![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
[Paul could go for a small goth child of his own to pick at when the party is mentioned. There's another thing to dissect and slot into discrete categories: it was quite an event, and had been almost enough to drown memory in a sloshing bucket of golden liquor and bronze spice.
It wasn't even really his birthday. It wouldn't make sense for this to be a gift. The laws of this universe bend towards poetry, but not everything that rhymes is verse.]
It was. You'll have to be at the next one.
[The revenge party, that is, which will take another round of explanation at some later date.]
Faintly surreal is how it tends to be. [His shoulders rise higher on one side than the other when he shrugs.] ...you were right. I was overreacting.
[That wasn't exactly what Palamedes had said, but it's what had turned out to be the case.]
So that's one more controlled variable. If the sun would come up, I'd say you picked the perfect time to come back.
It wasn't even really his birthday. It wouldn't make sense for this to be a gift. The laws of this universe bend towards poetry, but not everything that rhymes is verse.]
It was. You'll have to be at the next one.
[The revenge party, that is, which will take another round of explanation at some later date.]
Faintly surreal is how it tends to be. [His shoulders rise higher on one side than the other when he shrugs.] ...you were right. I was overreacting.
[That wasn't exactly what Palamedes had said, but it's what had turned out to be the case.]
So that's one more controlled variable. If the sun would come up, I'd say you picked the perfect time to come back.
[Oh, the next one, hmm. Palamedes hums his agreement, because he's already quietly promised himself to try harder to stay alive this time so yes he will attend The Next Party, but parties as a whole... He'll bring puzzles. He will bring so many puzzles and lose all of the pieces by the end of the night, for certain.
A fine plan.]
Oh, come on — that was never my angle. Not in so many words. [He himself lives on the border between normal reactions to things and constantly vibrating out of his skin, after all. It's not much of an objection, though, as he extricates an arm from the goth blanket to reach over and give Paul's hair a ruffle.
A controlled variable is better than the alternative. He elects to consider it a good thing.]
The dark isn't that bad. [rip to non-sixth but pal is different] They've invented this thing called a torch for going outside, you know, it's incredibly handy.
A fine plan.]
Oh, come on — that was never my angle. Not in so many words. [He himself lives on the border between normal reactions to things and constantly vibrating out of his skin, after all. It's not much of an objection, though, as he extricates an arm from the goth blanket to reach over and give Paul's hair a ruffle.
A controlled variable is better than the alternative. He elects to consider it a good thing.]
The dark isn't that bad. [rip to non-sixth but pal is different] They've invented this thing called a torch for going outside, you know, it's incredibly handy.
I don't know if it was Mariana or the beast itself. But when I sought it out, I ended up opening my soul to it. And it was able to leak in and... take over.
[Palamedes probably doesn't know about this. He wasn't there and he was gone before anyone had a chance to tell him.
So Kaworu's voice is quiet, a little ashamed.]
[Palamedes probably doesn't know about this. He wasn't there and he was gone before anyone had a chance to tell him.
So Kaworu's voice is quiet, a little ashamed.]
[This is Palamedes' first time hearing about this, and as such the look on his face is somewhere between shocked and horrified. Mariana-or-perhaps-the-beast took over? Then—
Well, he remembers what Kaworu told him about his soul relative to an ordinary human's, so he can extrapolate, but that's not - really the point. He puts his tea down and shuffles a step closer to Kaworu, to put a hand on his shoulder.]
You're sure you're alright now? [gentle, because that sounds a lot like "possibly a god soul-siphoned me" and that is serious shit?] Whatever was down there — it shouldn't have done that to you.
Well, he remembers what Kaworu told him about his soul relative to an ordinary human's, so he can extrapolate, but that's not - really the point. He puts his tea down and shuffles a step closer to Kaworu, to put a hand on his shoulder.]
You're sure you're alright now? [gentle, because that sounds a lot like "possibly a god soul-siphoned me" and that is serious shit?] Whatever was down there — it shouldn't have done that to you.
[It still happens, despite himself. That involuntary stiffness at unexpected touch before relaxing.
As for being alright... Kaworu doesn't know. He's not vomiting up sea water anymore but that's not the same as "alright", is it? The truth, the horrible truth, is that no one knows if he's actually alright or if what happened left more scars than horrible memories.
(He worries sometimes. About his dreams that are filled with nothing but the sound of rushing water and the crushing pressure of the deep.)
In the meantime, he takes the mug and holds it in his hands.]
It didn't know what else to do. It was lonely. It wanted to find solace in whatever it could.
As for being alright... Kaworu doesn't know. He's not vomiting up sea water anymore but that's not the same as "alright", is it? The truth, the horrible truth, is that no one knows if he's actually alright or if what happened left more scars than horrible memories.
(He worries sometimes. About his dreams that are filled with nothing but the sound of rushing water and the crushing pressure of the deep.)
In the meantime, he takes the mug and holds it in his hands.]
It didn't know what else to do. It was lonely. It wanted to find solace in whatever it could.
[ Gideon intended to make her way over to the couch so she could continue to nurse her wicked headache. It sucks, really, to be God's divine daughter and still get hangovers. Surely she'd be tougher than this?
But it looks like the couch is occupied by a skinny guy under a blanket, which is nothing new. It takes Gideon around half a second to parse which skinny guy, maybe longer because for a moment there, it feels like she's back on the spice. In fact, there's only one way to find out whether or not she's still high out of her mind: pick up her spindly friend, tea and all, and maybe spin him around for good measure. ]
Palamedes!
[ He's real, and he's solid, and that's one of the best things in the world - better than any drug, definitely. Gideon laughs, squeezing a little tighter before setting him back down on the couch again. Any more squeezing and she might break his bones! ]
Took you long enough. I've got roommates now, and they're even under eighty, which is crazy stuff.
But it looks like the couch is occupied by a skinny guy under a blanket, which is nothing new. It takes Gideon around half a second to parse which skinny guy, maybe longer because for a moment there, it feels like she's back on the spice. In fact, there's only one way to find out whether or not she's still high out of her mind: pick up her spindly friend, tea and all, and maybe spin him around for good measure. ]
Palamedes!
[ He's real, and he's solid, and that's one of the best things in the world - better than any drug, definitely. Gideon laughs, squeezing a little tighter before setting him back down on the couch again. Any more squeezing and she might break his bones! ]
Took you long enough. I've got roommates now, and they're even under eighty, which is crazy stuff.
[Hoo boy, Palamedes thinks, and looks briefly aside to give his own mug a look like maybe it can advise him on how best to handle another traumatized youth (tm). Okay.
(Also, is a terrible sea beast that genuinely ate him now a sympathetic figure? Is that the situation? Maybe if someone had told him to try talking to it first, damn...)]
Right, [he says, still gently, and also,] Someone's undoubtedly told you already, but what happened to you isn't your fault. I don't need to have seen it to know that much. Whatever it is you're feeling now—
[Hmm. How to. Word this concept.]
Let yourself feel it. But you won't have to feel it forever.
(Also, is a terrible sea beast that genuinely ate him now a sympathetic figure? Is that the situation? Maybe if someone had told him to try talking to it first, damn...)]
Right, [he says, still gently, and also,] Someone's undoubtedly told you already, but what happened to you isn't your fault. I don't need to have seen it to know that much. Whatever it is you're feeling now—
[Hmm. How to. Word this concept.]
Let yourself feel it. But you won't have to feel it forever.
[In the split second between Gideon just staring at him and, you know, being spun around in the air, Palamedes thinks maybe he should ask her again? What's new, how are things, he's been here for several hours and it's very normal and ordinary, ha ha?
But no, she's much faster than he has any mental preparation for, and so his response time allows him only one thing: to put his half-drunk tea down before it slops everywhere. Pros: no tea slopped everywhere, cons: his arms are just flopping everywhere instead, while she spins him around. He laughs, mostly out of sheer surprise, but credit him this: he manages to get one skinny arm around her shoulders and return her buff squeeze with a paltry necromancer squeeze of his own, before he's set back down. Good god.
In essence: holy shit, girl.]
I know, I've seen— [at least, this is what he assumes Paul and Kaworu are doing, wandering around God's Own House in pajamas and various states of half-asleep: living here.] Are you teaching them to raise hell?
[As she well should, of course, and while her excitement is infectious, it's gentler that he adds:] Sorry. I wasn't expecting to take so long.
But no, she's much faster than he has any mental preparation for, and so his response time allows him only one thing: to put his half-drunk tea down before it slops everywhere. Pros: no tea slopped everywhere, cons: his arms are just flopping everywhere instead, while she spins him around. He laughs, mostly out of sheer surprise, but credit him this: he manages to get one skinny arm around her shoulders and return her buff squeeze with a paltry necromancer squeeze of his own, before he's set back down. Good god.
In essence: holy shit, girl.]
I know, I've seen— [at least, this is what he assumes Paul and Kaworu are doing, wandering around God's Own House in pajamas and various states of half-asleep: living here.] Are you teaching them to raise hell?
[As she well should, of course, and while her excitement is infectious, it's gentler that he adds:] Sorry. I wasn't expecting to take so long.
[Sayo wasn't confident enough in her DIY'ing skills to build a shack in the woods and brew toil and trouble in a cauldron there. Fortunately(?) for her and definitely unfortunately for whatever poor sod had previously occupied this building, there was a Beast attack on a clinic recently, and nobody had bothered to move back in or repair it.
Sayo may have deliberately spread a few rumors about a ghost story to make her plot easier.
Though apparently, ghosts don't scare necromancers. She had just been about to walk outside to head back to the warehouse when Palamedes is just right there. Letting out a very undignified,] Eep! [Sayo stumbles back, nearly tripping over herself before catching her balance.]
Could you have at least- um, wait, if you knew to knock that'd take away the whole point of the... atmosphere I'm trying to cultivate. N- Nevermind. [She shakes her head.] Listen, I know that the blood pollution is a problem, but I'm taking every precaution I can, and once I get a few more steps it'll... Huh?
[She blinks owlishly.] I, er. Yes? Wait, wait, no. First. Why?
[Some days Sayo could put on an imperious, playful persona. Others, she's too surprised by events like this to be remotely put-together.]
Sayo may have deliberately spread a few rumors about a ghost story to make her plot easier.
Though apparently, ghosts don't scare necromancers. She had just been about to walk outside to head back to the warehouse when Palamedes is just right there. Letting out a very undignified,] Eep! [Sayo stumbles back, nearly tripping over herself before catching her balance.]
Could you have at least- um, wait, if you knew to knock that'd take away the whole point of the... atmosphere I'm trying to cultivate. N- Nevermind. [She shakes her head.] Listen, I know that the blood pollution is a problem, but I'm taking every precaution I can, and once I get a few more steps it'll... Huh?
[She blinks owlishly.] I, er. Yes? Wait, wait, no. First. Why?
[Some days Sayo could put on an imperious, playful persona. Others, she's too surprised by events like this to be remotely put-together.]
[Paul doesn't know this yet, but the way things turned out at this party may mean that Palamedes ends up with a fellow puzzler at the next event. The main point remains that Palamedes will be there, an already decided thing, so this time there's no need to make promises of safety aloud. It's not superstition, he tells himself. It's precautionary hedging.
These and other preoccupations are banished from his still-sore skull when Palamedes ruffles his hair, contact Paul leans into with all the shamelessness of a hungry cat.]
You're right. It was a lot more words.
[Not completely true either, but maybe the slightly dewy (or hungover) admiration he has when he says it makes up for that.]
Is that what they call it? A torch? I was just going to bleed on things. I was trying to come up with a name for it - hemolocation? Blood dowsing? But that sounds more efficient. Any other insights, oh wise and learned magician?
[Gideon is proving to be a positive influence in more ways than one.]
These and other preoccupations are banished from his still-sore skull when Palamedes ruffles his hair, contact Paul leans into with all the shamelessness of a hungry cat.]
You're right. It was a lot more words.
[Not completely true either, but maybe the slightly dewy (or hungover) admiration he has when he says it makes up for that.]
Is that what they call it? A torch? I was just going to bleed on things. I was trying to come up with a name for it - hemolocation? Blood dowsing? But that sounds more efficient. Any other insights, oh wise and learned magician?
[Gideon is proving to be a positive influence in more ways than one.]
[The roasts Palamedes is experiencing, here on this midnight morning...! He snorts, giving Paul another hair ruffle that might be closer to a noogie proper, if he weren't a necromancer with no muscle beyond what moves his skeleton around.
Truly, Gideon has been a stellar influence. Later, when he asks her if she's teaching her new roommates to raise hell, he will be thinking of this.]
I'm the most learned magician of my generation, [a pause, in case Harrow is going to stumble in half-awake to argue him on that point - no? okay,] so you might respect my insights a little more.
Everyone knows if you're going to bleed on things, you have to do it in the privacy of your own home. [Helpfully, he holds up two fingers.] That's tip two. Tip three: the buddy system.
Truly, Gideon has been a stellar influence. Later, when he asks her if she's teaching her new roommates to raise hell, he will be thinking of this.]
I'm the most learned magician of my generation, [a pause, in case Harrow is going to stumble in half-awake to argue him on that point - no? okay,] so you might respect my insights a little more.
Everyone knows if you're going to bleed on things, you have to do it in the privacy of your own home. [Helpfully, he holds up two fingers.] That's tip two. Tip three: the buddy system.
[Oh, this is - surprisingly, the most wholesome confrontation possible? Palamedes had honestly expected someone a) corrupt out of their minds, and b) far more confident in their blood pollutant experiments, so this is — different! Unexpected, in the precise way needed to convince him that, yes, he should help this person with whatever's going on in there... for everyone's sake.]
Okay. Well, because you're... [He sort of... tilts to the side, to look at the warehouse doorway like that will show him the mysterious blood secrets within. He looks back at her, like, is this a question?] You already have a problem, and "a few more steps" won't undo what's already out here. Whatever you're doing, you can't un-ring this bell.
[Still, he's more curious than scolding. What's happening in the warehouse. Why is she cultivating an atmosphere. What is this.]
Look, if I walked away and let you splash around in corruption without trying to help, I'd be an asshole. Let me help?
[This is a compelling case, surely. He's got a point.]
Okay. Well, because you're... [He sort of... tilts to the side, to look at the warehouse doorway like that will show him the mysterious blood secrets within. He looks back at her, like, is this a question?] You already have a problem, and "a few more steps" won't undo what's already out here. Whatever you're doing, you can't un-ring this bell.
[Still, he's more curious than scolding. What's happening in the warehouse. Why is she cultivating an atmosphere. What is this.]
Look, if I walked away and let you splash around in corruption without trying to help, I'd be an asshole. Let me help?
[This is a compelling case, surely. He's got a point.]
[ The boy's expression draws hard around Canaan House, but only for a flicker. Only for a breath. Something shifts in God's eyes: the lines around them tighten, ever so. The black-hole light of the iris stays the same, as though it's some central gravity around which the rest of him moves.
He repeats, slowly: ]
You made a bubble.
[ God chews his lip. He considers this. He looks somewhere between impressed and lightly distraught, and he says, in the tone of a man working through an unusual math problem aloud: ]
Eight months. I do wish I'd seen it. But it's a big River... and a worse ocean. The two don't line up how you'd expect. There are, and I don't mind saying this, factors at play here I've never even seen... we're operating under a different ruleset. It isn't my domain.
[ God picks up a biscuit and fidgets with it, absentmindedly rolling the edge between his fingers. It gets crumbs in his tea. ]
I do think we can crack it, but there's a lot of work to be done. The sort of work we haven't done since the beginning. [ That we is, again, doing a lot of heavy lifting. ] And it's tougher when we have sea monsters trying to flatten town every month or so.
He repeats, slowly: ]
You made a bubble.
[ God chews his lip. He considers this. He looks somewhere between impressed and lightly distraught, and he says, in the tone of a man working through an unusual math problem aloud: ]
Eight months. I do wish I'd seen it. But it's a big River... and a worse ocean. The two don't line up how you'd expect. There are, and I don't mind saying this, factors at play here I've never even seen... we're operating under a different ruleset. It isn't my domain.
[ God picks up a biscuit and fidgets with it, absentmindedly rolling the edge between his fingers. It gets crumbs in his tea. ]
I do think we can crack it, but there's a lot of work to be done. The sort of work we haven't done since the beginning. [ That we is, again, doing a lot of heavy lifting. ] And it's tougher when we have sea monsters trying to flatten town every month or so.
[Oh, and if he were not so tired, so scrubbed raw by the acts of dying and reforming on some couch, the way God (really) reacts to his admission of, frankly, fucking around in the River would give him at least some satisfaction. Some iota of pleasure, for being able to say that he did a thing that surprised even the Emperor Undying, so there, et cetera.
It doesn't. The significance of surprising a man who by all accounts shouldn't be surprised by anything does not fill him with a spiteful little joy; were he not so freshly living, the ghoulish wrongness of it might curl a slow dread around his heart and start to tighten. God's own admission that the rules are different almost does.
He sticks his biscuit in his tea, instead. Neat.]
I won't die for you, [he says mildly, and when he blinks he can see YOU LIED TO US screaming back at him, practically subliminal.
But call this negotiating terms. Questions remain unanswered from all sides of this shitty ouroboros, and he would be a fool to simply say no to what sounds like an offer. Why not shoot his shot while he's definitely in the prime emotional state to do it, here goes.]
I made a bubble and it was easy. You can ask Harrow; she's been there. Besides your Lyctors, I'm the best possible choice.
[A shrug! Also the only other necromancer from their shared home kicking around, but like, that's not the real point of saying it.]
I don't need to know everything, [would be nice though!!!] but truth over solace. I don't think I can crack anything if I don't know the questions.
It doesn't. The significance of surprising a man who by all accounts shouldn't be surprised by anything does not fill him with a spiteful little joy; were he not so freshly living, the ghoulish wrongness of it might curl a slow dread around his heart and start to tighten. God's own admission that the rules are different almost does.
He sticks his biscuit in his tea, instead. Neat.]
I won't die for you, [he says mildly, and when he blinks he can see YOU LIED TO US screaming back at him, practically subliminal.
But call this negotiating terms. Questions remain unanswered from all sides of this shitty ouroboros, and he would be a fool to simply say no to what sounds like an offer. Why not shoot his shot while he's definitely in the prime emotional state to do it, here goes.]
I made a bubble and it was easy. You can ask Harrow; she's been there. Besides your Lyctors, I'm the best possible choice.
[A shrug! Also the only other necromancer from their shared home kicking around, but like, that's not the real point of saying it.]
I don't need to know everything, [would be nice though!!!] but truth over solace. I don't think I can crack anything if I don't know the questions.
[ Great, so. Several points here. Chief among them is that Harrow has been fucking around in River bubbles and not telling him about it, which is exactly the kind of thing he'd been a bit on-edge about, before everything went to hell about twenty different ways. Most of them literal.
He'll take it up with her later. Palamedes dunks his biscuit and says I won't die for you like casual conversation, as though that wasn't the deal from the moment he got the letter. For another moment God just looks at him, and considers. Then he says, quite reasonably: ]
I'll try not to ask you to.
[ And here he looks a little chagrined, and he puts the biscuit down fussed-with but uneaten so he can scrub a hand back through his hair. He probably gets crumbs in it. ]
Truth over solace. [ He echoes it low and weary (or low and wry, like someone dwelling on a punchline). ] How's this: you're welcome to my notes. Anything in this room's fair game. [ He gestures, broad, to the rows and rows of bone and blood and notebook. ] Unpick any ward you like, shout for me if you run up against one you can't. We'll start there.
[ This is said like prelude, like getting the unimportant stuff out of the way. He drums his fingers beside the abandoned biscuit. He says, more seriously: ]
And I owe you an overdue apology. I really didn't intend... I didn't foresee things at Canaan House getting so terribly out of hand, and I would have, had I been paying better attention. [ There is that chagrined not-smile again, that tightening of the mouth. ] You paid for my mistakes. That has always been the lot of a Lyctor, but I didn't mean it to come due so soon.
He'll take it up with her later. Palamedes dunks his biscuit and says I won't die for you like casual conversation, as though that wasn't the deal from the moment he got the letter. For another moment God just looks at him, and considers. Then he says, quite reasonably: ]
I'll try not to ask you to.
[ And here he looks a little chagrined, and he puts the biscuit down fussed-with but uneaten so he can scrub a hand back through his hair. He probably gets crumbs in it. ]
Truth over solace. [ He echoes it low and weary (or low and wry, like someone dwelling on a punchline). ] How's this: you're welcome to my notes. Anything in this room's fair game. [ He gestures, broad, to the rows and rows of bone and blood and notebook. ] Unpick any ward you like, shout for me if you run up against one you can't. We'll start there.
[ This is said like prelude, like getting the unimportant stuff out of the way. He drums his fingers beside the abandoned biscuit. He says, more seriously: ]
And I owe you an overdue apology. I really didn't intend... I didn't foresee things at Canaan House getting so terribly out of hand, and I would have, had I been paying better attention. [ There is that chagrined not-smile again, that tightening of the mouth. ] You paid for my mistakes. That has always been the lot of a Lyctor, but I didn't mean it to come due so soon.
[Certain points bear repeating, in Palamedes' mind; certain points bear being stated at all, and I won't die for you is at the top of his list.
He'll repeat himself later, if he has to. The negotiation is continuing, which is both a surprise - a continuation - and not - none of the questions. He can put together only so much with secondhand context and conjecture (but he is pretty good at that), and he knows when he's being promised just enough shiny things to tide him over. He's the Sixth one, after all, he's supposed to go googly-eyed over research notes and delight in picking at wards and collaborating.
That's all very patronizing, but he expected it, and so it settles over him as if a second blanket; again, he's too tired to make it a whole thing.
He says,] Mm.
[And then God apologizes. Palamedes listens the same way he's listened to the terms, the offer, and slowly but surely every one of his nerves catches fire. Suddenly sitting on the floor feels more supplicant than comfortable; he pushes his tea-with-biscuit-in further into the center of the table and braces his hands behind him on the sofa, to haul himself back up onto it with middling effort, and he says:]
I am not a Lyctor.
[And since meeting the three now that he has, if counting what Harrow did and the Third Princess' various atrocities is valid, he's never been more resolute in not wanting to be a Lyctor, either. They aren't even that good, he wants to say, YOU LIED TO US, did a single one of them figure out the work before it was too late—?
That feels, unfortunately, petty. Surely some of them were nice people, once.]
Don't apologize to me. I don't pay for anyone's mistakes but my own; those are mine to keep.
[This, here, is the point of pride: he sees the guise of the penitent savior, the effort to ply him with notes and curiosities — he chafes against it in an instant, white-hot.]
Do the Ninth still live here?
He'll repeat himself later, if he has to. The negotiation is continuing, which is both a surprise - a continuation - and not - none of the questions. He can put together only so much with secondhand context and conjecture (but he is pretty good at that), and he knows when he's being promised just enough shiny things to tide him over. He's the Sixth one, after all, he's supposed to go googly-eyed over research notes and delight in picking at wards and collaborating.
That's all very patronizing, but he expected it, and so it settles over him as if a second blanket; again, he's too tired to make it a whole thing.
He says,] Mm.
[And then God apologizes. Palamedes listens the same way he's listened to the terms, the offer, and slowly but surely every one of his nerves catches fire. Suddenly sitting on the floor feels more supplicant than comfortable; he pushes his tea-with-biscuit-in further into the center of the table and braces his hands behind him on the sofa, to haul himself back up onto it with middling effort, and he says:]
I am not a Lyctor.
[And since meeting the three now that he has, if counting what Harrow did and the Third Princess' various atrocities is valid, he's never been more resolute in not wanting to be a Lyctor, either. They aren't even that good, he wants to say, YOU LIED TO US, did a single one of them figure out the work before it was too late—?
That feels, unfortunately, petty. Surely some of them were nice people, once.]
Don't apologize to me. I don't pay for anyone's mistakes but my own; those are mine to keep.
[This, here, is the point of pride: he sees the guise of the penitent savior, the effort to ply him with notes and curiosities — he chafes against it in an instant, white-hot.]
Do the Ninth still live here?
I see.
[It's probably a strange response. But it's the only one that a boy who is still learning that time and distance can heal wounds or at least scar them over. These feelings are something he's never contended with before.]
I've said those words to others and meant them honestly, but it didn't seem to make them believe it wasn't their fault. And now I see that sometimes it's easier for others to be kind to you than it is to be kind to yourself.
[It's probably a strange response. But it's the only one that a boy who is still learning that time and distance can heal wounds or at least scar them over. These feelings are something he's never contended with before.]
I've said those words to others and meant them honestly, but it didn't seem to make them believe it wasn't their fault. And now I see that sometimes it's easier for others to be kind to you than it is to be kind to yourself.
[Odd, maybe, but so much easier to handle than someone who might require Palamedes to start spitting out stupid platitudes at them. He raises an eyebrow - thinks about it, then nods.]
Well — no, you're right. It usually is. And don't get me started on the trials of proving you give a damn about someone.
[Even traumatized angel boys met one time on a beach. Ahem. Like, for example, for no reason whatsoever.]
There isn't a cure-all for... let's call it adversity. You change, and you figure out how to deal, and it takes a while.
Well — no, you're right. It usually is. And don't get me started on the trials of proving you give a damn about someone.
[Even traumatized angel boys met one time on a beach. Ahem. Like, for example, for no reason whatsoever.]
There isn't a cure-all for... let's call it adversity. You change, and you figure out how to deal, and it takes a while.
[Sayo stares at Palamedes for a moment, eyebrows crawling so high up her forehead that they disappear into her bangs. In the worst case scenario, she'd expected a Beast would eventually sniff out her work and she'd have to fend it off with nothing but wits and lead. In the best case scenario, she'd expected a civil Hunter she could persuade with some tea and biscuits that she was being as responsible as possible, really, now could you do her a favor and leave her alone?
Someone offering to help fell outside of all of her plans; a much more pleasant surprise than the last time something like this went unaccounted for, granted, but a surprise nonetheless.
...really, though, she could use a hand more adept than Goat-kun or Morgan. So, hesitantly, she steps back inside and gestures for Palamedes to come in.
Despite the ghoulish, offputting exterior of the building, the inside is... well, not cozy, but at least not actively uncomfortable either. A bookshelf that is curiously empty except for a few notebooks, a lab area that's currently being mopped clean by a hulking goat demon, and a closed cellar in the corner surrounded by some kind of blood ward.]
Um, I can undo the ward and get you some food if you want, [Sayo explains as she walks in, barely giving Goat-kun a glance as he enthusiastically waves at her.] I keep all my snacks and other perishable stuff down there so it doesn't get polluted. I considered putting the lab underground, but I think if the blood seeped into the soil like that it'd make the pollution worse...
Right, you had a question. Sorry. [She shakes her head.] The way Sleeper abilities from our homes are integrated into the extant system of blood magic seems... direly unexplored? It's still an open question of whether it's part of our biology, our soul, or both, or neither.
If magic or... an equivalent, I suppose, is able to be taught on one Sleeper's world, it can be taught to another Sleeper. That's the only reason why I haven't died many more times than I have.
But some kinds of magic can't be taught. There's some- principle behind it that makes it incommunicable. Which would make sense if we were humans, or, er, whatever, back on our homeworlds, but we are all Sleepers here, all making use of fundamentally the same magic on Trench. There has to be some way to hack it so that someone else can learn or modify themselves to use those kinds of magic.
This isn't really a topic much research has been done on. So I figured I should start with the most basic building blocks possible; recreating and redefining the way Sleeper blood works, is influenced by, and influences the world around it, entirely from first principles. It's... slow work and, um, as you can see, really messy too, but I still think it's a better idea than to try and twist existing theorems to suit this purpose when the relationship between blood magic and Sleeper abilities hasn't been explored in much depth, at least as far as I can tell. All of my experiments so far have been testing the responses of Sleeper blood to various stimuli, and vice versa.
Someone offering to help fell outside of all of her plans; a much more pleasant surprise than the last time something like this went unaccounted for, granted, but a surprise nonetheless.
...really, though, she could use a hand more adept than Goat-kun or Morgan. So, hesitantly, she steps back inside and gestures for Palamedes to come in.
Despite the ghoulish, offputting exterior of the building, the inside is... well, not cozy, but at least not actively uncomfortable either. A bookshelf that is curiously empty except for a few notebooks, a lab area that's currently being mopped clean by a hulking goat demon, and a closed cellar in the corner surrounded by some kind of blood ward.]
Um, I can undo the ward and get you some food if you want, [Sayo explains as she walks in, barely giving Goat-kun a glance as he enthusiastically waves at her.] I keep all my snacks and other perishable stuff down there so it doesn't get polluted. I considered putting the lab underground, but I think if the blood seeped into the soil like that it'd make the pollution worse...
Right, you had a question. Sorry. [She shakes her head.] The way Sleeper abilities from our homes are integrated into the extant system of blood magic seems... direly unexplored? It's still an open question of whether it's part of our biology, our soul, or both, or neither.
If magic or... an equivalent, I suppose, is able to be taught on one Sleeper's world, it can be taught to another Sleeper. That's the only reason why I haven't died many more times than I have.
But some kinds of magic can't be taught. There's some- principle behind it that makes it incommunicable. Which would make sense if we were humans, or, er, whatever, back on our homeworlds, but we are all Sleepers here, all making use of fundamentally the same magic on Trench. There has to be some way to hack it so that someone else can learn or modify themselves to use those kinds of magic.
This isn't really a topic much research has been done on. So I figured I should start with the most basic building blocks possible; recreating and redefining the way Sleeper blood works, is influenced by, and influences the world around it, entirely from first principles. It's... slow work and, um, as you can see, really messy too, but I still think it's a better idea than to try and twist existing theorems to suit this purpose when the relationship between blood magic and Sleeper abilities hasn't been explored in much depth, at least as far as I can tell. All of my experiments so far have been testing the responses of Sleeper blood to various stimuli, and vice versa.
Given that not even God is a mindreader, perhaps His Saints can be forgiven for the lack.
Given that Augustine the First has never encountered Palamedes Sextus before, perhaps he can be forgiven for not following the intuitive leaping of his logic.
He hears: They're in protective storage; the Sixth has a bloodline problem.
"I never quite was sure why that thing had to be parked quite so close to Dominicus," he admits, and a tiny little line between his eyebrows deepens quizzically. "Really, it's a miracle you don't all have a lot more cancer, practically sitting in its outer atmosphere — although I suppose you lot aren't afraid to treat those aggressively."
(He'll just step hard on that particular sore subject, none the wiser, then.)
"As for service — did that phrase actually fall out of style when I wasn't looking? Damn." That, there, is a hell of a disappointment for Augustine, or so it appears. But the Disappointment Expression doesn't stick around for long, because it's replaced with one of extreme skepticism.
"Which spooky spaceship would that be, if you don't subscribe to the theory that all ships in the Nine Houses are, in fact, His?"
Given that Augustine the First has never encountered Palamedes Sextus before, perhaps he can be forgiven for not following the intuitive leaping of his logic.
He hears: They're in protective storage; the Sixth has a bloodline problem.
"I never quite was sure why that thing had to be parked quite so close to Dominicus," he admits, and a tiny little line between his eyebrows deepens quizzically. "Really, it's a miracle you don't all have a lot more cancer, practically sitting in its outer atmosphere — although I suppose you lot aren't afraid to treat those aggressively."
(He'll just step hard on that particular sore subject, none the wiser, then.)
"As for service — did that phrase actually fall out of style when I wasn't looking? Damn." That, there, is a hell of a disappointment for Augustine, or so it appears. But the Disappointment Expression doesn't stick around for long, because it's replaced with one of extreme skepticism.
"Which spooky spaceship would that be, if you don't subscribe to the theory that all ships in the Nine Houses are, in fact, His?"
"We aren't, no," Palamedes says flatly, and feels himself becoming an iota more tired in real time. None of the white-hot indignation that struck him on God's Own Sofa (other), but he's too exhausted by life and everything to have a fast-talking banter session about, well. Cancer treatments.
It isn't the Saint's business, anyway, and Palamedes idly suspects that it wouldn't move him, besides. He slouches in his goth children blanket with a short sigh, brow furrowing as he carefully considers the many rousing defenses of the Sixth he could come up with and quietly puts them away. It's not as if they can put the whole of the Library somewhere else so easily, or he just would?
Nothing for it now. Now he is a squid, or something. Life throws curveballs, etc, and fast-talking Lyctors, as a bonus.
"Do you subscribe to that theory?" he asks, mildly, and then doesn't wait for an answer before he shrugs and adds, "I don't honestly know — I was in the River. You would have to ask the Ninth cav which ship she was talking about."
It isn't the Saint's business, anyway, and Palamedes idly suspects that it wouldn't move him, besides. He slouches in his goth children blanket with a short sigh, brow furrowing as he carefully considers the many rousing defenses of the Sixth he could come up with and quietly puts them away. It's not as if they can put the whole of the Library somewhere else so easily, or he just would?
Nothing for it now. Now he is a squid, or something. Life throws curveballs, etc, and fast-talking Lyctors, as a bonus.
"Do you subscribe to that theory?" he asks, mildly, and then doesn't wait for an answer before he shrugs and adds, "I don't honestly know — I was in the River. You would have to ask the Ninth cav which ship she was talking about."
Edited (don't look at me changing a single word) 2022-04-14 05:36 (UTC)
[Paul's curled leg falls outward, his hand dropping to secure his tucked in ankle, a very visible cascade of uncoiling tension under the continued contact. Sometimes, he's not so complicated of a project.]
I do respect your insights. I'm just proposing alternate approaches.
[He considers and discards a joke about seeing if he can make himself glow in the dark again. It's not as funny if a person wasn't there to see it.]
So - torches, no flagrant public bleeding, and the 'buddy system'. [The quotation Mark's are carefully inflected.] Is there anything more esoteric? Ghost lamps? Guide skeletons?
I do respect your insights. I'm just proposing alternate approaches.
[He considers and discards a joke about seeing if he can make himself glow in the dark again. It's not as funny if a person wasn't there to see it.]
So - torches, no flagrant public bleeding, and the 'buddy system'. [The quotation Mark's are carefully inflected.] Is there anything more esoteric? Ghost lamps? Guide skeletons?
[And what a gloriously uncomplicated project this one is right now, particularly for people who might have, not twelve hours ago, been squids with no knowledge of arms or what they're for. Palamedes drops his hand to Paul's shoulder and commits to the side hug, glad for at least one kernel of proof that Paul is broadly Alright.
But hey, do not knock the buddy system, that's culturally insensitive.]
Now I know you've been taking cues from the Ninth, if that's what you come up with. I would have suggested a light-up card catalog. Requisition forms for any hostile parties to submit in advance, that kind of thing.
[Maybe, like, a hall pass but with a skull drawn on it. Cool guy things.]
And despite your vicious mockery, I am- [don't say "dead serious"] -incredibly dedicated to the buddy system. Nobody has a good time alone in the dark.
But hey, do not knock the buddy system, that's culturally insensitive.]
Now I know you've been taking cues from the Ninth, if that's what you come up with. I would have suggested a light-up card catalog. Requisition forms for any hostile parties to submit in advance, that kind of thing.
[Maybe, like, a hall pass but with a skull drawn on it. Cool guy things.]
And despite your vicious mockery, I am- [don't say "dead serious"] -incredibly dedicated to the buddy system. Nobody has a good time alone in the dark.
[ Swallowing around the lump in his throat, V's jaw tightens momentarily in some pinned down sensation of empathy. Yeah, he knows what it's like to one day have somebody right there and the next... not so much.
So he nods silently for a long second and then finds his voice again. ]
Hard when people ain't there anymore.
[ Which isn't an 'I'm sorry' because he knows that doesn't help either.
Allowing his feet the freedom to unroot themselves from the floor, he wanders around to take a better look. ]
More questions, yeah. Could say a few. [ Glancing over his shoulder he offers up a wry kind of smile before looking back at the room at large. ] Most important for now though is... how do I make sure I'm not gonna get myself or anybody else in the kinda trouble that's hard to get out of again? How did ya know 'bout the butterflies?
[ A brief pause, and then: ]
How do I do what you did for me for somebody else?
So he nods silently for a long second and then finds his voice again. ]
Hard when people ain't there anymore.
[ Which isn't an 'I'm sorry' because he knows that doesn't help either.
Allowing his feet the freedom to unroot themselves from the floor, he wanders around to take a better look. ]
More questions, yeah. Could say a few. [ Glancing over his shoulder he offers up a wry kind of smile before looking back at the room at large. ] Most important for now though is... how do I make sure I'm not gonna get myself or anybody else in the kinda trouble that's hard to get out of again? How did ya know 'bout the butterflies?
[ A brief pause, and then: ]
How do I do what you did for me for somebody else?
I know a bit about it.
[He glances around the room, taking in the remnants of the party that still haven't been cleaned up.
Then he turns back to Palamedes, watching him thoughtfully, thinking about he too was consumed by this beast but only Kaworu was able to connect into it's very soul. Of course, it would be hard for everyone else to understand why the beast was the way it was.]
It hasn't been that long. Not really. Still, I feel like I have changed since that day.
[He glances around the room, taking in the remnants of the party that still haven't been cleaned up.
Then he turns back to Palamedes, watching him thoughtfully, thinking about he too was consumed by this beast but only Kaworu was able to connect into it's very soul. Of course, it would be hard for everyone else to understand why the beast was the way it was.]
It hasn't been that long. Not really. Still, I feel like I have changed since that day.
Page 5 of 15