Oh, look at him go. Palamedes watches him write, almost compelled by the urge to explain, in detail, everything he possibly can about necromancy in the next five minutes, but he resists. That would be a lot, for one thing, and for another, a pocket guide to necromancy is probably a bad idea to leave floating around unwarded itself. Psychometry is fine; he does make a face at "sauce bottles," though. Wow.
"A blood ward doesn't flash lightning and make a spooky ghost noise, for what it's worth. I can do you 'slaps them around,'" he is counting these off on his fingers, "'diverts approach,' although that won't be customizable to ignore the people you've approved, or 'disappears when crossed,' without any other effects."
So in short, he isn't too sure about scaring off intruders, unless getting papercuts from nowhere is scary, more or less. He shrugs; ultimately, it's Midoriya's choice.
"And your thing is super strength, you said. I can see how that'd be handy in an emergency. Is it safe for you to carry around a record of everyone's skills?" He is trying to set up some kind of enemy-proof training facility, after all; Palamedes must assume a level of danger that would be made worse if someone stole this notebook. "Just wondering."
Midoriya is the king of coming up with stunningly mundane analogies for extraordinary things. He once (and still) compared an unbridled, painful release of his own power to an egg exploding in a microwave. At present, he privately compares each new stage of it as a series of locked doors. He's going to use the analogy of sauce bottle seals, even just in his head, and Palamedes can do nothing about that. He avidly watches Palamedes count the ways in which he can put blood on a thing and have it be very effective.
"Still impressive..." He can't help a small, brief grin, but this is business, and he's been at work-studies long enough to rein expressions of admiration in. "Another disadvantage of hurting an intruder is blood pollution. Let's just stick with 'disappears when crossed.' And 'diverts approach' might be useful not around actual entrances, but fake ones or something. Don't want to put too many of those in case we need to enter or exit through an alternative route, or even turn it into a shelter for more people in a big emergency."
He draws a quick, barely-comprehensible doodle of a sauce bottle while tapping his lip and looks up.
"You're right about that. I've had to be careful what I actually write down. It's incomplete on purpose. Just stuff they've shown everyone in public--and only what will fit in here. Even back home, when I memorized one notebook, I switched to a new one."
"Blood wards are sources of blood pollution," Palamedes points out, helpfully. There's no way to one hundred percent avoid the blood, or using it, or being slowly but surely corrupted, and he's made various overtures about bleeding on everything responsibly, but not to mince words: blood wards are also blood pollution. It's best to minimize, though; he'll concede the point about harming intruders, even if it would be easier.
Maybe that's too necromancer of him, to be careless about harming intruders. It comes with the territory.
The doodle makes him smirk, briefly— a sauce bottle it is, then. He hums, considering the overall effectiveness of an incomplete guide to the local powerset. More useful by far than not having it, he supposes - but he's never had to keep carrying anything around after he's read it once.
"Am I getting a page? Don't draw me as a sauce bottle unless absolutely necessary, if you don't mind. How much do you know about necromancy?"
He nods. Hunters know every instance of bleeding is pollution. He'd just like to keep it to a minimum, even if he has friends who wouldn't mind smacking around intruders indiscriminately. Midoriya would like to smack people around responsibly.
"I can? That is, if you want?" Midoriya can't help a small note of excitement. Palamedes, should he give his blessing, would appear as a long, thin man with glasses, clothes shaded in gray with a pencil, under his name in katakana.
"Other than it raises and manipulates bones, nothing. Not sure if healing is connected, come to think of it..."
Midoriya rubs at a spot on his neck. He hasn't researched the purview of some of the inhabitants of Bone House, only encountered it. He thinks of the inscrutable man with the eyes he met on the beach during battle. He lent his skeletons to the fray and removed adverse effects from Midoriya, who stumbled into Illarion's swan song: a contaminating eldritch soup. Midoriya is glad to be rid of the e̴̩̅ẙ̸̝̌ẻ̵̫͂s̸̛̝. They were uncomfortable and slowly multiplying.
"Bone magic is only one school of necromancy, actually." He considers; it's probably ill-advised to spread necromantic facts around town, but - just bones is too little information, actually, for his satisfaction. He holds up his fingers one by one: "You've got your bone adepts, your spirit magicians, flesh magicians: subsets blood and lymph. The actual necromantic medium is thanergy, sometimes thalergy; death and life energies, respectively. Raises bones is, first of all, begging to be made into a dirty joke, but also fundamentally incomplete as an understanding of the craft. You can put me in your notes if you write down the correct information."
Those are his terms— well, term. It's just the one.
"Curative science is a different concept, obviously, but if you're creative enough, thanergy and thalergy can be manipulated to mimic 'healing.' Not one-to-one." The implication here is that he personally is creative enough, write that down. He adds, "Flesh magic can manipulate the body's performance, but not precisely the same as healing; someone like me couldn't snap his fingers and cure a disease, for example."
He pauses significantly, so Midoriya can write things down, ask a few questions if he likes. Call and response, see. "My psychometry - the tracking - also falls under the umbrella of necromancy, although it's highly specialized."
He chokes a little in the back of his throat at the mention of boner jokes. He wasn't going to say it... Paul told him that Harrowhark, for example, uses the (presumably donated and therefore sustainably sourced, of course) bones of her people's dead. Midoriya is under the impression this is part of venerating one's dead, or at least permission to recycle, even if it takes a form completely opposite of how the dead are treated in his world. Midoriya didn't want to be culturally insensitive! Midoriya knows it's unusual to most people, and doesn't talk about the skeletons with others unless it comes up. He doesn't want anyone to be judged before actually having a chance to introduce themselves. It's Midoriya's default not to gossip, even to a close friend.
Midoriya's notes are far more organized and concise than the way he speaks, and they are as accurate as the information he's given. His pencil skates with a controlled freneticism over a page soon to be titled Palamedes.
"I've encountered a healing Quirk in my world. That one just speeds up the body's natural recovery, though a strong dose can use up too much of the patient's energy. Every Quirk has its limits. And I've seen another that returns someone to how they were before. That can look like healing too, but without being careful, it can also be taken too far."
Only now, having finished writing, does he pause and really take all this in. This branch of magic can be incredibly powerful, holding sway over life and death. He was already impressed that the man with funny eyes could "heal" without a touch. What he did was a little more than just augment a body's performance. Like many Quirks Midoriya has encountered, it has enormous potential if trained well in the right hands--and also frightening implications.
Midoriya is not frightened. It is true that some people in his world ascribe good or evil to someone's ability, but he has always seen it as simply something special. A tool, unique to a person and how they use it.
"It's easier for me to understand the physical magic. What about the spirit? Other than tracing energies, what else does that cover?"
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"A blood ward doesn't flash lightning and make a spooky ghost noise, for what it's worth. I can do you 'slaps them around,'" he is counting these off on his fingers, "'diverts approach,' although that won't be customizable to ignore the people you've approved, or 'disappears when crossed,' without any other effects."
So in short, he isn't too sure about scaring off intruders, unless getting papercuts from nowhere is scary, more or less. He shrugs; ultimately, it's Midoriya's choice.
"And your thing is super strength, you said. I can see how that'd be handy in an emergency. Is it safe for you to carry around a record of everyone's skills?" He is trying to set up some kind of enemy-proof training facility, after all; Palamedes must assume a level of danger that would be made worse if someone stole this notebook. "Just wondering."
no subject
"Still impressive..." He can't help a small, brief grin, but this is business, and he's been at work-studies long enough to rein expressions of admiration in. "Another disadvantage of hurting an intruder is blood pollution. Let's just stick with 'disappears when crossed.' And 'diverts approach' might be useful not around actual entrances, but fake ones or something. Don't want to put too many of those in case we need to enter or exit through an alternative route, or even turn it into a shelter for more people in a big emergency."
He draws a quick, barely-comprehensible doodle of a sauce bottle while tapping his lip and looks up.
"You're right about that. I've had to be careful what I actually write down. It's incomplete on purpose. Just stuff they've shown everyone in public--and only what will fit in here. Even back home, when I memorized one notebook, I switched to a new one."
no subject
Maybe that's too necromancer of him, to be careless about harming intruders. It comes with the territory.
The doodle makes him smirk, briefly— a sauce bottle it is, then. He hums, considering the overall effectiveness of an incomplete guide to the local powerset. More useful by far than not having it, he supposes - but he's never had to keep carrying anything around after he's read it once.
"Am I getting a page? Don't draw me as a sauce bottle unless absolutely necessary, if you don't mind. How much do you know about necromancy?"
no subject
He nods. Hunters know every instance of bleeding is pollution. He'd just like to keep it to a minimum, even if he has friends who wouldn't mind smacking around intruders indiscriminately. Midoriya would like to smack people around responsibly.
"I can? That is, if you want?" Midoriya can't help a small note of excitement. Palamedes, should he give his blessing, would appear as a long, thin man with glasses, clothes shaded in gray with a pencil, under his name in katakana.
"Other than it raises and manipulates bones, nothing. Not sure if healing is connected, come to think of it..."
Midoriya rubs at a spot on his neck. He hasn't researched the purview of some of the inhabitants of Bone House, only encountered it. He thinks of the inscrutable man with the eyes he met on the beach during battle. He lent his skeletons to the fray and removed adverse effects from Midoriya, who stumbled into Illarion's swan song: a contaminating eldritch soup. Midoriya is glad to be rid of the e̴̩̅ẙ̸̝̌ẻ̵̫͂s̸̛̝. They were uncomfortable and slowly multiplying.
no subject
Those are his terms— well, term. It's just the one.
"Curative science is a different concept, obviously, but if you're creative enough, thanergy and thalergy can be manipulated to mimic 'healing.' Not one-to-one." The implication here is that he personally is creative enough, write that down. He adds, "Flesh magic can manipulate the body's performance, but not precisely the same as healing; someone like me couldn't snap his fingers and cure a disease, for example."
He pauses significantly, so Midoriya can write things down, ask a few questions if he likes. Call and response, see. "My psychometry - the tracking - also falls under the umbrella of necromancy, although it's highly specialized."
no subject
Midoriya's notes are far more organized and concise than the way he speaks, and they are as accurate as the information he's given. His pencil skates with a controlled freneticism over a page soon to be titled Palamedes.
"I've encountered a healing Quirk in my world. That one just speeds up the body's natural recovery, though a strong dose can use up too much of the patient's energy. Every Quirk has its limits. And I've seen another that returns someone to how they were before. That can look like healing too, but without being careful, it can also be taken too far."
Only now, having finished writing, does he pause and really take all this in. This branch of magic can be incredibly powerful, holding sway over life and death. He was already impressed that the man with funny eyes could "heal" without a touch. What he did was a little more than just augment a body's performance. Like many Quirks Midoriya has encountered, it has enormous potential if trained well in the right hands--and also frightening implications.
Midoriya is not frightened. It is true that some people in his world ascribe good or evil to someone's ability, but he has always seen it as simply something special. A tool, unique to a person and how they use it.
"It's easier for me to understand the physical magic. What about the spirit? Other than tracing energies, what else does that cover?"