[It is an obvious question, and yet somehow at the same time the question that gives Palamedes pause, while he's sweeping dust off a lumpy sofa with the edge of his cloak. Ah, yes... the we.]
Habit. My cavalier — that's something like a best-friend-teammate, for the record — was here with me not long after I arrived in Trench. She isn't anymore, she's "asleep" again, but that's "we."
[He deems this sofa dusted and perches on the arm of it instead, one foot braced on the floor. Hmm, yes, this house wouldn't have been so bad - it's still dark.
But more important than miring in housing decisions and the absence of "we" is his overtly confused new buddy, so he looks at V again with piercing concern.]
[ 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?
[Palamedes blinks; everyone who wakes up in Trench experiences some kind of loss, he knows, some kind of lack of the people they cared for back "home," before this, but it's the phrasing that sticks out to him. Something closer to the actual loss and not simply the lack, and Palamedes is pretty sure that most other worlds that dump their Sleepers on these shores do not maintain a necromancer-cavalier system with such rigidity—
people would ask him far fewer questions if so—
Which is all to say that it's not an "I'm sorry," and he appreciates it more for that, and he wonders precisely how deep this empathy goes. He'll put a pin in it.
First: giant bugs.]
At the risk of sounding like I don't get out much, I read it in a book. [ha... shrug.] About the butterflies. A local tipped me off in passing, and I had to know the rest for myself.
[Arguably for everyone else, too, given what he's doing right now.]
There's that method. But really: your best bet is to pay close attention. Sometimes it's down to dumb luck — sometimes it isn't. Nearly every road leads to corruption, so learn the signs, and then it's mostly a matter of getting into everyone else's business.
[ In fact, V's more than just partial to getting his hands on actual paper-bound books that look like they're close to dissolving into dust. Not much that reminds him more of being a kid on the road with his clan, the rumbling roll of their mobile library taken with them from place to place. Hardly like Night City is known for being nostalgic about old books, either.
It's the smell that he remembers the most, something he's hard-pressed to not experience in this moment. Leaves him looking more dreamy than the situation really calls for, but he's never been very good at not letting how he's feeling show at any given moment.
Blinking that memory away is the work of a simple shake of his head, then he's back with Palamedes. So, talking to people, is what he's taking from this. Making sure he's part of the community, sharing what he knows, learning from others...
Yeah. That sounds like his idea of a good time, a throw back to a time where he was still riding with his family. ]
However ya figured it out... thanks. I owe ya.
[ Extending a hand, it's purposely his left, organic-looking hand. Thing about having a hand that's literally a weapon is that it makes sticking it out to shake amicably on things a bit more complicated. Not that V doesn't have excellent control of it - he does - but it doesn't look friendly, and he's not here to intimidate innocent people. ]
[Ah, nothing wrong with books, the words of a true friend. Palamedes' lips quirk up in a brief smile - for sure, books rule - and he nods. It's no problem, he'd have gone to the aid of anyone he felt capable of actually helping, but the gravity of the situation remains that it was a close call.]
That's the idea. [...hmm,] For future reference, that is; not because I intend to hold you to some nebulous debt. We'll call it even.
[And after a beat, he reaches out for the handshake; he is skinny to a fault and his handshake is remarkably flimsy as a result, but he's got the spirit.
That, and well, it's not like V's having two different kinds of hands is hard to notice, so...]
Can I ask you a question? [No points for guessing, but he pauses for a beat to give V a moment to prepare for a question that Palamedes assumes he gets all the time.] It's about the... phalanges.
[He wiggles his fingers, professionally. Phalanges, that's the angle, for sure.]
I'm woefully green when it comes to mechanical - when it comes to mechanics, [he amends, because the question is earnestly,] Are you an android?
[ All at once V thinks he gets a decent enough snapshot of Palamedes' familiarity with tech. At the very least the guy knows what an android is. It draws out a chuckle from him all the same on a breath out, but there's definitely something tight mixed up in that humor. Something he's not altogether comfortable with. ]
It's uh... a long story. But no, 'm not an android.
[ He's also not the same person he was a year ago in a very existential way, but that's something he needs a little time to work up to. Needs to figure out the words for it because he's only ever talked about it once and that was mid-emotional breakdown. Maybe he'll share the deets at some point, but for now... ]
Where 'm from, this is called cyberware. [ He lifts up his right hand to provide the show and tell portion of his explanation ] Tech augmentation to the human body. This one's called a gorilla arm. Does what ya think it'd do. Rip doors off hinges, all that fun stuff.
[ Underplaying the irreversible damage it could do to a squishy being is purposeful. He doesn't want to spook his new buddy here. ]
This is the most obvious stuff I got, 'cept for the port 'n slots I got in my skull.
[ Which is his cue to turn his head to the side so that they're visible embedded into his skin. He allows observation for a few seconds before he turns his head back, fingers automatically reaching up to make sure the chip he's got in one of those slots is secured in properly. Neither of them want that coming loose. At least that's what he tells himself. ]
Got quite a bit o' cyberware goin' on inside, too. It's... it's normal in the city I live in, if ya got the eddies.
[It's a ruse: he knows what an android is, full stop. Nothing else about androids is known to him, but he'll muddle his way through. The one actual android he knows here bleeds, like the rest of them, and so his conception of where an android's line in the sand is drawn, as it were, is... shaky.
Like now, "not an android" has briefly taken him out, although all he shows for it is raised eyebrows and a curious look.
"Augmentation" he understands, at least; not the ports and slots in the skull, which he tilts toward with slightly more concerned curiosity, hand raised thoughtfully to his chin; his experience with things-in-skulls is witnessing messy lobotomies, so - well, so. Still; V seems quite fine and in his wits, so. Huh.]
I'm a necromancer, [he offers, half as explanation for why he's boggling so overtly at head slots.] I don't know what your experience is with necromancy, so— I could settle for "wizard." Point being: I'm new to inorganic modification.
[Understatement. Also, a term that implies what it implies, definitely. His gaze lingers on the visibly tech arm, like, well, now that they're safe from bugs-]
[ Strictly from his own world, 'wizard' is a job title, he'd figure, for a tech guru working for a megacorp. Seems like the kind of bullshit they'd pull. His six months in a different world gave him a different definition, though, even if the term 'mage' would be more familiar. So when Palamedes says necromancer, V's expression isn't lost.
He looks a bit crestfallen, briefly, mixed in with the kind of curiosity that's hard to dampen. ]
You're a mage? I mean...uh, yeah. Dated a necromancer, for a time.
[ Of course, it's real hard to date across the multiverse and V's seen no sight nor sound from anybody he knew from either home or Malachite's world. Not that he's trying to bring the mood down, so he offers out his hand for inspection. ]
Ever get a door jammed? Give me a call.
[ Which is a flimsy cover for the fact he's clearly thinking about something that's troubling him but not quite ready to share it. ]
You have? [Dated a necromancer, that is; not that, like, all necromancers know each other, except for here in Trench, where they all do seem to come from the same place and all of them besides Palamedes also live in the same house.
He shakes his head; there's a set of biases about his own, ah, culture there that loops around and settles on 'are any of us dateable?' He puts that thought aside.
Instead, he leans forward to peer at the hand, pointedly not touching it for both normal human manners reasons and necromancer reasons.]
Well, I'm a mage; we're not known for our upper body strength. It might just be a slightly heavier than normal door. [haha... but really.] Does it— there's no delicate way to approach this, forgive me, does it feel?
[ It takes V a second and then he gets it. Right. He remembers learning about tombs in the mobile library. Least, that's what he's guessing Palamedes is getting at, and he chuckles in shared amusement. Idea of getting into a tomb after hundreds - maybe thousands - of years is exciting more than anything.
The way the man phrases his question is especially endearing, and V's continued amusement escapes on a breath out. Flipping his hand over to show the other side, he's nodding before he opens his mouth to reply. ]
Yeah. 's called Synth-Skin. I can feel everythin', it's just a lot tougher than 'ganic skin. It's networked into my nervous system, otherwise... wouldn't be able to use it.
[Ah, and 'ganic sounds so very necromancer, all things considered. He can't help but smile briefly over that, still peering down at the hand. Networked into a nervous system, but how...]
I can run a second nervous system without breaking a sweat in a pinch, but I have no idea how any of that works when it's inorganic.
[And so he just... continues to stare, like staring hard enough at it will give him the answers. It's worked before, in fairness, but all those other times he was working within the bounds of what is ordinary and makes sense to him - not synth-skin.]
And it can perform above standard organic levels of strength? Without tearing itself clean off your shoulder?
[Reinforced skeleton! Subdermal armor!! Palamedes eyebrows shoot up, like - it's always been gauche to tell someone you desperately want to get your hands on their skeleton, but this seems even more so, being pure curiosity. What would he do with a reinforced skeleton, other than marvel...
He takes a brief mental tangent through wondering who came up with these things and how involved the process is of getting a skeleton reinforced, or subdermal armor, ah, at all— is there reading material. Can he study some notes. Good god.]
Do you— I'm guessing at the term, overcharge? The limits of organic matter compared to synthetic must be a persistent concern even with precautionary measures taken. It's mind-blowing that your body has synced so completely with inorganic parts.
[And there's a slot in his head!!! It keeps getting wilder!!!!!! Palamedes holds up his hands, like, he's calm. He's not being weird.]
Nah-- no. [ Moved to clasp the other man at the shoulders, V grins and shakes his head. ] Not too much. Just been a time since I met somebody this curious 'thout them lookin' to strip me for my parts.
Uh. Cyberware parts.
[ Well, and the rest but that wasn't what he meant and it's a great thing that he's not all that into being ashamed about his body, or embarrassed all that easy. Apparently entertained, he squeezes and then releases the man with a short, sharp, but gentle pat to the rounds of his shoulders. ]
Not overcharged. Got inbuilt ways to drain excess, though when they first started experimenting with usin' cyberware enhancements.... [ He makes a bzzzt sound, clearly no good things happened to the pioneers of the cyberware trade. ]
It's uh... somethin' called cyberpsychosis. Best way I can explain is... losin' touch with humanity. Or what makes people human. Link 'tween too much cyberware and cyberpsychosis is a thing where 'm from.
[Oh— he's grabbed? Palamedes blinks and sort of - not buckles, he's not so much skin and bones that even a light shoulder clap will knock him over, how mortifying, but he does sort of fold in the way that a person unused to boisterous shoulder-clasping might. Aha - but it's only a flicker of surprise, far too interested in the many twists and turns of Synthetic Parts to be uncomfortable.
Where does the excess drain to, he wonders, and what does that look like— static? He knows what static is—]
For what it's worth, I don't like to strip things for parts, organic or otherwise. Even if they aren't being used anymore.
[Some necromancers see a body as free real estate, but he likes to think he's, hm, more ethical than that? The Sixth are too enamored of the body, some of the others from his world like to say— the point is, he doesn't go around desecrating bodies, a thing that feels super weird to say, but. Ahem.]
I have about a thousand more questions, but more immediately— This place isn't exactly on your level, is it? Are you going to be alright if something breaks?
[ It's good to know, if not least because V's got some experience with people - himself included - suddenly making choices they would never usually. 'course, this choom could be lying through his teeth about all this, and maybe it's all an act.
Somehow V really doesn't think so, and whatever second-hand paranoia he might've felt thanks to a certain long gone rockerboy-slash-brain-parasite, he's more than happy to take things at face value.
The man makes a good point regardless, and that chuckle on a breath out is less genuine amusement and more wistful now. ]
Long past my use by.
This ain't my first experience of a world that's not mine. 'cept last one had scientists that did somethin' to my brain, patched it up sorta, so...
Yeah, you're right. But at this point? No idea what's gonna give out first; cyberware or my head.
[ This all took a bit of a nosedive and V has the good grace to look apologetic. ]
Tried to find a medic when I first arrived. Just to uh... check this out.
[ He taps two flesh and bone fingers against his temple and then takes a breath in before finding something interesting to stare at on the wall. ]
[Well, that's what the kids call a bummer, huh. Palamedes frowns, brow furrowed— it strikes him as patently unfair, and not for the first time, that they can flop out of the sea as squids and still grow back into people with life-threatening problems. Hell, he still needs glasses, even that little is illogical at best.
He hums- put a pin in "ain't my first experience," he'll circle back- but good god, is nothing easy?]
Did you? Find a medic, that is. [He pauses, glances away to make a hasty purse-lipped decision, and looks back. Okay,] I'm not a doctor, but if it's only a... preliminary status update you need, I might be able to help with that.
[If that's odd to offer a stranger, well, they're already talking about un-patched brains and loitering in an abandoned house, so. That line has been well and truly passed. He holds up his hands idly, as if to say no pressure, really—]
I don't know what your necromancer specialized in, but I'm pretty good at, eh— let's call it analysis.
Uh, [ is this a slightly sheepish look interjecting this two syllable answer? Maybe. ] no.
Figured since I didn't flatline yet... it can't be so bad, right?
[ He's hoping, he really is. Though at the offer of a status update, V can't and doesn't hold back the strangely anxiety-riddled relief that sweeps across his features. Somebody who might be able to tell him if he's two breaths away from calling it a day in a real permanent way. Maybe that 'cant be so bad' attitude is a small white lie. Or a big one. ]
I don't got anythin' to pay ya with, 'cept more 'I owe ya one's.
[That shouldn't make him grin but it does, albeit tight-lipped and rueful. Oh, bud.]
Are you sure you aren't a necromancer, yourself?
["I'm not dead yet so it's fine" is peak necromancer, trust him, he's heard it and said it enough times himself. He shakes his head lightly - never mind - and reaches for the satchel hanging at his hip, but ah-]
First, you don't have to pay me; you don't have to owe me, either, but if it makes you feel better, sure. I'll ask for a favor sometime. [a shrug! a favor like "wow push this heavy box for me, cool thanks," there are no rules.] Second, do you want to do this here? I can, but I know 'dusty hovel' isn't everyone's first choice.
akjsh sorry pal ur getting the no context dramatic details unfiltered XD
[ It's a Statement, sure, and he doesn't seem to recognize that for a long few seconds beyond not being particularly fussy about the dusty hovel surroundings. Eventually his brain catches up and yeah, he's talking to a necromancer but there's some deets lacking even he knows are owed. ]
Prob'ly got some context to fill in for ya, right?
[ Rubbing at the back of his neck, his fingertips eventually ghost bravely over the chipslots in his skull. How to explain his first death... ]
How 'bout we go to wherever feels good for ya, and I'll explain whatever you need me to?
[Oh, Palamedes thinks, and then, gross, but that wouldn't be polite to say. He opens his mouth to speak, closes it again, considers, and then says,]
It was a locked room, for me. Give or take a few technical details.
[So there's that, he doesn't know what other way to smooth over the concept of dying-but-not-really other than to shrug about knowing those particular steps. Not his first rodeo, etc. He holds up a finger, then roots around in his satchel before pulling out what appears to be a small coil of copper wire, because it is. He picks a bit of dust off one of the ends, then holds it up.]
I can manage a rough diagnostic of your vitals with this, if you're willing. Whatever details you've got might help put together the rest, and— d'you know what psychometry is?
[..........OH, yes, the actual question: location, location, location.] I can work anywhere.
v is racking up a substantial iou debt to pal HE CAN LIVE WITH NOSY
[ With questions of his own now loitering front of mind, V's head tilts briefly, subtly, and he wants to ask how Palamedes is dealing with it. Wants to know if being a necromancer makes it easier or harder to deal with... all of it.
First time he returned to life was with an uninvited visitor in his neural network riding his body shotgun. Second time he returned without him and not a day's gone by where he hasn't missed that asshole since.
But there's questions to focus on - probably important ones. ]
Short versions are: no, dunno what psychometry is. And I was dyin' 'cause my neural network was bein' taken over by an engram that wasn't mine for a while. Did more damage than I should've been able to live with when I--
[ Hmm. This bit's still difficult to say. ]
Got put back in my own body as an engram 'thout 'im. 'thout Johnny. 'cept my neural network was already rewired to be the right environment for his engram so mine was... alien to my own brain.
Last place I 'member bein', they stablized what was goin' on up there. Slowed down the rate o' rejection, guessin'. They never explained how and I didn't ask. No idea if that's still... workin'.
pal's list of iou cash-ins is just lifting boxes, anyway cw: sticking wires into skin
[The answers to all of those questions are, of course, he's not dealing with it on purpose, he does not intend to deal with it anytime soon, and it's incredibly shitty regardless of necromancer status.
Instead, he works on unwinding some of the copper wire while V explains his - frankly insane situation, if only because Palamedes has seen the completely organic version of it before, he thinks? He'd never had time to ask about the mechanics of why a friend's memory was a royal mess and why another, separate friend appeared to be knocking about in her brain, but—
Huh. Very necromancer, indeed.]
An "engram" is a consciousness, I'm assuming? And your implanted technology altered the landscape, so to speak, to accommodate the interloper— that makes sense.
[Well. As much as anything of this nature would.]
The energy it takes to run two nervous systems at once is already overly taxing; two entire consciousnesses must take an astronomical amount of power. If you're stabilized, the only task left is undoing the work of the first rewrite.
[Super simple!! He could probably do this to a normal brain without Stuff in it, but that's for later. He holds the wire up, one end in each hand.]
This is for vitals; you won't notice a thing, but if we connect you to me with this, I'll be able to get a decent sweep of your body's overall status. You would have to break skin with it, though; I usually prefer using the soft part of the hand, here, [he pinches between thumb and forefinger, then holds out one end of the wire.]
Psychometry, on the other hand, is the ghost-within-the-thing. Sort of. Necromantic energies leave a trace, and if I can find that, I can get a read on the memories associated with it. It's— easier when the emotional connection is stronger. [And all of this thing, the touch-memory-magic, he mentions because,] It's not always voluntary; not mentioning it beforehand wouldn't be fair to your privacy.
[anyway stab this wire into your hand]
at this rate v will be pal's moving guy if he ever needs to move house hah cw: wire stabby in hand
[ Insane is what it felt like, at times, and V's nodding his agreement - engram like the digital copy of a person's consciousness, exactly. He's watching Palamedes unwind that copper wire as he absorbs what's being asked of him. Does he understand everything? Yeah, he thinks so.
Regardless, he's grateful. ]
I'll skip to the part where I tell ya what was prob'ly the most powerful megacorp in my world patented storin' digital copies - memories, thoughts, motivations, so... personality - o' rich people on their megaservers for a price.
And-- might've stole somethin' from 'em that had the engram of a dead rockerboy terrorist on it that ended up here.
[ He taps one of those chipslots he's got in his head; the one that has something in it. ]
Johnny's gone now, 's just me in here. [ Sometimes it still feels messed up he's alone now, fuck he misses Johnny. ] And last time this got yanked out, my whole personality shifted. Wasn't ideal. So, best I can tell, chip's now an integrated part of my neural network. Part that makes me not an asshole.
[ And that's a whole other story - one that's quite likely to crop up.
He's already reached up to accept that copper wire, and it's only because the other man mentions breaking skin specifically he doesn't try and engineer a way to use the port he's got on the inside of his wrist. So he presses the end of that wire into the very flesh, blood and bone part of his left hand and immediately looks up at Palamedes to check he's done it right. ]
the wire stabby continues as does discussion of terminal illness-like stuff
[There's something so impossible-sounding about "stole a dead rockerboy terrorist," besides 'rockerboy' being a word Palamedes has only ever heard during this one conversation, that it loops back around to being - well, plausible? Sure, why not. V has a visible slot in his head, so why not put a dead terrorist in there - it might as well happen.
He nods along; it continues to make conceptual sense to him, that a second consciousness smashed into the original would alter it in some way both coming and going. The concern is the part where it sounds like it was never meant to smash into an original at all, so...
Well, that's what the wire is for, mostly. Palamedes watches V stick the end of the wire into his hand and then nods, doing the same with the other end. There isn't an effect; there isn't even a feeling to whatever he does with this wire next. There's just Palamedes standing there for a long couple seconds, in turns raising one eyebrow or both and frowning here and there.]
You've got a lot of stuff in there, don't you, [he says, a little incredulously, and then more helpfully,] Necromancy is a flesh-and-blood thing; this can tell me that your flesh and blood is doing pretty well, all things considered, thanks to a series of inorganic parts I cannot see and am just going to have to trust. If you weren't- augmented?- I'd be worried your body is going into overdrive for the wrong reasons.
[A weird effect, like looking at a circuit with half of the connections covered, but all the evidence that the covered pieces seem to be doing what they ought to. Academically, he's fascinated; but ah, yes, the - brain. This is the part that makes him frown, so much less tidy and more - odd, full of pockets of the same static feeling he gets from a trace of thanergy that isn't clear enough to be anything.
There's a worrying amount of that. He assumes that must be 'Johnny,' and decides not to mention it. As for the rest...]
Well— news: you're not out of the woods yet, [here he tugs the wire out of his own hand and pinches blood off the end, gesturing for V to do the same.] But you're not going to fall over comatose anytime soon, from what I can tell. I'll be honest with you: it's ramshackle. Whoever doctored you wherever you were last did inelegant work. But they bought you more time than you'd otherwise have.
[Blunt, but after what V's already said, he figures it's both acceptable and necessary.]
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no subject
Habit. My cavalier — that's something like a best-friend-teammate, for the record — was here with me not long after I arrived in Trench. She isn't anymore, she's "asleep" again, but that's "we."
[He deems this sofa dusted and perches on the arm of it instead, one foot braced on the floor. Hmm, yes, this house wouldn't have been so bad - it's still dark.
But more important than miring in housing decisions and the absence of "we" is his overtly confused new buddy, so he looks at V again with piercing concern.]
You probably have more questions. I can try.
no subject
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?
no subject
people would ask him far fewer questions if so—
Which is all to say that it's not an "I'm sorry," and he appreciates it more for that, and he wonders precisely how deep this empathy goes. He'll put a pin in it.
First: giant bugs.]
At the risk of sounding like I don't get out much, I read it in a book. [ha... shrug.] About the butterflies. A local tipped me off in passing, and I had to know the rest for myself.
[Arguably for everyone else, too, given what he's doing right now.]
There's that method. But really: your best bet is to pay close attention. Sometimes it's down to dumb luck — sometimes it isn't. Nearly every road leads to corruption, so learn the signs, and then it's mostly a matter of getting into everyone else's business.
no subject
[ In fact, V's more than just partial to getting his hands on actual paper-bound books that look like they're close to dissolving into dust. Not much that reminds him more of being a kid on the road with his clan, the rumbling roll of their mobile library taken with them from place to place. Hardly like Night City is known for being nostalgic about old books, either.
It's the smell that he remembers the most, something he's hard-pressed to not experience in this moment. Leaves him looking more dreamy than the situation really calls for, but he's never been very good at not letting how he's feeling show at any given moment.
Blinking that memory away is the work of a simple shake of his head, then he's back with Palamedes. So, talking to people, is what he's taking from this. Making sure he's part of the community, sharing what he knows, learning from others...
Yeah. That sounds like his idea of a good time, a throw back to a time where he was still riding with his family. ]
However ya figured it out... thanks. I owe ya.
[ Extending a hand, it's purposely his left, organic-looking hand. Thing about having a hand that's literally a weapon is that it makes sticking it out to shake amicably on things a bit more complicated. Not that V doesn't have excellent control of it - he does - but it doesn't look friendly, and he's not here to intimidate innocent people. ]
Won't forget what ya did for me.
no subject
That's the idea. [...hmm,] For future reference, that is; not because I intend to hold you to some nebulous debt. We'll call it even.
[And after a beat, he reaches out for the handshake; he is skinny to a fault and his handshake is remarkably flimsy as a result, but he's got the spirit.
That, and well, it's not like V's having two different kinds of hands is hard to notice, so...]
Can I ask you a question? [No points for guessing, but he pauses for a beat to give V a moment to prepare for a question that Palamedes assumes he gets all the time.] It's about the... phalanges.
[He wiggles his fingers, professionally. Phalanges, that's the angle, for sure.]
I'm woefully green when it comes to mechanical - when it comes to mechanics, [he amends, because the question is earnestly,] Are you an android?
no subject
It's uh... a long story. But no, 'm not an android.
[ He's also not the same person he was a year ago in a very existential way, but that's something he needs a little time to work up to. Needs to figure out the words for it because he's only ever talked about it once and that was mid-emotional breakdown. Maybe he'll share the deets at some point, but for now... ]
Where 'm from, this is called cyberware. [ He lifts up his right hand to provide the show and tell portion of his explanation ] Tech augmentation to the human body. This one's called a gorilla arm. Does what ya think it'd do. Rip doors off hinges, all that fun stuff.
[ Underplaying the irreversible damage it could do to a squishy being is purposeful. He doesn't want to spook his new buddy here. ]
This is the most obvious stuff I got, 'cept for the port 'n slots I got in my skull.
[ Which is his cue to turn his head to the side so that they're visible embedded into his skin. He allows observation for a few seconds before he turns his head back, fingers automatically reaching up to make sure the chip he's got in one of those slots is secured in properly. Neither of them want that coming loose. At least that's what he tells himself. ]
Got quite a bit o' cyberware goin' on inside, too. It's... it's normal in the city I live in, if ya got the eddies.
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Like now, "not an android" has briefly taken him out, although all he shows for it is raised eyebrows and a curious look.
"Augmentation" he understands, at least; not the ports and slots in the skull, which he tilts toward with slightly more concerned curiosity, hand raised thoughtfully to his chin; his experience with things-in-skulls is witnessing messy lobotomies, so - well, so. Still; V seems quite fine and in his wits, so. Huh.]
I'm a necromancer, [he offers, half as explanation for why he's boggling so overtly at head slots.] I don't know what your experience is with necromancy, so— I could settle for "wizard." Point being: I'm new to inorganic modification.
[Understatement. Also, a term that implies what it implies, definitely. His gaze lingers on the visibly tech arm, like, well, now that they're safe from bugs-]
Can I be weird? I am dying to see it up close.
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He looks a bit crestfallen, briefly, mixed in with the kind of curiosity that's hard to dampen. ]
You're a mage? I mean...uh, yeah. Dated a necromancer, for a time.
[ Of course, it's real hard to date across the multiverse and V's seen no sight nor sound from anybody he knew from either home or Malachite's world. Not that he's trying to bring the mood down, so he offers out his hand for inspection. ]
Ever get a door jammed? Give me a call.
[ Which is a flimsy cover for the fact he's clearly thinking about something that's troubling him but not quite ready to share it. ]
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He shakes his head; there's a set of biases about his own, ah, culture there that loops around and settles on 'are any of us dateable?' He puts that thought aside.
Instead, he leans forward to peer at the hand, pointedly not touching it for both normal human manners reasons and necromancer reasons.]
Well, I'm a mage; we're not known for our upper body strength. It might just be a slightly heavier than normal door. [haha... but really.] Does it— there's no delicate way to approach this, forgive me, does it feel?
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The way the man phrases his question is especially endearing, and V's continued amusement escapes on a breath out. Flipping his hand over to show the other side, he's nodding before he opens his mouth to reply. ]
Yeah. 's called Synth-Skin. I can feel everythin', it's just a lot tougher than 'ganic skin. It's networked into my nervous system, otherwise... wouldn't be able to use it.
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I can run a second nervous system without breaking a sweat in a pinch, but I have no idea how any of that works when it's inorganic.
[And so he just... continues to stare, like staring hard enough at it will give him the answers. It's worked before, in fairness, but all those other times he was working within the bounds of what is ordinary and makes sense to him - not synth-skin.]
And it can perform above standard organic levels of strength? Without tearing itself clean off your shoulder?
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[ V's no ripperdoc - he can't explain the medical side of it all with much finesse - but he does understand the technology to a reasonable degree.
Palamedes' curiosity is honestly refreshing, it's been a while since anybody's looked at his cyberware as such a novelty. ]
Got a reinforced skeleton and subdermal armor too. Supports the framework well enough so I don't lose my arm.
[ In his line of work? It's very much needed, at times. ]
Got more cyberware inside that I do outside. Just gotta be careful I don't take it too far.
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He takes a brief mental tangent through wondering who came up with these things and how involved the process is of getting a skeleton reinforced, or subdermal armor, ah, at all— is there reading material. Can he study some notes. Good god.]
Do you— I'm guessing at the term, overcharge? The limits of organic matter compared to synthetic must be a persistent concern even with precautionary measures taken. It's mind-blowing that your body has synced so completely with inorganic parts.
[And there's a slot in his head!!! It keeps getting wilder!!!!!! Palamedes holds up his hands, like, he's calm. He's not being weird.]
Sorry; is this too much?
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Uh. Cyberware parts.
[ Well, and the rest but that wasn't what he meant and it's a great thing that he's not all that into being ashamed about his body, or embarrassed all that easy. Apparently entertained, he squeezes and then releases the man with a short, sharp, but gentle pat to the rounds of his shoulders. ]
Not overcharged. Got inbuilt ways to drain excess, though when they first started experimenting with usin' cyberware enhancements.... [ He makes a bzzzt sound, clearly no good things happened to the pioneers of the cyberware trade. ]
It's uh... somethin' called cyberpsychosis. Best way I can explain is... losin' touch with humanity. Or what makes people human. Link 'tween too much cyberware and cyberpsychosis is a thing where 'm from.
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Where does the excess drain to, he wonders, and what does that look like— static? He knows what static is—]
For what it's worth, I don't like to strip things for parts, organic or otherwise. Even if they aren't being used anymore.
[Some necromancers see a body as free real estate, but he likes to think he's, hm, more ethical than that? The Sixth are too enamored of the body, some of the others from his world like to say— the point is, he doesn't go around desecrating bodies, a thing that feels super weird to say, but. Ahem.]
I have about a thousand more questions, but more immediately— This place isn't exactly on your level, is it? Are you going to be alright if something breaks?
cw: sorta touching on terminal illness a bit??
Somehow V really doesn't think so, and whatever second-hand paranoia he might've felt thanks to a certain long gone rockerboy-slash-brain-parasite, he's more than happy to take things at face value.
The man makes a good point regardless, and that chuckle on a breath out is less genuine amusement and more wistful now. ]
Long past my use by.
This ain't my first experience of a world that's not mine. 'cept last one had scientists that did somethin' to my brain, patched it up sorta, so...
Yeah, you're right. But at this point? No idea what's gonna give out first; cyberware or my head.
[ This all took a bit of a nosedive and V has the good grace to look apologetic. ]
Tried to find a medic when I first arrived. Just to uh... check this out.
[ He taps two flesh and bone fingers against his temple and then takes a breath in before finding something interesting to stare at on the wall. ]
Anyway....
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He hums- put a pin in "ain't my first experience," he'll circle back- but good god, is nothing easy?]
Did you? Find a medic, that is. [He pauses, glances away to make a hasty purse-lipped decision, and looks back. Okay,] I'm not a doctor, but if it's only a... preliminary status update you need, I might be able to help with that.
[If that's odd to offer a stranger, well, they're already talking about un-patched brains and loitering in an abandoned house, so. That line has been well and truly passed. He holds up his hands idly, as if to say no pressure, really—]
I don't know what your necromancer specialized in, but I'm pretty good at, eh— let's call it analysis.
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Figured since I didn't flatline yet... it can't be so bad, right?
[ He's hoping, he really is. Though at the offer of a status update, V can't and doesn't hold back the strangely anxiety-riddled relief that sweeps across his features. Somebody who might be able to tell him if he's two breaths away from calling it a day in a real permanent way. Maybe that 'cant be so bad' attitude is a small white lie. Or a big one. ]
I don't got anythin' to pay ya with, 'cept more 'I owe ya one's.
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Are you sure you aren't a necromancer, yourself?
["I'm not dead yet so it's fine" is peak necromancer, trust him, he's heard it and said it enough times himself. He shakes his head lightly - never mind - and reaches for the satchel hanging at his hip, but ah-]
First, you don't have to pay me; you don't have to owe me, either, but if it makes you feel better, sure. I'll ask for a favor sometime. [a shrug! a favor like "wow push this heavy box for me, cool thanks," there are no rules.] Second, do you want to do this here? I can, but I know 'dusty hovel' isn't everyone's first choice.
akjsh sorry pal ur getting the no context dramatic details unfiltered XD
[ It's a Statement, sure, and he doesn't seem to recognize that for a long few seconds beyond not being particularly fussy about the dusty hovel surroundings. Eventually his brain catches up and yeah, he's talking to a necromancer but there's some deets lacking even he knows are owed. ]
Prob'ly got some context to fill in for ya, right?
[ Rubbing at the back of his neck, his fingertips eventually ghost bravely over the chipslots in his skull. How to explain his first death... ]
How 'bout we go to wherever feels good for ya, and I'll explain whatever you need me to?
KDFM he deserves it for being nosy
It was a locked room, for me. Give or take a few technical details.
[So there's that, he doesn't know what other way to smooth over the concept of dying-but-not-really other than to shrug about knowing those particular steps. Not his first rodeo, etc. He holds up a finger, then roots around in his satchel before pulling out what appears to be a small coil of copper wire, because it is. He picks a bit of dust off one of the ends, then holds it up.]
I can manage a rough diagnostic of your vitals with this, if you're willing. Whatever details you've got might help put together the rest, and— d'you know what psychometry is?
[..........OH, yes, the actual question: location, location, location.] I can work anywhere.
v is racking up a substantial iou debt to pal HE CAN LIVE WITH NOSY
First time he returned to life was with an uninvited visitor in his neural network riding his body shotgun. Second time he returned without him and not a day's gone by where he hasn't missed that asshole since.
But there's questions to focus on - probably important ones. ]
Short versions are: no, dunno what psychometry is. And I was dyin' 'cause my neural network was bein' taken over by an engram that wasn't mine for a while. Did more damage than I should've been able to live with when I--
[ Hmm. This bit's still difficult to say. ]
Got put back in my own body as an engram 'thout 'im. 'thout Johnny. 'cept my neural network was already rewired to be the right environment for his engram so mine was... alien to my own brain.
Last place I 'member bein', they stablized what was goin' on up there. Slowed down the rate o' rejection, guessin'. They never explained how and I didn't ask. No idea if that's still... workin'.
pal's list of iou cash-ins is just lifting boxes, anyway cw: sticking wires into skin
Instead, he works on unwinding some of the copper wire while V explains his - frankly insane situation, if only because Palamedes has seen the completely organic version of it before, he thinks? He'd never had time to ask about the mechanics of why a friend's memory was a royal mess and why another, separate friend appeared to be knocking about in her brain, but—
Huh. Very necromancer, indeed.]
An "engram" is a consciousness, I'm assuming? And your implanted technology altered the landscape, so to speak, to accommodate the interloper— that makes sense.
[Well. As much as anything of this nature would.]
The energy it takes to run two nervous systems at once is already overly taxing; two entire consciousnesses must take an astronomical amount of power. If you're stabilized, the only task left is undoing the work of the first rewrite.
[Super simple!! He could probably do this to a normal brain without Stuff in it, but that's for later. He holds the wire up, one end in each hand.]
This is for vitals; you won't notice a thing, but if we connect you to me with this, I'll be able to get a decent sweep of your body's overall status. You would have to break skin with it, though; I usually prefer using the soft part of the hand, here, [he pinches between thumb and forefinger, then holds out one end of the wire.]
Psychometry, on the other hand, is the ghost-within-the-thing. Sort of. Necromantic energies leave a trace, and if I can find that, I can get a read on the memories associated with it. It's— easier when the emotional connection is stronger. [And all of this thing, the touch-memory-magic, he mentions because,] It's not always voluntary; not mentioning it beforehand wouldn't be fair to your privacy.
[anyway stab this wire into your hand]
at this rate v will be pal's moving guy if he ever needs to move house hah cw: wire stabby in hand
Regardless, he's grateful. ]
I'll skip to the part where I tell ya what was prob'ly the most powerful megacorp in my world patented storin' digital copies - memories, thoughts, motivations, so... personality - o' rich people on their megaservers for a price.
And-- might've stole somethin' from 'em that had the engram of a dead rockerboy terrorist on it that ended up here.
[ He taps one of those chipslots he's got in his head; the one that has something in it. ]
Johnny's gone now, 's just me in here. [ Sometimes it still feels messed up he's alone now, fuck he misses Johnny. ] And last time this got yanked out, my whole personality shifted. Wasn't ideal. So, best I can tell, chip's now an integrated part of my neural network. Part that makes me not an asshole.
[ And that's a whole other story - one that's quite likely to crop up.
He's already reached up to accept that copper wire, and it's only because the other man mentions breaking skin specifically he doesn't try and engineer a way to use the port he's got on the inside of his wrist. So he presses the end of that wire into the very flesh, blood and bone part of his left hand and immediately looks up at Palamedes to check he's done it right. ]
the wire stabby continues as does discussion of terminal illness-like stuff
He nods along; it continues to make conceptual sense to him, that a second consciousness smashed into the original would alter it in some way both coming and going. The concern is the part where it sounds like it was never meant to smash into an original at all, so...
Well, that's what the wire is for, mostly. Palamedes watches V stick the end of the wire into his hand and then nods, doing the same with the other end. There isn't an effect; there isn't even a feeling to whatever he does with this wire next. There's just Palamedes standing there for a long couple seconds, in turns raising one eyebrow or both and frowning here and there.]
You've got a lot of stuff in there, don't you, [he says, a little incredulously, and then more helpfully,] Necromancy is a flesh-and-blood thing; this can tell me that your flesh and blood is doing pretty well, all things considered, thanks to a series of inorganic parts I cannot see and am just going to have to trust. If you weren't- augmented?- I'd be worried your body is going into overdrive for the wrong reasons.
[A weird effect, like looking at a circuit with half of the connections covered, but all the evidence that the covered pieces seem to be doing what they ought to. Academically, he's fascinated; but ah, yes, the - brain. This is the part that makes him frown, so much less tidy and more - odd, full of pockets of the same static feeling he gets from a trace of thanergy that isn't clear enough to be anything.
There's a worrying amount of that. He assumes that must be 'Johnny,' and decides not to mention it. As for the rest...]
Well— news: you're not out of the woods yet, [here he tugs the wire out of his own hand and pinches blood off the end, gesturing for V to do the same.] But you're not going to fall over comatose anytime soon, from what I can tell. I'll be honest with you: it's ramshackle. Whoever doctored you wherever you were last did inelegant work. But they bought you more time than you'd otherwise have.
[Blunt, but after what V's already said, he figures it's both acceptable and necessary.]
cw: wire hand stuff but last one, mention of previous mugging
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