Hi? I haven't. What are you doing here, you hardly ever come here.
[Without... grapes. So. Is he delighted, yes, but also surprised. The line of heart emojis that follows makes his delight very palpable, ❤️viktor is here❤️]
I've been elbow-deep in viscera all morning, can you give me one more hour? After this I'm all yours.
[no one is around so he can smile at those hearts instead of pretending he finds them ridiculous. the perfect crime.]
I went asking around in hopes of finding another avenue for handling my lungs, given recent setbacks. [haha not. a little bitter still about that.] I actually met a man from your world, with black eyes. Teacher, he called himself?
Admittedly I found that an odd name to go with but I did not want to be culturally insensitive.
And no rush. I will take my time in selecting our meal. [he hates the blood mist but for pal? he'll wait.]
[Hmm. Alright. Well, first point of clarification here, this one is on him, he supposes:]
Viktor, that's the Emperor.
[And he figures he can guess, with certainty, three things now:
1. God, Actually, knows who Viktor is in relation to himself, because Viktor is so earnestly curious when it comes to necromancy, which is very sweet of him almost all of the time,
2. For Real, God Though, surely slimed his way through a conversation about his abilities instead of saying anything not out of the corner of his mouth, and,
3. He, Palamedes, is exhausted. He taps another message:]
[it takes a few moments, mostly because viktor is casually strolling about. does lumenwood have food stalls or anything? horrible place for those but ministers probably need to eat and all.]
Ah, I was wondering if he was that or the saint you mentioned. I suppose Teacher is a little less intense than introducing himself by that title.
[since he does not realize the God thing he's mostly thinking yes, this is probably a bit weird for pal. 'insane' is curious though.]
Not particularly? We mostly spoke of research and my illness. He did something to my lungs that seem to have helped a great deal but I refuse to get any hopes up until at least this evening.
[Palamedes takes a moment to type and then backspace several things, a few times. The worst part of this is he's still kind of gross with drying viscera? His omni is a shambles.
Anyway. He comes up with:]
You're really feeling better? That's good. Don't get carried away with too many foods on sticks, wait for me.
[Ha ha. Then, hm; he grinds his teeth a little, annoyed that this is how he has to do this, that he has to do this because somebody likes to play pretend too much, and:]
Do you remember when I told you about god [he writes it lowercase on purpose, of course] trying to win me over with his bland apologies about the First? He is that guy. I wasn't clear enough; that's my mistake. You should know as much as you can if you're going to deal with him.
[honestly viktor would have asked about that if it wasn't for the topic and freezing in place as he finally gets the whole emperor = god thing. unsurprisingly he has a lot more feelings about god, after that whole alternative universe and all the horror of it.
deep breath.]
He is the one who did not tell you what to expect of lyctorhood in the first place?
I am. There's still some weakness but so far I would say he managed to clear up most of the issues my lungs faced. From what I understand he expects it to return regardless, and offered to heal them again when that time came.
[he considers offering an apology, or some sort of promise, but in truth he doesn't know exactly what is happening here. it's clear his ignorance on certain matters are causing problems, at least.]
[That Guy (tm). He rereads the second part of Viktor's message once, twice, three times, torn; on the one hand, fuck that. On the other, impermanent relief is better than nothing, for Viktor, and Viktor's health takes precedence over Palamedes' personal grudges, but—
He's never accused God, Actually of altruism for altruism's sake, and he isn't going to start now. Maybe he won't cash in on a favor; maybe he just plucks illnesses out of lungs to pass the time.
(But then, what about Cytherea? pipes up a voice at the back of his thoughts, and he puts it aside. That's not about Viktor; this is.)]
You know my stance on, well, him. But as long as he doesn't do anything to hurt you, fleece him for all he's worth, if it helps.
[The implication, of course, is obvious. He considers; that particular conversation about god and lyctors was, hm, aggressive on his part, and that's coming through again now? So:]
[time to sit down somewhere in lovely lumenwood, maybe a scenic bench so he can focus on this conversation. he's half tempted to go find pal now, just so he can take his gross, viscera hand and see the look on his face.
lyctor pal would have done anything to kill god. in truth viktor realizes now he never really learned how his pal, this pal, thought of god beyond brief moments of bitterness. he wonders if he hasn't been as attentive as he should be, as curious as he should be.]
If you asked me to I would avoid him, I hope you know. We can try to find a better way.
[he knows himself well enough to know this is probably the best thing for them to do. he is curious to a fault, dangerously so, incapable of ever truly leaving well enough alone and prone to taking risks. that... is not an ideal combination, in this case, if pal's tone is an indication.]
Because I am in your corner as well.
[fun fact, he considers saying something about love before deciding to leave it. if he's being honest with himself it's simply true, but wow! still frightening, even now. easier to pretend they're going slow and steady and pal isn't a part of his life he probably couldn't bear to lose.]
[Ah, and there it is, the moment Palamedes has to leave the, hm, minister break area or wherever he's been to find a more isolated alcove, in case he has to get misty-eyed about his boyfriend in peace. It's true that the blueberry incident looms over his shoulder even now, reminding him that obviously, if eating fruits and healing Viktor himself was deemed a reckless choice by one of the local Powers that Be, obviously the Emperor playing around with Viktor's cells is just as bad if not worse. That doesn't make it sting less, that yet another semi-miraculous option isn't working, only solving "most of" the problem, and to add insult to injury it's put Viktor on the Emperor's radar.
So he takes a moment to be a little upset about blueberries and miracles in a quiet corner someplace in the Lumenarium, and then he lets Viktor's affection melt his heart properly, without complications. Viktor deserves better than the half-solutions and dozens of wrong turns this place has to offer, and here's Palamedes, grumbling about - about far less important things.]
I know. But I don't want to overstep.
[Viktor's health, Viktor's agency, etc. Palamedes trusts him to make informed decisions almost all of the time (because that is their mutual flaw, apparently, not discerning enough).]
In any case, we need to find a way that's more lasting. Ideally, permanent. I'd prefer you not be reliant on him or anything else that can change its mind in a matter of moments.
[funnily enough in the space of that pause to be upset viktor is doing something similar, closing his eyes and just dealing with how close they had been to an easy go, just this once. had he not tried to follow that warning about risks and recklessness? going into lumenwood was about finding a safer, proper way.
which can't be even remotely easy either, as it turns out. he's so tired of decaying. he's far more tired of subjecting pal to witnessing it.]
You won't. You understand your world and it's people better than I ever could. I trust your judgment, Palamedes.
[at the very least he can offer a pointless smile to the screen, one pal can't see of course but grateful nonetheless to him. sweet man, watching his step when so few others ever even thought to bother.]
I agree. He made a good point when we spoke, about dream logic ruling over our forms here and how what we deeply believe or know about our bodies making up said body's reality. If that is true the mental realm may be what we need to focus on.
[haha. getting a little too close to uh, emotional lobotomy territory again. whoops. yes, he is thinking a little along the lines of what if i did something to make my brain believe my lungs were fine, but at least he has the good grace to consider other options first!]
There's still making lungs for transplant. Maybe the process would be sufficiently startling enough while still being less... reckless.
[It's a real shame this solution too is so allegedly fleeting. Palamedes takes God for a liar, and while he cannot guess the reason, he believes in the solidity of the pattern. Cytherea; Lyctorhood; nudges and pokes and subtle manipulations to shut up and stop asking questions. He reasons Viktor returning for more "treatments" will only end uncomfortably for Viktor and therefore himself, for the obvious reasons; it's a shame.
He supposes he can be polite in public, though, in exchange for this treatment. Make eye contact the next time he visits God's study (which he does not think will be for some time, but still).
He sighs at his omni, hanging his head over it for a moment with his eyes shut, still tired, but feeling less erratic than a minute ago. Alright.]
My judgment is always be on your guard.
This isn't a dream, but of course, the 'imposing our will' theory. I've discussed it with a few people. I'm not sure it works as simply as wanting something badly enough, [or Viktor would surely be healed already?] but assuming it's true, there's already proof it isn't entirely immutable. We keep the scars we get here, which hardly have anything to do with my personal picture of myself, at least.
[He's thinking of the scars down low around the joints of his ankles, where Paul had helped him cut out bloodstones ages ago, before he'd died at sea and which still show precisely where they were the first time, an entire body ago. Perhaps there's merit in Viktor's hypothesis about the mental realm in a different sense; that day had required an amount of mutual trust that, in Palamedes' opinion, cemented his and Paul's friendship.
Maybe. Maybe.]
Please don't aim to shock yourself into better health, I'm liable to pass out and then you'll have to roll me under a table someplace. I've been honing my surgical skills, though. For you. ❤️
[And for the locals who need it, but he sees an opportunity to flirt about medical practice and he takes it.]
[funnily enough being on his guard for palamedes' sake is easier than being careful otherwise. getting himself into some trouble is one thing but pal? that is an unacceptable outcome. the very last thing he wants is to let some mistake end in pal suffering for it.
so yes, he can be on his guard. gladly.]
My hope is that if this is even remotely in the mental realm that a transplant will cover both the physical aspect and the 'experience,' so to speak. Surely living through such a surgery will cement some permanence in the mind, as scars from this place are also an experience our mind may translate into reality regardless of the malleable nature of our forms.
[so. not a dream but an understanding, perhaps. pal's next statement has him smiling again despite himself, letting the fond feeling carry away some of his unease, the vague sense of guilt for bringing this to pal's doorstep. infact.]
I very much hope you are not still elbow deep in viscera when sending this. It makes the emote usage a touch unnerving.
And I do apologize for all of this. It was never my intention to bring trouble to your door.
It had better hold, it's going to take hours to do it properly. And that's after figuring out the ins and outs of it in the first place.
[Because Palamedes has never done a lung transplant, and also, Viktor is undoubtedly going to do something strange and technological that will require him to very possibly be awake, during? Something to look forward to...]
I'll have you know, I left the work floor to talk to you in peace. There aren't any hearts in sight.
[Note that this is not, as it happens, saying he washed all the gore off his hands and arms. That's just a consequence of working in this place, although he does get neat gloves? It's something.
There's still viscera stuck to the corner of his omni. Elsewhere, where Viktor doesn't have to see it, he picks at it with his gloved fingernail, to try and get it off. It gives him something to focus on while he thinks of how to reply to that last part of the message, since - well. Of course, Viktor has done nothing wrong, that goes without saying. But there's no denying that learning about these events has, hm, troubled his early afternoon lunch hour? Hmm.]
Don't apologize; you're my priority. [Hmm!] Pick up real quick?
[he knows viktor so well, there will probably be need for him to be awake to see his chest open. this is going to be peak normal couple activity. the inherit homoeroticism of holding a man's lungs in your hand, etc.]
You are brilliant and a quick learner, I have very little doubt you will be a master of the craft quickly enough.
[so frank about that. just pure, genuine yeah, pal can do this. it's pal, his mind inspires viktor frequently and no one is better suited for this, in viktor's humble opinion. aside from all the conflict of interest stuff, but that's for someone else to worry about. viktor isn't.
he's considering how to answer about how that doesn't tell viktor whether he still has viscera hands when the rest of the message comes in, and viktor huffs a fond breath before picking up.]
Something you wished to say that a long series of emotes could not? [he asks, a touch softly. still a little guilty, still a lot fond, vaguely concerned about this new mess they've tripped into.]
[Aw, so much faith in him. Palamedes can't help but smirk at that, yes he is very good, thanks for always gassing him up, it's sweet. The act of replacing Viktor's lungs is a thing that makes him nervous beyond comprehension, with a generous helping of dread-sick heaviness in his gut when he considers the real possibility that it just won't work, and Viktor will— well, he can't bring himself to consider past 'Viktor will,' so that's where he's managed to put himself.
It's going fine. He's doing a lot of practical study, here with the ministers, so there's that. At least darkblood is universally useful in transfusions? Eh? See, his donation habit bears fruit.
As his omni rings, waiting for Viktor, he makes a cursory check of the corridor he's tucked himself into an alcove of, just to be sure no one is lurking around eavesdropping or within earshot in general. Not that he's embarrassed to be calling Viktor in the middle of the day to be saccharine, but - well, the day of the grapes... The other ministers rib him about the day of the grapes, still.
So, privacy. He hums as he puts the omni up to his ear like a real phone, leaning back into his little hideaway.]
Yes. Hi. I love you. I wanted to say it out loud.
[And yet it's still over the dang phone, so rest assured, he will say it plenty later, at lunch and at home. He says it low, despite being thoroughly alone in this corridor, because it's for Viktor. If his omni had a cord attached he would be twirling it, alas.]
So: we'll figure all of this out.
[A beat.]
And I'm sorry, I didn't wash off the viscera before I called. [love him]
[viktor's just out here in broad daylight, surrounded by blood mist and weird glow flowers and whatever else fills up lumenwood on a good day. there's probably not a lot of people around, it's not exactly a social hotspot, so viktor sees no reason to huddle close around his omni.
he might have if he knew what pal was going to say, a turning off speaker sort of situation, but instead he is. hm. he is a lot of things. flushing deeply, is one of them. chest tight in a heady mix of fear and elation, is another.
it's not a big deal, he tells himself. it's really not even a surprise, logically, it's ridiculous to be this effected by it. (except for those sad, ridiculous sort of thoughts like ah, has anyone ever told him they loved him? he certainly doesn't remember the last time, if there was one. so. maybe a little meaningful. maybe a little profound, like pal tends to be with his easy affection, his tenderness.)
ah.
he can be normal about this, he tells himself. he can also run a hand down his face and muffle a laugh at how he was this close to typing it over to pal a moment ago before he talked himself out of it with perfect logic that seems so pointless now.]
You- [of course he didn't wash the viscera. he is covered in someone else's blood and telling viktor he loves him, because that is pal and viktor adores him for it despite all the sense in his head.] That is disturbing, Palamedes.
[said too softly to really make much of an impact. a soft breath and he manages,] I love you too. I- truly I frighten myself with it, sometimes. You are a person very easy to love.
[god. the sap is going to kill him sooner than the evil necromancer god or the shitty lungs.] And I am sorry, truly. We'll be careful and work this out.
Edited (you are a very person is true i guess) 2022-05-28 03:27 (UTC)
[There's a flutter of nerves after he says it, while he waits for Viktor to say - well, anything. Palamedes is fairly certain, after everything, that Viktor loves him, but the few heartbeats of waiting still take a small age. Viktor's little muffled laugh is cute, and his disturbing viscera comment makes Palamedes laugh aloud in return - what! Necromancer! - and ah, there it is.
He, too, can be normal about this. Normal about Viktor saying it frightens him, which squeezes something in his chest that makes him want to reach out and pull him close; maybe he should have waited until he was in front of him, after all. Hindsight.]
I told you, don't apologize. There's nothing I have to forgive you for.
[He means that, of course, he doesn't lie. Anything that might ring disapproving is only overreacting, which, mmm, he can work on that. In the end, Viktor hasn't done anything that merits him apologizing so much, but Palamedes loves him enough to remind him every time.
He thinks about being 'very easy to love,' a thing that drips a steady warmth through him even more than it might normally, because he knows what kind of life Viktor has lived; he doesn't think 'easy' and 'love' have ever been so close to each other for him before. A shame; Palamedes thinks about Viktor, his intellect and his humor and the fire that burns in him for the unlucky and the downtrodden, and he wonders why everyone else is not in love with him as well.]
Let me go wash up. I'll leave early— I want to see you. More than I want to measure intestines. Where are you now?
[Did he get the stick food. He'll have a free hand to hold, stick food rules.]
Please wash your omni thoroughly as well. [his tone is dry, maybe struggling a little to be against the waves of fondness. he feels... well, elated, in a way that makes him feel young and foolish in a way that should be a little mortifying but instead is warm.
he stands himself, drags over his crutch and begins moving, on the look out for a place he probably saw on the way that he is pretty sure sells some sort of stick food to feed the hungry passing ministers.] I'm close, I'll pick up the lunch I promised and meet you there? I wouldn't want to miss the faces your colleagues will make seeing me again.
[he's chosen to find the whole thing hilarious instead of deeply embarrassing.
(and, if he's being honest, he doesn't hate the ah. making it very clear pal is spoken for. the idea of pal ever straying or betraying him is absolutely laughable but viktor is a zaunite at heart, deeply territorial of the good things in his life. pal happens to be the best thing in his life, so perhaps it isn't so terrible his coworkers now are aware of that previously stated spoken for factor.)]
Hmm, maybe. [No, he'll wash the omni, he will. He'll definitely put more effort into cleaning it than wiping it on his sleeve, which may have been his first plan. But oh, fun, Viktor is coming to scare his gaggle of timid minister friends again, that's another round of 'no, he didn't mean anything by it' Palamedes can put off until tomorrow, because he's definitely not going to stop him. He scoffs, though.]
Now who's scaring the wildlife? They're easily startled, for people who are undoubtedly covered in blood as we speak.
[Or: be nice, but don't not come around to pick him up and spook the ministers.]
I'll see you soon.
[He'll even go wash up, as promised, and shuck off his minister robes and leave them to be washed by someone else on wash duty who is not him, thank god. Luckily the ministers' provided duds are blood-proof, and so it's mostly picking off the omni that he has to spend his time on while he loiters in the foyer of the Lumenarium waiting for Viktor. The handful of ministers milling about doing other tasks are also waiting for Viktor, but with the occasional wary glance at the main entrance doors. Palamedes pretends not to notice.]
I am sure they will be fine. [said so mildly. surely, if they aren't lusting over pal or something they have nothing to feel weird about? obviously. yes, he realizes he shouldn't find spooking the blood minister wildlife this amusing but what can you do, really.
he almost says something about love again but decides just to save it, purchasing their lunch and heading for the lumenarium. he's been remaining steadfastly ambivalent to his lungs, too burnt from their time with the berries to revel in the clear feeling and the new strength, but he can't help but notice how much easier the walk is. how much nice. maybe things like he can kiss pal senseless again without keeping an eye on his own limits.
ah. if only these moments were ever not so god damned complicated, emphasis on the god damned in this case.
viktor smiles when he sees pal, ignoring his poor coworkers to approach and yes, can anyone blame him for a deep kiss in greeting? not with i love you still on his lips. he doesn't really have a free hand between the crutch and bag to cup his jaw or grasp his arm, sadly, but after a moment he pulls only a little back.]
Hello. [this has been a whiplash of the day. for the moment he can focus on it being hard not to smile though.] You look suitably unbloodied, thank you.
[One poor minister playing with fire has wandered over to talk to Palamedes as he picks the last bits of grime off his omni, and so Palamedes turns to see Viktor after the minister makes a split-second grim face; Viktor's reputation among the coworkers. They scuttle away just in time for this entirely welcome and overtly showy and possessive kiss, Palamedes' hands making up the difference in cupping Viktor's face. The other minister is forgotten, skittered away to the safety in numbers of the rest of them, now studiously pretending not to glance at the saccharine PDA happening in their very foyer.
This is a place of business. A place of healing. They are sullying it with their distracting kissing, to be sure. Oh well.]
I'd hate to ruin lunch with errant corruption, [he says, like being covered in blood and who knows what else is just a normal thing and not the problem. That's how it is.]
Where are we going? Are you enjoying the many sights and smells of Lumenwood enough to stay here for lunch, or are we heading for the lamp?
[good, they have taught the ministers well. or maybe more viktor has, pal is mostly innocent in this unintentional war started over one illtimed grape, but that's just the nature of the trench. probably. either way viktor tries not to take some satisfaction in their scuttling away and fails.]
I think the blood mist is, in fact, not an enjoyable backdrop to eating any food. Let us go to the lamp. I wouldn't mind eating at the docks, though we could head elsewhere. [pal has maybe a few more issues with the sea than viktor, who still finds it a comfort more than anything.
he leans in for another kiss, passing the bag of stick food to pal so he can free that hand for holding pal's.] Now, let us see... ah yes, should I tease you for informing me of your feelings over a sudden phone call or because you were covered in blood? [the softness in his glance sort of makes both seem more like endearments, so. hm.]
[His poor, poor coworkers. Palamedes gives the others only a brief glance when he's through kissing Viktor, like ah? Did someone want to ask him something? No? Alright, guys.
He does give them a little wave, before accepting food in one hand and Viktor's hand in the other, and turning them back towards the main entrance. Very fortuitous that the Lumenarium has its own lamp, although, hm - nearly every time he goes near the docks or the sea something horrible happens.
He'll try not to be superstitious. With a one-shoulder shrug, he says,] The docks are fine; you're cute when you get to look at the boats.
[And for fun, he actually thinks about which think Viktor should tease him over. They're both valid options, so good job to himself, but:]
The blood, I think, although you've known I'm a necromancer since we met and so should not be surprised I'd come into some borrowed blood on occasion. ["borrowed"] Do your worst; I love you despite your barbs.
[bye nerds, they can now leave with the ministers un-menaced, viktor huffing in amusement at that assessment of his boat watching.]
Eh, if it helps turn your opinion on the docks at least then I will take it. [this defamation of his character, quite foul.]
I think I might choose the wildcard and pick on you for calling it 'borrowed.' [viktor decides as they approach the lamp, slowing a little to glance at him. kind of wants to kiss him again, this is all an excellent distraction from necromantic gods or whether the healing won't cause another, irritating time loop. he would really rather not have this day marred by another of those.]
... you know I've been thinking of admitting that to you for a time, that I love you. I foolishly convinced myself it would be eh... overbearing. [a sort of snort like yeah, he's kind of an idiot sometimes if left to his own devices.]
[It's too late, local minister thinks Viktor is very cute and precious when he excitedly rambles about boat parts that Palamedes can't understand even a little. He hums, shrugging; he'll defame Viktor's tough and bristly reputation all the way to the docks.
Now, 'borrowed' is fine, but this other thing— Palamedes doesn't point out that talking about their feelings isn't picking on him for borrowed blood at all, actually. But.]
Overbearing? You? Never. [Unless he has a handful of grapes in his pocket, ahem... Palamedes gives him a sideways look, eyebrows raised while that implication sinks in, then he laughs.] I thought we'd established that I like it when you're direct. You didn't have to worry about it.
[Well, he's a little relieved it wasn't fruit that pushed them into saying it; not that that would have spoiled the sentiment, not really. Still.]
Am I going to sound arrogant if I say I totally knew all along? You have a tell.
Only when grapes are involved apparently. [he gets the joke. the grape incident is something he knows he can never live down and kind of doesn't want to anyway.
his lips quirk at that though, at 'direct.'] You are right, as you often are. I was likely trying to rationalize and irrational.
[because the being open and vulnerable thing is a work in progress he usually thinks he's doing quite well at, all things considered. reaching the lamp and he stops though, giving pal quite the look for that claim.]
I do not. What tell? [the nerve, truly. almost like being incredibly gay and all the incredibly romantic things they do are a tell.]
[The grape incident lives in infamy, forever. Bring some nonmagical grapes to the Lumenarium next time just to snack on in front of the ministers, they'll love that. Palamedes snorts, giving him a nudge. Please, sir.]
When did you want to tell me? I must have been doing something impressive.
[You know, as if his phone call wasn't just in the middle of a serious conversation. It's fine, tell him the gossip about himself, he loves to hear it.]
And you do. You make this face, [he wiggles his fingers, A Face that is Made, this isn't purposely vague.] It's a dead giveaway.
[don't tempt him, grapes might be the only common fruit he likes after gorging through paleblood compulsion this month, purely to menace the ministers.]
The last time was when I was telling you I had your back. [he answers that, smile small as he glances over. he tugs him to the lamp then poof, close to the docks. thanks lantern friend, you funky little monsters.] I often think it at small things, really. When you bend your glasses like a madman, for example. When you're concentrating on a book.
[gay. it's like he's in love. the not face gets a face of his own, the other thread mentioned it. the pal is saying/doing something ridiculous face.] That is not a face I make.
[Ah, there's a point for continuing to ruin his glasses. He tugs them to a proper stop once they're through the lamp, to lean in for that kiss delayed terribly by all the Lumenwood mist (not good for kissing outdoors). The noise and... smells... of the docks make for a better backdrop, so before they head all the way down: a kiss, for loving him at the most mundane of times, which is really the best he could ask for.
That said,]
You're making the face right now. [is he. is that the face. or are there many faces, actually, because Palamedes is also in love, and that's just how these things go.] Come on, teach me something about the sea that isn't horrifying.
[It's up to Viktor to mediate Pal vs. Sea... Well, away they go to lunch, content, all things considered.]
Palamedes? [ There's a crackling sound along with his voice, like a bad connection, except there's an organic quality to it almost like wingbeats. The wind? Like he, or his omen, are moving very swiftly?
Allen sounds hurried, too. Worried. ]
What do you know about ghosts and trying to put them back to rest? Angry ones, that is.
[ He knows you know a lot!! If the archivist's spirit that's now another amicable presence in Sanctuary means anything. ]
[When user 'an.exorcist' calls you to ask about what sounds like an exorcism... hmm. He knows about the, ah, hauntings that have been going around, so perhaps the usual methods simply do not take?
Also what the hell is all that noise, but first the important bits:]
[ The irony is crushing, he realizes that. Alas he is not an exorcist; he's an Exorcist. And it's not the first time that has been extremely confusing... ]
Miss Chizuru is experiencing violent ghosts that are trying to attack her... And she isn't the only person I don't think, others have said they have felt like they're being haunted suddenly too. [ More muffled sounds. ]
I'm going to her, [ was he still on crutches last you saw him? yeah ] but I don't know if this is something my ability can work on. I've never tried it against souls that weren't corrupted by something else...
[Does he even need to voice his disapproval? Not of the helping, but of the reckless self-endangerment that is going to fight ghosts while already in recovery. No more than that question already implies, but he's not saying no, so.
There's that.]
Most everything here is corrupted by something; don't discount your abilities just yet. These ghosts- [there's a pause while he considers, hm, his own little visitor, whom he is dealing with deftly for sure,] I doubt they're more than a manifestation of this place, you know? Not the actual spirits of the people they represent.
[ Oh, oh he knows that tone. Allen has been on the receptive end of a tone like that many times. ]
I'll be fine. [ Ehe... ]
I think you're right. It wouldn't make sense for people who haven't died here to be haunting others. Not all at once like this, either... something else is causing it. The timing is too strange otherwise. [ Sobering, but also somehow a bit more relieving than the alternative. ]
...Thank you. [ He lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding; that wasn't even something he'd asked for. ] My Innocence lets me put souls to rest, normally... for creatures like beasts. So I'm hopeful. I'll let you know.
I know you will. [Is this a threat. It's not not a threat. It's definitely got an edge of 'practice self-preservation, it's good for you' laced in there, subtly.]
And that's what I was thinking; mine— [ugh, he has to pause and full body cringe at even the concept of claiming this ghost as His] hasn't attacked me. I don't know what triggers that; I'm working under the assumption that it's our unresolved feelings about the people we see that brings them up as ghosts in the first place.
A vengeful spirit haunting something - in our case, someone - is what we call a revenant, and they can be banished by destroying the thing they're haunting, obviously not a solution here, or by resolving their unfinished business. You know, that old chestnut. The kind of revenant that wouldn't stick to the widely-known parameters is, [uhhhhhh] not going to turn up. I should think.
If none of that works, how else do you solve things around here? Blood.
Palamedes? You're haunted by one too?! [ Nnnnnnn... this is his worried tone. Of course he respects the other man to know how to deal with it better than Allen can, but that doesn't mean he can't still fret a little. ]
Please be careful. [ There's a small huff. You'll let him know if you need help too, right? ]
A revenant... [ He repeats it like it's an unfamiliar phrase he's committing to memory -- spoilers, it is. ] All of that makes sense, it isn't so different from thinking about souls that can become corrupted and tied back to the world.
And of course blood would be a solution. [ Can you detect the wrinkling of his nose in his tone? 'Cause it's there, his distaste. ] Does it matter what sort of blood? If that doesn't work. [ Wracking his brain here. Were there any with abilities that helped with spirits...? ]
[ He hears it, and can picture it even. The tut-tut don't worry wave of someone trying to say 'it's perfectly alright, don't worry' -- he's used it himself. But will also respect it, if file that information away for later concern and checking in. ]
A mad ghost. That's delightful. [ It's not sarcastic, but... more wearied and accepting. ]
Umm... she's in the bake-off, isn't she? [ He saw her responding to Luna. ] I'm guessing that means she's a paleblood too.
[God, his whole life is baked goods now that Viktor is scone-mad, the bake-off is both welcome (somewhere else to put baked goods!) and a bane (he keeps practicing at home!!). Palamedes sighs, cutting himself short to focus on the relevant facts here. Paleblood.]
Got it.
[...do any of the blood types help with spirits...?]
I can't say with authority which blood type would be the most helpful, so let's proceed assuming 'any of them' is good enough. If, again, blood is the answer. Depending on the severity of her situation, reasoning with her visitors might still be on the table.
[rio is happily munching on her mushroom at the foot of the couch, where viktor is curled up against pal with his omni in hand. true to form a not spicy dinner was had (kebabs, viktor thought pal would enjoy Sticks again and it's very easy) and gay fruit was also enjoyed.
it's been a very nice night. a reminder that he needs to finish things up in sanctuary so he doesn't miss these as often.
after the makeouts he settles back into tapping away on his omni, learning about otakus mostly. still not sure what an anime is.] I wonder if Paul regrets this yet.
[Honestly, nothing beats a quiet - well, quiet outside of the omni - evening like this, with Portable Dinner and a happy Rio and plenty of time to simply relax like this, together. Palamedes has made sure to write "mug cake?" on a sticky note and stick it on the fridge, as a reminder about that exciting mystery, but by now he's more or less settled in to, well.
Heckle Paul with incorrectly-used meme formats. It's a hobby.]
Maybe. He's learning about consequences, that's for sure.
[right mug cakes, that is definitely happening. probably waiting for pal to be hungry after dinner or something. rio makes a happy trill sound, and whenever she swallows her body glows lightly.]
I am still sending him a gift for his good work. From our House.
[his lips quirk a little, both at the teasing of it and. well. our house.]
[Rio, a gem as always. Palamedes will let her finish her mushroom before he wiggles a hand at her to bring her big up here on the couch for petting, because he's polite. And ah - our House.]
Your gift that only encourages him, of course.
[Hmm! He leans a bit more into Viktor, bumping his shoulder.]
Did you mean that? About being part of the House.
[And does he still mean it right now, or is it a playful little bit. Ahem.]
[rio is having the best day too. skeleton harassing, mushrooms, pets? living the life. she rests her head on the couch with a happy, sleepy blink. viktor has Feelings about it.]
He should be rewarded for a skillful maneuver. [said with a smirk that shifts to more of a smile when asked that. oh no, another feeling.]
I did. I know it is perhaps... pointless, or sentimental, but I would enjoy being considered part of your House. [less so with all the uh. empire stuff surrounding the sixth but it's easy for him to see the sixth simply as pal's home, and important to him. so important to viktor.
he glances to rio, a touch embarrassed as he usually gets about this sort of thing.]
[Where is that poor Dr. Sex Jr. In the corner, probably. Facing a wall. Palamedes is handling it deftly. He also drops his omni onto the couch to give Rio her many deserved pets, officially more interested in Rio and this House thing than he is in the memes.]
Skillful! It was a disaster. [his shame is eternal!!]
And— you are. It's just... [He too looks down at Rio while he thinks about how to phrase this, so congratulations Rio on all the extra attention.] Well, you know; every time more things from the Nine Houses show up here, I like the Nine Houses a little bit less.
[He shrugs, because it could very easily be no more than a little affectionate something, and here he goes making it into a Thing.]
It might be something as small as a House title, but I don't want to subject you to the Empire any more than I already have, even by association. Does that make sense?
It was delightful. You made many people very happy at a severe cost to yourself. [viktor replies, intensely fond like the gay he is, watching rio's tail thump on the floor and mostly ignoring jr because well. he's blair witching in the corner and that's a thing. it's fine. necromancers.
but pal is talking, and there's a lot about what he's saying that warms viktor. specifically the slow crawl of realizing how fucked the empire is. maybe not slow, he has a feeling pal realizes just fine, but accepting your entire system you were raised with is fucked? is a lot.]
It does. In truth I do not think you should have to be 'God's Reason.' I do not think you should be anything of his at all. [a touch heated there, at the end, before he reaches over to steal pal's free hand, letting his own omni thump on the couch.] Though I am well aware the Sixth is more than what he wanted of it.
Can you believe that, [he says, to Rio,] he's delighted by my suffering.
[Ha ha. That much is easy, in the exact way that this other thing isn't, for patently silly reasons - or at least, reasons Palamedes automatically has slotted into "silly," and might now be reconfiguring all that. The Sixth was home for a long time, and it's familiar, but - not for the first time, he wonders if nostalgia is enough to paper over the rest. The grim parts.
He squeezes Viktor's hand, grateful for the sentiment. Distancing himself from all that has been fairly simple to do just by keeping busy here, but it's novel to hear someone else say out loud that, huh! He doesn't have to follow the role written for the Sixth!]
Thank you. I'm not sure... well, thank you. [It feels messy, still; he'll work on something neater, a clean break. Until then: thanks.] Whether or not I belong in the Empire any longer, I know I belong with you. We could make our own House.
[rio trills. viktor leans in to kiss his jaw.] What can I say, I like to see you squirm. [clam down.
but this is some important stuff, reevaluation stuff, blessedly being done without the trench forcing it down anyone's throats. another kiss, this time to the inside of pal's wrist as he lifts his hand up, humming against the skin and saying,] You're welcome. [simple as that.
but please, talk about slamming him in the chest with 'I belong with you.' viktor has to rest his head against pal's head a moment, ears pink with a helpless chuckle. gods.]
We could. I've never even had a family name before, let alone something like that. [he answers, finally glancing to him, a crooked smile.] And I would like to, if it is with you.
Oh, I know you do. Not in public, next time. [gosh, relax.
Ah, but he's glad, though, a gentle warmth that blooms in his chest and on his skin where Viktor's lips connect, something soft and secure that he leans into eagerly. This other idea here, one he's circled back to and slipped away from again for months now - reframing the Empire, like he should have done even sooner - is too heavy and tangled up in itself to work out in an evening, but-
Viktor, and belonging with him, and his adorable blush and his precious smile - those things are much more palatable, alongside being so much easier to handle. Palamedes stops petting Rio (for like, a few seconds, do not give him the eyes) to cup Viktor's cheek and tilt him into a kiss, languid and fond. Hmm.]
Good; my turn to give you something you've missed. I'm glad it gets to be me. [it's like he's in love or something, dang] What do we call it?
rio makes a grumpy huff but allows it, and viktor smiles into the kiss. when it ends he keeps pal close for just a moment, forehead resting against his, eyes closed.
eventually he pulls back, chest tight in a pleasant way. if he's being honest with himself, and maybe he is more and more recently, even as they joked about it in the chat he felt it was true. none of the old nerves of rejection, just a vague and simple understanding that pal would welcome him without question to even a joking house of group chats. a slowly different world from worrying about 'i love yous,' building up piece by piece.]
I love you. [he offers, settling back to immediately ruin it by being a shithead.] You know hex has a six in meaning. Like hexagon.
[he is kidding i swear he does not want to call them hex house, he just can't help himself.]
Hmm. [He won't, Palamedes can tell. It doesn't matter, everyone in this house gets rewarded for behaving badly, including fussy Rio, who will get another pet in just a second, good gracious.
And,] You're worse than updog. Quit putting 'hex' in front of everything.
[Much as it does amuse him to have it specifically used for 'six' in this context, he must remain stalwart against all "just put 'hex' on it" naming styles. Guy literally named Sextus because there's a six word in it objects to just putting 'hex' on something to make it six, news at 11...
Still, isn't that kind of funny, that 'hex' wouldn't be inappropriate to name something for both of them after— no, he mustn't. He wiggles his hand free of Viktor's to run it through Viktor's hair instead, with at least one affectionate tug for hex house. Very scolding.]
I love you too, so I'll desperately beg you for a second suggestion.
I cannot believe you would put me in league with updog. [viktor says solemnly, though he is quickly grinning at,] You considered it for a moment, didn't you? Palamedes, really?
[he loves this man. the lure of six is too strong.
he closes his eyes for a moment, just smirking all the more at the tug, smug. fine, a real name.] Usually houses in my world are just the family name. So it would be Sextus, in this case.
You can't prove I've considered anything, [he says, which is the truth so he's not lying. Show him the receipts where he thought about it, ahem.] And, correction: I've put you leagues above updog, but not for a good reason.
[Still a place of honor? Probably. Now then, the family name - the phrase itself makes his lips quirk up, a touch bemused; 'family names' are themselves not a Sixth tradition, he is not the only Sextus to ever be named as such in the House but his parents certainly didn't carry the same name, either. And so it's... a new feeling that bubbles up to think about sharing the name with Viktor, a warmth almost tentative for how novel it is.
Sextus House. Well, ignoring the obvious 'Sex House' bit, it's nice! He turns to kiss Viktor's temple, lingering there to consider it an extra moment before he leans back. For a split second he wonders if they should be doing something like this with more ceremony, and then he says instead:]
I know in my heart you did. Delightful, you continue to surpass my expectations. [incredibly amused, thanks. he'll just take being leagues above updog as a compliment.
there is a moment now viktor needs to consider a few things. this is no longer a joke, though the vague guise of it got him this far, and he is... not unaffected. this is not exactly accepting pal's last name (which is an entire other matter. does his world have the same traditions of marriage as piltover? is this not similar regardless of that, a bond of house and family?) but it is close enough. being part of a house is close enough, the years of dealing with inconveniences because he refused to make a last name and theoretical house just to appease piltover.
pal kisses his temple and he closes his eyes. if he's honest it's just a simple understanding of he wants this. ignoring all the baggage he feels like he is gaining something rather than giving up a piece of his old identity. in a way it's freeing, not piltover and not zaun, just... their terms. them.]
I like it too. [he lifts himself enough to look down at pal, a small but quite sincere smile.] Palamedes, this is... I am unsure what it means in your world to do such a thing but in most it is a very serious matter. Just so you are aware of that.
And I do like it very much, as a serious matter. [he manages without wavering.]
[A very serious matter, huh; well, Palamedes can fill in those blanks without needing to be intimately familiar with the cultures of every other world. The Nine Houses are, hm, again an outlier, something he's sure means something but he's equally sure he doesn't care about. That leaves this, the serious matter, but without any ceremony; without regulations, or fuss.]
I know, [he says, and reaching up to run his fingers along Viktor's jaw, adds,] You're sweet, though, to tell me anyway.
[That's nice; more than enough people still treat his life on the Sixth as a node of entertainment, oh-are-you-an-astronaut-woooow!, that it still sticks out when Sixth traditions or lack thereof are just - acknowledged. So, Viktor is sweet, on top of all the other ways this particular moment is drowning in the saccharine.
He doesn't really need to think about it, he finds; like every other proclamation before it, this is for the two of them. It feels right, to come together like this, to lean into this serious matter. To put a flag in the ground and declare it something untouched by Empire, yes, but more than that— more importantly than that, to put into words that being with Viktor feels like coming home. It is.
So, worry not, he's very aware of the serious matter.]
It's like I said: I'm glad it gets to be me. If a House is really the people you choose, I'll wake up every day and keep choosing you. We can skip the trappings, the ornamental skull, et cetera— we've got the name and each other, and that's all I need. [A beat.] If you wanted an ornamental skull, on the other hand...
It is the bare minimum. [viktor assures, tilting into the touch a little. being on equal ground is all he is interested in when it comes to pal, to all of this. just the same as when he asked about sixth courting and dating, just the same as any understanding reached between them.
but pal is aware this is serious, and that puts the entire conversation in further context. it's odd not to feel nervous, he's so used to such intimate matters coming with a twinge of fear but something about this, the idle air, rio's trills, the old worn couch and a stupid group chat pinging away in the background- it's home. it's already here, just putting it to words, acknowledging it.
so when pal says that viktor leans in to kiss him, slowly and softly, long enough he almost forgets the words by the time he pulls back.] We'll just use Jr's, in a pinch.
[his hand goes to pal's jaw, thumb running over his cheek.] 'I'll wake up every day and keep choosing you,' you are going to ruin me one of these days. Saying such things so plainly. [a pause and his lips quirk again.] Viktor of Sextus House. Or Viktor Sextus- it has a decent sound to it, I think.
[Ah, the ornamental skull currently staring blindly into a corner, yeah, that's a great House symbol. Palamedes laughs lightly, covering Viktor's hand with his own.]
I'd say 'truth over solace,' but they're not always mutually exclusive. [Only in this circumstance, without the 'lies' part tacked onto the end, because, well. True: he loves Viktor and he will wake up every day and think, yes, this is still where he wants to be. And solace: that they are here; that they've managed to find each other in this otherwise grim set of circumstances, and found in each other the foundations of a home.
So: truth and solace, just this once. Hearth and home in the slant of Viktor's smile and the warmth of his hands, and the- ah, the very fascinating new concept of Viktor Sextus, mm. Mmm, and like that, Palamedes understands why so many cultures adopt names like this. He lifts up into another kiss, swift and affirming; yes, that's excellent, that's fantastic. More like that.]
What do you think sounds better, 'Sextus House' or 'House Sextus'? [This is an actual question, for sure, but he's immediately interrupting with another kiss, more lingering than the last.] I'd love to get your opinion on these crucial matters, Viktor Sextus.
[just put a wrench through his head and a pen in his teeth. that's fine. normal.]
Hm- [the kiss interrupts his answer, making him laugh into it before returning it with a content hum at the end. rio's gone to sleep at their feet, bored of the gay it seems, and this is everything viktor's wanted without ever knowing it. a place to belong without the hoops held over his head to jump through, challenge and comfort.] House Sextus. Less likely to immediately be turned to Sex House as we know it will, sooner or later.
[he gives a helpless chuckle at 'viktor sextus,' ducking his head before raising it again to press another kiss to pal, though this time an adoring one to his forehead.] Ah, Palamedes. You have no idea how happy you make me, I think. [and wow, he doesn't even tease himself for being saccharine, which frankly is a huge step for him. imagine, being sweet without prefacing it with some level of protective irony. incredible.]
Less likely, but not immune. Promise me you won't call me 'Sex Pal,' no matter how many times Gideon hints that it would be very funny. [has she already, also. He lives in low grade dread that he'll be called Sex Pal again at any time, especially in front of literal children who'll never let it go.
Anyway, House Sextus it is. With Rio asleep, Palamedes is free at last to snake both arms around Viktor's waist, locking his fingers together over his hip and melting wholesale into the forehead kiss. Viktor Sextus...!]
I could make an educated guess, given how happy you make me.
[Maybe there's a formula, ha ha. No. Like, maybe? But no, they don't need to play in that space. Palamedes is far too content to stay wrapped up and adoring like this, without doing a bit.]
Gods, you really are friends with teenagers. [viktor snorts, amused despite himself. he gets another kiss to his temple.] I will refrain somehow, for your sake. A united front of our house.
[and he's still getting a stupid little thrill out of that. absolutely, alarmingly saccharine. disgustingly so. he runs his fingers over pal's jaw like he's memorizing it, quiet between them as he says,] You'll have to let go if you still want me to make your mug cake. Celebratory, as it turns out.
Speak for yourself, but thank you, I appreciate the effort. I know it's tempting. [If it were him who could call someone a funny name, he just might... Regardless, thanks, and thanks again for the double whammy of 'united front' and 'celebratory' mug cake. Celebrating themselves is a fine idea; letting go of Viktor, less appealing. He shifts his grip to find the hem of Viktor's shirt and slide his fingers up under it, not going anywhere, but greedy for the warmth of bare skin.
Anyway, what's a mug cake, forget about those. Who needs mug cake.]
It will still be there later. I'm told all you have to do is stir and cook; stay here with me a while longer.
[On this couch, in this bunker, in this town. Ahem. All of the above.]
Oh extremely. I expect constant bribes to keep my mouth shut. [in truth he probably has less patience for teenage shenanigans than pal even, so he'll be quiet. lucky man.
he shifts his legs over pal's lap, happy to tangle them together, mug cakes or not. he tries not to have an absolutely ridiculous thought about it being like a wedding cake and nearly laughs at himself for being so... like this. happy, he guesses. maybe they should do a formula, bit or not.]
We should take tomorrow off, stay in. [he offers after a beat. shocking, not working for a whole day? who is this guy.] It's been a while, and it's been a busy month. It is good for our corruption levels to take breaks.
I'll find some way to make it worth your while. [Mouth shut optional? He's already workshopping it.
Mm, but this is a pleasant upswing to a mood that was already good, so - no one would blame either of them for getting cozy instead of learning the art of the mug cake. Who knew that all it took to make Viktor relax enough to take off work for a day was housing development. Ha.
Palamedes laughs, anyway - oh, is taking breaks what they'll be doing, fascinating - and makes an exaggerated face like he really has to think about it.]
I don't know; we might fall behind schedule. I'm kidding, obviously, I'd love to take the day off just for our sake. Frankly, we're owed this.
[Remina, personally, owes them this. He wiggles his fingers where they rest under Viktor's shirt, leaning in to press a kiss wherever he happens to land, and then another, and lo: another one after that. What's a mug cake, he's never heard of it...]
Viktor, you... [Hm, what hasn't he said a handful of times just today already, that properly conveys his feelings? For a moment he simply looks at him like this, admiration and adoration spilling over into an unadulterated contentedness, so, ah- there's that, to cover his bases.] Well, you know how I feel. You're amazing, for starters, and I'll save the rest for tomorrow.
["i will pepper in the fact that i am madly in love" - palamedes sextus, romantic genius]
[yes taking "breaks" while staying inside, what could that possibly mean. funnily enough it's less horny and more he knows going out under the sun is never going to be pal's favorite thing, so nice inside time? the plan.
viktor scoffs, so fond when he kisses the exaggerated face pal makes.] We are. Besides, Remina put us ahead of schedule if you remember. Far too ahead of schedule.
[dry. that loop is less problematic than others but still annoying.
ah couch married life though, if their day off is just this he would be incredibly content. he presses into pal's hand, mug cake easily forgotten for now, sorry mug cake. good thing for the sticky note reminder later.
he'd rather soak up the affection, less and less like a starving man these days, more and more secure in some level of understanding that this is not a passing dream. he'd rather offer it back in turn, softer around the edges than before, deeply content in everything pal is and offers him. painfully, ridiculously happy, as he said before. just one quiet moment untouched by what ifs and harsh realities.]
And what will we do in the meantime, I wonder. [he says fondly, and answers that with a languid kiss. he'd be happy to lose the evening to just this, grasping one of pal's hands to intertwine their fingers, the other free to tilt his head, rest over his heart, skirt under his old man pajamas.]
[Palamedes hums, half content and half, eh, not pleased with Remina by any means, but not so angry about that particular loop.]
I'm not thanking her; god no. If she wanted us to take a day off, she could have asked.
[Could she have still asked via oozing blood and menacing stare? Likely. Palamedes wouldn't have thought much of such a choice, but it is what it is. Regardless, he's more than willing to put her out of mind for the time being, to respond to Viktor in kind. This is the evening they've been owed, not even a joke; after everything, they should have more evenings like this, where the biggest concerns are legs falling asleep from how haphazardly they arrange themselves in a quest to get ever closer. There will be more evenings like this, he decides, and presses the determination that wells up in him into another kiss; so many more evenings like this until they're commonplace, without ghosts or illness or dread.
It's a good goal. It has its own list at the back of his mind, and it's the only thing on there. Still, in the here and now, after he's done horrible, irreversible stretches to Viktor's t-shirt and his old man pajamas are sufficiently rucked up and rumpled, does he pull back a moment to speak, pleasantly flushed and not quite out of breath. Ah-]
I've tried to think of a clever opening for this and come up empty, so you'll just have to bear with me: I have a request. [pause for effect just kidding he does not pause in the slightest, ahem,] Get up from here, skip the mugs and take a shower with me.
We have a whole field. I'll draw you a map of the myriad possibilities, you can help me choose. And anyway, I've moved Bethany to the office and Junior to the lab.
[so don't drunk punch jr. when you get there, ok. thanks.]
Aren't you with friends? Viktor, did you abandon them at the bar? Make sure you tell them you're leaving. I'll see you when you get home.
[sorry carver just. i mean he right. still field is a good point, but he is leaving now to get some things done so he needs to hastily offer his answer.]
💀🫀
[he thinks this is hilarious, by the way.
anyway way too late at night he'll end up coming home, less drunk but still tipsy enough that when he comes in it's with a warm, easy smile and a hand behind his back.]
[This poor giant man? Palamedes huffs in amusement at his omni, at both the text and the emotes. Yes, love those, very nice.
In the intervening time, he sets about making sure he has water and some, hm, crackers sitting out and waiting for when Viktor gets back? Are crackers good for drunk people? He's only had about 6 drinks total in his whole life and he's not sure what will help someone not throw up, but he knows water will help.
So: he's still up when Viktor comes in, standing up from the couch and glancing over at the water and crackers that he's set out on the table, but decides he wants to cross to Viktor and kiss him on the forehead instead, first.]
[he smells a little like juice and something sharp, which at least is better than other liquor smells. he also leans into the forehead kiss, eyes closing, swaying just a touch.
this is nice. this is exactly why he needed to delay coming home for a bit and maybe almost burn his fingers off a few times.]
You are very good. You need to give me your hand though, eh... the left, I think. [he puts his cane to the side to rest against the wall, holding his hand out expectantly.]
[Ah, this drunk, fruit-scented Viktor is very sweet, not that he isn't always. Palamedes kisses his head again affectionately, and to keep him upright once he sways a little, good gracious. Now then, hmm...]
Alright, [Here is his left hand placed in Viktor's, now what. It's palm-up, because he doesn't suspect a thing, smart guy that he is. It's late, give him time to catch up.]
[the fact it's palm up makes viktor chuckle, low and under his breath as he turns pal's hand around. even tipsy there's a touch of nerves, not unpleasant ones but yes, this is a very solid thing that is happening. making it all more and more official as time goes on, which each step, each joke turned meaningful.
he slides the ring up pal's ring finger, glad to see he was right in assuming they had basically the same ring size. it's not actual silver but the color isn't far off, distinctly mechanical with the bit in the middle that spins with a satisfying and soft click click click. he is not a jeweler so it's really not much at all, in his opinion, more functional than beautiful.
he likes it very much though, regarding it on pal's hand, holding it in both of his.] There. For you.
[Oh, not palm up, oops. Palamedes simply waits, curious about Viktor's little surprise he just had to go and obtain before coming home— ah, it's a ring, he thinks, and then, oh!
Oh, and in the way family names aren't much of a tradition back home, wedding rings are one that have stood the test of time, and so after a split second he gets it, looking down at his newly be-ringed hand held in Viktor's, and the realization of it makes his heart pound double time. After the evening of Viktor Sextus, a ring isn't at all subtle; any part of him that might wonder if this isn't the proper way to do things - Viktor is, after all, a little drunk - is shouted down by the parts of him more and more enamored with this little ring by the second.
He cups Viktor's face with his right hand, lifting the left to squint at the ring, and he says,] You made this?
[In, like, an evening? While tipsy? And even remembering to make it Sixth silver? This man.]
It's perfect. Come here, [for kisses, good gracious, before he explodes.]
Of course. [viktor huffs, in the same way he huffs about the idea of bartering for anything he can make himself.] I've been thinking about it for a while, and I needed... you should have this.
[because maybe it's one of those things pal missed, or maybe it's something he already knows and just deserves, but even in the undercity people wore bands proudly offered by loving spouses and- hm. going a touch red still at spouse but it's true. even if he isn't sure pal even likes jewelry at all or finds it frivolous.
he'll happily kiss pal though, that same sweet juice with the sharp edge in flavor, pulling back to impart-] It spins. I thought you'd like that.
[Ah, one of those Viktor Thoughts things, he understands completely now. He hums, leaning into another kiss, sharp juice flavor and all. This is how he'll consume all alcohol from now on? Indirectly, through kissing Viktor.
And! It spins! Wow! He'd love to spend the rest of this evening alternating between kissing his- ah- his Viktor, while he waits for the vocabulary to settle, and also spinning his new ring around, but first:]
I do like it. And I love you. Come and drink some water, I don't want you to suffer through the whole morning.
[Tug tug, come to this table, there are Plain Snacks.]
[viktor leans into him, into the kiss, a pleased hum at a job well done. he largely ignores pal's words to kiss his jaw, then down his neck. water? who needs water. he lifts pal's hand to kiss the ring, that's what he needs.]
Eh. [fine, water, he'll follow, a small smile on his face before he pauses to consider.]
Oh... yes, I should make one for myself. [kind of forgot that. he takes a seat at the table, elbow to the surface and chin in his palm.] I kept thinking it was something I owed you, I suppose the fact it's a matching set slipped my mind.
[Save the romantic ring-kissing and other-spots-kissing for later, after the water and crackers. Palamedes still chuckles, not-quite-nudging him to please, please drink some water. He joins him at the table, pulling the other chair around to sit right next to him instead of across, helpfully pushing the water over in front of him. Hi. Drink.]
You owed me a ring?
[Soft, while he reaches over to skim his fingers over the back of Viktor's neck and up into his hair. He's going to insist about the water and snacks if he really must, but besides that nagging, he's happy; he can look down at his other hand on the table and see that ring and know, yes, this is what he wants. It wasn't any less of a promise when they made themselves a House— a family— but a pair of rings is certainly, hm, more overt.
Still. It feels like a natural progression more than a surprise; he'll get used to the new feeling of wearing a ring around.]
I can't help you make one at all, but I could push a button on a machine at least once, to contribute.
[fine, water, fine. he takes it and finds he's thirstier than he realizes, drinking quite a bit before he puts it down.] Yes. I thought... I am often too tentative with shows of affection that are not sexual in nature, which is a matter you have never complained about and take in stride. And this, even if we are- hm, not quite traditional, or grand gestures, it is very important to me to make it quite clear where I stand.
So rings. Also- [he turns to regard pal, lips quirked fondly] I thought- 'does Palamedes like jewelry?' What would he think of it? Would he find it irritating to wear? I thought yes, if he had a ring it would have to be simple and practical, so... spinning. It is practical. This is what I was thinking.
I was looking forward to it, to seeing what you'd like. I always like to learn more about you. [chatty...
he leans back into the touch a little, a soft snort.] You can pick out the metal. Then it's yours.
[Chatty indeed, it's endearing. Palamedes hums and nods appropriately, playing with the ends of Viktor's hair, and very strongly resists making a horny quip about sexual affection just this once.]
I will; show me a selection, so I don't pick something ridiculous to make a ring out of. I really don't know anything about metal.
[tin can ring. no.]
Anyway, I do like that it spins. I like that it's silver, and that you made it for me. I like what it stands for, especially. I'll like wearing it, as soon as I get used to it.
[So there, a good old itemized list for the new ring.]
You haven't been that tentative lately; I'm getting to you. [ha ha]
I will make a pile for you to choose from. [viktor answers. frankly pal could go out and find the ugliest ring imaginable and he wouldn't care, probably just delight in getting to mock him for it while wearing it anyway.
then again a good part of the reason he wanted to make the ring is not trusting the trench at all. gods know how many cursed rings are probably out there, waiting to give someone a hard time.]
I suppose I have not. [he turns to face him, placing the glass down.] It still happens, more than I would like. You are very brave, yes? You show how much you care. It worries me, and inspires. [and pal gets a kiss again, the alcohol taste mostly washed away now.]
I could take up swearing more often if it helps you worry less. [Jokes... Mm, but he leans into the kiss, soft and tender and unhurried. He does gently nudge the rest of the water back into Viktor's hand, but. Never mind that right this second.
When he pulls back it's only far enough to lean their foreheads together, smiling. Look at this guy. Mmph.]
Every time I introduce you to someone, or I meet one of your friends, they think you're witty and brilliant- true, of course I wouldn't introduce you to complete fools- and never tentative about being kind. You don't give yourself enough credit.
but fine, he takes the water and allows another sip, only because pal wants him to. it's sweet, that he cares, as though viktor handling the probably well deserved irritation of a morning headache for this isn't acceptable. he's having feelings again, ones that have him take the time to finish the entire glass! wow! before taking pal's face in both his hands and kissing him soundly.
it goes on for a while, enough he nearly forgets to answer pal being sweet again.] Oh I am quite witty and brilliant, I know. [dry] But I am not brave the way you are. You make me want to be, though. I think that is... important. That you make me wish to be better than I am, not because I need to be or should be, because you make it easier to be.
[Hmm, very good, he should get another glass— no, he won't, even after this lengthy kiss. This is perfectly non-tentative, nonsexual affection, sir; but that's beside the point. Palamedes leans into it to the point that he's scooted all the way to the edge of his shitty kitchen chair and bumped their legs together repeatedly, and immediately snorts inelegantly at Viktor's incredible display of humility.
Like, yeah, he's amazing and intelligent and funny, obviously, but the timing. True comedic genius.] More than anyone else I know.
[Ah, but then he softens, and presses his next kiss to Viktor's cheek, lingering there a moment. Hmm.]
If I offer to help with whatever you need, are you going to tell me I do it too much? [he does. he knows.] I am. For the record. Anything for you; I'll be here.
[ugh, pal gets another kiss for that. sweet of him, being wife guy, maybe more so because he's so glaringly honest it's easy to see he believes every word, no angles. his hand rests on pal's knee, moving up to a quite risqué place on pal's thigh as he leans in for another kiss. they're married sort of now so it's probably not a sin, it's fine.]
No. You have gotten a bit better at that too. Besides, we are partners. We help each other. [another kiss, then down the line of his jaw. maybe pal still needs reminders but hey, work in progress.] And you already are, waiting up for me with water and crackers. You are... impossibly sweet, Palamedes.
[Those hands should be eating crackers. Like, Palamedes won't nudge him away, of course not; but crackers? He put in the effort. It's only being on separate chairs that stops Palamedes from wrapping around Viktor's waist and tugging him closer, lest they wind up on the floor; in spirit, though, he's there.]
Only a bit? [damn... he's slacking.] And yet, you're rewarding me for only a little progress, anyway... Finish your crackers and I'll even tuck you into bed.
[viktor's head falls against pal's shoulder, a helpless laugh. he turns his head to press a kiss to pal's neck, then another, deeply considering trying to push his luck and see how much distraction he can manage. the last time they were frisky at the chairs here was Blueberry Time Loops, which he'd be happy to just thoroughly erase from their memory with a new, improved one.
so pal's got his work cut out for him as he ponders how helpful he wants to be, and murmurs into pal's neck,] The fact we missed each other so often last month is proof you are still taking on a great deal. I suppose it is a sin of mine as well.
[and a soft laugh against his skin.] I am weak to you. And surely the crackers can wait? [vile temptress.]
[Viktor, good god. Let it not be said that Palamedes isn't tempted, because he is, but he also wants Viktor to eat his crackers and get some sleep after what has clearly been a long - if good! - evening. He huffs, leaning into Viktor despite himself and letting a hand slide down to his waist, then his hip.
Listen... listen. Crackers.]
I couldn't just quit the Sanctuary, or the children's team, [he murmurs, enjoying the affection and persistently not caving to it, huff.] I could work fewer hours at the Lumenarium? But...
[It's literally a hospital, oops maybe he does have 500 obligations. He'll blame not seeing Viktor so much on the ghosts and the days spent wandering around in tunnels for too many hours, and not his myriad jobs. Ahem. Now then: snacks.]
Viktor, [terrible; he laughs. so scolding.] You're going to sulk until lunchtime if you don't eat the crackers now.
[......a metaphorical lightbulb dings on above his head, and,] I'll remove one piece of clothing for every cracker you eat.
[ha, he's winning. he squeezes pal's thigh like a victory, his other hand moving to press under the hem of pal's shirt and to skin.] Palamedes, [he copies the tone, lost in some smug amusement himself.] I will sulk if you push me away for crackers.
[but then pal offers that, and the laughter viktor has to bite back makes his shoulders shake. he pulls back just enough to kiss him again, with endless fondness, eyes bright with it as the kiss breaks.]
You are ridiculous and I adore you. Fine. [a cracker gets picked up, meaning he has to sit back which is a shame but this is too fucking funny and sweet and ridiculous. strip crackers. incredible. and this is how pal wins and gets him to eat the damn cracker already.]
[Surely Palamedes is not so easily seduced that he's undone by a pointed tone and a warm hand... surely not. Maybe just a little. He hums, so scolding, like he has something very biting and reprimanding to say about Viktor's threat of sulking, but nope, that's it. He even squeezes his hip a little, a smidge disappointed to lose the touch of skin on skin.
Stalwart, Palamedes. Strip crackers, a game for real adults who aren't being ridiculous at one in the morning in their own home. He raises an eyebrow, waiting patiently for Viktor to eat one (1) cracker. A shame he's already in his old man pjs, or he could really milk all his usual layers for a whole stack of crackers, but he's still going to be a little shit and kick off one slipper, first. It counts.]
[The afternoon of the sixth has Palamedes receiving a message from an unlikely source. Although the words were crisp and terse, they weren't without care: ]
Palamedes,
What do you know about the logistics of making a deal with a God in this world?
[anna's apology tour continues. she sends this privately while recovering from what is effectively everything. her chest still hurts. there's a crackling sensation when she breathes in too hard, so she's trying to keep that in check. hard to tell if she should go to a doctor about it, but she'll figure it out later.]
I'm sorry I called you a coward. I wish I'd been smart enough to run away. Maybe it would've saved a lot of people a lot of trouble.
I don't care that you called me a coward. Not that it matters; you plainly still believe it, if you believe what I did was 'running away.' Reexamine your self-image and get back to me.
If this seems harsh, then so be it. I'm all out of soppy sentiment, and I hate pity parties.
Yeah, I guess my heart and lungs aren't the only things John blew up. Working on it. Just wanted to let you know I'm back and I don't think you had anything to do with this.
Fucking fine, dude, you don't want to talk, we won't talk.
[she doesn't know what she expected. she did threaten to kill everyone. that he gave her this much should be a mercy.]
I'll be back when my shit's more together and when I've figured out how to make up for what I've said and done. Check with Ortus if you want to know more about the history of the Dominicus system in the meantime, I guess.
I'm sorry, but you don't get to be the one dismissing me over this. Consider me part of your consequences. I doubt I'm going to be your biggest challenge.
Do you really think I'm interested, at this current moment in time, in more history lessons? Did I not make it clear enough to you before that I have no interest in 'blowing it all wide open' simply because you're obsessed with the Emperor? You're consistent, which isn't a compliment.
And if you aren't still miring in it right now, then frankly, I'm still not impressed. Blowing me off as if I'm in the wrong here because your actions have consequences is childish.
[it takes anna some time for her head to clear enough to respond to this, and she's not even sure it is clear by the time she starts typing.]
I'm done giving a shit about blowing it wide open. He already killed me once, and right now I have some bigger fucking problems than that. I'm telling you this because I THOUGHT you were actually interested in learning shit, not because I think it's gonna detonate John's whole fucking empire. I don't care about burning it down anymore, but I already know you don't want to know why, because it's all about my own pity party bullshit.
[she coughs on her end, and it feels like she won't stop for a while. a body that's still trying to reform isn't ready to get this heated yet. but here she is doing it anyway.]
I don't want to kill him. I don't want to kill any of you. It's not going to fucking solve anything. I'm sorry that I don't know how to fix this, Palamedes. I've never done anything this fucking stupid before.
Fine; I'll retract that. In exchange, don't tell me what I do and don't want. The fact that I left the beach doesn't mean I haven't been occupied with my own business like everyone else.
The problem is putting this in terms of 'solve' and 'fix'. It doesn't work like that.
[anna is smart enough to know that this is not actually resolved, that she needs to be taking a lesson from this and that she needs to be better. a retraction is temporary at best if she doesn't actually give him reason to keep it retracted. she takes another moment, then. tries to put it in a way that her brain can make sense of.]
Kainé left me.
[well, that fucking hurts worse than the bronchitis. good job, asshole. she tries typing more; it takes considerably longer. she doesn't know why palamedes is getting the full history, but it's the first time she's explained it to anyone. maybe it's because he's the first one to ask.]
The first time she and I talked about John together, I made a promise to her that I wouldn't do anything to disrupt the peace we had. And I kept it for as long as I could, but then I saw Gus drop her on the beach and it was like nothing else mattered but getting vengeance. And when I came back to life, there was a note on my door in her handwriting saying that she was a dumbass for trusting me. She took all her stuff and left. She even tore up the flowers she'd been growing.
[Ah. The hostility and defensiveness fall into place, in that they're misplaced to a profound degree. Not that Palamedes believes this excuses anything, but there's something to be said for context.
A retraction is a retraction is a pin stuck in it, for another time. 'Solve' and 'fix' lean too close to 'redemption,' and redemption is a story; redemption isn't real.
That's for later. That's a mess. Heartbreak, he can handle. He knows that one.]
I'm sorry to hear that. Heartbreak is heartbreak, regardless.
But you don't need me to tell you to give her time. She might not come back; you'll have to deal with that as it happens. Either way, the way you feel now won't be you forever.
[that comes out first, and it comes out easiest, but it's far from an automatic reply. it's good, she thinks, that someone she views as maybe one of the smartest people in trench is telling her that the course she's already taking is the one that he'd take, too. or maybe it's just basic consideration, but right now she wants to take the path that makes her feel better about herself.]
She's one of the only people I haven't reached out to yet. I have to talk to the other people I just left notes for first before I even think of coming back into her life. Like I said, the only thing I could think about was vengeance. I should have talked to people first instead of just going ahead with my bullshit. I have a lot of people who deserve better than what I gave them. Some of them are going to understand, but I don't think most of them will.
Yeah. Lying is only going to make it worse. I say it once, and then I give her space and time to process it. Same as everyone else.
[not romanticizing will be slightly harder, but this is her girlf... ex-girlfriend, probably, that she's talking about. and this is also the girl who was reciting poetry in her head as she attacked a god. but she'll try.]
On the subject of giving people space, Do you think it's safe for me to go back into the group chat? Or should I stay out of it for a while longer.
[No one wants to hear that they're the reason behind a tragedy, no matter how many pretty words it has around it. Precisely like that, and no further. Please.]
As for the other thing, I don't know. There's no guarantee everyone else is rushing back there.
[He, personally, has managed three whole words in there, and one of them was his name.]
By my understanding, if you retain access, you retain welcome? But it's your call.
Think I'll probably give it some time to let the dust settle, then.
[she's looked at it one time, to see the days-old report of those missing and dead and deliver it to falco. she's not eager to look back in.]
With everyone else, I at least know that I want to apologize for the things I've said and done and threatened to do. I really don't like saying it, but I'm still on the fence with the esteemed host of that chat. Maybe I'm the one who needs some time.
[Just Paul, which could mean anything from 'he tried to apologize' to 'as well you should be' and everything around and in between, and honestly? Probably does. Palamedes is somewhere in the vicinity of a fence when it comes to Paul, himself; the amount of times he extended an inkling of understanding, of patience and trust that Paul could make the right decisions, only for...
Well, for. Perhaps he and Paul had different definitions of 'not getting other people involved' when they discussed it so many weeks ago.
For a lengthy moment it's as if he's just going to say Paul and nothing else, until the next bit finally comes:]
He made his choices the same as the rest of us. Accepting what the rest of us decide to do isn't a consequence only reserved for you.
[the very same, she thinks. the once and future king, she doesn't type. there are a lot of things she could say or do in the interim, but she gives palamedes time, as well—because it seems like the smart thing to do in general, especially when you can't get a read on someone.]
[there must be more that he's done. ha, as though commanding a boat full of people to bear witness to a murder while playing the prodigal son to a world-destroying terror isn't enough. but she does, naturally, assume that there's more to what's taking palamedes so long to respond. when he does, she types first idly, like she's pausing for a laugh, then a little more seriously.]
Let's hope he handles it with a little more grace. I'm glad I'm not the only one who doesn't know what to do with him yet.
I don't think grace is his most pressing concern, necessarily.
[But. He isn't a gossip, and it serves nothing except his own scrubbed-raw emotions to indulge in talking about Paul like this. There remains as well his tangle of emotions about Anna and her own actions, so.
Well.
So, much wearier than he might have otherwise snapped ten minutes ago, as much as text can convey exhaustion:]
[ he feels red hot anger that scorches the bottom lining of his eyes. he bites his lips inward— he knows this wasn’t an accident, now. he knows it was no illness. if he’s going to do something about it— no one could know.
he measures his words, carefully. ]
lazarus is gone sort of he’s in the tub just trying to get it together
Do you remember the muffins the kids had a few weeks ago? They were from a place in Willful Machine; I'll send you the address. I'm sure they have donuts, and an excess of stock to move now that the weather is keeping everyone home.
[Kaworu approaches the sanctuary like a sinner looking or respite. He's wearing an oversized hoodie, letting the shadow from the hood cast his face in darkness. It helps obscure the five additional eyes (two on the left, three on the right) that have appeared on his face from the corruption that attempts to twist his form into something unrecognizable.
Right now, the additional eyes are closed, almost like they're in a gentle sleep. Kaworu stands at the door with a box clutched in his pale fingers. Inside, is something that had been claimed by the sea: a pair of glasses, twisted and broken, but presented like a cherished relic that had been unearthed.
[The thing is, Palamedes has replaced his glasses already. It's kind of a necessary object to stick on his face, and so it was the first thing on the checklist the day after-- well, after.
So, technically, he doesn't need Kaworu to bring these pieces at all, but he understands the- ease? The significance? The need to make an actionable goal out of emotions one doesn't know what to do with, and so he's already planned to be unbearable in his myriad thanks for the return of these mangled specs.
It's a good plan. He lingers by the door like he's not lingering there at all, actually, and so it's absolutely too soon after Kaworu knocks that the door swings open and Palamedes is there, new-but-antique glasses and all. Hello.]
There you are, [he says, gesturing at Kaworu like he can sweep him into the building just like this, come here, come here,] I left the snacks with Viktor, let's go see him.
[the snacks are very cute still, pawprint mochi on a plate at the same table viktor is scribbling into a notebook over. a little distracted, because honestly he's been fairly concerned about kaworu's wellbeing. there's tea too, in a pot nearby, a green tea made with the petals from ammy's tree and corruption lowering. also a festival hit to be shared.
so yes, he glances up when they arrive, slapping his notebook closed. he's not sure if the hoodie is concerning or Teen.] Hello Kaworu, I take it those are the glasses?
[Well, wearing the hoodie of your partner that you may or may not be broken up with still is pretty Teen. But it also hides the eyes.
Kaworu shuffles in and nods, placing the little box on the table with a show of care. The box itself has been carefully wrapped in a string to keep the contents inside safe.
The boy nods.]
I found them on the beach. I think she wanted you to have them back.
[Palamedes goes to the box once it's been set down, waving for Kaworu to go and help himself to snacks. Perhaps they can fix this thoroughly broken pair and he'll have even more spare pairs of glasses, that would be fun...
Ah, but give him a long moment to unwrap? This whole thing? This is a whole production, kiddo.]
Who? [a beat. oh--] Not her— Mariana?
[Why would she care about his glasses, no offense to Mariana...]
[viktor takes the time to pour a cup of tea, pushing it towards kaworu in a silent request to have some. frankly he's concerned kaworu is hiding injuries, but for now he'll just regard the package.
more than one pair of glasses, imagine the luxury.] Well, given your general experiences with the sea that would be a surprising one.
[His fingers twitch, as though he's contemplating stealing the box back and making a run for it. Was he wrong to have picked those glasses off the beach? Should he have left them to be taken back by the sea to have them buried with the rest of what happened that day?
Of all the things lost that day, somehow those tiny broken glasses been returned and presented to him. It felt like it meant something at the time.]
[Please, he's keeping them, don't sulk. He pointedly unwinds the string, to really emphasize it. These glasses are staying right here.]
It's just— unexpected. You remember the last time we all had a venture at sea. [A glance at Viktor, recalling now that Kaworu is sensitive about Mariana and maybe they should try to be nice. Be Nice, this look says, if a little skeptically.]
I'd believe getting into her good books by virtue of not trying to destroy her domain; maybe it's that. Drink some tea.
[viktor tilts his head in a 'got it i will not talk shit on mariana.' in truth he doesn't have any issue with mariana so it's not hard.
he's more concerned with kaworu though, and offers,] We could get them fixed now, or at least put the lenses in new frames. The lenses are really the annoying thing to get made around here, so that's a relief.
[practical, but hey, an attempt to point out kaworu did good with this. it's really more the thought but viktor works better in practicality so here they are.]
[There's a small change in Kaworu's demeanor at Viktor's words. A little brightness returns to his face, he sits up a little straighter.]
It can be fixed?
[Clearly, he did not anticipate this. He had hoped that it would be more of a token of trying to take responsibility for his actions and apologize. He had not been brave enough to hope fixing them was possible.]
[He knows all about asking other people to fix his specs! It's practically a hobby.
Here, he lifts the busted glasses-half out of the box and lays it carefully on the table, then shuffles away for a moment to get the other half, which has been sitting on a shelf since they fled here after leaving the beach on The Very Bad Day.]
It's the lenses that are the important part, like Viktor says— these new ones work, but it's weird, you know?
[you know, he says to two people who don't wear glasses and do not know, never mind!!!]
Well— anyway, this is really helpful. Thank you, Kaworu.
And frankly I've been trying to encourage him to get a backup pair for a while now. He treats his glasses like they are meant to bend in any direction he so pleases.
[dry, a touch fond. then he glances to kaworu, nodding in agreement to pal's thanks.]
[Ah, there it is, the barest ghost of smile. It's nice to feel like, after everything, he is capable of doing something right. Even if it's just a small thing.]
You should have seen him, squinting around before his new pair. [viktor informs kaworu, a touch dry.] But he is right, have something. You know there's talk of doing the festival again next year as well.
[maybe everything won't be terrible, they'll all still be here and kaworu can go then. lot of maybes.]
[Quick and demanding and much more like his normal curious self. He had heard a bit about the festival but being in a heavily corrupted probably would have been an unwelcome sight.
Nor did he have much desire to leave the house at that point.]
It's called Tanabata, or the 'star' festival. From what I understand it originates from a place called Japan on Earth, which is a familiar enough world to most around here.
[not him! what the hell is earth. yall earth people, at least the necromancers were also in the dark. mostly.] And yes, I don't see why not? Palamedes spent a great deal of time cutting out paper for the wishes. You write one down and hang it.
[and they were burned later but... viktor will ask megumi if he can just do that for whatever kaworu might want to write. hopefully it wouldn't be rude or cursed or something.] There was food, origami I believe it's called? Fireworks. Better this time. [because he's a show off.]
"Tanabata"... "The evening of the seventh". Yes, I've heard of this. It was commonly celebrated in Japan, on that night, two stars would align and they believed it was some sort of meeting of the gods. Even now that all humans know stars are not gods, they still celebrate these things. Curious.
[He has to say it outloud as if by giving form to the words, he can understand better. Kaworu knows the festival is about reuniting and he wants to be one those humans writing wishes on strips of paper out of some deep desire to hope.]
People like good stories. Hold on, the papers are around here somewhere.
[Give him a moment to go find where he put down... a bunch of extra strips of paper, which might take a minute. In the interim he finds a pen, and puts it down on the table for Kaworu. As he goes to look at another shelf,]
I was surprised there were so many names for it. That's a little much, don't you think?
[He brings back another pen.]
Then again, a several-day holiday is unheard of in the Sixth. The time commitment, you know? Ah- here.
[The papers. He's also got a third pen, don't perceive this.]
And people like an excuse to celebrate, especially here. [viktor adds on, watching pal find the papers, a touch amused.]
Also not quite on trend, not like a six day holiday. Not a bad point though, I can't think of any holidays in Piltover or the undercity that lasted that long. Usually just a day for celebration or mourning and then everyone gets on with their lives.
[perceiving it though. sometimes he wonders how many pens are on pal's person at any given time.]
I've never experienced one. Though back home, I know it was nearly Christmas.
[He watches Pal rustle through the papers. He understands what's going on but he can't some to understand how it makes him feel. It makes him feel like he's cared for, but also seen>/i> in a way that makes him slightly uncomfortable.
Still, he thinks of Midoriya and extended hands.]
I... understand that you are showing me kindness after everything that has happened. It's... I'm glad for it.
[This as he arranges the papers by color, sorting them into little piles. Primarily featuring red, yellow-gold, white, and blue, but there are a bunch of other colors there because he did cut these out of a construction paper package for children.]
The ribbons are gone, but we'll find some string. Viktor has string somewhere, [yes?? Viktor please help find the string,] and then we can take it outside.
[And okay, it seems we're just talking about this directly, he can respect that.]
Good; that's the point. We'd have done this even without an incident behind us, anyway.
[a shrug about christmas, viktor hasn't the slightest clue either. he assumes an earth thing.
he can go get string though, lifting himself by pressing a hand on pal's shoulder. before he heads to find something he pauses, glances back. frankly he prefers if they're just upfront about it all.]
He is right, if you had missed the festival simply for mistaking the time we would still offer this. Though in this case yes, you deserve some kindness after everything.
[and he points at kaworu] Try the mochi. [off he goes to get string though from nearby, he'll be back soon.]
It's a celebration, it was common in the west but even celebrated in places like Japan. There are bright lights and in pictures, everyone seems to be smiling. Humans have celebrations to create reasons to be happy.
[He takes a piece of paper. He's never wished for anything. There's never been anything to wish for. He'd always been made of grasping desire and burning resentment.
How does he create reasons to be happy?]
...I caused misery for others. How can I be deserving of kindness after what I've done?
[He takes the mochi but doesn't eat it, like he's worried it might lodge itself in his throat due to being unworthy of eating such a nice thing.]
I use my own necromancy, which is a thing you don't have. Don't get up in arms over that, it's a simple fact of this necromancy being innate to the applicable people from my home.
So yes, actually, 'encourage it' is profound advice.
It needs blood magic to serve as an anchor to stay liquid. I can't tell you a spell to chant, I'm not that kind of wizard.
Necromancy is manipulating 'life energy' in the living or dead to cause various states of living dead, undead, and unliving and such. Is that more or less true where you're from too?
No. Ours has two kinds of energy, and ordinary necromancers don't resurrect. Nobody would call a skeleton animated by a necromancer any more alive or dead than an automatic door. Personally, I do history.
I'm trying to tell you it's nigh involuntary for me, as a process, which makes it difficult to put into steps. But you will have to put some magic in it.
It's a skeleton; it's only pieces. Mind you, I'd say the same about a full corpse being programmed to move around, but we don't do much of that either. Once the soul has gone, it's only material.
Even without a soul involved a necromancer would still use life energy to animate something that had once been living. Would your method work on something that only looked like a skeleton but hadn't been alive?
I already told you my necromancy deals in two energies, and frankly, hardly anyone cares about the 'life energy' besides me. But: as thanergy, our 'death energy,' can cling to objects that were always inanimate, sure, I don't see why not. The theorems would have to be updated.
Here: I've a construct in Viktor's lab, we call him Junior. We also call him 'he,' obviously, but he's a construct. The thing that controls him is me, telling the thanergy what to do. No one is in there.
Now, a revenant on the other hand— a ghost powering a physical shell— sounds closer to the kind of 'undead' you're talking about. They have many of their original faculties, they can sometimes talk, and so on. That said, my necromancy doesn't force a soul to inhabit a thing to move it around; I can bridge the gap and have a chat with the deceased, if they're willing, but the 'willing' is key.
I've seen evidence that our necromancy can be manipulated in higher-concept ways than we're taught, but that's when the questionable morals and divesting of autonomy start to creep in.
To sum up: my little lab assistant is just an appliance, no matter how much I like him.
It's a while IC before D gets back to this but he eventually does
Mindless and soulless undead are still undead, but only for being animate through life energy. No soul is necessary but they would still be considered undead even if all they are is an 'appliance'.
The difference seems to be that a necromancer where I'm from couldn't reasonably animate something that had never been alive, but there are other mystical disciplines that can. I've fought constructs made of sand and someone who could animate long-broken machines to function under her will.
For something to be alive or undead it doesn't need to have a soul, but something with a soul is usually alive or undead.
Academically, I disagree. Semantics, though. My interpretation of necromantic theory has always been more akin to a science than a magic, besides.
Just about everyone here has leapt immediately to resurrection when they hear 'necromancy,' anyway, and the fact remains that I don't do that. Regardless of the vocabulary.
[Or did they just establish a society and leave it to other people to run while they went off to pursue their own agenda. No D's not projecting or anything.]
[ after spending some days in the sanctuary to pick himself up following lazarus' death (murder), the loss of his hand (now put back together, as if never lost) and the slew of corruption that picked his energy dry, shoyo eventually returns to his duties close to the month's final week. a touch more preserved, but still a bright ball of boundless sunlight that the children were ecstatic to see again— shoyo was ecstatic to see everyone, including pal, who would have to take the brunt of his physical affection with shoulder claps, jumps and extra selfies to send to viktor.
putting the balls back in their carts signaled one more day complete, and as shoyo passes out the prepared water bottles and snacks, he roots himself next to pal's current station for a much needed exchange. ]
Thanks for covering for me while I was out.
[ —out of it, was more accurate. viktor probably had plenty to tell about a jar of jam. ]
[And so Palamedes' brief stint as total controller of this team comes to a fortuitous end. There's a lot more 'talking out our problems with cited evidence' happening among these children before they resort to outright tussling, but who knows how long that will last. Palamedes is relieved to see Shoyo, ah, back to normal? Back to... not whatever he was, when he did strange and mystifying jar of jam activities?
So that's nice. He glances up from where he is, of course, writing down something arcane and possibly not even about sports. Who can say.]
Sure. It went well.
[Nobody broke any bones; Palamedes is a master sports guy, currently in possession of very sore shoulders because he's feeble and Shoyo kept whapping him. Truly a sports guy for the ages.]
[ the "me too" is implied in the softness of his smile that doesn't seem to last long. not because it disappears— it becomes more than gratitude! oh yes, it becomes . . . teasing. ]
You know how else I'd feel better? [ shoyo extends a hand to pal's shoulder. ] With Palamemes.
[ —he seems to be expecting something with this proud smile and broadened chest. is he expecting to hear some kind of actual meme to wrap the gift in a golden christmas bow? or a chuckle, or— something, he's waiting for something. ]
[Palamedes hums and continues to write, only glancing up again when Shoyo's hand has not left his shoulder for several extra seconds. Oh--]
—You're serious. I didn't know I was supposed to prepare anything.
[Was this part of the deal? He always assumed that the 'memes' thing was an extended prank that made him the butt of the joke, not the jokesmith or anything. Uhhh...]
Haven't you been taking pictures of me all afternoon? Are those not 'memes'...?
[Palamedes flips a page in his notebook, tilting it sideways and continuing to scribble. Hmm.]
I barely have anything to do with this 'meme' thing, you know.
[In fact, his meme-production has sat at a comfortable Just One, and this whole "Palamemes" thing was never his joke, as far as he's aware? But fine, because he has explored the inscrutable world of memes online, and so after a moment he holds the notebook up under his face.
[ he'll take that as a souvenir, thank you! and while they're at their friendly ramblings (about child birth??), shoyo takes the topic on with an air of joking seriousness. ]
Pal, meme labor is like osmosis, [ he's using the wrong word— ] suddenly, pop! There it is. It just happens.
I don't think you know anything about childbirth. Or osmosis.
[Not a dig! Actually kind of hilarious, but he reaches over to pat Shoyo on the shoulder, for his efforts. Palamedes doesn't understand memes, Shoyo doesn't understand osmosis, they're even.]
[ well, he’s right there. biology is hard and he’s starting to remember that maybe it’s mitosis but only because it sounds like “my toe” (he’s still wrong—) ]
—Oh, I’ll go check. [ gathering some extras in his hands, including water canteens, shōyō turns heel mid-step forth. ] —And don’t move yet! I still gotta ask you something. It’s about dead stuff.
[ a shame that now palamedes must ruminate in curiosity while shōyō checks every little hot wing for snack and drink. ]
[He will, in fact, wait. He still has some mysterious writing to finish, anyway, so he'll still be in this very same spot when Shoyo is done checking on all the baby wings.]
[ and away he goes . . . once all mini wings have been fed and hydrated, and even played around with as shoyo scurries them off, pal is left to his mysterious writing indeed. the rarity here is that when shoyo returns, he's quiet about it, and stands high on the tips of his toes to check out what it is that he's actually writing— ]
[ ohh a secret— that is clearly none of his business! thankfully, palamedes continues to be quite the golden baguette. shoyo couldn't see much of anything to begin with and jokingly claps the man's shoulders. "damn baguette" he mutters, but makes mental note to leave pal's diary be. ]
So you're kind of like a dead-thing doctor, aren't you?
I'm a necromancer and, separately, something like a doctor, yes. Why?
[His necromancy usually has much less to do with the doctoring part, which he feels like he should point out? Dead-thing doctor is a different concept.]
[ necromancer, that's the word. dead stuff. but if doctor is a side hustle, that also helps with where he wants to go. ]
You can probably, definitely stomach looking at dead things, right? Like blood, and . . . Hands, and . . . [ that thought makes his throat go dry. he doesn't want to go there. as far as he knew, no one knew about it but him. he wants to keep it that way, but that costs him. nightmares breaking through an otherwise undisturbed sleep, panic, memories— he can't get sidetracked. ] —Anyway, I can't. I get sick enough to throw up.
This place is harsh. I want to get better at handling that stuff. You know? So I was wondering if . . . You've got tips.
[Oh, he thinks, it's like that. This isn't a surprise - which isn't to say he expected it from Shoyo specifically, but he expected it from someone, eventually. Given how cruel and unusual the city can be, and how, not to put too fine a point on it, bloody it is, well.
Inevitable.]
Sure; I can try. The first thing you need to remember is that the body- flesh, bones, all of it- is something we built our whole culture around, back home. The first time I held a human liver, I was six years old. That's in class, by the way.
[They don't just hand out livers.]
So my first tip is this: it's going to take some time. You're starting decades later than I did, and you come from a place that isn't comfortable with what happens to a body when dies or gets hurt, can I assume that?
[ oh, shoyo manages to squeak out. a human liver. six years old. when he was six, he was holding a kickball. and a puppy. and making refrigerator art in class.
trying to keep a waning smile in place, he nods. ]
Only doctors and . . . Homicide detectives . . . Get into that, back home.
Well, like we've said: I'm a necromancer. I passed Flesh Morph Analyses when I was eight, because I had to. From what I understand, your culture doesn't path children into careers until you're practically adults, either. I'm sure even your doctors struggle.
[He learned that middle school exists, and also that you have to be in school until some specific age instead of accomplishment? Wack. Flesh Morph Analyses didn't have age requirements.
But don't ask about Flesh Morph Analyses. He holds up a hand, like, he gets it; the gulf between them when it comes to being used to touching viscera is vast and nigh unconquerable, but also: there's plenty of time.]
Why don't we start simple? Tell me what bothers you so much about... it.
[ oh, well— if that was true, then maybe there’s hope—?! ]
Whoo. Okay. [ what was it that bothered him, really? ] I think it’s theeee— smell? Maybe the smell comes first. If it’s something small, I can look. Until I can’t feel my legs.
[ although, he’s not exactly confident with his answer. it’s clear both in his verbal uncertainty as much as the way he’s scrunching his brows to think. ]
—Okay, no. It’s . . . The inside. Like all the blood and the stuff inside.
[Hmm. Palamedes waits for him to come to his- final?- answer, then thinks about it.]
The gore, you mean? You don't like the violence, or you don't like blood and insides at all? Some people only care about bloodshed when it's their blood and their shed, after all.
[palamedes.]
That is to say: does context matter? Would you faint if I scraped my knee outdoors, or is it— the violence?
The violence, then. There's nothing wrong with that; I know everything there is to know about human organs, for example, but I still wouldn't like to see one burst open in front of me.
[This, a gentle reassurance, like the one about how long this adjustment period may take— it is in fact totally normal to not be comfortable around bucketloads of gore.
That said,] Blood only 'gushes like a hose' from the arteries, which aren't as close to the surface of your skin. You've seen too many pictures. [movies.] Not that I recommend watching a person bleed live, but try to remember: spectacle will lie to you.
[Trust No Special Effects]
I have to ask— Do you really think you'll need to be comfortable with violence? I mean, so often that you need tips? What are you getting into out there?
[ he's avoided the goriest entertainment for this very reason. it hadn't gotten any easier, nor was he ever going to be prepared to see his own hand spliced right off and getting— all of that, burned into his memory. so that. that was an artery. oh.
the more he thinks of it as a cloudy nightmare, the more it comes back to haunt him. the question doesn't make it any smoother a task to answer back, either. ]
Just . . . Like, [ he's not looking at palamedes. he chooses to look at the floor. he's always maintained eye contact because he has always been honest. ] Whenever something like that, happens? Even if it's not all the time, I'm . . . Deadweight. To everyone including me. And, I guess, [ this part is said quickly, as shoyo rubs the bottom of his nose in an idle, meaningless gesture beyond a nervous fidget: ] The nightmares don't stop.
If you're deadweight, I don't even qualify. [He is a stick with glasses who is supposed to come with his own bodyguard-bestie because necromancers are all uselessly feeble? At least Shoyo has muscle mass.
Which, okay, he holds up a hand like, just a sec.]
Listen; I don't think I need to tell you that no one is putting any blame on you for not being comfortable with violence. If they are, well, that I can't help you with. Get better friends?
[He shrugs, because that one isn't a joke, if there's somebody out there putting him down for not being gungho for all the murder and gore, they're probably not worth it.]
So. Let's focus on the nightmares. Exposure is, again, a terrible option for this, so— have you tried any sleep aids?
[ shōyō stays quiet; he can’t even nod in understanding and simply pulls his gaze elsewhere. his feet seem more comfortable, in a little kick at nothing as he slipped his hands in his pockets. there hadn’t been anyone expecting that of him beyond, well, himself— so he should maybe get a better self?
in parts, true. he should stop pushing himself to that, but there has yet to be acceptance— or understanding that exposure wouldn’t rid his traumatic experience from him, but make it quite worse. ]
I’ve always used meditation and my sleep tapes for years. It’s not working anymore.
This place will interfere with anything non-chemical sooner rather than later.
[Gently, because it's not Shoyo's fault that his usual helpers aren't working anymore, and Palamedes thinks that should be made abundantly clear.
So, ideas. He brings his hand to his chin, thoughtful.]
There's always the bell in the Sanctuary; the one that reduces corruption. We ring it often enough, although I haven't studied how long a 'dose' of that magic lasts. There's a young lady witch who comes around the Sanctuary often enough, her name is Luna— she's quite the whiz with enchantments. I don't know for sure, but she might be able to enchant a... pillow for you, to help with sleep.
If you're not interested in magic, the Lumenarium might be able to part with some sleeping pills.
[ well, the more pal rolls out the possibilities, the more the worried fall of his eyes widen up with bewilderment and attention. as in oh, oh these options exist? a pillow enchantment actually sounds cool, a soft enough idea even if magic was concerned. the latter— there's some resistance in his own thoughts, part of simply being an athlete and always trying to stay away from any long-term substance use.
still, he does ask, for both options: ]
Would any of that be, um, [ viciante, 中毒性のある, he says in a soft mutter to parse the word: ] addictive?
[Helpful. Okay. Take two,] I don't recommend using any one aid to excess— that's where the problems start. The bell and the magic pillow, those are going to lean towards your mental dependence, I'd wager - being related to magic, and all. Psychological dependence isn't precisely the same thing as chemical dependence— I don't know which one you're worried about, really.
[He'd guess the chemical one, if he had to? The nature of psychological dependence on anti-corruption aids in this place is likely more easy to keep in hand than addiction to sleeping pills. He'd have to ask around.]
If it worries you, I'd recommend keeping track of your experiences with whatever it is you choose. That way, you'll have a finger on the pulse of how well it works, too.
Sure— I don't see why not. I'll caution you that using them consecutively in short enough periods will spoil the data, but it's not as if the data is your priority.
[This isn't a closed study that requires absolute precision and accuracy, after all. It's fine to be less tidy for personal benefit.]
Like I said, though: we've no way of knowing the addictive properties of various magical strategies right now. If the bell works, for example, skip the pills. That's my official advice.
[ pal’s smart with the science stuff. he can log it in a sleep journal. anything to make it easier to gather the right answers and make the night terrors slip away in his dreams.
shōyō nods at his manager’s verdict. it’s one that he’ll follow down to the period. try the bell. even the pillow. kick the pills. repeat that, so he doesn’t forget. bell. pillow. no pills. his mouth moves wordlessly to form something, and words have yet to really come. shōyō inhales instead, presses his lips into a puffy line—
—leans over and hugs him, on his toes to reach a greater height, clapping pal’s back as he finds the right spots to handle and squeeze around the shoulders. ]
[--Oh, a hug, okay. Palamedes gives a surprised little pseudo-laugh, a puff of a sound, tucking the notebook under his arm to free his hands to pat Shoyo between the shoulders. There, there. It isn't as though he would have refused to help.]
So, that sounds good? You can keep me posted, if you like. I'm pretty good at data interpretation.
[ it deserves an extra pat along the back and about three seconds of lingering before shoyo pulls back with the beginnings of a smile that most closely resembles his sunshine. ]
Alright. [ oh, and: ] Sooo . . . Does this mean I don't have to hold my first liver?
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There were three drafts before I sent it on to you. Enjoy.
[ Good thing he asked before putting together the list, because otherwise it would have just been a mess. Nico also figured he should put a little tidbit of where it came from, what the letters were like - even if Palamedes won't know any of those places. ]
Written in non-Greek letters it looks like this: Chaírete. Pronunciation: çe.re.te [ A switch to voice to also say the word for him. ]
[Know that he will mutter this word to himself over and over such that he can say it correctly the next time Nico comes by, in true huge embarrassment fashion.]
Three drafts is an impressive start. Thank you, this is a good start to my linguistic collection.
Impossible, I'd say. Unless we start considering living bodies an untapped thanergy bottle, but I'd have to object on the grounds of not being a serial killer.
Is the title something that will make me groan in pain in a month when I can read it properly?
I could pull from dying plants, if that's what you mean. In theory, if you kept doing it indefinitely, I could keep going indefinitely, too. Hydration and food breaks implied, of course. But that would also kill a lot of plants.
Does it have to be something that's dying for you to draw from it? I know you said thanergy was limited and all the necromancers use it, but I don't play by those rules. Do you think our forms of death manipulation would be compatible?
Don't know; I've never tried other forms. Ordinarily I'd say no, but I'm also some kind of mystical blood wizard now like everyone else, and our darkblood does bend the rules of normal reality. A strong maybe?
Let's think of some ideas. Maybe one without killing too many things will pop up.
And sort of, but not the way the rest of you conceptualize them, I think. A flesh magician, myself for example, could puppet a corpse around in a pinch. There's also the notion of the Beguiling Corpse, which is an incorruptible body (read: it doesn't rot) with a bit of spirit attached that allows it freer movement, if not proper sentience. Counter to that would be what I'd call a 'hideous corpse,' where the body is rotting but the spirit is whole-- a haunting in that case, a revenant.
I think both of those qualify for 'zombies,' by what I've understood a zombie to be around here.
[Hmm, yes, he totally wanted to think about Nico killing things for him today. It hits different when it's not just plants implied? Presumably beasts, but the danger levels? Nico isn't a cavalier, and that isn't a bad thing— mmph.]
I'll allow it-- in an emergency. Still, let's fiddle with the workaround idea in the meantime. No emergencies to speak of yet.
[ It is what baby demigods do, and possible grown ones. He'll do his best to not kill humans or pthumerians, animals and animal-beasts would be the most likely target. ]
In an emergency.
The zombie my dad gifted me. In one of his "getting to know my son" moments, he apparently thought I should have someone to drive me to social places other teens hang out. Jules-Albert used to be a racer, was disqualified despite taking first. He's a restless soul, always looking for a chance to drive. He isn't a whole soul, but he's not rotting anymore.
It's not the word I would have used, either. Zombie chauffeurs do not get a guy some mortal friends. No, I just kind of know that he's sticking around for one last race. Even my demigod friends think it's weird.
And some of them have been driven around by weird individuals.
He's probably hanging out in the Underworld. That's usually where he is when I summon him for driving. I guess I could probably send him to a race with mortals, the Mist would make him look just like anyone else. I don't usually keep using the same undead, unless that's what they want.
Hm, not sure how dad would take it if I let Jules-Albert have his race and rest.
Sure, I'll do that when I see him again. I give him points for trying, but not many. Mostly because Jules-Albert got me through a hoard of monsters safely, so I could stop a war before it really started. Without him, me and a couple others probably would have tried dying.
I will award Jules-Albert points for good driving where due, of course, but I graciously refuse to award your dad any points for the 'gift-giving' of actual people.
That's fair. Most parents give normal gifts, even some other deities give better gifts than dad. Our relationship is actually better than it used to be, which even I know that it still isn't great.
Feelings, mostly. After her death, dad had our memories washed away so that he could hide us from Zeus. We were the real targets. I got to witness the whole thing later when I tried to summon her ghost.
Whole story: this Oracle spouted a prophecy about a kid of one of the Big Three (Zeus, Hades, Poseidon) that would either 'preserve or raze' the gods' home at the age of sixteen. So they all made a pact to not have any more kids (a stupid pact Zeus and Poseidon broke). Unfortunate fact: Bianca and I were already alive, so Zeus wanted us gone. After the whole memory erasure, dad stuck us in a hotel and casino where people don't age, and we didn't really notice the passage of time for seventy years.
I asked him why he brought us out, and I quote: "This idiot son of Poseidon cannot be allowed to be the child of the prophecy." Which was stupid because both Zeus and Poseidon's kid were older.
I don't know, between that and getting turned into plants, I'd like it to stop.
[ Yes, hi. Nico has absolutely been in weird situations. ]
Their dad was the one who wanted to knock their houses over first. But their dad was an even bigger ass. I mean, their house still stands after some remodeling.
Yeah, probably. I'm only 95 years old, after all. Because plant deities are terrible. My stepmother hates me because my dad cheated on her twice with mom. The second time was because I threatened a god into saving my sister. I also tend to be walking death to plants when I'm upset.
[ You're welcome. Also learn to curse demigod style, too. ]
Dads and evil grandmas. (Great-grandma to me.) That doesn't sound too bad.
[ A human that age should be close to the end of their lifespan. On Earth, anyway. ]
Someone could. [ Let's not get into the fact that the books are kind of actually written by people. ] She is not a plant. If you want beings that are like that, you have to go back further than the gods. Gaia as the earth, Ouranos as the sky, Tartarus as hell, Erebus as darkness, Aether as light, and Chaos as... chaos. I honestly could give you a whole list of them.
Yeah, Mercury is just a godly guy. At some point, humans started to discover other bodies in their night sky, the other planets, and started to give them names. A lot of them are named after gods. Some deities have jobs revolving around other celestial bodies, Apollo drives the sun across the sky, and Artemis the moon. Having ridden in the sun chariot, I can attest that it's kind of literal. However it works that a guy could run the sun while, scientifically, the earth rotates around it.
you know what i dont care ill try anyway it cant be any worse than this
i dont have a drinking problem if thats what you mean
[she has had a drink or two before, hell, she once swiped a bottle from behind the bar to split between she, mylor and claggor back before ...everything, but that was nothing compared to this. this is some next level shit, courtesy of trying to keep up with a 10,000 year old dhampir who can outdrink basically everyone.
With respect, I don't know which part of this is the personal victory. It sounds like you've been having a strange time. I'm sorry about your unwelcome familiar face; I know how that feels.
Why don't you come by the Sanctuary for those painkillers and water, and you can tell me the rest?
[And so he will, gathering up some painkillers, some water bottles, and some... saltines? These are what he fed Viktor when he was still drunk, so surely they will be good enough for a hangover snack, too.
He really doesn't know anything about alcohol. The crackers will be enough.
Anyway, he heads for the Rookery, knocking on the door once he arrives.]
Hello? It's Palamedes, here for the hangover house call.
[vi has managed to walk down the stairs (it feels like a lot of stairs) - a feat in and of itself, and she's reached the bottom before palamedes arrives. she can't remember if he's been here before? using the thinkmeats ...hurts. so she sinks into a chair in the front room (which is where sansa does fittings, many of her swatches and embroideries on display) and waits, head in hands. if she squeezes hard enough maybe she can keep her brains in. her thoughts stilled.
slight exaggeration, but it feels legit.
she can feel her pulse in her palms as she sits. and when she hears an expected voice outside the door, she trudges toward it, opening, blinking into whatever light there is. she looks as bad as she feels.]
[Oh, yes, she does look terrible. He passes her a water bottle first, mostly because it's cold, and she looks like she needs to press something cold onto her... everything? Eyeballs?
Then he comes in, glancing around politely (he has not, in fact, been here before) as he heads for a spot he can unload his house call supplies.]
The tree is quite the landmark. [And,] In my professional opinion, you look awful. Come and see; I brought the kind of painkillers you can sip in a tiny cup.
[Remarkable!! It's in another, non-water bottle, specifically, but he has indeed brought what appears to be a few tiny paper cups, one of which he fills with clear medicine. The extra cups are in case she needs more later.]
[the crying probably hasn't helped. she takes the bottle, sighing as she presses it to her forehead.]
It's a weirdwood. [that's not right] Weirwood. [peering over his shoulder at the selection of things, watching him fill up the tiny cups.] Funny. Little cups are why you're here.
[she will take the offered cup, arch a brow at his statement, take a deep breath and down it like a shot. he is correct. it's awful. nearly regrettable as she fights the urge to let it back up again - she'd done that so many times already, and it feels like the correct response to something that tastes like what she imagines poison might taste like. or very old socks in liquid form.]
If I didn't know you I'd think you were trying to kill me.
[she waves to the chair in a manner that suggests even waving hurts. pal can sit there, she is just going to sink to the floor next to it as she shifts the cool bottle to the back of her neck.]
There's nothing I can say to that that doesn't make me sound like an actual murderer.
[He wouldn't need foul-tasting medicine to kill anybody, etc, etc. Never mind any quips of that particular brand; he moves to settle into the chair, pulling out the sleeve of saltines he's brought so he can lean over the arm of the chair and dangle them in front of her.
Take the crackers. Absorb the crackers. Appreciate them.]
These are for you, too. Viktor barely tolerated them, which confirms that they're the perfect amounts of dry and boring for somebody hungover.
[Take these before he just drops them in her lap. He remains leaned over the arm of the chair, like he's incapable of sitting normally.]
[she imagines it might be one of those if i wanted you dead you'd already be dead situations, which - in trench there are a fair few of people like that - d, standing out notably among them. most of the people with magic. imagining much past that just makes her brain hurt in a new way.
two crackers fall (unmagically and literally) into her lap. she does as she's told, and they're - well, a bit of a relief. practically no urge to hurl them into her lap, and that's progress. plus, they help take away the taste of the mystery liquid.]
The personal victory part's a two parter. First, I found him on the beach and didn't shove him back in. [sigh] I didn't laugh in his face when he fell, and I even got him his stupid bag.
[not gonna cry.]
I got in a fight after. It was "friendly" fire, whatever.
Then he sent me a message on my Omni. You know, that thing people do when they say something nice but they really mean fuck you, or worse?
So I did something different. Something I thought Sansa, or even Viktor---
---maybe you, who knows, might be proud of, and I replied to what he did say, not all the shit underneath it. I was actually proud of me for that, so I figured why the hell not, I'll celebrate, I deserve it.
Turns out that was kind of a mistake. Not the celebrating, but the ...amount of it. And then I puked on a guy's shoes, but he helped me get home anyway, and then I woke up to a worse message.
Which is how I got here.
[on the floor, cried out, sick to her stomach in two different ways, everything aching.]
[Oh good, she's taking the crackers with so much more ease than it took to get Viktor to eat them, the last time; small blessings. Palamedes leans his elbows on the arm of the chair here and listens - it's definitely... a lot, for what sounds like was just a single day into night.
He relates, in any case; there are people here from the Empire back home who he would really love to never see again for as long as he lives, and in the meantime he's adopted a strict policy of zero contact— so he knows, from experience, the aggravation and fury that goes into not telling someone to go fuck themselves to their face. Or digital face, as it were.
First, though, he leans a bit further over the arm of the chair, so he can reach over it and give her a friendly punch on the shoulder, which from a stickbug of a human being like Palamedes is a light tap. The sentiment is the same.]
I am proud of you. Because you're proud of you.
[It's a different kind of proud than the 'holy SHIT' kind of proud one feels when, say, Viktor punched the Emperor of the Nine Houses in the face, specifically. Broadly, he doesn't believe in solving every conflict with more conflict, but his best friend and legally assigned bodyguard is literally a skilled swordswoman, so like.
Sometimes you go in swinging, whether that's literally or with a big 'fuck you'. But the point is, he's proud of that little beat of self-actualization; that's the stuff.
The hangover, not so much.]
Think of it this way: you're not the one who stayed home all night writing tough guy omni messages, alone.
[it's a kind gesture - and she's learned (mostly) not to shrug those off, even when they're in more plentiful supply. she isn't used to it yet, doesn't trust it enough to take it for granted. the idea of anyone being willing (or alive) to care about her, even in such a simple gesture as 'here, eat these' on top of bringing the medicine to her: she will never forget this.
so when the human stickbundle punches her arm, she gives a little wince-smile, leans over just enough to make it look like it had impact, offers him a smile before lowering her eyes, opening the water bottle and taking a swig.]
Thanks, pal. [GET IT?]
[he's not wrong. but it's silco - and he's never lacked for followers. sure, some people sway where the breeze takes them, but that's not all - he attracts loyalty, like it or not. she wonders how that might play out here. any way it's sliced, she doesn't like it.]
Yeah, well. Now he's here and I have to figure out what to do. How to ...live with it.
[Yes yes, he gets it, very funny. At least 'pal' is technically his name, unlike some of these wacky nicknames he's gotten...
Anyway. The guy. Here's the rub: he has no idea who this guy is. Viktor's told him about, eh, local undercity villains, but who Vi is so wary of and what he's done? Nothing. Maybe it's that Singed guy. He'll figure it out eventually.
But with the state Vi's in, and 'learning to live with him' and 'figure out what to do' in the mix, he can take a wild guess and come up with a guy who is bad?
So:] Don't orbit around him. Keep your people informed; focus on you and on them.
[It's the thing he's been trying to express as politely as possible to people who still come up to him worrying about the Emperor of the Nine Houses being in town, as if feeding that particular fire does anything for anyone except stress people out. Palamedes is professionally Done with that one, and so whatever Vi's nemesis here- or whatever he is- has done, this is the advice: don't orbit.
Especially don't obsess.]
And I don't know this guy, but if you're thinking, well, he's dangerous— that's not your responsibility.
[what's it like to have a name that doesn't morph into 50 other words]
I have complete faith in Viktor. [He can punch now? It's hot. Anyway.] And I'm not suggesting you keep yourself completely in the dark, but I've seen what happens when people try to... isolate themselves to keep other people safe, or let their 'orbit' become the only thing they have left. I'd rather not see that happen to you, too.
[He leans his chin in his hand, shrugging. It's not easy, but-]
[Just a moment, while he twists around up here in the chair to get his bag, because he has— another water bottle!! Which he similarly dangles over the arm of the chair, like with the crackers. He's very serious about hydration, he came prepared.]
Here. And everything about this place is weird. I don't know exactly how that one feels, unless we count in reverse. [And there's really no way to explain himself without it kind of sounding like a flex, but whatever,] I'm in charge, you know? Back home. It's weird not having my people around. Leaving them leaderless.
But I can usually excise that anxiety by making something of my presence here, with these other people of mine.
[another water bottle. palamedes, you are a saint. vi owes you big time. she will take that water, uncap it and down it goes. not all, just half. deep breath. still tired, but this is better.]
That sounds like it would be weird. Hard. I ...was a small time leader when I was a kid. It was a long time ago, but I think I kind of get it.
Small time, but big responsibility. Were they your family? [and to maybe make the question less invasive, less painful, even, she will offer something up, too.] Mine were.
Some of them. Well— more than some. We're called the Sixth House, but it's bigger than a single family line. And thanks to consanguinity... [like. well.] I have a lot of cousins and second cousins and so on.
[But not every single person, for sure. Just a lot. It's bittersweet to talk about the Sixth for a number of reasons, not just that they aren't here; there's a distinct chance he'll never see any of them ever again, and that's so... it is what it is.]
As a fellow leader, I can say with confidence that it isn't any less important to be 'small time.'
[consanguinity. she's never heard that word before, so have a slightly confused look for just a moment - though she can work out that it's about blood. and follows him well enough after that.]
Maybe not. At the end of the day it was still on me a lot of the time.
[maybe it still is. the guilt sure is, in any case, and she'll likely never see hers again either. maybe it's less complicated that way.]
[A beat; he's had almost-similar conversations with Ortus, recently, about responsibility and the nature of it, the difference between embracing it and letting it burden you— he wonders if Vi had much of a choice, and whether that's why it seems to sit heavier on her now.
Could also be the hangover. He wouldn't know how bad those get.]
I was thirteen when I took up the mantle. The youngest, historically, but people make jokes about that these days. [nerd jokes.] You?
[she nods at that - it is what it is. doesn't make it easy - nothing really does that. it's harder when she thinks back on how many things she would have (should have) done differently.]
About the same, maybe a little younger, but not by much.
I was already doing it with my sister, I had to, and then, well---
---once you're already looking out for people, and realizing they look up to you, they're all looking at you? You don't just ...stop, or look the other way ...or turn it off.
[at least, she didn't. couldn't. but sometimes - not often - but sometimes - she'd wished to. she'd hated it and stuffed it down so far she'd thought she could escape it until along came stillwater.]
Then I got a surprise vacation from that, because nobody's a leader in prison, just another number. Did I tell you I was locked up for a long time? Anyway, I doubt they made any jokes about me. [would silco have? probably. but in that doublespeak-y way he'd messaged her.] His people, maybe. I was a cautionary tale, or a ghost story.
People make fun of you for that? They must be real dicks.
[Well, Camilla sometimes makes fun of him, but she's allowed. Still, the Sixth are not a bustling nest of vipers, like some of their imperial comrades; they just invented a whole culture around study group behavior, which does come with being a little awkward.
But first,] You didn't mention going to prison.
[Or anyone besides her sister, before this conversation; these two points of interest seem, hm, linked? Yikes. He's quiet for a moment, sympathetically so, before he figures he can just loop back around to the other thing, rather than go for the incredibly piercing question of 'What happened to your people?']
The Sixth allows anyone who meets the prerequisites to sit the exams, the practical trials, all of that; most people don't hit baseline for a few decades, but I'm goal-oriented. That didn't stop any of the 'little Sextus'll try taking the test to become Emperor next' jokes— that's what I meant.
And there isn't a test to become Emperor, for the record.
[But, like, he would whip ass at it, if there were? Details.]
This guy, the one who's got you out of sorts— this is the one who put you in prison?
Okay, now that I get. [they'd all done it to one another - even if it had sometimes been skewed toward her sister getting an unequal and frankly undeserved amount of that teasing, even if it was mostly (at its core) good natured.]
I didn't? Huh. I just put it out there a whole bunch, at least I did when I first arrived, so it's hard to even keep track. Letting people know what they were ..getting into, I guess. Turns out I thought it would matter a whole lot more than it does.
Sansa's mentioned houses before. Gonna guess these aren't exactly the same, so what's a sixth compared to a ...say fifth? There should have been a test.
[a look. no words past that, but a look. because you, palamedes, do not seem like the kind of guy that would piss off the ocean and kill/fuck up a dozen or more people in the process. and then complain about it.]
Put me there? Not ...exactly. Kept me there? Well, his goons kept showing up and trying to beat the shit out of me, so ...who really knows. I gave as good as I got once I got a little older. What I do know? Someone paid off the guards to keep me there. They beat the shit out of me too, by the way. There were no records of my crimes or my arrest. If he did know, he would have let me die in there [the worse crime, here:] while he was raising my little sister. He told her I was dead.
[Not that being thrown in prison to rot and getting the shit kicked out of her wasn't bad, that's certainly bad, but telling someone their family is dead when they are very much not dead is a pretty gross violation of, uh, basic human empathy? Something like that.]
I'm sorry that happened to you, for what it's worth. And— you're right, it's not going to matter to a lot of people here that you were in prison. Jury's out on whether that's a good or bad thing, across the board— our broad desire to call this place a fresh start no matter what, that is. There ought to be a test for that one, too.
[Then maybe fewer people would have lined up to kiss the Emperor's feet for like 6 months, but what does Palamedes know!! Whatever!!]
I'm not saying I disdain empathy for our fellow Sleepers, conceptually. But I don't know. We all have to pick a side eventually.
[Anyway.]
Our Houses were numbered in order; the Fifth was founded before the Sixth. That's it. Not entirely or culturally, of course, but purely in terms of the numbering: it's just numbers. The Sixth is actually 'first' if you line up all of our planets in order, starting at the sun.
[she nods when he asks - yeah, he did do that. and it was too far, keeping her conveniently out of the way - but it's done. she doesn't say 'thanks' outright, but she offers him a small, tight-lipped smile followed by a sigh.]
Tch. Yeah. It's easy to say, but hard to know if someone means it.
[you know, benefit of the doubt and all that. she'd much rather give it, but that's ...hard in some cases. like when you know the asshole in question, and there's a 50/50 they're full of absolute shit. palamedes gets it.]
Oh, well that's easy enough to understand. [the numbering part, anyway. fifth does indeed come before sixth, and that would mean there's a first through third, she guesses. but then he talks about planets lining up in order and she tries to process what he means. it hurts her head a little - but she arrives at:] Is each house a planet?
Right. And— right again, sort of. Physically, yes, the Houses are each on separate solar bodies, but I wouldn't exactly call the Sixth itself 'a planet' in and of itself. Other than technically.
[A shrug.]
We're the only ones squatting on our miserable little rock, [fondly, he means this,] but we're hardly populous enough to cover the whole planet. We have a station in the polar caps, and... that's us. Some of the other Houses are millions strong, though; it depends.
[so ...each house inhabits a planet, so to speak but some of them are crammed full of people like cellar door or willful machine or zaun or even piltover and others were more like ...if all of trench were only inhabited by the handful of people she knows? that's the idea in her head anyway. which ...has ceased hurting for the most part.]
I dunno about millions. Keeping it small means less chance of assholes, right? And if you've got 'em, at least you've got less.
Woah. I feel ...a little better. [still exhausted, still sad, still angry, but with less aching. what transient queasiness she'd been feeling is also gone.]
[sorry pal, it's probably fun to fall asleep and wake up to your bedmate covered in a weird eyeball laden membrane. rio is still around, looking mightily displeased by the whole situation, which includes following pal around and staring with big, sad eyes until given attention.
thankfully it isn't a very long matter. it's later that evening the membrane begins to dry, movement inside as viktor peels back an opening to make a disgusted sound through.]
Ugh. [that's what he has to say about that. rio's tail thumps happily though, and the hand that just peeled away that mess is indeed purple.] Palamedes?
[Oh, it's definitely startling to wake up next to an eyeball pod, although Palamedes figures this is kind of a less-mobile reprise of his own eyeball monster incident, which makes them... even? Somewhat?
Either way: he knows what the eyeball pods are, so while it's nebulously concerning-for-time-reasons to have Viktor trapped in an eyeball pod in their bed!!-- it's not as harrowing as vanishing into the sea might have been. He resolves to have a normal, mature response to this, which is spoiling Rio with attention and going about his day, with a pin put in "check in on spousepod" for later.
So he is shuffling around the house in his old man pajamas and matching old man slippers when, oh, the pod wakes? He shuffles back to the bed and reaches right in there to, uh, help peel. Of course he does.]
Right here; that was fast. [so blessed to not sleep next to an eyepod for like a week--] Let's get you out of there. How do you feel?
Like I am covered in something repulsive- though rather refreshed otherwise. What are they called... spa days? [when enough is peeled he sits with a sigh, eying the mess around the bed in assessment. this dried nonsense was apparently valuable, and nutritious? or so he's heard. he's torn between being curious and being disgusted. he'll probably try some later anyway.
rio makes a little keening sound and comes to help, and by that i mean get in pal's way and try to climb on the bed between them. viktor huffs, easing from the fine tension he's trying not to think to much about at the immediate moment, though it's certainly nipping at their bond. seeing both pal and rio help immeasurably, like a breath of fresh air.]
How long was I out? [he glances pal over- nope, looked like how he left his husband. when he raises his hand to rest it on rio he pauses at the purple, still unused to it himself. keeping it gloved sort of kept it out of sight and out of mind. rio doesn't seem to mind or notice at least.]
This is a terrible spa. I'd ask for a refund, if I were you. [Ha ha, jokes. Palamedes quits peeling the pod to reach for Viktor instead and brush some... goo... out of his hair, you know, lovingly. They have to burn these sheets, there's no recovering from this specific mess.]
Well— [Let him just. Lean around Rio, hi, he can multitask with this.] Ultimately, a handful of hours. I'm surprised, honestly— you know there's always someone making some kind of panicked call for help about these things- [he picks at some dry pod, eugh] -hanging around for days.
[But enough about that, let's talk about what surely is contributing to Viktor's new tension: a purple hand? He is Looking.]
Are we feeling too 'covered in something repulsive' for me to ask about that? I could run a bath first.
I'll be sure to see how much I can annoy the pthumerians with paperwork asking for my time being compensated. Perhaps I'll throw it directly into the ocean, that is fitting.
[his hair freed of further goo is appreciated, and he resists the urge to take pal's hand to do something saccharine like kiss it. no, still too membrane covered for that, along with a few other matters. that and rio is wiggling, demanding his attention as he kicks off more of it.]
This place needs a pamphlet or eh... a program, for newcomers. Perhaps a private network for when people disappear. [that's always a downer to wake up to, sometimes a dramatic one.
but right, information. yes, that. his unease strengthens considerably, though he's bland when he says,] An experiment with shimmer that... ended poorly. Very poorly. On an unrelated note I believe I may have died in a terrorist attack in my world. [his hand touches his chest after a moment, realizing- ok, yes, new lungs still there. thank fuck, he was actually going to go beat up the fucking ocean if that was reversed.] Ah... still there, good.
Write a pamphlet and toss it into the sea for a classic two birds, one stone take.
[Maybe they'd come back in duplicate! A squid printing press, or something like it. In the meantime: wiggling Rio, who is impeding Palamedes' ability to get more goo off, here, please girl. He will reach... around her... It's fine, it's working.
There's a pause when Viktor drops all of his dramatic news at once, much more abruptly startled in the realm of their bond than on his face. He blinks a few times, then:]
Lucky we've already got the house, then. [You know, since they're both technically probably legally dead now? And so left with only the one option, e.g. here? Oop.] I am concerned about how your shimmer accident could have ended worse than a terrorist attack, but let's circle back to that.
[Mostly so he can crane all the way over Rio (and it's her own fault if she's squished) to kiss Viktor on the temple, gooey hair and all. It's nutritious, let him do the gross thing.]
I do like how you think. [vaguely petty and hilarious spite to the ocean is fun. it's a fun distraction from many unpleasant Things, and less unpleasant like rio finally settling down. she does eat some of the membrane, making viktor sigh but resist the urge to tell her off about it. frankly they both ate weirder shit when they were young so who is he fooling.
he shifts and that's weird too, mostly that he can bend his knee far and, for the moment, it seems okay with that instead of trying to end his career. there's a purple foot to match the arm as he shifts fully out of the lingering bits of dry goop, turning to face pal-
and blinking a moment, a burst of fondness overtaking him like it tends to when pal is sweet. it's colored with guilt he can't suppress and, for the moment, doesn't try to. the fun thing about marriage and bonds is learning oh, he has to be open and vulnerable and all that gross stuff. at the moment he's pretty thankful for it, even if the time home is taking a little readjustment to this much healthier mindset then icky, past him.]
If I were capable of missing you I would have. [he reaches up with his normal hand, pulling pal in for a kiss because he kind of needs it. what flavor is membrane goo? apparently not too terrible.] It was only a few days at least. Everything happened very quickly, one disaster after another. I suppose the good news is if I am dead there will be no more need for these hibernations. Rio seems to have handled as gracefully as expected.
[The goo is really doing it for him. No, but he's relieved that this episode with the pod ended as abruptly as it began, and maybe some other anxieties he intends to excise through kissing, for the moment. Mainly that, well, as a fellow technically-dead-maybe person, he worries about the possibility that it will hurt Viktor more than it seems to right now? Is Viktor also going to have a crying on the bathroom floor moment? Hmm; worth keeping track of.
But kissing Viktor mess and all, first, complete with winding an arm around his shoulders to truly spoil his old man pajamas, too, in the process. The things he does for love, and to silently reassure that he's committed to all the vulnerable and gross stuff, too. Especially if it's apparently been a few days, back there...]
Maybe, [he says about if-I-am-dead, because he's a necromancer and he's legally obligated to consider the possibility.] And she followed me around for the entire day, making that face she makes. You know the one. If you'd been away any longer, I'd have bought her an unreasonable amount of toys to make her happy.
[Probably true. Only some of them haunted. Now, hmm; as the hand on Viktor's shoulder is occupied with flicking away goo, he holds out his other hand, palm up, glancing down at the purple hand. C'mon, let him get at that.] Can I?
[the kiss and rio's behavior makes him snort, genuine fond amusement trickling through his chest and into pal's.] I don't trust your record with toys, given the haunted doll situation. How excellent I managed to return before you had Rio chewing on something cursed.
[rio trills softly, sleepy now after her incredibly stressful day of being pampered by pal. viktor's purple hand runs over her back, and when pal asks he doesn't hesitate to lift it for pal to take.
there's absolutely no concern in him that pal would find it unpleasant, the man was a catch who only ever seemed fascinated by whatever made up viktor at the moment. he is concerned about the story behind it, though in a resigned way. the hand itself is an odd mix of seemingly organic material and bits of brass like metal, slivers of light like veins. colder than skin, and some new magic rune looking shit carved into his normal skin farther up.
this is definitely what a scientist does and is not unhinged, so it's fine.] It feels similar, though it does not respond to stimuli in a manner that is easy to put to words. Stronger, certainly, resistant to damage. I haven't had the chance to experiment much on the matter. [he resists mentioning something casually dire like he'll amputate it if it shows signs of spreading, because there's enough bullshit to work through right now.]
She's a big girl, she knows how to chew her way out of trouble.
[Or just not chew cursed things if he says no about 50 times, which might be faster-- but yes, the purple hand. Palamedes gives it a light and affectionate squeeze first, before he peers more closely to investigate. This is the thing Viktor alleges went very wrong, compared to literal terrorism, and so he must wonder most strongly— what exactly was the goal, if a pretty purple hand that defies logic and natural anatomy (academically super neat, for the record) was not... it.
And he's also trying very hard to be sensitive about this great went-wrongness, but if there's an emotion for "gonna put my mouth on that ASAP," he's feeling it, for better or worse. Purple hand responds to stimuli in a new way, huh...
Okay, okay. He's focused. He is eyeing the rune thing, in fact. Viktor...]
You used yourself as material for a magic experiment? [there is no shock here whatsoever] And you received... purple.
I would rather not learn what happens when a haunted object gets eaten. All the possibilities are deeply unpleasant, Palamedes. [some are funny though, in a very gross way.
this is exactly why pal is a catch, despite damn well everything that mouth emotion is met with fondness. if he only had the dead news he'd probably encourage immediate further experimentation.
unfortunately the real news is the sky news, and means he's putting off very professional purple hand and mouth experiments for the time being.] As far as I can gather I tapped into a very dangerous, likely sentient power, made a desperate experiment of using it and shimmer to modify my body and received fascinating results at first. I ran for the first time in my life, it was-
I was careless. I thought the only danger would be to myself, and I was already doomed. I pushed then Sky came in when I thought she would be at home, and when she tried to save me it devoured her whole. There was nothing left but ash and this hand.
[again said fairly calmly, resigned. shockingly the emotions are pretty intense in self loathing and despair. part of him is still and quiet, like waiting for judgment to pass, because he will always trust pal to be upfront when others would flounder.]
Spoilsport. [But okay, okay, he won't fill the house with haunted toys. He promises.
Anyway, here's this... news, and he continues idly picking at some pod pieces while Viktor explains. There's a bittersweetness to the first half, he can't help but think, before the flood of much more profoundly negative emotions takes over. That... is— wack, a sentient power that eats people and also shimmer, and where is that shimmer vial they keep bouncing around throwing back into the sea now—?
Well, first things first. Palamedes presses another kiss against Viktor's temple, quietly thoughtful.]
Careless mistakes happen. I can't absolve you of this one, but I can give you an ear for... all this. [This, gesturing in a little circle at Viktor, broadly - all those feelings that are loud and clear.] And I'm sorry, for what happened to her.
[What is the life lesson here, lock doors? Do magic experiments at home? Hmm.]
Well— you know I don't believe in platitudes, but I do believe in memory. That is, if you wanted to do something for her. I don't honestly know what people do with... non-bones.
[necromancers. anyway, they could buy an urn? to be symbolic?]
[have a pat on the hand- sorry for ruining your haunted house dreams.
the lack of immediate condemnation eases him a touch, though it makes his guilt spike too. he's self aware enough to understand overly drawn out self flagellation will help exactly no one but it's still a difficult instinct to kick.]
I spread her ashes where I used to see her play when we were children. I suppose that is appropriate? In truth I found funerals and remembrance a largely unwieldy affair before- all of this.
[no weird tomb gardens, sadly. after a pause he lets his forehead slump on pal's shoulder, a little awkward with the positioning but calming nonetheless.]
[Sure, killing someone through sheer carelessness - lock your doors, Viktor, babe - is a crime, but Palamedes isn't as worried about that as he is about the persistent guilt and general bad feelings. If this... sentient hungry magic thing had been something Viktor had meant to rope other people into, on the other hand...
But, well! Objectively, he did not! So there's no condemnation from Palamedes here, besides the vague hindsight that maybe he ought to have locked the door more effectively. So- and they need to get Viktor actually out of this pod sometime tonight, but apparently not yet- he shifts to squeeze around Viktor's shoulders and give him an awkwardly-angled kiss on the top of the head. Hey, sulky.]
I don't know how much this will help, but... you know, she could turn up here one day. [remember how they are both definitely-probably dead] At the very least, you could talk it out.
[he's not sure it helps exactly but it is something. it's good? that she'd could get another chance at a life. she deserved, far more than several here if he was being entirely honest with himself. he tries not to think of life in terms of worth and price but the unerringly human part of him always defaults.
(and something something maybe humanity needed to evolve thoughts, which he mostly pushes aside. thank god for good influences.)
a long breath and he looks back to pal, nods.] Maybe that shower is in order. That and cleaning this mess- I'd like to run some tests on the material, I admit. I have a thousand questions and I doubt more than three will be answered.
[ For his nerdy dad, Nico hands the gift over with little ceremony. It's actually a two-parter, as he was amused when looking for presents for Palamedes and had to get both. One is a shirt and the other is a cup, enjoy them. A small card just says: ]
[Know that after this delivery Palamedes had to go sit in a dark room and feel emotions for like half an hour over this (a Sixth coping skill), and now he will wear this shirt and drink out of this mug as often as physically possible. Wow!!!!]
[ (That sounds like a coping skill Nico can handle.) Also, wow! He'll guess that Pal likes the gifts and maybe wonder how long that shirt is going to last with how much it gets worn. Also, cue Nico making sure that mug gets cleaned on the regular, knowing Pal forgets to eat and therefore maybe forgets to clean. ]
[Palamedes might not be so familiar with the bobcat who shows up to deliver his gift. Don't worry, she's Jason's Omen and she's just going to stick around long enough to make sure he opens his gift. Inside he'll find bookends and a very rough sketch of Palamedes and Viktor standing together.
"Hope you like this. You ever need anything, you can call on me.
Carefully wrapped in a large gift basket clearly meant for sharing is a variety of seasonal goodies like small batch preserves, candy, snacks, and even mini bottles of alcoholic drinks. There is also a signed note addressed to Viktor and Palamedes with well wishes for the new year. Midoriya's delivery to their house (or House) also comes with a near-instant snow shoveling via super strength.
[the second pal picks up (or the message he left starts) viktor is in rant mode, because apparently it is that kind of day.]
Nevermind is in quite the mood- [the shuffling of just rudely passing someone with a flat,] excuse me, yes, thank you- you should see the state of things. I went looking for warmblood volumes and what did I find, Palamedes? Recipes for blood pudding. A book about hot blooded male nonsense.
Please, I am made of time. I am no longer terminal and luxuriate in having my time wasted. [this is, maybe, sarcasm]
[Oh, Viktor. Sad to say this is amusing, maybe because Viktor should know better that the Archives sucks?? Nah, it's the rant mode. Swoon...]
What's wrong with our library? [--but maybe it's a little bit of the other thing too. Sanctuary's library is nice!!] Don't offend the fool librarian so much that he traps you there, Viktor.
I've been told, [and oh, the disdain is audible when he shares this tip,] that wandering aimlessly with no plan at all will get you your books fastest. Tell me about the hot-blooded nonsense, that should help.
[when pal is right about the archives he is right. viktor makes a huffy scoffing noise at the idea of being trapped, even if that's very real.]
He's done that already once, why not again? I can learn more about questionable dishes and a fool's idea of the 'male condition.'
[a sigh. thank you for being a good husband, pal, with the useful ideas. he will chat and ignore this nonsense instead for a bit.] For your previous question we don't have much on warmblood, at least not as much as the other types. I wanted to make copies of some books here for the library if I could.
I've met a young man who came to ask about it and is a warmblood himself. Now that I have an actual reliable source of warmblood to study there are some fascinating applications the gems could have, given warmbloods are supposedly more resistant to corruption.
[Pal will come knock over some shelves at the Archives to bust him out of library prison if he truly must. Just kidding, he'll relish it. But only after he liberates the books first, so it will be a slow rescue.
Anyway,] I suppose they wouldn't have written as much literature on warmblood at the paleblood monastery in love with the moon. Fair; I'll browse the odd section of our library and see if any suspicious runes about warmblood turn up.
[The odd section: the corner with mean locked doors and mysterious ancient texts in it. He does not expect this to come to results, but. For the time being: encouraging nerdmode.]
[can't trust an archivist nerd to ignore the books. viktor's lips quirk as he moves down the shelves, already in a much better mood. gay of him.]
I would appreciate it. Though I know how much you enjoy looking for esoteric information in the... what is the term? Haystack, needle. That one.
[nailed it. but more nerding, happily.]
My hope is it can create a field or device run on warmblood gems that can lower corruption, perhaps even pollution. The question then would be is that corruption truly destroyed or filtered elsewhere? For the moment I think it better to pair it with other gems and see if it can be used to lower the blood pollution output of the machines in some way.
At this rate, I'll wind up the needle and you'll have to find me. Ask Nico to help— he can get some extra archival assisting in.
[Always more work to be done in the nerd sector...]
As for corruption: I'm not sure it can be completely dissipated, but I'm also sure that it must be dissipating, or else this world would be much worse off now than it was just months ago, don't you think? No one has posited any theories about us putting anything good back into the world, and I doubt one-on-one intimacy to stave off personal corruption is healing the planet, or anything.
[That's specifically not horny intimacy, but also not not horny intimacy, point being: the power of love and/or friendship is not saving this world but also the world isn't ending, so hmm!]
But baby steps, yes? So: withdraw first. How about preventative applications?
Ah, he's following in his father's footsteps? [amusement. dad pal is never not his favorite tbh.] A good idea though, he is resourceful and far more patient than I am.
[a long time ago, almost a year now, he talked with pal in his lab after being nearly elbowed in the face and was instantly riveted by the back and forth. once and a while he's reminded of that moment when they discuss work, or matters like this.
so just a lot to say he's having a gay feeling, then it's work time.]
I have heard the idea that corruption can never be destroyed, only balanced. That it is a natural force of this world as much as any form of its magic. [which he isn't sold on but won't dismiss.] I agree that it must at the very least lessen. Unless the corruption is spreading and building in places far beyond the city it's an observable fact.
[and ain't that a terrible thought, if that was happening. fingers crossed.
a hum as he considers that though.] Shielding perhaps? A wearable piece that wards corruption that comes from moving through heavily polluted or bloody areas, drawing on the warmblood gem. Blood ministers could certainly use that.
[Ah, stop, he's still not used to it. He huffs, a little amused and a little embarrassed, like he does literally every time the whole House Dad thing comes up. This family...]
He'll appreciate being asked. This is all assuming I get myself ensnared in some mean-looking literature.
[Which. ...He might. And that's just fact, so moving on.]
Balance is a good theory, but that still raises the question of against what? Corruption-versus-nothing-in-particular doesn't quite stack up. I'm not about to be the one suggesting that corruption has an all-parts-equal opposite, like thanergy and thalergy, because of the fluctuations— but then, what's really going on? Hold on, I'm writing this down.
[And there is a sound of papers shuffling and pen scratching, while Viktor talks about the shielding idea. Hm hm hm-]
You can make me another ring. [haha gay] To try it out. After the stones are tested for a more or less predictable saturation point.
[viktor is picturing his expression and pleased. and makes a mental note to message nico later.]
I need to ask him how the bloodtech heater is working anyway. [still a terrible name but here we are.
he does wait a beat for pen grabbing as his eyes skim the titles of passing shelves. still bullshit but maybe one day. he makes a mental game of deciding which of pal's many dumb pens he grabbed.]
What would you consider the arcane force here? Is it thalergy, is it life force, is it simple an unknowable and arcane energy? It could be the counter balance- [a pause] -though that is purely conjecture for the sake of it.
[extremely gay. he's amused as he says,] I suppose making one when sober would be novel. I'll start on making warmblood gems then. We can give your little lackeys rings as well if it goes well. You'll match.
[precious flock of nerd blood ministers, the best side ocs.]
The— Viktor. [a sigh, dearest husband, beloved, come on.] No, you know what? I'm going to be glad you didn't call it HeatTech or HotHex.
[He's still allowed to lowkey judge, while he does a bit more scribbling on his end. Give him a moment, actually, because he's still scribbling while he skips ahead to the business of the gay but also company bonding! rings-]
They're going to know you like them. Do you need blood? We've— actually, given the season, we've plenty of stones as well as liquid blood. Unless your warmblood contact came to you about lockjoint already?
[Where! Are! The rocks! They'll work it out. He hums, his patented thoughtful nerd hum, and taps his pen a bunch of times.]
Looping back: I don't honestly know. Corruption isn't entirely comparable to thanergy, so the idea of a thalergy-adjacent thing keeping it in check is... a stretch, and I don't know enough about other arcane forces. I'd need a better understanding of why corruption exists, the history of it, and so on, before I could guess at what its counterpart could be. Or, to chase a different lead, if there isn't one, then what about corruption itself innately keeps it so in check? It may have run roughshod all over this world, but like I said: it hasn't taken over completely. It's- hmm. Much as I hate the comparison, it's like the tide. But then, we know what controls the tides...
[scribbling. scribbling. muttering. ah-] Have you found your book yet?
[dang, he thought it might be pen like this. close though.]
It does not have 'hex' in it, take that as a victory. [the sad thing is he's not even 100% fucking around to mess with pal, he just names shit this way without thinking.]
They are not, you are going to keep my name out of it. I have a reputation, Palamedes. [they probably sent him a recovery fruit basket or something, the minister gaggle. he really needs to up his game here.] No lockjoint, but he is willing to offer his blood in exchange for mine. I hardly plan on draining him dry but he's given me enough to make two gems for the moment.
[trading blood with teens, life is something huh.]
There is something to consider with the moon. Lunar energy seems to do little against corruption but those moondrops, the concentrated form, seem to be able to eradicate it. [idle shuffling of books here, a soft snort when he sees a title of some saucy romance novel with an equally saucy cover. not as good as his husband's weird romance novel, thanks, back it goes.] Even cure beasthood. The one matter I keep returning to in all this is how malleable the magic system and corruption are. It bends to the victim or user unerringly, no two cases are ever fully alike whether it be corruption or how a darkblood uses their innate abilities. There's practically a symbiosis, at least in the case of blood magic.
[and pulling another out.] Do old fairytales count? [he's actually keeping this one, it might have something interesting hidden in the stories.]
I am, and I won't. They'll write you a thank you note again. [Just like for the scones... will these menaces ever stop sending gifts?? No. Viktor has been perceived.
Anyway,] I'll see how many stones I can gather from the stock at the Lumenarium to add to your- his?- two. If nothing else, we'll see how much freshness matters.
That said: I'm going to eat my pen if it's coming out of the sea literally, and not just like the tide. [He hates! The sea! What the fuck!] But interesting point; is corruption itself somehow... aware? I'm not suggesting we're all possessed, of course. A symbiotic connection would tidily explain why none of us manifest the same symptoms all together like clockwork- [like moon phases but nooo ugggh] -but I've got no idea how to test that.
Maybe there's a fairytale about corruption showing up as its own monster, separate from any one individual.
I hate it when they do that. [he doesn't, but the gag continues. ok, well admittedly he thinks thank you notes are a waste of paper, just thank the person when you see them, but still.]
The month effects matter, as it turns out. We'll need to be a little more careful when irritating ones are happening, like this paranoia business.
[a hum] True, you hardly need another reason to loathe the ocean. [haha.] The young man I mentioned had an interesting idea brought up to him when he bothered Nevermind about it. Using darkblood abilities to draw out and contain corruption or pollution in a gem. It would be a new way of observing both at the very least.
[but like. probably really dangerous. he has learned something from the whole hexcore thing, not that it's enough to stop him.]
How symbolic. I will have to see. [and tugging out another book.] Are you heading home tonight or working late?
Typical; I'll consult the dates on the blood vials we've got and pick something close to ordinary.
[The most normal, baseline trauma levels of the city... Irritating. He'll work it out. Anyway, he's never been more glad that Viktor is not the darkblood between the pair of them, because he too has learned Viktor cannot be unsupervised with magic rocks. Whew.
Although does that mean he has to do it. Hm. Give him a moment to mutter some of this as he scribbles it down, darkblood abilities... contain pollution... got it. He adds a cheeky little 'never mind is a hack' in the margin, for chortling over later. There.]
I wasn't planning on working late until you brought the myriad uses of bloodstones to the forefront, but I can take these notes home. Where do you want me?
[a hum of agreement there, imagine things ever being simple.
the next book has no title, so he decides to take it. why not? a fun surprise even. there is one that looks actually helpful he plucks up, three is better than the rousing zero of before.]
I want you where I can at least drop by. I was planning on bringing you dinner one way or another. ['dinner' meaning something simple on a stick. portable, small portion, no heavy flavors. you're welcome.] Home then?
More work? [badum tsh... dinner is work. Just kidding, he knows this means portable plain stick content, if only because Viktor has not been cooking to excess today. Jokes.
He will start gathering up not only these notes but his other various recent projects, probably some Greek homework from Nico, to take home as well. The anticipation of leaving notebooks all over the house... delightful.]
But yes, I daresay we can both drop by our own home for once. [more jokes.] I'll see you there.
You can do work while working on eating it, if that entices you. [fond. probably shouldn't be but viktor's the same so he's happy to encourage working through picking at dinner.
books are tucked under his arm.] I forgot we owned one of those. Be safe.
[and a burst of gross affection through the bond before he's shutting off his omni.]
[ So, things are getting busier (or going to be) at the Sanctuary, thanks to ideas. The nerds are in nerd mode, and while they would possibly love (love-hate, that is) pouring over every text book they can get their hands on for every morsel of information, it can also be distracting on top of everything else they're doing. Do you know how you can look in one book for one thing, and come out with fifty unrelated ideas? Disgusting.
Know who isn't going to get distracted? A guy with minimal knowledge on anything. Fortunately, Robby knows how to scour books for information; he's more used to doing so on the internet, but books aren't so much different, and he's fine with note-taking for relevant-seeming passages. There's a lot of theories, after all, so many theories--that even if Robby is happy to look through books without talking much, he does have to ask: ]
So...do people know exactly what pollution and corruption is these days? Some of these books, uh...
[ There's a lot. He's definitely just Read A Passage on how it is a disease of sentient minds, that's getting close into how a more religious/balanced lifestyle would lead to less of it and total eradication. ]
Isn't it just the blood magic turning into a kind of toxin?
[Palamedes has been a certified Nerd and a literal librarian for almost his entire life, and unfortunately, neither of these have inspired him to keep an orderly workspace. Which is to say: in this lengthy process of gathering books and taking notes, he has simply begun to spread; there are books on every inch of his current table not otherwise occupied by pages and pages of honestly awful handwriting. Books stacked behind him on his chair, leaving himself a few inches to perch on. Books. Paper.
He'd say he has a system, but it would take even more books and paper to explain it, so it's best to assume he has just sort of nerd-exploded and let it be. He has a pencil stuck behind his ear and another in his hand, presently scribbling who knows what, which he finishes with a flourish before he looks up to address this Question.]
Maybe. But one of the best known methods of handling it is keeping up with your interpersonal relationships, isn't that right? A purely physical toxin can't be kept in check by hugs and kisses, which leads us to the question: if it begins as a toxic buildup in our systems, where the hell does it go afterwards?
[This is his new favorite thing to bang his head on the walls about: Where Does Corruption Go To Exactly? The world has not yet collapsed, ergo, it must be dissipating in some meaningful way.]
What's in your book? Is it one of the ones wildly obsessed with extolling the virtues of the local pantheon?
Keeping the pantheons happy will help everyone be happy. [ His brows lift up, a not-quite smile on his face at the answered given (a yes), clearly. Robby doesn't think this one book is going to lead to much, so he's happy to stick a bookmark in it for the pages not yet scoured, move onto another one.
Even if with the switching over between books, he's still thinking about what Palamedes just said. ]
Okay, so not a toxin, but--pollution comes along 'caue we bleed, and we bleed magic. And if we're stressed, we can get corrupted, but hugs and kisses don't do that, right? [ Okay, a small brief smile. ] So it's ours mood that stresses the blood, or magic...and doesn't everyone know warmblood works well again corruption, even though it barely has any magic?
[ That's got to mean something, right? So not an outright toxin, but something that becomes unhealthy to the system if it's stressed. He's sure there's even medical examples of that in the real world. Doesn't the body fail all the time? Killing itself in result of stress.
..granted, Robby doesn't know why warmblood's low magical properties would help towards corruption (is blood itself despite magic really so useful here??), but that's Trench for you. ]
Divinity is made up and doesn't matter. "Be nice to our local bullies or face the consequences," more like. No offense, if your personal relationship to your patron happens to be spectacular.
[But divinity is still made up and doesn't matter. There's no such thing as gods, only harder hitters and different species of them. In his humble opinion.
Anyway.]
It could still be a toxin. We're dealing with magic, and the ebbs and flows of corruption in this place as a whole; best to leave everything as a maybe for now, rather than cross it off entirely.
That still does beg the question of where does it go, because, frankly— we as a group have done nothing groundbreaking to stop any of this.
[A slightly wry gesture around at their pile of nerd stuff, like, until now! Until now, he knows of no particularly grand or lasting efforts to do something about pollution, and he's been here over a year.]
I have this sinking feeling that most of us are out here doing our best, mostly. Vis-a-vis warmblood and its properties, and et cetera. Let's loop back around: emotional stress causes physical stress on the body, this is basic. Ergo, our emotional issues having an impact on our magic blood makes perfect sense. We could create the toxin ourselves— assuming a toxin is still on the table.
[Maybe he should write this down. He reaches for another, different piece of paper to scribble on.]
Let's narrow it down: do you want to talk causes or solutions first?
[ Robby's expression doesn't swing any particular way to the criticism of the pthumerians; he cocks his head to the side as a means of a shrug to the mention of offence, no relationship to speak of. And while the man seems to be speaking broadly, ...that does make Robby wonder about his own relationship.
Well, he might ask later. For now he listens on the subject of possibilities, and at the question, only takes a small pause to reply: ]
Causes lead into solutions.
[ Well. Attempts. But he wants to listen, so! Time to zip it. ]
Well— yes, undoubtedly true. However, there are solutions and there are... Long-term goals. Let's use that instead.
[For myriad reasons he is one of the people who's made peace with, in all likelihood, having to live here in this place indefinitely, so. There's daily life, and there's Indefinitely.]
We can if-then ourselves to death in here over infinite maybes. Ordinarily, I might. But Viktor operates in the tangible, so shall we start with picking at causes, or work backwards from an ultimate goal?
Or, think of it like this: do you want to save this world, or simply live comfortably in it? The parameters are different, you know?
Don't go with anything small. [ It's said with a beat, a huff that's a little taken about as Robby has to compare those two. The latter might be small, in truth, but framed either way doesn't sound right. So, giving it more thought: ]
I guess... understanding how it works and finding a way to maintain it makes sense to me? If we're the problem, you can't get rid of people bleeding and making more--it's always gonna exist.
[ A pause. ] So less saving the world, more helping out so we're not walking in a pollution fog everywhere?
We can work with that. Questions about the ultimate fate of this world get a pin put in them, for later. Maybe the weekend, or something.
[Next Nerd Time, perhaps. After a beat:] Don't get me wrong: I'm all for saving this world. But I suspect that's going to involve direct discussion with our local patrons, and diplomacy is a wildly different conversation.
[So! Quality of life improvements first; that's likely the easier one, anyway.]
[ Man, is this what it's like to be talking to a real nerd? Robby better get used to this... he feels like this is going to be A Lot.
Especially when the guy asks him about tidal patterns, and Robby confusingly answers: ] Uh--I know the moon influences the tides of the sea... [ A beat. ] Where I'm from.
That's what I've heard! I'm from Mercury, [not that they call it that, but he's tickled about knowing the cooler name,] so, obviously— no seas. My experience is limited to our dreadful sea here. Which brings me to...
[Another set of notes somewhere around here, which he shuffles his stuff around for before he can actually find it. Nerds.]
Corruption as a tidal function, more or less. Regrettably, we come from the sea, and the Moon Presence and her related stones and such are components in myriad corruption-reduction processes. This, combined with the fact that grander levels of corruption in this place never seem to stray too far from a baseline, begs the question: what keeps the nature of the town in check? Or: does corruption quite literally come with us out of the sea, and Moon Presence manages its overflow, like actual tides?
[He pauses, expectantly. What is the word on creepy sea corruption tides, Robby. What do you think.]
[ This is a good time to wish he stayed in school... but also, Mercury? Let him remember which exact planet that is in the back of his head (not Earth, he knows). ]
Is it at a baseline? Isn't some parts of the cities worse than others? The Moon having something to do with corruption sounds possible if we have stones from it, but-- wait, [ wait wait, ] there's something other than Lunar Orbs?
[ He's figuring on the spot he doesn't know which stones the man means, and almost thought he meant bloodstones to begin with. But now he's a furrowed brow, thinking--huh? ]
I should think so. About a baseline, that is; the city has peaks and valleys but nothing permanent, you know? Nothing profound. Our patrons can impact our surroundings, but even that seems to be... manageable.
[Some kind of status quo, he thinks. It's a guess, but...
Well, it seems as possible as anything. He shrugs.]
As for Moon Presence: the whole Sanctuary is seemingly protected by her and her influence; there have been times the wilder incidents in the city couldn't reach us, thanks to that. We're looked after, I suppose. As for stones and such, absolutely: we found rituals to create anti-corruption tools, similarly under the moon's influence.
[...this is probably a thing he should have been more active in advertising outside Sanctuary, but. There were other pressing matters. Oops.]
Ah— well. There's minimal blood to be added in the making, but.
[He makes a face, because of course there are drawbacks to this kind of apparent miracle tool, and luckily he's memorized every piece of text he's ever read, so he can easily recite:]
'But the weapons began to crack at the edges and where they had once glowed with the white light of the Moon Drops, they dulled. The tips turned black and it seemed that for all the corruption it cured, the more corrupted the weapon itself became'— we found it back when we were documenting this place, earmarked as from a book of fables. Now, given how much around here really does operate on word of mouth mysticism, there's no real verification process for the story...
[He shrugs again. So maybe this guy in an old story turned into a beast. Like, that happens. Moderation is key.]
Personally, I think it makes sense. Doesn't it? If corruption is indeed comparable to a toxin, then to draw it out of one source and hold it in another follows logically. And if used safely and with considerable oversight, these things could remove corruption from a person at the cost of a— a pretty moon knife, or something, it's an option.
[ Dang dude, listen to this guy. At least it's informational? So it sucks in the corruption... ]
...I always thought corruption disappeared. [ Admittedly. But he's tugging his mouth aside. ] Corruption's the symptom of pollution, right? So it's a reaction. That's what I thought. People put around incense and everything to keep it down, but...
[ A small shrug, and admittedly: ] I haven't been studying. Just kinda made sense some of it goes, if it's the moon or us doing it.
[ But now Robby isn't sure, and he feels like he's touching more on a subject that he doesn't understand, asks: ] So what do you think Moon Presence does with it? If they're not uh, destroying it?
[He says this with absolutely complete conviction, like he's thought long and hard about this before. Because he has, and he figures, what reason is there to go against the idea of Moon Presence converting corruption into an energy source? The whole ebb and flow of corruption in this place points to something cyclical anyway, he thinks.
But okay, holding up a hand,] Or something like that. Processing it, cleansing it, it's not like any of us have asked. A creature like Moon Presence may very well interact completely differently than we do with the "substance" of corruption, after all.
However, you raise a good point: where does it go? I've tossed around the idea that it has its own antithesis, like matter and antimatter. We measure corruption and pollution by its effects on us, yeah? We don't look at corruption in jars and vials. So there may very well be another "substance" we can't see that manifests from things like the incense, or even the hugs and kisses. Admittedly, I'm biased: this two-energies system is how things operate at home.
[ He makes something of a face at digesting it, but it's one of those, 'well--alright then, why not' types. Like, they are in Trench. ]
Have one substance, stick another in it, come out with something new? [ It wasn't that unusual. But sticking corruption in jars or vials... that does make him think. ]
Has anyone actually looked at corruption or pollution on a molecule level? Whatever that is here. If it's just blood or something else-- do we have the tech for that?
[ How do you identify gas molecules, for example? Or could you look at the blood of someone corrupted and see it that way, under a microscope? ]
[And, hmm, that's a good question... He remembers hearing here and there from a few people about trying to study blood, but most of them have since left the city long before this new project got started. Shame, honestly.]
Viktor has microscopes, [he says, with the slight shrug of someone who is not that kind of researcher. He's a death wizard, he has so much less experience with technology that isn't kinda-sorta made out of flesh and bone, but not gross like it sounds.] That is a Viktor question, most assuredly.
[Allow him to flip to a new page of notes, write down "VIKTOR QUESTIONS," and then "microscope???" Tada.]
I'm well-situated at the Lumenarium enough to get us some corrupted blood samples. Viktor would absolutely have our hides for getting corrupted on purpose, even for donations.
[Said so fondly, nothing gets him more saccharine than Viktor being a mother hen, swoon.]
[ Well, there's a thought! And Viktor is the microscope person, got it, but that dreamy remark does have Robby wondering if he would get corrupted in the name of research? ...maybe. If it was (somewhat) safe. ]
...live samples might be better. [ After all. But it's followed by a shrug, adding: ] I'd do it. I mean, if we need it. We can get rid of it anyway. [ So it doesn't seem that big of a risk. ]
Viktor doesn't seem like he'd go crazy with it. [ Unless he is secretly a mad scientist type... Robby only knows them via media. ] But I guess our focus is on the corruption on the outside. Or pollution.
No, but he'd disapprove of too much research-related recklessness. It's a miracle he's letting anyone donate blood without strict supervision.
[Palamedes, a guy who regularly will slice his hands open to do necromagic, the kind of bloodletting Viktor complains about: "Wow, why doesn't anyone like it when I do that??"
But no matter. They probably shouldn't corrupt themselves intentionally, a thing Palamedes believes only because he absolutely would, which means a normal person would not, therefore -- they shouldn't.]
Regardless, the Lumenarium has plenty of visitors suffering from corruption, without us having to make any more. So does the Sanctuary— we've got options.
But I would getting into the idea there. [ A joke, a small lift of his lips, and maybe you can make jokes about a monstrous condition that changes peoples and often leads to death. Once in a while, as a treat. ]
But okay. So if corruption or pollution's something Moon Presence can digest, destroy--but Never Mind thinks we can destroy it too with our powers. [ A beat. ] Darkblood powers, kind of...warp it into non-existence. If it's that easy, someone would have done it by now--but does lunar energy have any effect on corruption?
Maybe next time, if you're responsible with round one.
[As the self-proclaimed ethics and safety committee of Viktor's research efforts, he's allowed to declare this. Maybe it's a joke, maybe it's not, who knows!!]
Lunar energy: yes, I'm fairly certain. The relics I mentioned only move it around, as discussed, but the purest form of energy may very well dissolve it entirely. Warping it with darkblood powers raises the same concern as the relics, I'd think: where is it going, ultimately? We don't want to find a pit of corruption somewhere later on that we created ourselves.
dang brain, where did you get 'would' from 'was'??
Maybe darkblood would destroy it? Not dissolve it, but--just stop it from existing. We can try that with corruption, couldn't we? Even if it does sound weird that the relics are better with dealing with corruption, but all it does is suck it up.
[ Like, huh. That's weird. He can get why Palamedes is cautious about 'where does corruption go' when something so useful doesn't just...get rid of it. ]
We can try— I'm just not wholly convinced that's how the alleged 'out of existence' part works. Even with these darkblood abilities. It's— I might liken it to entropy: a constant amount, never decreasing. We'd only have to look as far as our own surroundings to see that kind of thing, the way the city fluctuates but never wholly collapses or becomes entirely well.
[He pushes his glasses up to pinch the bridge of his nose, waving his other hand like, never mind, now he's going off on another tangent. Entropy! Listen to him!]
We can try. Let's start with an object and not a person, just in case.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[Without... grapes. So. Is he delighted, yes, but also surprised. The line of heart emojis that follows makes his delight very palpable, ❤️viktor is here❤️]
I've been elbow-deep in viscera all morning, can you give me one more hour? After this I'm all yours.
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I went asking around in hopes of finding another avenue for handling my lungs, given recent setbacks. [haha not. a little bitter still about that.] I actually met a man from your world, with black eyes. Teacher, he called himself?
Admittedly I found that an odd name to go with but I did not want to be culturally insensitive.
And no rush. I will take my time in selecting our meal. [he hates the blood mist but for pal? he'll wait.]
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Viktor, that's the Emperor.
[And he figures he can guess, with certainty, three things now:
1. God, Actually, knows who Viktor is in relation to himself, because Viktor is so earnestly curious when it comes to necromancy, which is very sweet of him almost all of the time,
2. For Real, God Though, surely slimed his way through a conversation about his abilities instead of saying anything not out of the corner of his mouth, and,
3. He, Palamedes, is exhausted. He taps another message:]
Did he say anything insane to you?
['are you okay,' but biased]
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Ah, I was wondering if he was that or the saint you mentioned. I suppose Teacher is a little less intense than introducing himself by that title.
[since he does not realize the God thing he's mostly thinking yes, this is probably a bit weird for pal. 'insane' is curious though.]
Not particularly? We mostly spoke of research and my illness. He did something to my lungs that seem to have helped a great deal but I refuse to get any hopes up until at least this evening.
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Anyway. He comes up with:]
You're really feeling better? That's good. Don't get carried away with too many foods on sticks, wait for me.
[Ha ha. Then, hm; he grinds his teeth a little, annoyed that this is how he has to do this, that he has to do this because somebody likes to play pretend too much, and:]
Do you remember when I told you about god [he writes it lowercase on purpose, of course] trying to win me over with his bland apologies about the First? He is that guy. I wasn't clear enough; that's my mistake. You should know as much as you can if you're going to deal with him.
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deep breath.]
He is the one who did not tell you what to expect of lyctorhood in the first place?
I am. There's still some weakness but so far I would say he managed to clear up most of the issues my lungs faced. From what I understand he expects it to return regardless, and offered to heal them again when that time came.
[he considers offering an apology, or some sort of promise, but in truth he doesn't know exactly what is happening here. it's clear his ignorance on certain matters are causing problems, at least.]
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[That Guy (tm). He rereads the second part of Viktor's message once, twice, three times, torn; on the one hand, fuck that. On the other, impermanent relief is better than nothing, for Viktor, and Viktor's health takes precedence over Palamedes' personal grudges, but—
He's never accused God, Actually of altruism for altruism's sake, and he isn't going to start now. Maybe he won't cash in on a favor; maybe he just plucks illnesses out of lungs to pass the time.
(But then, what about Cytherea? pipes up a voice at the back of his thoughts, and he puts it aside. That's not about Viktor; this is.)]
You know my stance on, well, him. But as long as he doesn't do anything to hurt you, fleece him for all he's worth, if it helps.
[The implication, of course, is obvious. He considers; that particular conversation about god and lyctors was, hm, aggressive on his part, and that's coming through again now? So:]
For clarity's sake: I'm always in your corner.
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lyctor pal would have done anything to kill god. in truth viktor realizes now he never really learned how his pal, this pal, thought of god beyond brief moments of bitterness. he wonders if he hasn't been as attentive as he should be, as curious as he should be.]
If you asked me to I would avoid him, I hope you know. We can try to find a better way.
[he knows himself well enough to know this is probably the best thing for them to do. he is curious to a fault, dangerously so, incapable of ever truly leaving well enough alone and prone to taking risks. that... is not an ideal combination, in this case, if pal's tone is an indication.]
Because I am in your corner as well.
[fun fact, he considers saying something about love before deciding to leave it. if he's being honest with himself it's simply true, but wow! still frightening, even now. easier to pretend they're going slow and steady and pal isn't a part of his life he probably couldn't bear to lose.]
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So he takes a moment to be a little upset about blueberries and miracles in a quiet corner someplace in the Lumenarium, and then he lets Viktor's affection melt his heart properly, without complications. Viktor deserves better than the half-solutions and dozens of wrong turns this place has to offer, and here's Palamedes, grumbling about - about far less important things.]
I know. But I don't want to overstep.
[Viktor's health, Viktor's agency, etc. Palamedes trusts him to make informed decisions almost all of the time (because that is their mutual flaw, apparently, not discerning enough).]
In any case, we need to find a way that's more lasting. Ideally, permanent. I'd prefer you not be reliant on him or anything else that can change its mind in a matter of moments.
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which can't be even remotely easy either, as it turns out. he's so tired of decaying. he's far more tired of subjecting pal to witnessing it.]
You won't. You understand your world and it's people better than I ever could. I trust your judgment, Palamedes.
[at the very least he can offer a pointless smile to the screen, one pal can't see of course but grateful nonetheless to him. sweet man, watching his step when so few others ever even thought to bother.]
I agree. He made a good point when we spoke, about dream logic ruling over our forms here and how what we deeply believe or know about our bodies making up said body's reality. If that is true the mental realm may be what we need to focus on.
[haha. getting a little too close to uh, emotional lobotomy territory again. whoops. yes, he is thinking a little along the lines of what if i did something to make my brain believe my lungs were fine, but at least he has the good grace to consider other options first!]
There's still making lungs for transplant. Maybe the process would be sufficiently startling enough while still being less... reckless.
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He supposes he can be polite in public, though, in exchange for this treatment. Make eye contact the next time he visits God's study (which he does not think will be for some time, but still).
He sighs at his omni, hanging his head over it for a moment with his eyes shut, still tired, but feeling less erratic than a minute ago. Alright.]
My judgment is always be on your guard.
This isn't a dream, but of course, the 'imposing our will' theory. I've discussed it with a few people. I'm not sure it works as simply as wanting something badly enough, [or Viktor would surely be healed already?] but assuming it's true, there's already proof it isn't entirely immutable. We keep the scars we get here, which hardly have anything to do with my personal picture of myself, at least.
[He's thinking of the scars down low around the joints of his ankles, where Paul had helped him cut out bloodstones ages ago, before he'd died at sea and which still show precisely where they were the first time, an entire body ago. Perhaps there's merit in Viktor's hypothesis about the mental realm in a different sense; that day had required an amount of mutual trust that, in Palamedes' opinion, cemented his and Paul's friendship.
Maybe. Maybe.]
Please don't aim to shock yourself into better health, I'm liable to pass out and then you'll have to roll me under a table someplace. I've been honing my surgical skills, though. For you. ❤️
[And for the locals who need it, but he sees an opportunity to flirt about medical practice and he takes it.]
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[funnily enough being on his guard for palamedes' sake is easier than being careful otherwise. getting himself into some trouble is one thing but pal? that is an unacceptable outcome. the very last thing he wants is to let some mistake end in pal suffering for it.
so yes, he can be on his guard. gladly.]
My hope is that if this is even remotely in the mental realm that a transplant will cover both the physical aspect and the 'experience,' so to speak. Surely living through such a surgery will cement some permanence in the mind, as scars from this place are also an experience our mind may translate into reality regardless of the malleable nature of our forms.
[so. not a dream but an understanding, perhaps. pal's next statement has him smiling again despite himself, letting the fond feeling carry away some of his unease, the vague sense of guilt for bringing this to pal's doorstep. infact.]
I very much hope you are not still elbow deep in viscera when sending this. It makes the emote usage a touch unnerving.
And I do apologize for all of this. It was never my intention to bring trouble to your door.
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[Because Palamedes has never done a lung transplant, and also, Viktor is undoubtedly going to do something strange and technological that will require him to very possibly be awake, during? Something to look forward to...]
I'll have you know, I left the work floor to talk to you in peace. There aren't any hearts in sight.
[Note that this is not, as it happens, saying he washed all the gore off his hands and arms. That's just a consequence of working in this place, although he does get neat gloves? It's something.
There's still viscera stuck to the corner of his omni. Elsewhere, where Viktor doesn't have to see it, he picks at it with his gloved fingernail, to try and get it off. It gives him something to focus on while he thinks of how to reply to that last part of the message, since - well. Of course, Viktor has done nothing wrong, that goes without saying. But there's no denying that learning about these events has, hm, troubled his early afternoon lunch hour? Hmm.]
Don't apologize; you're my priority. [Hmm!] Pick up real quick?
[Ring ring he is now Calling.......]
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You are brilliant and a quick learner, I have very little doubt you will be a master of the craft quickly enough.
[so frank about that. just pure, genuine yeah, pal can do this. it's pal, his mind inspires viktor frequently and no one is better suited for this, in viktor's humble opinion. aside from all the conflict of interest stuff, but that's for someone else to worry about. viktor isn't.
he's considering how to answer about how that doesn't tell viktor whether he still has viscera hands when the rest of the message comes in, and viktor huffs a fond breath before picking up.]
Something you wished to say that a long series of emotes could not? [he asks, a touch softly. still a little guilty, still a lot fond, vaguely concerned about this new mess they've tripped into.]
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It's going fine. He's doing a lot of practical study, here with the ministers, so there's that. At least darkblood is universally useful in transfusions? Eh? See, his donation habit bears fruit.
As his omni rings, waiting for Viktor, he makes a cursory check of the corridor he's tucked himself into an alcove of, just to be sure no one is lurking around eavesdropping or within earshot in general. Not that he's embarrassed to be calling Viktor in the middle of the day to be saccharine, but - well, the day of the grapes... The other ministers rib him about the day of the grapes, still.
So, privacy. He hums as he puts the omni up to his ear like a real phone, leaning back into his little hideaway.]
Yes. Hi. I love you. I wanted to say it out loud.
[And yet it's still over the dang phone, so rest assured, he will say it plenty later, at lunch and at home. He says it low, despite being thoroughly alone in this corridor, because it's for Viktor. If his omni had a cord attached he would be twirling it, alas.]
So: we'll figure all of this out.
[A beat.]
And I'm sorry, I didn't wash off the viscera before I called. [love him]
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he might have if he knew what pal was going to say, a turning off speaker sort of situation, but instead he is. hm. he is a lot of things. flushing deeply, is one of them. chest tight in a heady mix of fear and elation, is another.
it's not a big deal, he tells himself. it's really not even a surprise, logically, it's ridiculous to be this effected by it. (except for those sad, ridiculous sort of thoughts like ah, has anyone ever told him they loved him? he certainly doesn't remember the last time, if there was one. so. maybe a little meaningful. maybe a little profound, like pal tends to be with his easy affection, his tenderness.)
ah.
he can be normal about this, he tells himself. he can also run a hand down his face and muffle a laugh at how he was this close to typing it over to pal a moment ago before he talked himself out of it with perfect logic that seems so pointless now.]
You- [of course he didn't wash the viscera. he is covered in someone else's blood and telling viktor he loves him, because that is pal and viktor adores him for it despite all the sense in his head.] That is disturbing, Palamedes.
[said too softly to really make much of an impact. a soft breath and he manages,] I love you too. I- truly I frighten myself with it, sometimes. You are a person very easy to love.
[god. the sap is going to kill him sooner than the evil necromancer god or the shitty lungs.] And I am sorry, truly. We'll be careful and work this out.
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He, too, can be normal about this. Normal about Viktor saying it frightens him, which squeezes something in his chest that makes him want to reach out and pull him close; maybe he should have waited until he was in front of him, after all. Hindsight.]
I told you, don't apologize. There's nothing I have to forgive you for.
[He means that, of course, he doesn't lie. Anything that might ring disapproving is only overreacting, which, mmm, he can work on that. In the end, Viktor hasn't done anything that merits him apologizing so much, but Palamedes loves him enough to remind him every time.
He thinks about being 'very easy to love,' a thing that drips a steady warmth through him even more than it might normally, because he knows what kind of life Viktor has lived; he doesn't think 'easy' and 'love' have ever been so close to each other for him before. A shame; Palamedes thinks about Viktor, his intellect and his humor and the fire that burns in him for the unlucky and the downtrodden, and he wonders why everyone else is not in love with him as well.]
Let me go wash up. I'll leave early— I want to see you. More than I want to measure intestines. Where are you now?
[Did he get the stick food. He'll have a free hand to hold, stick food rules.]
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he stands himself, drags over his crutch and begins moving, on the look out for a place he probably saw on the way that he is pretty sure sells some sort of stick food to feed the hungry passing ministers.] I'm close, I'll pick up the lunch I promised and meet you there? I wouldn't want to miss the faces your colleagues will make seeing me again.
[he's chosen to find the whole thing hilarious instead of deeply embarrassing.
(and, if he's being honest, he doesn't hate the ah. making it very clear pal is spoken for. the idea of pal ever straying or betraying him is absolutely laughable but viktor is a zaunite at heart, deeply territorial of the good things in his life. pal happens to be the best thing in his life, so perhaps it isn't so terrible his coworkers now are aware of that previously stated spoken for factor.)]
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Now who's scaring the wildlife? They're easily startled, for people who are undoubtedly covered in blood as we speak.
[Or: be nice, but don't not come around to pick him up and spook the ministers.]
I'll see you soon.
[He'll even go wash up, as promised, and shuck off his minister robes and leave them to be washed by someone else on wash duty who is not him, thank god. Luckily the ministers' provided duds are blood-proof, and so it's mostly picking off the omni that he has to spend his time on while he loiters in the foyer of the Lumenarium waiting for Viktor. The handful of ministers milling about doing other tasks are also waiting for Viktor, but with the occasional wary glance at the main entrance doors. Palamedes pretends not to notice.]
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he almost says something about love again but decides just to save it, purchasing their lunch and heading for the lumenarium. he's been remaining steadfastly ambivalent to his lungs, too burnt from their time with the berries to revel in the clear feeling and the new strength, but he can't help but notice how much easier the walk is. how much nice. maybe things like he can kiss pal senseless again without keeping an eye on his own limits.
ah. if only these moments were ever not so god damned complicated, emphasis on the god damned in this case.
viktor smiles when he sees pal, ignoring his poor coworkers to approach and yes, can anyone blame him for a deep kiss in greeting? not with i love you still on his lips. he doesn't really have a free hand between the crutch and bag to cup his jaw or grasp his arm, sadly, but after a moment he pulls only a little back.]
Hello. [this has been a whiplash of the day. for the moment he can focus on it being hard not to smile though.] You look suitably unbloodied, thank you.
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This is a place of business. A place of healing. They are sullying it with their distracting kissing, to be sure. Oh well.]
I'd hate to ruin lunch with errant corruption, [he says, like being covered in blood and who knows what else is just a normal thing and not the problem. That's how it is.]
Where are we going? Are you enjoying the many sights and smells of Lumenwood enough to stay here for lunch, or are we heading for the lamp?
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I think the blood mist is, in fact, not an enjoyable backdrop to eating any food. Let us go to the lamp. I wouldn't mind eating at the docks, though we could head elsewhere. [pal has maybe a few more issues with the sea than viktor, who still finds it a comfort more than anything.
he leans in for another kiss, passing the bag of stick food to pal so he can free that hand for holding pal's.] Now, let us see... ah yes, should I tease you for informing me of your feelings over a sudden phone call or because you were covered in blood? [the softness in his glance sort of makes both seem more like endearments, so. hm.]
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He does give them a little wave, before accepting food in one hand and Viktor's hand in the other, and turning them back towards the main entrance. Very fortuitous that the Lumenarium has its own lamp, although, hm - nearly every time he goes near the docks or the sea something horrible happens.
He'll try not to be superstitious. With a one-shoulder shrug, he says,] The docks are fine; you're cute when you get to look at the boats.
[And for fun, he actually thinks about which think Viktor should tease him over. They're both valid options, so good job to himself, but:]
The blood, I think, although you've known I'm a necromancer since we met and so should not be surprised I'd come into some borrowed blood on occasion. ["borrowed"] Do your worst; I love you despite your barbs.
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Eh, if it helps turn your opinion on the docks at least then I will take it. [this defamation of his character, quite foul.]
I think I might choose the wildcard and pick on you for calling it 'borrowed.' [viktor decides as they approach the lamp, slowing a little to glance at him. kind of wants to kiss him again, this is all an excellent distraction from necromantic gods or whether the healing won't cause another, irritating time loop. he would really rather not have this day marred by another of those.]
... you know I've been thinking of admitting that to you for a time, that I love you. I foolishly convinced myself it would be eh... overbearing. [a sort of snort like yeah, he's kind of an idiot sometimes if left to his own devices.]
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Now, 'borrowed' is fine, but this other thing— Palamedes doesn't point out that talking about their feelings isn't picking on him for borrowed blood at all, actually. But.]
Overbearing? You? Never. [Unless he has a handful of grapes in his pocket, ahem... Palamedes gives him a sideways look, eyebrows raised while that implication sinks in, then he laughs.] I thought we'd established that I like it when you're direct. You didn't have to worry about it.
[Well, he's a little relieved it wasn't fruit that pushed them into saying it; not that that would have spoiled the sentiment, not really. Still.]
Am I going to sound arrogant if I say I totally knew all along? You have a tell.
[he doesn't. it's just being sappy.]
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his lips quirk at that though, at 'direct.'] You are right, as you often are. I was likely trying to rationalize and irrational.
[because the being open and vulnerable thing is a work in progress he usually thinks he's doing quite well at, all things considered. reaching the lamp and he stops though, giving pal quite the look for that claim.]
I do not. What tell? [the nerve, truly. almost like being incredibly gay and all the incredibly romantic things they do are a tell.]
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When did you want to tell me? I must have been doing something impressive.
[You know, as if his phone call wasn't just in the middle of a serious conversation. It's fine, tell him the gossip about himself, he loves to hear it.]
And you do. You make this face, [he wiggles his fingers, A Face that is Made, this isn't purposely vague.] It's a dead giveaway.
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The last time was when I was telling you I had your back. [he answers that, smile small as he glances over. he tugs him to the lamp then poof, close to the docks. thanks lantern friend, you funky little monsters.] I often think it at small things, really. When you bend your glasses like a madman, for example. When you're concentrating on a book.
[gay. it's like he's in love. the not face gets a face of his own, the other thread mentioned it. the pal is saying/doing something ridiculous face.] That is not a face I make.
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That said,]
You're making the face right now. [is he. is that the face. or are there many faces, actually, because Palamedes is also in love, and that's just how these things go.] Come on, teach me something about the sea that isn't horrifying.
[It's up to Viktor to mediate Pal vs. Sea... Well, away they go to lunch, content, all things considered.]
voice; un: an.exorcist
Allen sounds hurried, too. Worried. ]
What do you know about ghosts and trying to put them back to rest? Angry ones, that is.
[ He knows you know a lot!! If the archivist's spirit that's now another amicable presence in Sanctuary means anything. ]
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Also what the hell is all that noise, but first the important bits:]
Enough to manage. What do you need?
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Miss Chizuru is experiencing violent ghosts that are trying to attack her... And she isn't the only person I don't think, others have said they have felt like they're being haunted suddenly too. [ More muffled sounds. ]
I'm going to her, [ was he still on crutches last you saw him? yeah ] but I don't know if this is something my ability can work on. I've never tried it against souls that weren't corrupted by something else...
[ He pauses. ]
I'm worried it might not be enough.
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[Does he even need to voice his disapproval? Not of the helping, but of the reckless self-endangerment that is going to fight ghosts while already in recovery. No more than that question already implies, but he's not saying no, so.
There's that.]
Most everything here is corrupted by something; don't discount your abilities just yet. These ghosts- [there's a pause while he considers, hm, his own little visitor, whom he is dealing with deftly for sure,] I doubt they're more than a manifestation of this place, you know? Not the actual spirits of the people they represent.
[Which is all to say,] If you need me, I'll come.
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I'll be fine. [ Ehe... ]
I think you're right. It wouldn't make sense for people who haven't died here to be haunting others. Not all at once like this, either... something else is causing it. The timing is too strange otherwise. [ Sobering, but also somehow a bit more relieving than the alternative. ]
...Thank you. [ He lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding; that wasn't even something he'd asked for. ] My Innocence lets me put souls to rest, normally... for creatures like beasts. So I'm hopeful. I'll let you know.
[ But he does hesitate, curious. ]
How would you do it?
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And that's what I was thinking; mine— [ugh, he has to pause and full body cringe at even the concept of claiming this ghost as His] hasn't attacked me. I don't know what triggers that; I'm working under the assumption that it's our unresolved feelings about the people we see that brings them up as ghosts in the first place.
A vengeful spirit haunting something - in our case, someone - is what we call a revenant, and they can be banished by destroying the thing they're haunting, obviously not a solution here, or by resolving their unfinished business. You know, that old chestnut. The kind of revenant that wouldn't stick to the widely-known parameters is, [uhhhhhh] not going to turn up. I should think.
If none of that works, how else do you solve things around here? Blood.
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Palamedes? You're haunted by one too?! [ Nnnnnnn... this is his worried tone. Of course he respects the other man to know how to deal with it better than Allen can, but that doesn't mean he can't still fret a little. ]
Please be careful. [ There's a small huff. You'll let him know if you need help too, right? ]
A revenant... [ He repeats it like it's an unfamiliar phrase he's committing to memory -- spoilers, it is. ] All of that makes sense, it isn't so different from thinking about souls that can become corrupted and tied back to the world.
And of course blood would be a solution. [ Can you detect the wrinkling of his nose in his tone? 'Cause it's there, his distaste. ] Does it matter what sort of blood? If that doesn't work. [ Wracking his brain here. Were there any with abilities that helped with spirits...? ]
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[See? Handling it deftly! He'd wave a hand dismissively - of this ghost, mind - if this were video, so just imagine it.]
I'd hesitate to call a revenant corrupted— angry, though. Definitely mad about things.
In any case, I don't know. Our blood, probably. Trial and error, like everything else; do you know Chizuru's blood type?
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A mad ghost. That's delightful. [ It's not sarcastic, but... more wearied and accepting. ]
Umm... she's in the bake-off, isn't she? [ He saw her responding to Luna. ] I'm guessing that means she's a paleblood too.
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Got it.
[...do any of the blood types help with spirits...?]
I can't say with authority which blood type would be the most helpful, so let's proceed assuming 'any of them' is good enough. If, again, blood is the answer. Depending on the severity of her situation, reasoning with her visitors might still be on the table.
action;
it's been a very nice night. a reminder that he needs to finish things up in sanctuary so he doesn't miss these as often.
after the makeouts he settles back into tapping away on his omni, learning about otakus mostly. still not sure what an anime is.] I wonder if Paul regrets this yet.
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Heckle Paul with incorrectly-used meme formats. It's a hobby.]
Maybe. He's learning about consequences, that's for sure.
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I am still sending him a gift for his good work. From our House.
[his lips quirk a little, both at the teasing of it and. well. our house.]
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Your gift that only encourages him, of course.
[Hmm! He leans a bit more into Viktor, bumping his shoulder.]
Did you mean that? About being part of the House.
[And does he still mean it right now, or is it a playful little bit. Ahem.]
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He should be rewarded for a skillful maneuver. [said with a smirk that shifts to more of a smile when asked that. oh no, another feeling.]
I did. I know it is perhaps... pointless, or sentimental, but I would enjoy being considered part of your House. [less so with all the uh. empire stuff surrounding the sixth but it's easy for him to see the sixth simply as pal's home, and important to him. so important to viktor.
he glances to rio, a touch embarrassed as he usually gets about this sort of thing.]
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Skillful! It was a disaster. [his shame is eternal!!]
And— you are. It's just... [He too looks down at Rio while he thinks about how to phrase this, so congratulations Rio on all the extra attention.] Well, you know; every time more things from the Nine Houses show up here, I like the Nine Houses a little bit less.
[He shrugs, because it could very easily be no more than a little affectionate something, and here he goes making it into a Thing.]
It might be something as small as a House title, but I don't want to subject you to the Empire any more than I already have, even by association. Does that make sense?
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but pal is talking, and there's a lot about what he's saying that warms viktor. specifically the slow crawl of realizing how fucked the empire is. maybe not slow, he has a feeling pal realizes just fine, but accepting your entire system you were raised with is fucked? is a lot.]
It does. In truth I do not think you should have to be 'God's Reason.' I do not think you should be anything of his at all. [a touch heated there, at the end, before he reaches over to steal pal's free hand, letting his own omni thump on the couch.] Though I am well aware the Sixth is more than what he wanted of it.
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[Ha ha. That much is easy, in the exact way that this other thing isn't, for patently silly reasons - or at least, reasons Palamedes automatically has slotted into "silly," and might now be reconfiguring all that. The Sixth was home for a long time, and it's familiar, but - not for the first time, he wonders if nostalgia is enough to paper over the rest. The grim parts.
He squeezes Viktor's hand, grateful for the sentiment. Distancing himself from all that has been fairly simple to do just by keeping busy here, but it's novel to hear someone else say out loud that, huh! He doesn't have to follow the role written for the Sixth!]
Thank you. I'm not sure... well, thank you. [It feels messy, still; he'll work on something neater, a clean break. Until then: thanks.] Whether or not I belong in the Empire any longer, I know I belong with you. We could make our own House.
[haha, unless......?]
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but this is some important stuff, reevaluation stuff, blessedly being done without the trench forcing it down anyone's throats. another kiss, this time to the inside of pal's wrist as he lifts his hand up, humming against the skin and saying,] You're welcome. [simple as that.
but please, talk about slamming him in the chest with 'I belong with you.' viktor has to rest his head against pal's head a moment, ears pink with a helpless chuckle. gods.]
We could. I've never even had a family name before, let alone something like that. [he answers, finally glancing to him, a crooked smile.] And I would like to, if it is with you.
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Ah, but he's glad, though, a gentle warmth that blooms in his chest and on his skin where Viktor's lips connect, something soft and secure that he leans into eagerly. This other idea here, one he's circled back to and slipped away from again for months now - reframing the Empire, like he should have done even sooner - is too heavy and tangled up in itself to work out in an evening, but-
Viktor, and belonging with him, and his adorable blush and his precious smile - those things are much more palatable, alongside being so much easier to handle. Palamedes stops petting Rio (for like, a few seconds, do not give him the eyes) to cup Viktor's cheek and tilt him into a kiss, languid and fond. Hmm.]
Good; my turn to give you something you've missed. I'm glad it gets to be me. [it's like he's in love or something, dang] What do we call it?
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rio makes a grumpy huff but allows it, and viktor smiles into the kiss. when it ends he keeps pal close for just a moment, forehead resting against his, eyes closed.
eventually he pulls back, chest tight in a pleasant way. if he's being honest with himself, and maybe he is more and more recently, even as they joked about it in the chat he felt it was true. none of the old nerves of rejection, just a vague and simple understanding that pal would welcome him without question to even a joking house of group chats. a slowly different world from worrying about 'i love yous,' building up piece by piece.]
I love you. [he offers, settling back to immediately ruin it by being a shithead.] You know hex has a six in meaning. Like hexagon.
[he is kidding i swear he does not want to call them hex house, he just can't help himself.]
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And,] You're worse than updog. Quit putting 'hex' in front of everything.
[Much as it does amuse him to have it specifically used for 'six' in this context, he must remain stalwart against all "just put 'hex' on it" naming styles. Guy literally named Sextus because there's a six word in it objects to just putting 'hex' on something to make it six, news at 11...
Still, isn't that kind of funny, that 'hex' wouldn't be inappropriate to name something for both of them after— no, he mustn't. He wiggles his hand free of Viktor's to run it through Viktor's hair instead, with at least one affectionate tug for hex house. Very scolding.]
I love you too, so I'll desperately beg you for a second suggestion.
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[he loves this man. the lure of six is too strong.
he closes his eyes for a moment, just smirking all the more at the tug, smug. fine, a real name.] Usually houses in my world are just the family name. So it would be Sextus, in this case.
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[Still a place of honor? Probably. Now then, the family name - the phrase itself makes his lips quirk up, a touch bemused; 'family names' are themselves not a Sixth tradition, he is not the only Sextus to ever be named as such in the House but his parents certainly didn't carry the same name, either. And so it's... a new feeling that bubbles up to think about sharing the name with Viktor, a warmth almost tentative for how novel it is.
Sextus House. Well, ignoring the obvious 'Sex House' bit, it's nice! He turns to kiss Viktor's temple, lingering there to consider it an extra moment before he leans back. For a split second he wonders if they should be doing something like this with more ceremony, and then he says instead:]
I like it. Do you?
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there is a moment now viktor needs to consider a few things. this is no longer a joke, though the vague guise of it got him this far, and he is... not unaffected. this is not exactly accepting pal's last name (which is an entire other matter. does his world have the same traditions of marriage as piltover? is this not similar regardless of that, a bond of house and family?) but it is close enough. being part of a house is close enough, the years of dealing with inconveniences because he refused to make a last name and theoretical house just to appease piltover.
pal kisses his temple and he closes his eyes. if he's honest it's just a simple understanding of he wants this. ignoring all the baggage he feels like he is gaining something rather than giving up a piece of his old identity. in a way it's freeing, not piltover and not zaun, just... their terms. them.]
I like it too. [he lifts himself enough to look down at pal, a small but quite sincere smile.] Palamedes, this is... I am unsure what it means in your world to do such a thing but in most it is a very serious matter. Just so you are aware of that.
And I do like it very much, as a serious matter. [he manages without wavering.]
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I know, [he says, and reaching up to run his fingers along Viktor's jaw, adds,] You're sweet, though, to tell me anyway.
[That's nice; more than enough people still treat his life on the Sixth as a node of entertainment, oh-are-you-an-astronaut-woooow!, that it still sticks out when Sixth traditions or lack thereof are just - acknowledged. So, Viktor is sweet, on top of all the other ways this particular moment is drowning in the saccharine.
He doesn't really need to think about it, he finds; like every other proclamation before it, this is for the two of them. It feels right, to come together like this, to lean into this serious matter. To put a flag in the ground and declare it something untouched by Empire, yes, but more than that— more importantly than that, to put into words that being with Viktor feels like coming home. It is.
So, worry not, he's very aware of the serious matter.]
It's like I said: I'm glad it gets to be me. If a House is really the people you choose, I'll wake up every day and keep choosing you. We can skip the trappings, the ornamental skull, et cetera— we've got the name and each other, and that's all I need. [A beat.] If you wanted an ornamental skull, on the other hand...
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but pal is aware this is serious, and that puts the entire conversation in further context. it's odd not to feel nervous, he's so used to such intimate matters coming with a twinge of fear but something about this, the idle air, rio's trills, the old worn couch and a stupid group chat pinging away in the background- it's home. it's already here, just putting it to words, acknowledging it.
so when pal says that viktor leans in to kiss him, slowly and softly, long enough he almost forgets the words by the time he pulls back.] We'll just use Jr's, in a pinch.
[his hand goes to pal's jaw, thumb running over his cheek.] 'I'll wake up every day and keep choosing you,' you are going to ruin me one of these days. Saying such things so plainly. [a pause and his lips quirk again.] Viktor of Sextus House. Or Viktor Sextus- it has a decent sound to it, I think.
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I'd say 'truth over solace,' but they're not always mutually exclusive. [Only in this circumstance, without the 'lies' part tacked onto the end, because, well. True: he loves Viktor and he will wake up every day and think, yes, this is still where he wants to be. And solace: that they are here; that they've managed to find each other in this otherwise grim set of circumstances, and found in each other the foundations of a home.
So: truth and solace, just this once. Hearth and home in the slant of Viktor's smile and the warmth of his hands, and the- ah, the very fascinating new concept of Viktor Sextus, mm. Mmm, and like that, Palamedes understands why so many cultures adopt names like this. He lifts up into another kiss, swift and affirming; yes, that's excellent, that's fantastic. More like that.]
What do you think sounds better, 'Sextus House' or 'House Sextus'? [This is an actual question, for sure, but he's immediately interrupting with another kiss, more lingering than the last.] I'd love to get your opinion on these crucial matters, Viktor Sextus.
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Hm- [the kiss interrupts his answer, making him laugh into it before returning it with a content hum at the end. rio's gone to sleep at their feet, bored of the gay it seems, and this is everything viktor's wanted without ever knowing it. a place to belong without the hoops held over his head to jump through, challenge and comfort.] House Sextus. Less likely to immediately be turned to Sex House as we know it will, sooner or later.
[he gives a helpless chuckle at 'viktor sextus,' ducking his head before raising it again to press another kiss to pal, though this time an adoring one to his forehead.] Ah, Palamedes. You have no idea how happy you make me, I think. [and wow, he doesn't even tease himself for being saccharine, which frankly is a huge step for him. imagine, being sweet without prefacing it with some level of protective irony. incredible.]
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Less likely, but not immune. Promise me you won't call me 'Sex Pal,' no matter how many times Gideon hints that it would be very funny. [has she already, also. He lives in low grade dread that he'll be called Sex Pal again at any time, especially in front of literal children who'll never let it go.
Anyway, House Sextus it is. With Rio asleep, Palamedes is free at last to snake both arms around Viktor's waist, locking his fingers together over his hip and melting wholesale into the forehead kiss. Viktor Sextus...!]
I could make an educated guess, given how happy you make me.
[Maybe there's a formula, ha ha. No. Like, maybe? But no, they don't need to play in that space. Palamedes is far too content to stay wrapped up and adoring like this, without doing a bit.]
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[and he's still getting a stupid little thrill out of that. absolutely, alarmingly saccharine. disgustingly so. he runs his fingers over pal's jaw like he's memorizing it, quiet between them as he says,] You'll have to let go if you still want me to make your mug cake. Celebratory, as it turns out.
[hm... he huddles closer.] But maybe not yet.
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Anyway, what's a mug cake, forget about those. Who needs mug cake.]
It will still be there later. I'm told all you have to do is stir and cook; stay here with me a while longer.
[On this couch, in this bunker, in this town. Ahem. All of the above.]
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he shifts his legs over pal's lap, happy to tangle them together, mug cakes or not. he tries not to have an absolutely ridiculous thought about it being like a wedding cake and nearly laughs at himself for being so... like this. happy, he guesses. maybe they should do a formula, bit or not.]
We should take tomorrow off, stay in. [he offers after a beat. shocking, not working for a whole day? who is this guy.] It's been a while, and it's been a busy month. It is good for our corruption levels to take breaks.
[uh huh.]
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Mm, but this is a pleasant upswing to a mood that was already good, so - no one would blame either of them for getting cozy instead of learning the art of the mug cake. Who knew that all it took to make Viktor relax enough to take off work for a day was housing development. Ha.
Palamedes laughs, anyway - oh, is taking breaks what they'll be doing, fascinating - and makes an exaggerated face like he really has to think about it.]
I don't know; we might fall behind schedule. I'm kidding, obviously, I'd love to take the day off just for our sake. Frankly, we're owed this.
[Remina, personally, owes them this. He wiggles his fingers where they rest under Viktor's shirt, leaning in to press a kiss wherever he happens to land, and then another, and lo: another one after that. What's a mug cake, he's never heard of it...]
Viktor, you... [Hm, what hasn't he said a handful of times just today already, that properly conveys his feelings? For a moment he simply looks at him like this, admiration and adoration spilling over into an unadulterated contentedness, so, ah- there's that, to cover his bases.] Well, you know how I feel. You're amazing, for starters, and I'll save the rest for tomorrow.
["i will pepper in the fact that i am madly in love" - palamedes sextus, romantic genius]
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viktor scoffs, so fond when he kisses the exaggerated face pal makes.] We are. Besides, Remina put us ahead of schedule if you remember. Far too ahead of schedule.
[dry. that loop is less problematic than others but still annoying.
ah couch married life though, if their day off is just this he would be incredibly content. he presses into pal's hand, mug cake easily forgotten for now, sorry mug cake. good thing for the sticky note reminder later.
he'd rather soak up the affection, less and less like a starving man these days, more and more secure in some level of understanding that this is not a passing dream. he'd rather offer it back in turn, softer around the edges than before, deeply content in everything pal is and offers him. painfully, ridiculously happy, as he said before. just one quiet moment untouched by what ifs and harsh realities.]
And what will we do in the meantime, I wonder. [he says fondly, and answers that with a languid kiss. he'd be happy to lose the evening to just this, grasping one of pal's hands to intertwine their fingers, the other free to tilt his head, rest over his heart, skirt under his old man pajamas.]
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I'm not thanking her; god no. If she wanted us to take a day off, she could have asked.
[Could she have still asked via oozing blood and menacing stare? Likely. Palamedes wouldn't have thought much of such a choice, but it is what it is. Regardless, he's more than willing to put her out of mind for the time being, to respond to Viktor in kind. This is the evening they've been owed, not even a joke; after everything, they should have more evenings like this, where the biggest concerns are legs falling asleep from how haphazardly they arrange themselves in a quest to get ever closer. There will be more evenings like this, he decides, and presses the determination that wells up in him into another kiss; so many more evenings like this until they're commonplace, without ghosts or illness or dread.
It's a good goal. It has its own list at the back of his mind, and it's the only thing on there. Still, in the here and now, after he's done horrible, irreversible stretches to Viktor's t-shirt and his old man pajamas are sufficiently rucked up and rumpled, does he pull back a moment to speak, pleasantly flushed and not quite out of breath. Ah-]
I've tried to think of a clever opening for this and come up empty, so you'll just have to bear with me: I have a request. [pause for effect just kidding he does not pause in the slightest, ahem,] Get up from here, skip the mugs and take a shower with me.
text;
[it's a full beat before the rest comes]
I have been thinking
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Oh? You usually are. What about?
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Palamedes it was so many nights. I counted it was at least twelve nights Palamedes
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Well, circumstances being what they were-- but I missed you, too. What do you recommend?
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Not doing it again.
Teleportation like the hexgates. I'll design it for you
[then again, a full beat of fumbling later]
I missed you too, too
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There are already lamps, Viktor. Unless you want me to teleport directly to your side at any time? I won't say no.
When are you coming home tonight? I'll stay up.
[he would have stayed up anyway, but it's the Saying It...]
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[poor lantern friends. he's too drunk to consider the lamp could be. outside. viktor.]
Is it late? Soon then, I miss you. I have something to do first
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[so don't drunk punch jr. when you get there, ok. thanks.]
Aren't you with friends? Viktor, did you abandon them at the bar? Make sure you tell them you're leaving. I'll see you when you get home.
[....and, okay,] ❤❤❤❤❤❤
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[sorry carver just. i mean he right. still field is a good point, but he is leaving now to get some things done so he needs to hastily offer his answer.]
💀🫀
[he thinks this is hilarious, by the way.
anyway way too late at night he'll end up coming home, less drunk but still tipsy enough that when he comes in it's with a warm, easy smile and a hand behind his back.]
Palamedes. [he calls, accent thicker than usual.]
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In the intervening time, he sets about making sure he has water and some, hm, crackers sitting out and waiting for when Viktor gets back? Are crackers good for drunk people? He's only had about 6 drinks total in his whole life and he's not sure what will help someone not throw up, but he knows water will help.
So: he's still up when Viktor comes in, standing up from the couch and glancing over at the water and crackers that he's set out on the table, but decides he wants to cross to Viktor and kiss him on the forehead instead, first.]
Hi. I found crackers for you.
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this is nice. this is exactly why he needed to delay coming home for a bit and maybe almost burn his fingers off a few times.]
You are very good. You need to give me your hand though, eh... the left, I think. [he puts his cane to the side to rest against the wall, holding his hand out expectantly.]
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Alright, [Here is his left hand placed in Viktor's, now what. It's palm-up, because he doesn't suspect a thing, smart guy that he is. It's late, give him time to catch up.]
What is it?
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he slides the ring up pal's ring finger, glad to see he was right in assuming they had basically the same ring size. it's not actual silver but the color isn't far off, distinctly mechanical with the bit in the middle that spins with a satisfying and soft click click click. he is not a jeweler so it's really not much at all, in his opinion, more functional than beautiful.
he likes it very much though, regarding it on pal's hand, holding it in both of his.] There. For you.
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Oh, and in the way family names aren't much of a tradition back home, wedding rings are one that have stood the test of time, and so after a split second he gets it, looking down at his newly be-ringed hand held in Viktor's, and the realization of it makes his heart pound double time. After the evening of Viktor Sextus, a ring isn't at all subtle; any part of him that might wonder if this isn't the proper way to do things - Viktor is, after all, a little drunk - is shouted down by the parts of him more and more enamored with this little ring by the second.
He cups Viktor's face with his right hand, lifting the left to squint at the ring, and he says,] You made this?
[In, like, an evening? While tipsy? And even remembering to make it Sixth silver? This man.]
It's perfect. Come here, [for kisses, good gracious, before he explodes.]
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[because maybe it's one of those things pal missed, or maybe it's something he already knows and just deserves, but even in the undercity people wore bands proudly offered by loving spouses and- hm. going a touch red still at spouse but it's true. even if he isn't sure pal even likes jewelry at all or finds it frivolous.
he'll happily kiss pal though, that same sweet juice with the sharp edge in flavor, pulling back to impart-] It spins. I thought you'd like that.
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And! It spins! Wow! He'd love to spend the rest of this evening alternating between kissing his- ah- his Viktor, while he waits for the vocabulary to settle, and also spinning his new ring around, but first:]
I do like it. And I love you. Come and drink some water, I don't want you to suffer through the whole morning.
[Tug tug, come to this table, there are Plain Snacks.]
Where's yours?
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Eh. [fine, water, he'll follow, a small smile on his face before he pauses to consider.]
Oh... yes, I should make one for myself. [kind of forgot that. he takes a seat at the table, elbow to the surface and chin in his palm.] I kept thinking it was something I owed you, I suppose the fact it's a matching set slipped my mind.
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You owed me a ring?
[Soft, while he reaches over to skim his fingers over the back of Viktor's neck and up into his hair. He's going to insist about the water and snacks if he really must, but besides that nagging, he's happy; he can look down at his other hand on the table and see that ring and know, yes, this is what he wants. It wasn't any less of a promise when they made themselves a House— a family— but a pair of rings is certainly, hm, more overt.
Still. It feels like a natural progression more than a surprise; he'll get used to the new feeling of wearing a ring around.]
I can't help you make one at all, but I could push a button on a machine at least once, to contribute.
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So rings. Also- [he turns to regard pal, lips quirked fondly] I thought- 'does Palamedes like jewelry?' What would he think of it? Would he find it irritating to wear? I thought yes, if he had a ring it would have to be simple and practical, so... spinning. It is practical. This is what I was thinking.
I was looking forward to it, to seeing what you'd like. I always like to learn more about you. [chatty...
he leans back into the touch a little, a soft snort.] You can pick out the metal. Then it's yours.
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I will; show me a selection, so I don't pick something ridiculous to make a ring out of. I really don't know anything about metal.
[tin can ring. no.]
Anyway, I do like that it spins. I like that it's silver, and that you made it for me. I like what it stands for, especially. I'll like wearing it, as soon as I get used to it.
[So there, a good old itemized list for the new ring.]
You haven't been that tentative lately; I'm getting to you. [ha ha]
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then again a good part of the reason he wanted to make the ring is not trusting the trench at all. gods know how many cursed rings are probably out there, waiting to give someone a hard time.]
I suppose I have not. [he turns to face him, placing the glass down.] It still happens, more than I would like. You are very brave, yes? You show how much you care. It worries me, and inspires. [and pal gets a kiss again, the alcohol taste mostly washed away now.]
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I could take up swearing more often if it helps you worry less. [Jokes... Mm, but he leans into the kiss, soft and tender and unhurried. He does gently nudge the rest of the water back into Viktor's hand, but. Never mind that right this second.
When he pulls back it's only far enough to lean their foreheads together, smiling. Look at this guy. Mmph.]
Every time I introduce you to someone, or I meet one of your friends, they think you're witty and brilliant- true, of course I wouldn't introduce you to complete fools- and never tentative about being kind. You don't give yourself enough credit.
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but fine, he takes the water and allows another sip, only because pal wants him to. it's sweet, that he cares, as though viktor handling the probably well deserved irritation of a morning headache for this isn't acceptable. he's having feelings again, ones that have him take the time to finish the entire glass! wow! before taking pal's face in both his hands and kissing him soundly.
it goes on for a while, enough he nearly forgets to answer pal being sweet again.] Oh I am quite witty and brilliant, I know. [dry] But I am not brave the way you are. You make me want to be, though. I think that is... important. That you make me wish to be better than I am, not because I need to be or should be, because you make it easier to be.
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Like, yeah, he's amazing and intelligent and funny, obviously, but the timing. True comedic genius.] More than anyone else I know.
[Ah, but then he softens, and presses his next kiss to Viktor's cheek, lingering there a moment. Hmm.]
If I offer to help with whatever you need, are you going to tell me I do it too much? [he does. he knows.] I am. For the record. Anything for you; I'll be here.
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No. You have gotten a bit better at that too. Besides, we are partners. We help each other. [another kiss, then down the line of his jaw. maybe pal still needs reminders but hey, work in progress.] And you already are, waiting up for me with water and crackers. You are... impossibly sweet, Palamedes.
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Only a bit? [damn... he's slacking.] And yet, you're rewarding me for only a little progress, anyway... Finish your crackers and I'll even tuck you into bed.
[not horny. just soft.]
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so pal's got his work cut out for him as he ponders how helpful he wants to be, and murmurs into pal's neck,] The fact we missed each other so often last month is proof you are still taking on a great deal. I suppose it is a sin of mine as well.
[and a soft laugh against his skin.] I am weak to you. And surely the crackers can wait? [vile temptress.]
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Listen... listen. Crackers.]
I couldn't just quit the Sanctuary, or the children's team, [he murmurs, enjoying the affection and persistently not caving to it, huff.] I could work fewer hours at the Lumenarium? But...
[It's literally a hospital, oops maybe he does have 500 obligations. He'll blame not seeing Viktor so much on the ghosts and the days spent wandering around in tunnels for too many hours, and not his myriad jobs. Ahem. Now then: snacks.]
Viktor, [terrible; he laughs. so scolding.] You're going to sulk until lunchtime if you don't eat the crackers now.
[......a metaphorical lightbulb dings on above his head, and,] I'll remove one piece of clothing for every cracker you eat.
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[but then pal offers that, and the laughter viktor has to bite back makes his shoulders shake. he pulls back just enough to kiss him again, with endless fondness, eyes bright with it as the kiss breaks.]
You are ridiculous and I adore you. Fine. [a cracker gets picked up, meaning he has to sit back which is a shame but this is too fucking funny and sweet and ridiculous. strip crackers. incredible. and this is how pal wins and gets him to eat the damn cracker already.]
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Stalwart, Palamedes. Strip crackers, a game for real adults who aren't being ridiculous at one in the morning in their own home. He raises an eyebrow, waiting patiently for Viktor to eat one (1) cracker. A shame he's already in his old man pjs, or he could really milk all his usual layers for a whole stack of crackers, but he's still going to be a little shit and kick off one slipper, first. It counts.]
Keep going; you've got work to do.
July 6th, text
Palamedes,
What do you know about the logistics of making a deal with a God in this world?
No reason.
-LEMII
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Nothing.
Was this urgent?
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Anna Amarande said she was going to make a deal and return in a week. I was already behind her by several hours, and now it's probably too late.
Kainé isn't answering the door, so she may be implicated in whatever Anna's reasons are.
Keep an eye out, she may have done something extremely foolish.
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Start at the beach and follow whatever violence is left, I suppose.
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Palamedes.
Tell me plainly:
What
Happened
At
The
Beach
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Anyway, I don't know, I left. She called me a coward for that, so with respect, you can both piss off.
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I'm trying to find out what happened to a friend and you're the first hook I've gotten.
If it helps, I'll see what I can uncover at the beach and keep you in the loop.
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Do whatever you want.
7/12
[anna's apology tour continues. she sends this privately while recovering from what is effectively everything. her chest still hurts. there's a crackling sensation when she breathes in too hard, so she's trying to keep that in check. hard to tell if she should go to a doctor about it, but she'll figure it out later.]
I'm sorry I called you a coward.
I wish I'd been smart enough to run away. Maybe it would've saved a lot of people a lot of trouble.
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If this seems harsh, then so be it. I'm all out of soppy sentiment, and I hate pity parties.
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Working on it.
Just wanted to let you know I'm back and I don't think you had anything to do with this.
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[she doesn't know what she expected. she did threaten to kill everyone. that he gave her this much should be a mercy.]
I'll be back when my shit's more together and when I've figured out how to make up for what I've said and done.
Check with Ortus if you want to know more about the history of the Dominicus system in the meantime, I guess.
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Do you really think I'm interested, at this current moment in time, in more history lessons? Did I not make it clear enough to you before that I have no interest in 'blowing it all wide open' simply because you're obsessed with the Emperor? You're consistent, which isn't a compliment.
And if you aren't still miring in it right now, then frankly, I'm still not impressed. Blowing me off as if I'm in the wrong here because your actions have consequences is childish.
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I'm done giving a shit about blowing it wide open.
He already killed me once, and right now I have some bigger fucking problems than that.
I'm telling you this because I THOUGHT you were actually interested in learning shit, not because I think it's gonna detonate John's whole fucking empire.
I don't care about burning it down anymore, but I already know you don't want to know why, because it's all about my own pity party bullshit.
[she coughs on her end, and it feels like she won't stop for a while. a body that's still trying to reform isn't ready to get this heated yet. but here she is doing it anyway.]
I don't want to kill him. I don't want to kill any of you. It's not going to fucking solve anything.
I'm sorry that I don't know how to fix this, Palamedes. I've never done anything this fucking stupid before.
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The problem is putting this in terms of 'solve' and 'fix'. It doesn't work like that.
What are your big problems?
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Kainé left me.
[well, that fucking hurts worse than the bronchitis. good job, asshole. she tries typing more; it takes considerably longer. she doesn't know why palamedes is getting the full history, but it's the first time she's explained it to anyone. maybe it's because he's the first one to ask.]
The first time she and I talked about John together, I made a promise to her that I wouldn't do anything to disrupt the peace we had. And I kept it for as long as I could, but then I saw Gus drop her on the beach and it was like nothing else mattered but getting vengeance. And when I came back to life, there was a note on my door in her handwriting saying that she was a dumbass for trusting me. She took all her stuff and left. She even tore up the flowers she'd been growing.
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A retraction is a retraction is a pin stuck in it, for another time. 'Solve' and 'fix' lean too close to 'redemption,' and redemption is a story; redemption isn't real.
That's for later. That's a mess. Heartbreak, he can handle. He knows that one.]
I'm sorry to hear that. Heartbreak is heartbreak, regardless.
But you don't need me to tell you to give her time. She might not come back; you'll have to deal with that as it happens. Either way, the way you feel now won't be you forever.
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[that comes out first, and it comes out easiest, but it's far from an automatic reply. it's good, she thinks, that someone she views as maybe one of the smartest people in trench is telling her that the course she's already taking is the one that he'd take, too. or maybe it's just basic consideration, but right now she wants to take the path that makes her feel better about herself.]
She's one of the only people I haven't reached out to yet. I have to talk to the other people I just left notes for first before I even think of coming back into her life.
Like I said, the only thing I could think about was vengeance. I should have talked to people first instead of just going ahead with my bullshit. I have a lot of people who deserve better than what I gave them.
Some of them are going to understand, but I don't think most of them will.
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[He hasn't decided which direction he'll take in the end, but he has, as it happens, more patience than most people.]
Still. Don't push. And if she asks you why you did what you did, don't lie to her, but don't romanticize it either.
That's the best I can offer. Ultimately, you can make your case once, and then it's out of your hands.
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Lying is only going to make it worse.
I say it once, and then I give her space and time to process it. Same as everyone else.
[not romanticizing will be slightly harder, but this is her girlf... ex-girlfriend, probably, that she's talking about. and this is also the girl who was reciting poetry in her head as she attacked a god. but she'll try.]
On the subject of giving people space,
Do you think it's safe for me to go back into the group chat?
Or should I stay out of it for a while longer.
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[No one wants to hear that they're the reason behind a tragedy, no matter how many pretty words it has around it. Precisely like that, and no further. Please.]
As for the other thing, I don't know. There's no guarantee everyone else is rushing back there.
[He, personally, has managed three whole words in there, and one of them was his name.]
By my understanding, if you retain access, you retain welcome? But it's your call.
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[she's looked at it one time, to see the days-old report of those missing and dead and deliver it to falco. she's not eager to look back in.]
With everyone else, I at least know that I want to apologize for the things I've said and done and threatened to do.
I really don't like saying it, but I'm still on the fence with the esteemed host of that chat.
Maybe I'm the one who needs some time.
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[Just Paul, which could mean anything from 'he tried to apologize' to 'as well you should be' and everything around and in between, and honestly? Probably does. Palamedes is somewhere in the vicinity of a fence when it comes to Paul, himself; the amount of times he extended an inkling of understanding, of patience and trust that Paul could make the right decisions, only for...
Well, for. Perhaps he and Paul had different definitions of 'not getting other people involved' when they discussed it so many weeks ago.
For a lengthy moment it's as if he's just going to say Paul and nothing else, until the next bit finally comes:]
He made his choices the same as the rest of us. Accepting what the rest of us decide to do isn't a consequence only reserved for you.
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[there must be more that he's done. ha, as though commanding a boat full of people to bear witness to a murder while playing the prodigal son to a world-destroying terror isn't enough. but she does, naturally, assume that there's more to what's taking palamedes so long to respond. when he does, she types first idly, like she's pausing for a laugh, then a little more seriously.]
Let's hope he handles it with a little more grace.
I'm glad I'm not the only one who doesn't know what to do with him yet.
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[But. He isn't a gossip, and it serves nothing except his own scrubbed-raw emotions to indulge in talking about Paul like this. There remains as well his tangle of emotions about Anna and her own actions, so.
Well.
So, much wearier than he might have otherwise snapped ten minutes ago, as much as text can convey exhaustion:]
Go get your house in order, Anna.
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I'll do my best.
Thanks for the advice, Palamedes. I appreciate it.
text! (07/15)
i’m not going to club today
maybe not tomorrow either
i don’t know if you want a break but you can if you want
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Everything okay?
[This text contains not a single ! or emoji, he's suspicious.]
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he measures his words, carefully. ]
lazarus is gone
sort of
he’s in the tub
just trying to get it together
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I'm sorry. I hope he comes back soon, for both your sakes. Do you need me to bring anything?
["At least he's in the tub"? No, that's tactless. He doesn't press for details; he's not sure he'd like to hear them. But he'll still offer.]
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for donuts
the one i went to were dicks
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[Hm, well, he does buy Snacks,]
Do you remember the muffins the kids had a few weeks ago? They were from a place in Willful Machine; I'll send you the address. I'm sure they have donuts, and an excess of stock to move now that the weather is keeping everyone home.
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i need all of them
for the squid. lazarus. thanks man
what about those stickers
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I will bring you some stickers.
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maybe he'll eat them all
but thanks pal
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i told viktor I’d stop by tomorrow so
thanks
see you then maybe
[action]
Right now, the additional eyes are closed, almost like they're in a gentle sleep. Kaworu stands at the door with a box clutched in his pale fingers. Inside, is something that had been claimed by the sea: a pair of glasses, twisted and broken, but presented like a cherished relic that had been unearthed.
After a pause, Kaworu knocks on the door.]
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So, technically, he doesn't need Kaworu to bring these pieces at all, but he understands the- ease? The significance? The need to make an actionable goal out of emotions one doesn't know what to do with, and so he's already planned to be unbearable in his myriad thanks for the return of these mangled specs.
It's a good plan. He lingers by the door like he's not lingering there at all, actually, and so it's absolutely too soon after Kaworu knocks that the door swings open and Palamedes is there, new-but-antique glasses and all. Hello.]
There you are, [he says, gesturing at Kaworu like he can sweep him into the building just like this, come here, come here,] I left the snacks with Viktor, let's go see him.
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so yes, he glances up when they arrive, slapping his notebook closed. he's not sure if the hoodie is concerning or Teen.] Hello Kaworu, I take it those are the glasses?
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Kaworu shuffles in and nods, placing the little box on the table with a show of care. The box itself has been carefully wrapped in a string to keep the contents inside safe.
The boy nods.]
I found them on the beach. I think she wanted you to have them back.
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Ah, but give him a long moment to unwrap? This whole thing? This is a whole production, kiddo.]
Who? [a beat. oh--] Not her— Mariana?
[Why would she care about his glasses, no offense to Mariana...]
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more than one pair of glasses, imagine the luxury.] Well, given your general experiences with the sea that would be a surprising one.
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[His fingers twitch, as though he's contemplating stealing the box back and making a run for it. Was he wrong to have picked those glasses off the beach? Should he have left them to be taken back by the sea to have them buried with the rest of what happened that day?
Of all the things lost that day, somehow those tiny broken glasses been returned and presented to him. It felt like it meant something at the time.]
I can get rid of them if you don't want them.
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[Please, he's keeping them, don't sulk. He pointedly unwinds the string, to really emphasize it. These glasses are staying right here.]
It's just— unexpected. You remember the last time we all had a venture at sea. [A glance at Viktor, recalling now that Kaworu is sensitive about Mariana and maybe they should try to be nice. Be Nice, this look says, if a little skeptically.]
I'd believe getting into her good books by virtue of not trying to destroy her domain; maybe it's that. Drink some tea.
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he's more concerned with kaworu though, and offers,] We could get them fixed now, or at least put the lenses in new frames. The lenses are really the annoying thing to get made around here, so that's a relief.
[practical, but hey, an attempt to point out kaworu did good with this. it's really more the thought but viktor works better in practicality so here they are.]
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It can be fixed?
[Clearly, he did not anticipate this. He had hoped that it would be more of a token of trying to take responsibility for his actions and apologize. He had not been brave enough to hope fixing them was possible.]
Really?
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[He knows all about asking other people to fix his specs! It's practically a hobby.
Here, he lifts the busted glasses-half out of the box and lays it carefully on the table, then shuffles away for a moment to get the other half, which has been sitting on a shelf since they fled here after leaving the beach on The Very Bad Day.]
It's the lenses that are the important part, like Viktor says— these new ones work, but it's weird, you know?
[you know, he says to two people who don't wear glasses and do not know, never mind!!!]
Well— anyway, this is really helpful. Thank you, Kaworu.
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[dry, a touch fond. then he glances to kaworu, nodding in agreement to pal's thanks.]
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You do need to be able to see, after all.
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[Maybe, like, in thirds, but never mind that now. He gestures, again, at the tea-n-snacks.]
Relax and eat something. You can loiter here as long as you like.
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[maybe everything won't be terrible, they'll all still be here and kaworu can go then. lot of maybes.]
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[Quick and demanding and much more like his normal curious self. He had heard a bit about the festival but being in a heavily corrupted probably would have been an unwelcome sight.
Nor did he have much desire to leave the house at that point.]
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Well— we made wishes, which you're probably still allowed to do. The tree is still there, after all.
[He thinks? Is that allowed? Shouldn't it be allowed. He doesn't understand these complicated Earth holidays.]
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[not him! what the hell is earth. yall earth people, at least the necromancers were also in the dark. mostly.] And yes, I don't see why not? Palamedes spent a great deal of time cutting out paper for the wishes. You write one down and hang it.
[and they were burned later but... viktor will ask megumi if he can just do that for whatever kaworu might want to write. hopefully it wouldn't be rude or cursed or something.] There was food, origami I believe it's called? Fireworks. Better this time. [because he's a show off.]
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[He has to say it outloud as if by giving form to the words, he can understand better. Kaworu knows the festival is about reuniting and he wants to be one those humans writing wishes on strips of paper out of some deep desire to hope.]
I would like to write a wish. If I can.
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[Give him a moment to go find where he put down... a bunch of extra strips of paper, which might take a minute. In the interim he finds a pen, and puts it down on the table for Kaworu. As he goes to look at another shelf,]
I was surprised there were so many names for it. That's a little much, don't you think?
[He brings back another pen.]
Then again, a several-day holiday is unheard of in the Sixth. The time commitment, you know? Ah- here.
[The papers. He's also got a third pen, don't perceive this.]
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Also not quite on trend, not like a six day holiday. Not a bad point though, I can't think of any holidays in Piltover or the undercity that lasted that long. Usually just a day for celebration or mourning and then everyone gets on with their lives.
[perceiving it though. sometimes he wonders how many pens are on pal's person at any given time.]
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[He watches Pal rustle through the papers. He understands what's going on but he can't some to understand how it makes him feel. It makes him feel like he's cared for, but also seen>/i> in a way that makes him slightly uncomfortable.
Still, he thinks of Midoriya and extended hands.]
I... understand that you are showing me kindness after everything that has happened. It's... I'm glad for it.
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[This as he arranges the papers by color, sorting them into little piles. Primarily featuring red, yellow-gold, white, and blue, but there are a bunch of other colors there because he did cut these out of a construction paper package for children.]
The ribbons are gone, but we'll find some string. Viktor has string somewhere, [yes?? Viktor please help find the string,] and then we can take it outside.
[And okay, it seems we're just talking about this directly, he can respect that.]
Good; that's the point. We'd have done this even without an incident behind us, anyway.
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he can go get string though, lifting himself by pressing a hand on pal's shoulder. before he heads to find something he pauses, glances back. frankly he prefers if they're just upfront about it all.]
He is right, if you had missed the festival simply for mistaking the time we would still offer this. Though in this case yes, you deserve some kindness after everything.
[and he points at kaworu] Try the mochi. [off he goes to get string though from nearby, he'll be back soon.]
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[He takes a piece of paper. He's never wished for anything. There's never been anything to wish for. He'd always been made of grasping desire and burning resentment.
How does he create reasons to be happy?]
...I caused misery for others. How can I be deserving of kindness after what I've done?
[He takes the mochi but doesn't eat it, like he's worried it might lodge itself in his throat due to being unworthy of eating such a nice thing.]
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[Bleak. He glances at the mochi and then pointedly does not, like maybe Kaworu will eat it if nobody is pointing it out to him.]
And, anyway, it's subjective. I don't think you're a lost cause, and here we are.
text; un: JustD | Backdated a few days
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Give me something more than 'Encourage it'.
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So yes, actually, 'encourage it' is profound advice.
It needs blood magic to serve as an anchor to stay liquid. I can't tell you a spell to chant, I'm not that kind of wizard.
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Necromancy is manipulating 'life energy' in the living or dead to cause various states of living dead, undead, and unliving and such. Is that more or less true where you're from too?
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I'm trying to tell you it's nigh involuntary for me, as a process, which makes it difficult to put into steps. But you will have to put some magic in it.
1/2
2/2
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You're welcome.
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I think the underlying mechanics of how life and death work are further apart between your reality and mine than anything else I've come across.
Or we're using the same words but have very different meanings behind them.
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Here: I've a construct in Viktor's lab, we call him Junior. We also call him 'he,' obviously, but he's a construct. The thing that controls him is me, telling the thanergy what to do. No one is in there.
Now, a revenant on the other hand— a ghost powering a physical shell— sounds closer to the kind of 'undead' you're talking about. They have many of their original faculties, they can sometimes talk, and so on. That said, my necromancy doesn't force a soul to inhabit a thing to move it around; I can bridge the gap and have a chat with the deceased, if they're willing, but the 'willing' is key.
I've seen evidence that our necromancy can be manipulated in higher-concept ways than we're taught, but that's when the questionable morals and divesting of autonomy start to creep in.
To sum up: my little lab assistant is just an appliance, no matter how much I like him.
It's a while IC before D gets back to this but he eventually does
The difference seems to be that a necromancer where I'm from couldn't reasonably animate something that had never been alive, but there are other mystical disciplines that can. I've fought constructs made of sand and someone who could animate long-broken machines to function under her will.
For something to be alive or undead it doesn't need to have a soul, but something with a soul is usually alive or undead.
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Just about everyone here has leapt immediately to resurrection when they hear 'necromancy,' anyway, and the fact remains that I don't do that. Regardless of the vocabulary.
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You keep saying 'resurrection'. What does that word mean to you?
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[Or did they just establish a society and leave it to other people to run while they went off to pursue their own agenda. No D's not projecting or anything.]
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Look, I would rather not talk about this, if it's all the same to you.
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action (late july)
putting the balls back in their carts signaled one more day complete, and as shoyo passes out the prepared water bottles and snacks, he roots himself next to pal's current station for a much needed exchange. ]
Thanks for covering for me while I was out.
[ —out of it, was more accurate. viktor probably had plenty to tell about a jar of jam. ]
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So that's nice. He glances up from where he is, of course, writing down something arcane and possibly not even about sports. Who can say.]
Sure. It went well.
[Nobody broke any bones; Palamedes is a master sports guy, currently in possession of very sore shoulders because he's feeble and Shoyo kept whapping him. Truly a sports guy for the ages.]
Glad you're feeling better.
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You know how else I'd feel better? [ shoyo extends a hand to pal's shoulder. ] With Palamemes.
[ —he seems to be expecting something with this proud smile and broadened chest. is he expecting to hear some kind of actual meme to wrap the gift in a golden christmas bow? or a chuckle, or— something, he's waiting for something. ]
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—You're serious. I didn't know I was supposed to prepare anything.
[Was this part of the deal? He always assumed that the 'memes' thing was an extended prank that made him the butt of the joke, not the jokesmith or anything. Uhhh...]
Haven't you been taking pictures of me all afternoon? Are those not 'memes'...?
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[ apparently, the lack of surprise hinders the hilarity factor quite greatly (no, it doesn't)— but can you deny such a star-twinkling-begger's gaze? ]
I want a Pal-certified Palameme. Straight from the Pal-factory.
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I barely have anything to do with this 'meme' thing, you know.
[In fact, his meme-production has sat at a comfortable Just One, and this whole "Palamemes" thing was never his joke, as far as he's aware? But fine, because he has explored the inscrutable world of memes online, and so after a moment he holds the notebook up under his face.
It says BOTTOM TEXT in chunky block letters.
Is this anything.]
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You gave birth to ‘em! And you tried your best.
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I would have remembered giving birth, I think.
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Pal, meme labor is like osmosis, [ he's using the wrong word— ] suddenly, pop! There it is. It just happens.
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[Not a dig! Actually kind of hilarious, but he reaches over to pat Shoyo on the shoulder, for his efforts. Palamedes doesn't understand memes, Shoyo doesn't understand osmosis, they're even.]
Are all of the snacks distributed?
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—Oh, I’ll go check. [ gathering some extras in his hands, including water canteens, shōyō turns heel mid-step forth. ] —And don’t move yet! I still gotta ask you something. It’s about dead stuff.
[ a shame that now palamedes must ruminate in curiosity while shōyō checks every little hot wing for snack and drink. ]
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[He will, in fact, wait. He still has some mysterious writing to finish, anyway, so he'll still be in this very same spot when Shoyo is done checking on all the baby wings.]
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Ask your question.
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So you're kind of like a dead-thing doctor, aren't you?
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I'm a necromancer and, separately, something like a doctor, yes. Why?
[His necromancy usually has much less to do with the doctoring part, which he feels like he should point out? Dead-thing doctor is a different concept.]
cw: emeto mention
You can probably, definitely stomach looking at dead things, right? Like blood, and . . . Hands, and . . . [ that thought makes his throat go dry. he doesn't want to go there. as far as he knew, no one knew about it but him. he wants to keep it that way, but that costs him. nightmares breaking through an otherwise undisturbed sleep, panic, memories— he can't get sidetracked. ] —Anyway, I can't. I get sick enough to throw up.
This place is harsh. I want to get better at handling that stuff. You know? So I was wondering if . . . You've got tips.
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Inevitable.]
Sure; I can try. The first thing you need to remember is that the body- flesh, bones, all of it- is something we built our whole culture around, back home. The first time I held a human liver, I was six years old. That's in class, by the way.
[They don't just hand out livers.]
So my first tip is this: it's going to take some time. You're starting decades later than I did, and you come from a place that isn't comfortable with what happens to a body when dies or gets hurt, can I assume that?
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trying to keep a waning smile in place, he nods. ]
Only doctors and . . . Homicide detectives . . . Get into that, back home.
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[He learned that middle school exists, and also that you have to be in school until some specific age instead of accomplishment? Wack. Flesh Morph Analyses didn't have age requirements.
But don't ask about Flesh Morph Analyses. He holds up a hand, like, he gets it; the gulf between them when it comes to being used to touching viscera is vast and nigh unconquerable, but also: there's plenty of time.]
Why don't we start simple? Tell me what bothers you so much about... it.
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Whoo. Okay. [ what was it that bothered him, really? ] I think it’s theeee— smell? Maybe the smell comes first. If it’s something small, I can look. Until I can’t feel my legs.
[ although, he’s not exactly confident with his answer. it’s clear both in his verbal uncertainty as much as the way he’s scrunching his brows to think. ]
—Okay, no. It’s . . . The inside. Like all the blood and the stuff inside.
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The gore, you mean? You don't like the violence, or you don't like blood and insides at all? Some people only care about bloodshed when it's their blood and their shed, after all.
[palamedes.]
That is to say: does context matter? Would you faint if I scraped my knee outdoors, or is it— the violence?
cw: description of injury/gore
[ minor injuries were part of sports. he could handle something as simple as that! but when it came to, hm, more— his imagination runs with it. ]
But if, like, your knee popped out, and if I could see the bone poking up and the blood started gushing out like a hose I’d . . . Not. Feel good.
[ he doesn’t exactly look good. ]
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[This, a gentle reassurance, like the one about how long this adjustment period may take— it is in fact totally normal to not be comfortable around bucketloads of gore.
That said,] Blood only 'gushes like a hose' from the arteries, which aren't as close to the surface of your skin. You've seen too many pictures. [movies.] Not that I recommend watching a person bleed live, but try to remember: spectacle will lie to you.
[Trust No Special Effects]
I have to ask— Do you really think you'll need to be comfortable with violence? I mean, so often that you need tips? What are you getting into out there?
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[ he's avoided the goriest entertainment for this very reason. it hadn't gotten any easier, nor was he ever going to be prepared to see his own hand spliced right off and getting— all of that, burned into his memory. so that. that was an artery. oh.
the more he thinks of it as a cloudy nightmare, the more it comes back to haunt him. the question doesn't make it any smoother a task to answer back, either. ]
Just . . . Like, [ he's not looking at palamedes. he chooses to look at the floor. he's always maintained eye contact because he has always been honest. ] Whenever something like that, happens? Even if it's not all the time, I'm . . . Deadweight. To everyone including me. And, I guess, [ this part is said quickly, as shoyo rubs the bottom of his nose in an idle, meaningless gesture beyond a nervous fidget: ] The nightmares don't stop.
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Which, okay, he holds up a hand like, just a sec.]
Listen; I don't think I need to tell you that no one is putting any blame on you for not being comfortable with violence. If they are, well, that I can't help you with. Get better friends?
[He shrugs, because that one isn't a joke, if there's somebody out there putting him down for not being gungho for all the murder and gore, they're probably not worth it.]
So. Let's focus on the nightmares. Exposure is, again, a terrible option for this, so— have you tried any sleep aids?
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in parts, true. he should stop pushing himself to that, but there has yet to be acceptance— or understanding that exposure wouldn’t rid his traumatic experience from him, but make it quite worse. ]
I’ve always used meditation and my sleep tapes for years. It’s not working anymore.
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[Gently, because it's not Shoyo's fault that his usual helpers aren't working anymore, and Palamedes thinks that should be made abundantly clear.
So, ideas. He brings his hand to his chin, thoughtful.]
There's always the bell in the Sanctuary; the one that reduces corruption. We ring it often enough, although I haven't studied how long a 'dose' of that magic lasts. There's a young lady witch who comes around the Sanctuary often enough, her name is Luna— she's quite the whiz with enchantments. I don't know for sure, but she might be able to enchant a... pillow for you, to help with sleep.
If you're not interested in magic, the Lumenarium might be able to part with some sleeping pills.
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still, he does ask, for both options: ]
Would any of that be, um, [ viciante, 中毒性のある, he says in a soft mutter to parse the word: ] addictive?
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[Helpful. Okay. Take two,] I don't recommend using any one aid to excess— that's where the problems start. The bell and the magic pillow, those are going to lean towards your mental dependence, I'd wager - being related to magic, and all. Psychological dependence isn't precisely the same thing as chemical dependence— I don't know which one you're worried about, really.
[He'd guess the chemical one, if he had to? The nature of psychological dependence on anti-corruption aids in this place is likely more easy to keep in hand than addiction to sleeping pills. He'd have to ask around.]
If it worries you, I'd recommend keeping track of your experiences with whatever it is you choose. That way, you'll have a finger on the pulse of how well it works, too.
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[ he’s have to think about it. pal has brought up a good point, though: keeping track. that’s something he could do. ]
Do you think I can use all three? Not, like— all at once. Maybe just switch them around and keep track of how they’re working.
[ it seems less likely to get stuck on one, that way. ]
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[This isn't a closed study that requires absolute precision and accuracy, after all. It's fine to be less tidy for personal benefit.]
Like I said, though: we've no way of knowing the addictive properties of various magical strategies right now. If the bell works, for example, skip the pills. That's my official advice.
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shōyō nods at his manager’s verdict. it’s one that he’ll follow down to the period. try the bell. even the pillow. kick the pills. repeat that, so he doesn’t forget. bell. pillow. no pills. his mouth moves wordlessly to form something, and words have yet to really come. shōyō inhales instead, presses his lips into a puffy line—
—leans over and hugs him, on his toes to reach a greater height, clapping pal’s back as he finds the right spots to handle and squeeze around the shoulders. ]
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So, that sounds good? You can keep me posted, if you like. I'm pretty good at data interpretation.
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Alright. [ oh, and: ] Sooo . . . Does this mean I don't have to hold my first liver?
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You never have to hold a liver. If you're ever curious, I'll tell you all about what necromancer school is like.
[It's gross. It's gross during 100% of the times that it isn't boring test-taking.]
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[ he’d say never, but it’s bad luck to use negatives! ]
—Thanks, for real.
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Sure. Anytime.
text; un: ghostking 1/2
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22. Italian
Country of Origin: Italy
Example: Ciao (hello)
23. Japanese
Country of Origin: Japan
Example: こんにちは (hello)
24. Korean
Country of Origin: Korea
Example: 안녕하세요 (hello)
25. Lao
Country of Origin: Laos
Example: ສະບາຍດີ (hello)
26. Latin
Country of Origin: Italy (ancient language no longer spoken)
Example: Salve (hello)
27. Latvian
Country of Origin: Latvia
Example: Sveiki (hello)
28. Lithuanian
Country of Origin: Lithuania
Example: Sveiki (hello)
29. Macedonian
Country of Origin: North Macedonia
Example: Здраво (hello)
30. Malay
Country of Origin: Malaysia
Example: Salaam (hello)
31. Mandarin Chinese
Country of Origin: China
Example: 你好 (hello)
32. Mongolian
Country of Origin: Mongolia
Example: Сайн уу (hello)
33. Nepali
Country of Origin: Nepal
Example: नमस्कार (hello)
34. Norwegian
Country of Origin: Norway
Example: Hallo (hello)
35. Persian
Country of Origin: Persia
Example: سلام (hello)
36. Polish
Country of Origin: Poland
Example: Witam (hello)
37. Portuguese
Country of Origin: Portugal
Example: Olá (hello)
38. Romanian
Country of Origin: Romania
Example: Buna ziua (hello)
39. Russian
Country of Origin: Russia
Example: привет (hello)
40. Scottish Gaelic
Country of Origin: Scotland
Example: Halò (hello)
41. Serbian
Country of Origin: Serbia
Example: Здраво (hello)
42. Sign Language
Country of Origin: United States of America (a language spoken with your hands for those who are deaf or mute)
Example: Extend your fingers and cross your thumb in front of your palm. Then, starting with your hand in front of your ear, flick it outward and away from your body. (hello)
42-A. Braille
Country of Origin: France (embossed paper for those who are blind)
Example: (I don't know any words in braille, so I can't give an example)
43. Slovak
Country of Origin: Czech Republic
Example: Ahoj (hello)
44. Somali
Country of Origin: Ethiopia
Example: Hello (hello)
45. Spanish
Country of Origin: Iberian Peninsula (spoken in several countries)
Example: Hola (hello)
46. Swahili
Country of Origin: Africa
Example: Habari (hello)
47. Swedish
Country of Origin: Sweden
Example: Hallå (hello)
48. Thai
b>Country of Origin: Thailand
Example: สวัสดี (hello)
49. Turkish
Country of Origin: Turkey
Example: Merhaba (hello)
50. Ukrainian
Country of Origin: Ukraine
Example: привіт (hello)
51. Urdu
Country of Origin: India
Example: ہیلو (hello)
52. Vietnamese
Country of Origin: Vietnam
Example: Xin chào (hello)
53. Welsh
Country of Origin: Wales
Example: Helo (hello)
54. Zulu
Country of Origin: Africa
Example: Sawubona (hello)
2/2
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[Operative word "should," he's seen his fair share of rambling nonsense research. Anyway, it's a compliment.]
Thank you for this. You said your language is Greek, right? One of the ones with an alphabet I've never seen, it seems. How do I pronounce that one?
text >> voice
[ Good thing he asked before putting together the list, because otherwise it would have just been a mess. Nico also figured he should put a little tidbit of where it came from, what the letters were like - even if Palamedes won't know any of those places. ]
Written in non-Greek letters it looks like this: Chaírete. Pronunciation: çe.re.te [ A switch to voice to also say the word for him. ]
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Three drafts is an impressive start. Thank you, this is a good start to my linguistic collection.
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How many drafts does a book go through, exactly? What else are you putting into your linguistic collection?
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I suppose I can survey for other languages that aren't Earth-based.
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It'd be cool to learn an alien language.
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As soon as I've catalogued an entire alien dictionary, I'll let you know.
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If you're interested, I could teach you Greek.
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I would absolutely like to learn Greek.
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Okay, how good are you at multitasking? I can teach you while we do other things.
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And I am very good at multitasking.
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Then we can start when I'm over at the Sanctuary next time.
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Sure thing. I'll start a new notebook.
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I'm going to make you write the title in Greek.
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Is the title something that will make me groan in pain in a month when I can read it properly?
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Nah, I'll let you pick the title, you'll just have to write it in Greek.
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Generous. I'll come up with a good one.
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Does it have to be something that's dying for you to draw from it? I know you said thanergy was limited and all the necromancers use it, but I don't play by those rules. Do you think our forms of death manipulation would be compatible?
Looking forward to hearing it.
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Also, does your universe have zombies? Still fleshy dead.
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And sort of, but not the way the rest of you conceptualize them, I think. A flesh magician, myself for example, could puppet a corpse around in a pinch. There's also the notion of the Beguiling Corpse, which is an incorruptible body (read: it doesn't rot) with a bit of spirit attached that allows it freer movement, if not proper sentience. Counter to that would be what I'd call a 'hideous corpse,' where the body is rotting but the spirit is whole-- a haunting in that case, a revenant.
I think both of those qualify for 'zombies,' by what I've understood a zombie to be around here.
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[ Since Palamedes' cavalier isn't here to kill things for him. ]
Huh. Yeah, those sound like zombies. Guess Jules-Albert would be kind of middling, then.
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I'll allow it-- in an emergency. Still, let's fiddle with the workaround idea in the meantime. No emergencies to speak of yet.
Jules-Albert?
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In an emergency.
The zombie my dad gifted me. In one of his "getting to know my son" moments, he apparently thought I should have someone to drive me to social places other teens hang out. Jules-Albert used to be a racer, was disqualified despite taking first. He's a restless soul, always looking for a chance to drive. He isn't a whole soul, but he's not rotting anymore.
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'Gifted' is a terrible word for that, if you ask me. Can he still think and act on his own? Jules-Albert. You can have a conversation with him?
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It's not the word I would have used, either. Zombie chauffeurs do not get a guy some mortal friends. No, I just kind of know that he's sticking around for one last race. Even my demigod friends think it's weird.
And some of them have been driven around by weird individuals.
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If you're here, what is he doing now? Does his contract expire while you're away, and he can have his race and go back to rest?
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He's probably hanging out in the Underworld. That's usually where he is when I summon him for driving. I guess I could probably send him to a race with mortals, the Mist would make him look just like anyone else. I don't usually keep using the same undead, unless that's what they want.
Hm, not sure how dad would take it if I let Jules-Albert have his race and rest.
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So, actually useful "gift".
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You've never told me about your mother.
[Is this also a sensitive subject...]
1/2
[ ... ]
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I'm sorry to hear that. The things you do remember - are they good things, at least?
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Feelings, mostly. After her death, dad had our memories washed away so that he could hide us from Zeus. We were the real targets. I got to witness the whole thing later when I tried to summon her ghost.
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And, 'we'? Your sister?
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So they all made a pact to not have any more kids (a stupid pact Zeus and Poseidon broke). Unfortunate fact: Bianca and I were already alive, so Zeus wanted us gone. After the whole memory erasure, dad stuck us in a hotel and casino where people don't age, and we didn't really notice the passage of time for seventy years.
I asked him why he brought us out, and I quote: "This idiot son of Poseidon cannot be allowed to be the child of the prophecy." Which was stupid because both Zeus and Poseidon's kid were older.
Yeah, Bianca. She was twelve.
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[First a jar, now a hotel outside of time...]
At that point, your 'Big Three' must have racked up enough karma to earn it, if somebody knocked their houses over. Did that happen?
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[ Yes, hi. Nico has absolutely been in weird situations. ]
Their dad was the one who wanted to knock their houses over first. But their dad was an even bigger ass. I mean, their house still stands after some remodeling.
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[Also, thanks for teaching him about Jesus, now he can use even more exasperated phrases.]
What is it with dads, every time? My dad is a professor.
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[ You're welcome. Also learn to curse demigod style, too. ]
Dads and evil grandmas. (Great-grandma to me.) That doesn't sound too bad.
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You even have an evil stepmother. Someone could write a book about this. Is she a plant? Like, on the inside? I have no idea how your gods work.
It's very ordinary of him, which I've come to understand is actually extraordinary, when it comes to dads. If I ever see him again, I'll let him know.
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Someone could. [ Let's not get into the fact that the books are kind of actually written by people. ] She is not a plant. If you want beings that are like that, you have to go back further than the gods. Gaia as the earth, Ouranos as the sky, Tartarus as hell, Erebus as darkness, Aether as light, and Chaos as... chaos. I honestly could give you a whole list of them.
[ Lists being born from lists. It never ends. ]
I like the extraordinary kind.
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If, somehow, my dad turns up here (I highly doubt it), you can hang around and listen to him explain Intermediate History exams.
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Sure.
text un: vi
so i think i need first aid but for a hangover
do you have that
asking for myself
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And do you need someone to talk to?
[Vi hasn't struck him as someone who goes out and gets wasted on a regular basis, so...]
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you know what i dont care ill try anyway it cant be any worse than this
i dont have a drinking problem if thats what you mean
[she has had a drink or two before, hell, she once swiped a bottle from behind the bar to split between she, mylor and claggor back before ...everything, but that was nothing compared to this. this is some next level shit, courtesy of trying to keep up with a 10,000 year old dhampir who can outdrink basically everyone.
it's been a rough last few days.]
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I assumed you're hungover because something happened, not because I think you're a lush. Did something happen?
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it was a great distraction until too many flaming shots and i have never seen a human being drink more than the boss man
i mean d
made an idiot out of myself and puked on a sleepers shoes but that was not the worst part
someone from my home showed up and they are the last person the literal definition of the last person i wanted to see
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Why don't you come by the Sanctuary for those painkillers and water, and you can tell me the rest?
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yeah i know you know sorry about both of em
that means walking
sure i can do that
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1/2
wont say no
2/2
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big weird tree growing out of one side
-> action
[And so he will, gathering up some painkillers, some water bottles, and some... saltines? These are what he fed Viktor when he was still drunk, so surely they will be good enough for a hangover snack, too.
He really doesn't know anything about alcohol. The crackers will be enough.
Anyway, he heads for the Rookery, knocking on the door once he arrives.]
Hello? It's Palamedes, here for the hangover house call.
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slight exaggeration, but it feels legit.
she can feel her pulse in her palms as she sits. and when she hears an expected voice outside the door, she trudges toward it, opening, blinking into whatever light there is. she looks as bad as she feels.]
Hey doc.
[steps back to let him inside.]
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Then he comes in, glancing around politely (he has not, in fact, been here before) as he heads for a spot he can unload his house call supplies.]
The tree is quite the landmark. [And,] In my professional opinion, you look awful. Come and see; I brought the kind of painkillers you can sip in a tiny cup.
[Remarkable!! It's in another, non-water bottle, specifically, but he has indeed brought what appears to be a few tiny paper cups, one of which he fills with clear medicine. The extra cups are in case she needs more later.]
Regrettably, it does taste like shit.
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It's a weirdwood. [that's not right] Weirwood. [peering over his shoulder at the selection of things, watching him fill up the tiny cups.] Funny. Little cups are why you're here.
[she will take the offered cup, arch a brow at his statement, take a deep breath and down it like a shot. he is correct. it's awful. nearly regrettable as she fights the urge to let it back up again - she'd done that so many times already, and it feels like the correct response to something that tastes like what she imagines poison might taste like. or very old socks in liquid form.]
If I didn't know you I'd think you were trying to kill me.
[she waves to the chair in a manner that suggests even waving hurts. pal can sit there, she is just going to sink to the floor next to it as she shifts the cool bottle to the back of her neck.]
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[He wouldn't need foul-tasting medicine to kill anybody, etc, etc. Never mind any quips of that particular brand; he moves to settle into the chair, pulling out the sleeve of saltines he's brought so he can lean over the arm of the chair and dangle them in front of her.
Take the crackers. Absorb the crackers. Appreciate them.]
These are for you, too. Viktor barely tolerated them, which confirms that they're the perfect amounts of dry and boring for somebody hungover.
[Take these before he just drops them in her lap. He remains leaned over the arm of the chair, like he's incapable of sitting normally.]
Then you can tell me the rest of your story.
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two crackers fall (unmagically and literally) into her lap. she does as she's told, and they're - well, a bit of a relief. practically no urge to hurl them into her lap, and that's progress. plus, they help take away the taste of the mystery liquid.]
The personal victory part's a two parter. First, I found him on the beach and didn't shove him back in. [sigh] I didn't laugh in his face when he fell, and I even got him his stupid bag.
[not gonna cry.]
I got in a fight after. It was "friendly" fire, whatever.
Then he sent me a message on my Omni. You know, that thing people do when they say something nice but they really mean fuck you, or worse?
So I did something different. Something I thought Sansa, or even Viktor---
---maybe you, who knows, might be proud of, and I replied to what he did say, not all the shit underneath it. I was actually proud of me for that, so I figured why the hell not, I'll celebrate, I deserve it.
Turns out that was kind of a mistake. Not the celebrating, but the ...amount of it. And then I puked on a guy's shoes, but he helped me get home anyway, and then I woke up to a worse message.
Which is how I got here.
[on the floor, cried out, sick to her stomach in two different ways, everything aching.]
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He relates, in any case; there are people here from the Empire back home who he would really love to never see again for as long as he lives, and in the meantime he's adopted a strict policy of zero contact— so he knows, from experience, the aggravation and fury that goes into not telling someone to go fuck themselves to their face. Or digital face, as it were.
First, though, he leans a bit further over the arm of the chair, so he can reach over it and give her a friendly punch on the shoulder, which from a stickbug of a human being like Palamedes is a light tap. The sentiment is the same.]
I am proud of you. Because you're proud of you.
[It's a different kind of proud than the 'holy SHIT' kind of proud one feels when, say, Viktor punched the Emperor of the Nine Houses in the face, specifically. Broadly, he doesn't believe in solving every conflict with more conflict, but his best friend and legally assigned bodyguard is literally a skilled swordswoman, so like.
Sometimes you go in swinging, whether that's literally or with a big 'fuck you'. But the point is, he's proud of that little beat of self-actualization; that's the stuff.
The hangover, not so much.]
Think of it this way: you're not the one who stayed home all night writing tough guy omni messages, alone.
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so when the human stickbundle punches her arm, she gives a little wince-smile, leans over just enough to make it look like it had impact, offers him a smile before lowering her eyes, opening the water bottle and taking a swig.]
Thanks, pal. [GET IT?]
[he's not wrong. but it's silco - and he's never lacked for followers. sure, some people sway where the breeze takes them, but that's not all - he attracts loyalty, like it or not. she wonders how that might play out here. any way it's sliced, she doesn't like it.]
Yeah, well. Now he's here and I have to figure out what to do. How to ...live with it.
Him.
Whatever.
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Anyway. The guy. Here's the rub: he has no idea who this guy is. Viktor's told him about, eh, local undercity villains, but who Vi is so wary of and what he's done? Nothing. Maybe it's that Singed guy. He'll figure it out eventually.
But with the state Vi's in, and 'learning to live with him' and 'figure out what to do' in the mix, he can take a wild guess and come up with a guy who is bad?
So:] Don't orbit around him. Keep your people informed; focus on you and on them.
[It's the thing he's been trying to express as politely as possible to people who still come up to him worrying about the Emperor of the Nine Houses being in town, as if feeding that particular fire does anything for anyone except stress people out. Palamedes is professionally Done with that one, and so whatever Vi's nemesis here- or whatever he is- has done, this is the advice: don't orbit.
Especially don't obsess.]
And I don't know this guy, but if you're thinking, well, he's dangerous— that's not your responsibility.
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[have a meaningful look, palamedic. (that's a new one she's shared with viktor, hope you are amused)]
I know. I can't stop him from ...a lot. And you know what? I wish I could believe he did turn over a new leaf, or wanted different things, or...
[sigh. time for more water.]
...I'm scared I might have to. Orbit. And I'm not as good of a liar as I like to think I am.
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I have complete faith in Viktor. [He can punch now? It's hot. Anyway.] And I'm not suggesting you keep yourself completely in the dark, but I've seen what happens when people try to... isolate themselves to keep other people safe, or let their 'orbit' become the only thing they have left. I'd rather not see that happen to you, too.
[He leans his chin in his hand, shrugging. It's not easy, but-]
You have people; rely on them. Don't orbit.
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[another pull on that bottle and it's ...gone. is the dirty sock juice starting to work? perhaps. it could also be the venting.]
[she knows she has people. and you know what?]
It's weird, still. When I think about it. Having people. For so many years I've just been relying on ...me.
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[Just a moment, while he twists around up here in the chair to get his bag, because he has— another water bottle!! Which he similarly dangles over the arm of the chair, like with the crackers. He's very serious about hydration, he came prepared.]
Here. And everything about this place is weird. I don't know exactly how that one feels, unless we count in reverse. [And there's really no way to explain himself without it kind of sounding like a flex, but whatever,] I'm in charge, you know? Back home. It's weird not having my people around. Leaving them leaderless.
But I can usually excise that anxiety by making something of my presence here, with these other people of mine.
[Subtlety level: sledgehammer. He's insistent.]
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That sounds like it would be weird. Hard. I ...was a small time leader when I was a kid. It was a long time ago, but I think I kind of get it.
Small time, but big responsibility. Were they your family? [and to maybe make the question less invasive, less painful, even, she will offer something up, too.] Mine were.
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[But not every single person, for sure. Just a lot. It's bittersweet to talk about the Sixth for a number of reasons, not just that they aren't here; there's a distinct chance he'll never see any of them ever again, and that's so... it is what it is.]
As a fellow leader, I can say with confidence that it isn't any less important to be 'small time.'
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Maybe not. At the end of the day it was still on me a lot of the time.
[maybe it still is. the guilt sure is, in any case, and she'll likely never see hers again either. maybe it's less complicated that way.]
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[A beat; he's had almost-similar conversations with Ortus, recently, about responsibility and the nature of it, the difference between embracing it and letting it burden you— he wonders if Vi had much of a choice, and whether that's why it seems to sit heavier on her now.
Could also be the hangover. He wouldn't know how bad those get.]
I was thirteen when I took up the mantle. The youngest, historically, but people make jokes about that these days. [nerd jokes.] You?
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About the same, maybe a little younger, but not by much.
I was already doing it with my sister, I had to, and then, well---
---once you're already looking out for people, and realizing they look up to you, they're all looking at you? You don't just ...stop, or look the other way ...or turn it off.
[at least, she didn't. couldn't. but sometimes - not often - but sometimes - she'd wished to. she'd hated it and stuffed it down so far she'd thought she could escape it until along came stillwater.]
Then I got a surprise vacation from that, because nobody's a leader in prison, just another number. Did I tell you I was locked up for a long time? Anyway, I doubt they made any jokes about me. [would silco have? probably. but in that doublespeak-y way he'd messaged her.] His people, maybe. I was a cautionary tale, or a ghost story.
People make fun of you for that? They must be real dicks.
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[Well, Camilla sometimes makes fun of him, but she's allowed. Still, the Sixth are not a bustling nest of vipers, like some of their imperial comrades; they just invented a whole culture around study group behavior, which does come with being a little awkward.
But first,] You didn't mention going to prison.
[Or anyone besides her sister, before this conversation; these two points of interest seem, hm, linked? Yikes. He's quiet for a moment, sympathetically so, before he figures he can just loop back around to the other thing, rather than go for the incredibly piercing question of 'What happened to your people?']
The Sixth allows anyone who meets the prerequisites to sit the exams, the practical trials, all of that; most people don't hit baseline for a few decades, but I'm goal-oriented. That didn't stop any of the 'little Sextus'll try taking the test to become Emperor next' jokes— that's what I meant.
And there isn't a test to become Emperor, for the record.
[But, like, he would whip ass at it, if there were? Details.]
This guy, the one who's got you out of sorts— this is the one who put you in prison?
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I didn't? Huh. I just put it out there a whole bunch, at least I did when I first arrived, so it's hard to even keep track. Letting people know what they were ..getting into, I guess. Turns out I thought it would matter a whole lot more than it does.
Sansa's mentioned houses before. Gonna guess these aren't exactly the same, so what's a sixth compared to a ...say fifth? There should have been a test.
[a look. no words past that, but a look. because you, palamedes, do not seem like the kind of guy that would piss off the ocean and kill/fuck up a dozen or more people in the process. and then complain about it.]
Put me there? Not ...exactly. Kept me there? Well, his goons kept showing up and trying to beat the shit out of me, so ...who really knows. I gave as good as I got once I got a little older. What I do know? Someone paid off the guards to keep me there. They beat the shit out of me too, by the way. There were no records of my crimes or my arrest. If he did know, he would have let me die in there [the worse crime, here:] while he was raising my little sister. He told her I was dead.
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[Not that being thrown in prison to rot and getting the shit kicked out of her wasn't bad, that's certainly bad, but telling someone their family is dead when they are very much not dead is a pretty gross violation of, uh, basic human empathy? Something like that.]
I'm sorry that happened to you, for what it's worth. And— you're right, it's not going to matter to a lot of people here that you were in prison. Jury's out on whether that's a good or bad thing, across the board— our broad desire to call this place a fresh start no matter what, that is. There ought to be a test for that one, too.
[Then maybe fewer people would have lined up to kiss the Emperor's feet for like 6 months, but what does Palamedes know!! Whatever!!]
I'm not saying I disdain empathy for our fellow Sleepers, conceptually. But I don't know. We all have to pick a side eventually.
[Anyway.]
Our Houses were numbered in order; the Fifth was founded before the Sixth. That's it. Not entirely or culturally, of course, but purely in terms of the numbering: it's just numbers. The Sixth is actually 'first' if you line up all of our planets in order, starting at the sun.
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Tch. Yeah. It's easy to say, but hard to know if someone means it.
[you know, benefit of the doubt and all that. she'd much rather give it, but that's ...hard in some cases. like when you know the asshole in question, and there's a 50/50 they're full of absolute shit. palamedes gets it.]
Oh, well that's easy enough to understand. [the numbering part, anyway. fifth does indeed come before sixth, and that would mean there's a first through third, she guesses. but then he talks about planets lining up in order and she tries to process what he means. it hurts her head a little - but she arrives at:] Is each house a planet?
[that's pretty cool if it works that way.]
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[A shrug.]
We're the only ones squatting on our miserable little rock, [fondly, he means this,] but we're hardly populous enough to cover the whole planet. We have a station in the polar caps, and... that's us. Some of the other Houses are millions strong, though; it depends.
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I dunno about millions. Keeping it small means less chance of assholes, right? And if you've got 'em, at least you've got less.
Woah. I feel ...a little better. [still exhausted, still sad, still angry, but with less aching. what transient queasiness she'd been feeling is also gone.]
action; gross sleeper membrane time
thankfully it isn't a very long matter. it's later that evening the membrane begins to dry, movement inside as viktor peels back an opening to make a disgusted sound through.]
Ugh. [that's what he has to say about that. rio's tail thumps happily though, and the hand that just peeled away that mess is indeed purple.] Palamedes?
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Either way: he knows what the eyeball pods are, so while it's nebulously concerning-for-time-reasons to have Viktor trapped in an eyeball pod in their bed!!-- it's not as harrowing as vanishing into the sea might have been. He resolves to have a normal, mature response to this, which is spoiling Rio with attention and going about his day, with a pin put in "check in on spousepod" for later.
So he is shuffling around the house in his old man pajamas and matching old man slippers when, oh, the pod wakes? He shuffles back to the bed and reaches right in there to, uh, help peel. Of course he does.]
Right here; that was fast. [so blessed to not sleep next to an eyepod for like a week--] Let's get you out of there. How do you feel?
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rio makes a little keening sound and comes to help, and by that i mean get in pal's way and try to climb on the bed between them. viktor huffs, easing from the fine tension he's trying not to think to much about at the immediate moment, though it's certainly nipping at their bond. seeing both pal and rio help immeasurably, like a breath of fresh air.]
How long was I out? [he glances pal over- nope, looked like how he left his husband. when he raises his hand to rest it on rio he pauses at the purple, still unused to it himself. keeping it gloved sort of kept it out of sight and out of mind. rio doesn't seem to mind or notice at least.]
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Well— [Let him just. Lean around Rio, hi, he can multitask with this.] Ultimately, a handful of hours. I'm surprised, honestly— you know there's always someone making some kind of panicked call for help about these things- [he picks at some dry pod, eugh] -hanging around for days.
[But enough about that, let's talk about what surely is contributing to Viktor's new tension: a purple hand? He is Looking.]
Are we feeling too 'covered in something repulsive' for me to ask about that? I could run a bath first.
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[his hair freed of further goo is appreciated, and he resists the urge to take pal's hand to do something saccharine like kiss it. no, still too membrane covered for that, along with a few other matters. that and rio is wiggling, demanding his attention as he kicks off more of it.]
This place needs a pamphlet or eh... a program, for newcomers. Perhaps a private network for when people disappear. [that's always a downer to wake up to, sometimes a dramatic one.
but right, information. yes, that. his unease strengthens considerably, though he's bland when he says,] An experiment with shimmer that... ended poorly. Very poorly. On an unrelated note I believe I may have died in a terrorist attack in my world. [his hand touches his chest after a moment, realizing- ok, yes, new lungs still there. thank fuck, he was actually going to go beat up the fucking ocean if that was reversed.] Ah... still there, good.
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[Maybe they'd come back in duplicate! A squid printing press, or something like it. In the meantime: wiggling Rio, who is impeding Palamedes' ability to get more goo off, here, please girl. He will reach... around her... It's fine, it's working.
There's a pause when Viktor drops all of his dramatic news at once, much more abruptly startled in the realm of their bond than on his face. He blinks a few times, then:]
Lucky we've already got the house, then. [You know, since they're both technically probably legally dead now? And so left with only the one option, e.g. here? Oop.] I am concerned about how your shimmer accident could have ended worse than a terrorist attack, but let's circle back to that.
[Mostly so he can crane all the way over Rio (and it's her own fault if she's squished) to kiss Viktor on the temple, gooey hair and all. It's nutritious, let him do the gross thing.]
It's been several hours, but I missed you.
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he shifts and that's weird too, mostly that he can bend his knee far and, for the moment, it seems okay with that instead of trying to end his career. there's a purple foot to match the arm as he shifts fully out of the lingering bits of dry goop, turning to face pal-
and blinking a moment, a burst of fondness overtaking him like it tends to when pal is sweet. it's colored with guilt he can't suppress and, for the moment, doesn't try to. the fun thing about marriage and bonds is learning oh, he has to be open and vulnerable and all that gross stuff. at the moment he's pretty thankful for it, even if the time home is taking a little readjustment to this much healthier mindset then icky, past him.]
If I were capable of missing you I would have. [he reaches up with his normal hand, pulling pal in for a kiss because he kind of needs it. what flavor is membrane goo? apparently not too terrible.] It was only a few days at least. Everything happened very quickly, one disaster after another. I suppose the good news is if I am dead there will be no more need for these hibernations. Rio seems to have handled as gracefully as expected.
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But kissing Viktor mess and all, first, complete with winding an arm around his shoulders to truly spoil his old man pajamas, too, in the process. The things he does for love, and to silently reassure that he's committed to all the vulnerable and gross stuff, too. Especially if it's apparently been a few days, back there...]
Maybe, [he says about if-I-am-dead, because he's a necromancer and he's legally obligated to consider the possibility.] And she followed me around for the entire day, making that face she makes. You know the one. If you'd been away any longer, I'd have bought her an unreasonable amount of toys to make her happy.
[Probably true. Only some of them haunted. Now, hmm; as the hand on Viktor's shoulder is occupied with flicking away goo, he holds out his other hand, palm up, glancing down at the purple hand. C'mon, let him get at that.] Can I?
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[rio trills softly, sleepy now after her incredibly stressful day of being pampered by pal. viktor's purple hand runs over her back, and when pal asks he doesn't hesitate to lift it for pal to take.
there's absolutely no concern in him that pal would find it unpleasant, the man was a catch who only ever seemed fascinated by whatever made up viktor at the moment. he is concerned about the story behind it, though in a resigned way. the hand itself is an odd mix of seemingly organic material and bits of brass like metal, slivers of light like veins. colder than skin, and some new magic rune looking shit carved into his normal skin farther up.
this is definitely what a scientist does and is not unhinged, so it's fine.] It feels similar, though it does not respond to stimuli in a manner that is easy to put to words. Stronger, certainly, resistant to damage. I haven't had the chance to experiment much on the matter. [he resists mentioning something casually dire like he'll amputate it if it shows signs of spreading, because there's enough bullshit to work through right now.]
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[Or just not chew cursed things if he says no about 50 times, which might be faster-- but yes, the purple hand. Palamedes gives it a light and affectionate squeeze first, before he peers more closely to investigate. This is the thing Viktor alleges went very wrong, compared to literal terrorism, and so he must wonder most strongly— what exactly was the goal, if a pretty purple hand that defies logic and natural anatomy (academically super neat, for the record) was not... it.
And he's also trying very hard to be sensitive about this great went-wrongness, but if there's an emotion for "gonna put my mouth on that ASAP," he's feeling it, for better or worse. Purple hand responds to stimuli in a new way, huh...
Okay, okay. He's focused. He is eyeing the rune thing, in fact. Viktor...]
You used yourself as material for a magic experiment? [there is no shock here whatsoever] And you received... purple.
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this is exactly why pal is a catch, despite damn well everything that mouth emotion is met with fondness. if he only had the dead news he'd probably encourage immediate further experimentation.
unfortunately the real news is the sky news, and means he's putting off very professional purple hand and mouth experiments for the time being.] As far as I can gather I tapped into a very dangerous, likely sentient power, made a desperate experiment of using it and shimmer to modify my body and received fascinating results at first. I ran for the first time in my life, it was-
I was careless. I thought the only danger would be to myself, and I was already doomed. I pushed then Sky came in when I thought she would be at home, and when she tried to save me it devoured her whole. There was nothing left but ash and this hand.
[again said fairly calmly, resigned. shockingly the emotions are pretty intense in self loathing and despair. part of him is still and quiet, like waiting for judgment to pass, because he will always trust pal to be upfront when others would flounder.]
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Anyway, here's this... news, and he continues idly picking at some pod pieces while Viktor explains. There's a bittersweetness to the first half, he can't help but think, before the flood of much more profoundly negative emotions takes over. That... is— wack, a sentient power that eats people and also shimmer, and where is that shimmer vial they keep bouncing around throwing back into the sea now—?
Well, first things first. Palamedes presses another kiss against Viktor's temple, quietly thoughtful.]
Careless mistakes happen. I can't absolve you of this one, but I can give you an ear for... all this. [This, gesturing in a little circle at Viktor, broadly - all those feelings that are loud and clear.] And I'm sorry, for what happened to her.
[What is the life lesson here, lock doors? Do magic experiments at home? Hmm.]
Well— you know I don't believe in platitudes, but I do believe in memory. That is, if you wanted to do something for her. I don't honestly know what people do with... non-bones.
[necromancers. anyway, they could buy an urn? to be symbolic?]
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the lack of immediate condemnation eases him a touch, though it makes his guilt spike too. he's self aware enough to understand overly drawn out self flagellation will help exactly no one but it's still a difficult instinct to kick.]
I spread her ashes where I used to see her play when we were children. I suppose that is appropriate? In truth I found funerals and remembrance a largely unwieldy affair before- all of this.
[no weird tomb gardens, sadly. after a pause he lets his forehead slump on pal's shoulder, a little awkward with the positioning but calming nonetheless.]
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Oh. Admittedly, that was my only idea.
[Sure, killing someone through sheer carelessness - lock your doors, Viktor, babe - is a crime, but Palamedes isn't as worried about that as he is about the persistent guilt and general bad feelings. If this... sentient hungry magic thing had been something Viktor had meant to rope other people into, on the other hand...
But, well! Objectively, he did not! So there's no condemnation from Palamedes here, besides the vague hindsight that maybe he ought to have locked the door more effectively. So- and they need to get Viktor actually out of this pod sometime tonight, but apparently not yet- he shifts to squeeze around Viktor's shoulders and give him an awkwardly-angled kiss on the top of the head. Hey, sulky.]
I don't know how much this will help, but... you know, she could turn up here one day. [remember how they are both definitely-probably dead] At the very least, you could talk it out.
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(and something something maybe humanity needed to evolve thoughts, which he mostly pushes aside. thank god for good influences.)
a long breath and he looks back to pal, nods.] Maybe that shower is in order. That and cleaning this mess- I'd like to run some tests on the material, I admit. I have a thousand questions and I doubt more than three will be answered.
gift;
Merry Christmas, House Dad
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delivery
"Hope you like this. You ever need anything, you can call on me.
~Jason"]
Holiday gift delivery
voice, un: v
Nevermind is in quite the mood- [the shuffling of just rudely passing someone with a flat,] excuse me, yes, thank you- you should see the state of things. I went looking for warmblood volumes and what did I find, Palamedes? Recipes for blood pudding. A book about hot blooded male nonsense.
Please, I am made of time. I am no longer terminal and luxuriate in having my time wasted. [this is, maybe, sarcasm]
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What's wrong with our library? [--but maybe it's a little bit of the other thing too. Sanctuary's library is nice!!] Don't offend the fool librarian so much that he traps you there, Viktor.
I've been told, [and oh, the disdain is audible when he shares this tip,] that wandering aimlessly with no plan at all will get you your books fastest. Tell me about the hot-blooded nonsense, that should help.
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He's done that already once, why not again? I can learn more about questionable dishes and a fool's idea of the 'male condition.'
[a sigh. thank you for being a good husband, pal, with the useful ideas. he will chat and ignore this nonsense instead for a bit.] For your previous question we don't have much on warmblood, at least not as much as the other types. I wanted to make copies of some books here for the library if I could.
I've met a young man who came to ask about it and is a warmblood himself. Now that I have an actual reliable source of warmblood to study there are some fascinating applications the gems could have, given warmbloods are supposedly more resistant to corruption.
[straight from rantmode to nerdmode.]
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Anyway,] I suppose they wouldn't have written as much literature on warmblood at the paleblood monastery in love with the moon. Fair; I'll browse the odd section of our library and see if any suspicious runes about warmblood turn up.
[The odd section: the corner with mean locked doors and mysterious ancient texts in it. He does not expect this to come to results, but. For the time being: encouraging nerdmode.]
What applications are you thinking?
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I would appreciate it. Though I know how much you enjoy looking for esoteric information in the... what is the term? Haystack, needle. That one.
[nailed it. but more nerding, happily.]
My hope is it can create a field or device run on warmblood gems that can lower corruption, perhaps even pollution. The question then would be is that corruption truly destroyed or filtered elsewhere? For the moment I think it better to pair it with other gems and see if it can be used to lower the blood pollution output of the machines in some way.
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At this rate, I'll wind up the needle and you'll have to find me. Ask Nico to help— he can get some extra archival assisting in.
[Always more work to be done in the nerd sector...]
As for corruption: I'm not sure it can be completely dissipated, but I'm also sure that it must be dissipating, or else this world would be much worse off now than it was just months ago, don't you think? No one has posited any theories about us putting anything good back into the world, and I doubt one-on-one intimacy to stave off personal corruption is healing the planet, or anything.
[That's specifically not horny intimacy, but also not not horny intimacy, point being: the power of love and/or friendship is not saving this world but also the world isn't ending, so hmm!]
But baby steps, yes? So: withdraw first. How about preventative applications?
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[a long time ago, almost a year now, he talked with pal in his lab after being nearly elbowed in the face and was instantly riveted by the back and forth. once and a while he's reminded of that moment when they discuss work, or matters like this.
so just a lot to say he's having a gay feeling, then it's work time.]
I have heard the idea that corruption can never be destroyed, only balanced. That it is a natural force of this world as much as any form of its magic. [which he isn't sold on but won't dismiss.] I agree that it must at the very least lessen. Unless the corruption is spreading and building in places far beyond the city it's an observable fact.
[and ain't that a terrible thought, if that was happening. fingers crossed.
a hum as he considers that though.] Shielding perhaps? A wearable piece that wards corruption that comes from moving through heavily polluted or bloody areas, drawing on the warmblood gem. Blood ministers could certainly use that.
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He'll appreciate being asked. This is all assuming I get myself ensnared in some mean-looking literature.
[Which. ...He might. And that's just fact, so moving on.]
Balance is a good theory, but that still raises the question of against what? Corruption-versus-nothing-in-particular doesn't quite stack up. I'm not about to be the one suggesting that corruption has an all-parts-equal opposite, like thanergy and thalergy, because of the fluctuations— but then, what's really going on? Hold on, I'm writing this down.
[And there is a sound of papers shuffling and pen scratching, while Viktor talks about the shielding idea. Hm hm hm-]
You can make me another ring. [haha gay] To try it out. After the stones are tested for a more or less predictable saturation point.
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I need to ask him how the bloodtech heater is working anyway. [still a terrible name but here we are.
he does wait a beat for pen grabbing as his eyes skim the titles of passing shelves. still bullshit but maybe one day. he makes a mental game of deciding which of pal's many dumb pens he grabbed.]
What would you consider the arcane force here? Is it thalergy, is it life force, is it simple an unknowable and arcane energy? It could be the counter balance- [a pause] -though that is purely conjecture for the sake of it.
[extremely gay. he's amused as he says,] I suppose making one when sober would be novel. I'll start on making warmblood gems then. We can give your little lackeys rings as well if it goes well. You'll match.
[precious flock of nerd blood ministers, the best side ocs.]
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The— Viktor. [a sigh, dearest husband, beloved, come on.] No, you know what? I'm going to be glad you didn't call it HeatTech or HotHex.
[He's still allowed to lowkey judge, while he does a bit more scribbling on his end. Give him a moment, actually, because he's still scribbling while he skips ahead to the business of the gay but also company bonding! rings-]
They're going to know you like them. Do you need blood? We've— actually, given the season, we've plenty of stones as well as liquid blood. Unless your warmblood contact came to you about lockjoint already?
[Where! Are! The rocks! They'll work it out. He hums, his patented thoughtful nerd hum, and taps his pen a bunch of times.]
Looping back: I don't honestly know. Corruption isn't entirely comparable to thanergy, so the idea of a thalergy-adjacent thing keeping it in check is... a stretch, and I don't know enough about other arcane forces. I'd need a better understanding of why corruption exists, the history of it, and so on, before I could guess at what its counterpart could be. Or, to chase a different lead, if there isn't one, then what about corruption itself innately keeps it so in check? It may have run roughshod all over this world, but like I said: it hasn't taken over completely. It's- hmm. Much as I hate the comparison, it's like the tide. But then, we know what controls the tides...
[scribbling. scribbling. muttering. ah-] Have you found your book yet?
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It does not have 'hex' in it, take that as a victory. [the sad thing is he's not even 100% fucking around to mess with pal, he just names shit this way without thinking.]
They are not, you are going to keep my name out of it. I have a reputation, Palamedes. [they probably sent him a recovery fruit basket or something, the minister gaggle. he really needs to up his game here.] No lockjoint, but he is willing to offer his blood in exchange for mine. I hardly plan on draining him dry but he's given me enough to make two gems for the moment.
[trading blood with teens, life is something huh.]
There is something to consider with the moon. Lunar energy seems to do little against corruption but those moondrops, the concentrated form, seem to be able to eradicate it. [idle shuffling of books here, a soft snort when he sees a title of some saucy romance novel with an equally saucy cover. not as good as his husband's weird romance novel, thanks, back it goes.] Even cure beasthood. The one matter I keep returning to in all this is how malleable the magic system and corruption are. It bends to the victim or user unerringly, no two cases are ever fully alike whether it be corruption or how a darkblood uses their innate abilities. There's practically a symbiosis, at least in the case of blood magic.
[and pulling another out.] Do old fairytales count? [he's actually keeping this one, it might have something interesting hidden in the stories.]
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I am, and I won't. They'll write you a thank you note again. [Just like for the scones... will these menaces ever stop sending gifts?? No. Viktor has been perceived.
Anyway,] I'll see how many stones I can gather from the stock at the Lumenarium to add to your- his?- two. If nothing else, we'll see how much freshness matters.
That said: I'm going to eat my pen if it's coming out of the sea literally, and not just like the tide. [He hates! The sea! What the fuck!] But interesting point; is corruption itself somehow... aware? I'm not suggesting we're all possessed, of course. A symbiotic connection would tidily explain why none of us manifest the same symptoms all together like clockwork- [like moon phases but nooo ugggh] -but I've got no idea how to test that.
Maybe there's a fairytale about corruption showing up as its own monster, separate from any one individual.
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The month effects matter, as it turns out. We'll need to be a little more careful when irritating ones are happening, like this paranoia business.
[a hum] True, you hardly need another reason to loathe the ocean. [haha.] The young man I mentioned had an interesting idea brought up to him when he bothered Nevermind about it. Using darkblood abilities to draw out and contain corruption or pollution in a gem. It would be a new way of observing both at the very least.
[but like. probably really dangerous. he has learned something from the whole hexcore thing, not that it's enough to stop him.]
How symbolic. I will have to see. [and tugging out another book.] Are you heading home tonight or working late?
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[The most normal, baseline trauma levels of the city... Irritating. He'll work it out. Anyway, he's never been more glad that Viktor is not the darkblood between the pair of them, because he too has learned Viktor cannot be unsupervised with magic rocks. Whew.
Although does that mean he has to do it. Hm. Give him a moment to mutter some of this as he scribbles it down, darkblood abilities... contain pollution... got it. He adds a cheeky little 'never mind is a hack' in the margin, for chortling over later. There.]
I wasn't planning on working late until you brought the myriad uses of bloodstones to the forefront, but I can take these notes home. Where do you want me?
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the next book has no title, so he decides to take it. why not? a fun surprise even. there is one that looks actually helpful he plucks up, three is better than the rousing zero of before.]
I want you where I can at least drop by. I was planning on bringing you dinner one way or another. ['dinner' meaning something simple on a stick. portable, small portion, no heavy flavors. you're welcome.] Home then?
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He will start gathering up not only these notes but his other various recent projects, probably some Greek homework from Nico, to take home as well. The anticipation of leaving notebooks all over the house... delightful.]
But yes, I daresay we can both drop by our own home for once. [more jokes.] I'll see you there.
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books are tucked under his arm.] I forgot we owned one of those. Be safe.
[and a burst of gross affection through the bond before he's shutting off his omni.]
[sometime in january, action]
Know who isn't going to get distracted? A guy with minimal knowledge on anything. Fortunately, Robby knows how to scour books for information; he's more used to doing so on the internet, but books aren't so much different, and he's fine with note-taking for relevant-seeming passages. There's a lot of theories, after all, so many theories--that even if Robby is happy to look through books without talking much, he does have to ask: ]
So...do people know exactly what pollution and corruption is these days? Some of these books, uh...
[ There's a lot. He's definitely just Read A Passage on how it is a disease of sentient minds, that's getting close into how a more religious/balanced lifestyle would lead to less of it and total eradication. ]
Isn't it just the blood magic turning into a kind of toxin?
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He'd say he has a system, but it would take even more books and paper to explain it, so it's best to assume he has just sort of nerd-exploded and let it be. He has a pencil stuck behind his ear and another in his hand, presently scribbling who knows what, which he finishes with a flourish before he looks up to address this Question.]
Maybe. But one of the best known methods of handling it is keeping up with your interpersonal relationships, isn't that right? A purely physical toxin can't be kept in check by hugs and kisses, which leads us to the question: if it begins as a toxic buildup in our systems, where the hell does it go afterwards?
[This is his new favorite thing to bang his head on the walls about: Where Does Corruption Go To Exactly? The world has not yet collapsed, ergo, it must be dissipating in some meaningful way.]
What's in your book? Is it one of the ones wildly obsessed with extolling the virtues of the local pantheon?
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Even if with the switching over between books, he's still thinking about what Palamedes just said. ]
Okay, so not a toxin, but--pollution comes along 'caue we bleed, and we bleed magic. And if we're stressed, we can get corrupted, but hugs and kisses don't do that, right? [ Okay, a small brief smile. ] So it's ours mood that stresses the blood, or magic...and doesn't everyone know warmblood works well again corruption, even though it barely has any magic?
[ That's got to mean something, right? So not an outright toxin, but something that becomes unhealthy to the system if it's stressed. He's sure there's even medical examples of that in the real world. Doesn't the body fail all the time? Killing itself in result of stress.
..granted, Robby doesn't know why warmblood's low magical properties would help towards corruption (is blood itself despite magic really so useful here??), but that's Trench for you. ]
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Divinity is made up and doesn't matter. "Be nice to our local bullies or face the consequences," more like. No offense, if your personal relationship to your patron happens to be spectacular.
[But divinity is still made up and doesn't matter. There's no such thing as gods, only harder hitters and different species of them. In his humble opinion.
Anyway.]
It could still be a toxin. We're dealing with magic, and the ebbs and flows of corruption in this place as a whole; best to leave everything as a maybe for now, rather than cross it off entirely.
That still does beg the question of where does it go, because, frankly— we as a group have done nothing groundbreaking to stop any of this.
[A slightly wry gesture around at their pile of nerd stuff, like, until now! Until now, he knows of no particularly grand or lasting efforts to do something about pollution, and he's been here over a year.]
I have this sinking feeling that most of us are out here doing our best, mostly. Vis-a-vis warmblood and its properties, and et cetera. Let's loop back around: emotional stress causes physical stress on the body, this is basic. Ergo, our emotional issues having an impact on our magic blood makes perfect sense. We could create the toxin ourselves— assuming a toxin is still on the table.
[Maybe he should write this down. He reaches for another, different piece of paper to scribble on.]
Let's narrow it down: do you want to talk causes or solutions first?
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Well, he might ask later. For now he listens on the subject of possibilities, and at the question, only takes a small pause to reply: ]
Causes lead into solutions.
[ Well. Attempts. But he wants to listen, so! Time to zip it. ]
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[For myriad reasons he is one of the people who's made peace with, in all likelihood, having to live here in this place indefinitely, so. There's daily life, and there's Indefinitely.]
We can if-then ourselves to death in here over infinite maybes. Ordinarily, I might. But Viktor operates in the tangible, so shall we start with picking at causes, or work backwards from an ultimate goal?
Or, think of it like this: do you want to save this world, or simply live comfortably in it? The parameters are different, you know?
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I guess... understanding how it works and finding a way to maintain it makes sense to me? If we're the problem, you can't get rid of people bleeding and making more--it's always gonna exist.
[ A pause. ] So less saving the world, more helping out so we're not walking in a pollution fog everywhere?
[ Does that work as an answer... ]
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[Next Nerd Time, perhaps. After a beat:] Don't get me wrong: I'm all for saving this world. But I suspect that's going to involve direct discussion with our local patrons, and diplomacy is a wildly different conversation.
[So! Quality of life improvements first; that's likely the easier one, anyway.]
Now: how much do you know about tidal patterns?
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Especially when the guy asks him about tidal patterns, and Robby confusingly answers: ] Uh--I know the moon influences the tides of the sea... [ A beat. ] Where I'm from.
[ Is that even the same thing, though? ]
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[Another set of notes somewhere around here, which he shuffles his stuff around for before he can actually find it. Nerds.]
Corruption as a tidal function, more or less. Regrettably, we come from the sea, and the Moon Presence and her related stones and such are components in myriad corruption-reduction processes. This, combined with the fact that grander levels of corruption in this place never seem to stray too far from a baseline, begs the question: what keeps the nature of the town in check? Or: does corruption quite literally come with us out of the sea, and Moon Presence manages its overflow, like actual tides?
[He pauses, expectantly. What is the word on creepy sea corruption tides, Robby. What do you think.]
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Is it at a baseline? Isn't some parts of the cities worse than others? The Moon having something to do with corruption sounds possible if we have stones from it, but-- wait, [ wait wait, ] there's something other than Lunar Orbs?
[ He's figuring on the spot he doesn't know which stones the man means, and almost thought he meant bloodstones to begin with. But now he's a furrowed brow, thinking--huh? ]
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[Some kind of status quo, he thinks. It's a guess, but...
Well, it seems as possible as anything. He shrugs.]
As for Moon Presence: the whole Sanctuary is seemingly protected by her and her influence; there have been times the wilder incidents in the city couldn't reach us, thanks to that. We're looked after, I suppose. As for stones and such, absolutely: we found rituals to create anti-corruption tools, similarly under the moon's influence.
[...this is probably a thing he should have been more active in advertising outside Sanctuary, but. There were other pressing matters. Oops.]
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Is it better than using blood? What's the downside to making them?
[ Because everyone would be using them if they were accessible, wouldn't they? Less bloodshed means less pollution. ]
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[He makes a face, because of course there are drawbacks to this kind of apparent miracle tool, and luckily he's memorized every piece of text he's ever read, so he can easily recite:]
'But the weapons began to crack at the edges and where they had once glowed with the white light of the Moon Drops, they dulled. The tips turned black and it seemed that for all the corruption it cured, the more corrupted the weapon itself became'— we found it back when we were documenting this place, earmarked as from a book of fables. Now, given how much around here really does operate on word of mouth mysticism, there's no real verification process for the story...
[He shrugs again. So maybe this guy in an old story turned into a beast. Like, that happens. Moderation is key.]
Personally, I think it makes sense. Doesn't it? If corruption is indeed comparable to a toxin, then to draw it out of one source and hold it in another follows logically. And if used safely and with considerable oversight, these things could remove corruption from a person at the cost of a— a pretty moon knife, or something, it's an option.
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...I always thought corruption disappeared. [ Admittedly. But he's tugging his mouth aside. ] Corruption's the symptom of pollution, right? So it's a reaction. That's what I thought. People put around incense and everything to keep it down, but...
[ A small shrug, and admittedly: ] I haven't been studying. Just kinda made sense some of it goes, if it's the moon or us doing it.
[ But now Robby isn't sure, and he feels like he's touching more on a subject that he doesn't understand, asks: ] So what do you think Moon Presence does with it? If they're not uh, destroying it?
[ For one way of putting it. ]
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[He says this with absolutely complete conviction, like he's thought long and hard about this before. Because he has, and he figures, what reason is there to go against the idea of Moon Presence converting corruption into an energy source? The whole ebb and flow of corruption in this place points to something cyclical anyway, he thinks.
But okay, holding up a hand,] Or something like that. Processing it, cleansing it, it's not like any of us have asked. A creature like Moon Presence may very well interact completely differently than we do with the "substance" of corruption, after all.
However, you raise a good point: where does it go? I've tossed around the idea that it has its own antithesis, like matter and antimatter. We measure corruption and pollution by its effects on us, yeah? We don't look at corruption in jars and vials. So there may very well be another "substance" we can't see that manifests from things like the incense, or even the hugs and kisses. Admittedly, I'm biased: this two-energies system is how things operate at home.
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Have one substance, stick another in it, come out with something new? [ It wasn't that unusual. But sticking corruption in jars or vials... that does make him think. ]
Has anyone actually looked at corruption or pollution on a molecule level? Whatever that is here. If it's just blood or something else-- do we have the tech for that?
[ How do you identify gas molecules, for example? Or could you look at the blood of someone corrupted and see it that way, under a microscope? ]
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[And, hmm, that's a good question... He remembers hearing here and there from a few people about trying to study blood, but most of them have since left the city long before this new project got started. Shame, honestly.]
Viktor has microscopes, [he says, with the slight shrug of someone who is not that kind of researcher. He's a death wizard, he has so much less experience with technology that isn't kinda-sorta made out of flesh and bone, but not gross like it sounds.] That is a Viktor question, most assuredly.
[Allow him to flip to a new page of notes, write down "VIKTOR QUESTIONS," and then "microscope???" Tada.]
I'm well-situated at the Lumenarium enough to get us some corrupted blood samples. Viktor would absolutely have our hides for getting corrupted on purpose, even for donations.
[Said so fondly, nothing gets him more saccharine than Viktor being a mother hen, swoon.]
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...live samples might be better. [ After all. But it's followed by a shrug, adding: ] I'd do it. I mean, if we need it. We can get rid of it anyway. [ So it doesn't seem that big of a risk. ]
Viktor doesn't seem like he'd go crazy with it. [ Unless he is secretly a mad scientist type... Robby only knows them via media. ] But I guess our focus is on the corruption on the outside. Or pollution.
[ Less inside. ]
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[Palamedes, a guy who regularly will slice his hands open to do necromagic, the kind of bloodletting Viktor complains about: "Wow, why doesn't anyone like it when I do that??"
But no matter. They probably shouldn't corrupt themselves intentionally, a thing Palamedes believes only because he absolutely would, which means a normal person would not, therefore -- they shouldn't.]
Regardless, the Lumenarium has plenty of visitors suffering from corruption, without us having to make any more. So does the Sanctuary— we've got options.
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But okay. So if corruption or pollution's something Moon Presence can digest, destroy--but Never Mind thinks we can destroy it too with our powers. [ A beat. ] Darkblood powers, kind of...warp it into non-existence. If it's that easy, someone would have done it by now--but does lunar energy have any effect on corruption?
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[As the self-proclaimed ethics and safety committee of Viktor's research efforts, he's allowed to declare this. Maybe it's a joke, maybe it's not, who knows!!]
Lunar energy: yes, I'm fairly certain. The relics I mentioned only move it around, as discussed, but the purest form of energy may very well dissolve it entirely. Warping it with darkblood powers raises the same concern as the relics, I'd think: where is it going, ultimately? We don't want to find a pit of corruption somewhere later on that we created ourselves.
dang brain, where did you get 'would' from 'was'??
[ Like, huh. That's weird. He can get why Palamedes is cautious about 'where does corruption go' when something so useful doesn't just...get rid of it. ]
brains be like that sometimes
[He pushes his glasses up to pinch the bridge of his nose, waving his other hand like, never mind, now he's going off on another tangent. Entropy! Listen to him!]
We can try. Let's start with an object and not a person, just in case.