one person protects the other in the immediate, the physical, and assume the rest of the dynamic from there.

[Other necromancers and cavaliers not excluded from this, if some of the other Houses' adepts and their partners are anything to go by. Palamedes only needed to see the Third Princess bite her cavalier's fingernails off for a rush of thanergy once to understand that whole thing really well.

But nothing for it now; some relationships are innately more fucked up than the others, and isn't that true of every kind? Some of their peers consider him and Camilla to be codependent weirdos who double as easy pickings - it is what it is.

Here he is, angry at the ocean, and Viktor blindsides him completely with this theorizing about his own death. Palamedes' brow creases, still frowning up at the ceiling, as he thinks about dying over and over and over again, in pain, because of the whims of some distant, unconcerned observer. His stomach twists for the horror of it and for the memory of the last time someone tried to ply him with this, as an excuse. Hmm.

Yet Viktor is different, and Palamedes couldn't possibly understand the experience, but he thinks he understands... the desperation?

Is that what it should be called, to wonder if dying would be lucky? He thinks, Shit, and then, fuckshit, for good measure.]

I can't tell you not to find out, [he manages, after a moment. Does he want Viktor to get himself killed? Absolutely not! But likewise, well — it's not up to him. But also, please don't find out.] I can tell you that I came back with the same scars as I went out with, though.

[Offered mildly, like, that's the best he can do. The scars on his ankles from pulling out bloodstones, that he'd shown the other day - older than his recent dip back into the dead sea, whatever that means.

Viktor has to go and say these things circling around protecting him again, though, and god, is this what it's like when he gets going? How does he focus on being angry at the ocean and having Complex Emotions about Past Events in the face of this? Jeez.]

Less oceanic whims. [Deal, again. The topic of death is, eh, tiring? Not that he's changing the subject, but it is actually exhausting, and he tilts sideways until his shoulder bumps Viktor's leg just so, like the point of contact alone can alleviate the death stress. He's got this.] Just don't go too far ahead of me.

In our world it sounds like a knight and their noble charge, but even that is imbalanced. The knight's life would revolve around the noble, and that duty would be respected but it would only ever go one way. [viktor muses. more a demacian thing, piltover really doesn't have anything like it.] In truth how you spoke of your ideas about how this cavalier and necromancer bond should be made me respect you more.

[it's not meant to be a compliment really, just a simple acknowledgement of a simple fact. it certainly made him more open to collaboration, and look where they're sitting now.

he rests his head back against the back of the couch, listens to rio's calming little trills.] I don't want to find out. I want to find a miraculous cure that could in turn better the lives of others here. [he snorts like that's a ridiculous wish.] But we rarely get what we want, eh? We learn to make do with what we get.

[and this really is depressing. he shakes his head at himself, some new roommate, dragging up topic upon depressing topic. at least he'll give himself a little leeway, it was important to know a little more about death here from someone he trusted the information of.

horrible and haunting, good to know. at least life still had great meaning rather than a toy to play with and toss away only to be fixed on the whims of the damn ocean. when pal bumps into his leg he offers a wane smile.] I will try.

My apologies, I think I am beginning to realize I can be a... a downer? [said dryly, though with some genuine apology. how did people hang out when it wasn't working? he thinks maybe with less intense introspection. maybe.]

[That sounds. Like. Romance novels, if he's being honest, it sounds like trashy necro-cav romance novels and trust him, he is a connoisseur, but that doesn't make the real life dynamic good. But that aside, he is going to take the bit about him and Cam as a compliment, because why shouldn't he. They're easily the best, unbiased.

Despite himself, he laughs - a quiet thing, a little rough, a little wry. Oh, are these depressing topics? Who'd have guessed.]

Don't apologize.

[He thinks he has something else to add to that, but nothing that comes to mind immediately sounds... right. Platitudes never sit well with him, and after the sheer amount of oceanic whims and opening up they've sifted through in a few minutes, he rather thinks the companionable silence is enough, for a moment.

... He could probably see about working on a medical miracle, though-- no, peace. Chilling out for five seconds.

He puts in the effort to count to five, then shifts to look up at Viktor again, doing his best not to disturb Rio. So, conclusion:]

I think we need a hobby.

[that makes viktor laugh, and as if to spite them he finds himself quickly coughing into a hastily drawn out rag for doing so. it isn't so bad this time, though there's a speckling of paleblood he regards for a moment before dabbing onto a finger then onto his brace with a little furrow of concentration.]

Could use better structural integrity, it's not built to last so much as be a placeholder and it knows it. [a moment and he wipes the blood away, looking down again with a shrug.]

I cannot say I've ever really had one of those that isn't work adjacent. Maybe we could learn to play chess? [that... he's not sure if it sounds fun honestly? it sounds engaging, at least.] Or... what are they, the reading clubs?

[he's not even sure if he's joking or being serious right now.]

[Oh— what a rollercoaster of a couple seconds, a spike of concern over that cough and then curiosity about the machine empathy's casual return, despite himself. Look at him go with that, huh. He squints at the brace, as if perhaps that will gift him with a deeper understanding of machinery - but he's got nothing. Now, if it were made of bones...]

I already know how to play chess, [he says, like, and so he doesn't play chess anymore - which is essentially the long and short of it. Camilla won't play with him because he thinks too far ahead and doesn't even enjoy himself.

He raises an eyebrow then, amused.] Book clubs? How far from work-adjacent are we aiming?

[There are at least a dozen books visible from this couch right now.]

[the biggest obvious problem with the brace is how it's clearly made from whatever scrape he could get his hands on and quickly. he misses jayce's forge like no one's business, but he's a little pleased to get a chance to do magic again now that he feels more open to it. even if his brace was basically mocking his own damn work.

his lips quirk regardless, folding up the rag but keeping it on hand in case. hm, that sounded like no chess then, or at least the lack of followup and interest made it sound that way. book club though?]

Well... I suppose in the spirit of a proper hobby it should be purely recreational, but I don't see why books that are also useful and relevant to our interests wouldn't be recreational. [they're already trying to cheat.] And you clearly have an interesting collection already.

[Oh yes, this is already cheating. Palamedes' only, ah, spare novel is a trashy necromancer romance novel, but that's not book club material anyway if he only has the one.]

Now, that's a study group. We already are one of those. Still, I'll put a pin in it — just in case.

[When they cheat and do more research for "book club," inevitably. He does try to think of other hobbies, but what, uh... what hobbies exist, actually... He lets his head fall back on the couch again to ask the ceiling for advice; if nothing else, trying to Find a Hobby is a pleasant diversion from other, heavier topics.]

How about cooking? [This one is inspired entirely by how criminally underfed they both are, at a glance. Maybe, self-care is the hobby.]

[viktor sighs, cheating caught out. he has a point, he guesses. maybe one day they can just swap between reading the trashy romance novel because honestly if that's not an excellent book club i don't know what is. the world of trashy romance might be good for viktor.]

Oh, well... I suppose that's at least a useful skill. [and yeah, they both look like maybe they could use it.] I know how but I rarely do so, though... I have cooked for some people here a couple of times and that was enjoyable enough. It has more purpose that way.

[maybe this could be the hobby? it's better than something like sports or hiking in the many dangerous places that will kill them.] Do you know how to cook?

[viktor please read his original sequel he wrote mostly on wallpaper at first for reasons ty]

I put fruit in a bowl for you. No; I have no idea what I'm doing when it comes to actual cooking. And before you ask: Cam isn't a master chef, or anything like that. We grew up in a dormitory with a kitchen prime for sneaking into.

[So, perhaps cooking is the hobby. Sure, they have a... mini kitchen in here, essentially, but they are only two people.]

You're a man of many talents, [compliment! are not 99% of academics workaholics incapable of cooking, yes, Palamedes includes himself in that one,] You'd teach me?

It was very good fruit in a bowl with other things. [viktor huffs. he liked that fruit in a bowl. also he will read that the second he sees a bunch of writing on wallpaper and simply must know what the hell that's about.

that sounds about right though and he nods. the only reason he knows how to cook is fending for himself for a very long time, and it has been useful in this new place whee fending for yourself is the name of the game. so after a moment he nods.]

Of course, though I must warn you of two things. Most of what I know how to make is eh... not particularly gourmet. It will be useful here though, they are recipes very easy to substitute for what you can find. The second is I prefer spicy food when possible. Do you like that?

I know; you're weak to sweets. [He's going to remember this fact, do not worry. Luckily, he's rewritten most of his draft properly, in one of his too-many notebooks; it's somewhere in that mess, discoverable with patience.

Apropos of nothing, that is.]

Spicy food? Maybe. I don't know; Sixth food is fairly basic. [That, and Camilla usually has to bother him to finish Plain Vegetables? Maybe spicy food will finally convince him that meals aren't tedious interruptions.] I'll try anything once — just look away if I start crying.

[Real possibility. What are spices.]

One day I will make you sweetmilk. It is a drink from home. [that'll teach pal for saying he's weak to sweets. it's less sweet and more a warm, spiced milk drink and apparently sharing things you like with people you like is a whole thing.

basic makes him think he should probably try to tone it down a little at first.] You certainly need to be introduced to spices in general then. We will work on this. [it might even be nice.

he plops his head back against the couch again, a soft sigh as shifting puts his back into a more comfortable position.] You could draw more, that is supposed to be a good hobby.

[Yes, learn him about milk, that'll show him. Sentiment and spice all the way down, and for a second, Palamedes is a little disappointed he doesn't have an equivalent little something from home to share. The fruit cups were Fifth, after all.

Ah, well.]

You make it sound like you're prepping for something dangerous. I'll follow your lead.

[Drawing... is still based in having his head in a notebook, but perhaps a few dozen more Weird Squids could be useful. He hums.]

Maybe. A week or so ago I took up crafts for an afternoon — helped someone make a thank-you card. Very banal. Kind of fun.

Well... I would not say dangerous. But it could upset your stomach easily enough. [or make him cry, but really that just means it's good in viktor's opinion. it's a little odd to be thinking about cooking so much, especially the old, old recipes from a time he barely remembers but still retains something of. food from a country he never saw himself, repurposed in the classic, efficient zaun way. repurposed again here, just an endless, evolving chain.

he brushes the thought aside, closing his eyes and listening- rio seems to be napping now properly, rip pal's leg. she does make cute little noises as she does so maybe that makes up for it a little.]

Jayce played some sort of instrument, I think. [aka i know too much about arcane and there was a guitar of some sort in his blown up apartment/lab.] And he drew in his notes as well. So, why not? We certainly have the paper and pens for it. [he lolls his head to glance over.] What happens here that requires thank you notes?

[Rio is certainly cute enough that Palamedes graciously glosses over the fact that Viktor wants to feed him things so spicy that they'll give him a stomachache? Good god, man. He huffs out a laugh, quiet - she's napping!! - twisting his shoulders just far enough to lean his elbow on the couch cushions.]

Something about a daring rescue — I wasn't there, but I know where to find the good paper.

[Notably not the paper scattered all around this bunker, most of that is quite basic, he's not made of fancy stones to trade. Still: it was fun, except for the parts when it wasn't, but he's gotten past the petty bits.]

You didn't hear him play? [Shame, that would be a cheat code for his next suggestion,] You could learn an instrument. While I draw; that's three entire hobbies between us.

Hm, I shouldn't find thank you notes for a rescue mission charming. [he absolutely does though. the idea of just sending arts and crafts for that is kind of hilarious, he can't tell if this was meant truly sincerely or as a joke.

he shakes his head, a small shrug of,] I was quite standoffish early in our partnership. [they were friends but viktor was skittish, he can see that now. he trusted jayce but it was second nature to keep piltover at arm's length, even him.

thank gods he came here after easing up considerably on that. though now he does wish he had asked jayce more about it, maybe heard him play.]

Eh... I never had much in the way of creativity. [still, he supposes it couldn't hurt, exactly. mostly because he could easily give up and strip whatever the instrument is for parts.] What would I even play?

[Well, Palamedes had mostly gone along with it as a joke, but if it's going down in history as part of his manifest charm, he'll take it.

There's a note of honest surprise when he looks up at Viktor again, although he supposes there shouldn't be; Viktor has been nothing but kind and open to him... here, in this place he calls the least irritating, where he cooks food for people and lets Palamedes basically cuddle his sleeping omen. Aha, no, he gets it — still, it's difficult to imagine.]

What would fit in here? [it is kind of a limited space] Not a piano, or before long it would live here and we'd be in its way.

[Small... instruments... this is also not his area of expertise!!]

No horns or wind instruments, I do not have the lung capacity for it. [he points out, brow furrowing because he really doesn't know much about instruments either.]

String, then? Aren't those expensive? [this is really the blind leading the blind. it's kind of fun in a pointless way though, and for once they are just having a conversation that has nothing to do with deeply upsetting topics, endless questions or work. good for them.] I suppose drums are not. In the undercity people would simply hit whatever was available and made an acceptable sound.

I have no idea; I don't know anything about music.

[Maybe they can buy Viktor a little violin? That would be fun, maybe. Drums - Palamedes makes a face and looks at the rest of the room, like - they'd probably fit? But the noise of drums in a metal bunker without windows would probably kill them instantly. He shakes his head just a little, like, nah... the walls, bud...]

You wanted to go shopping for notebooks. D'you want me to come and investigate strings with you?

[The real hobby was trying to learn what hobbies are along the way.]

Neither do I. I assume musical education was also not part of your childhood then.

[god knows what zaun education system even was. finding dudes in caves and learning until they commit atrocities too much. he's a little surprised the sixth didn't have something, but maybe he shouldn't be. they clearly had other priorities in that world, especially for necromancers.]

Very well, if one of those notebooks is for drawing. I refuse to be the only in this 'hobby' business. [a pause then back to work related, as we all knew it would return to.] We could look for some components from our lists as well.

[He shakes his head again; no, no music, he was very busy taking classes about Bone Morph Resonances and Telemetry and so on. There were charts, and points and so on, but no musical instruments.]

I swear on my honor I will pick up a notebook solely for drawing. You'll get your squid with glasses as soon as I have a new pen in my hand.

[Adept's honor, etc. Picking up components from the work lists is technically not a hobby violation if they haven't begun the hobbies yet — he'll allow it.]

Let's do that, then. Do we have all the lists, or do we need to stop by the lab first?

[maybe they shouldn't have 50 different lists!! nah]

Very well, then we can look at string instruments. [he still is mostly imagining that will not come to pass, because the idea of playing an instrument seems silly to him. somehow more silly than pal making a hobby of drawing squids, sometimes with glasses.

viktor shifts, moving to retighten his brace before lifting himself up with his cane, careful not to jostle rio as he goes over to the notebook from before.] This has most of it, I believe. [he flips to that page, leaning in to squint at it.] We can always make more trips if needed, it will likely take some searching for some of it.

Which reminds me, I am going to have gloves made for our lab work, some sturdy leather I think will be useful in dealing with some of the materials. Is there anything you would need from a tailor besides? [they really are roommates, just asking what pal might want when he's out at the store vibes.]

[More trips, browsing the string instruments (with, hilariously, zero knowledge of what the hell to look for, good one nerds), picking up things from the tailor — it's downright domestic. The thought makes Palamedes' lips quirk up at the same time he thinks, not for the first time since waking up on the Emperor's own ugly goth sofa, that oh: he was supposed to be taking this seriously the whole time. Before Cam's disappearance and the, well, incident, this place had been a way station — now, though?

Well, now he has errands to run. Things to revolutionize. People to protect in earnest and more to not - disappoint again by dying, so. It's different.

But sentiment time is on pause, and so he looks down at his gray everything with a hum. More gray shirts? Could always use more gray shirts.]

No, not really. Wait — that's wrong; lab coats. Even better if the local tailors know a trick to dealing with bloodstains; resistance, maybe? Partial would do in a pinch.

[let's be real they will be bleeding on things and Palamedes isn't a connoisseur of laundry hacks, either]

Also, bonus: we'd look excellent.

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