[ 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?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ 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.
no subject
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?
no subject
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.
no subject
[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.
no subject
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?
no subject
[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.
no subject
[ 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. ]
no subject
[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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
So, that sounds good? You can keep me posted, if you like. I'm pretty good at data interpretation.
no subject
Alright. [ oh, and: ] Sooo . . . Does this mean I don't have to hold my first liver?
no subject
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.]
no subject
[ he’d say never, but it’s bad luck to use negatives! ]
—Thanks, for real.
no subject
Sure. Anytime.