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un: trienemybest; video

[The video feed opens in Varian's creepy basement lab where health and safety regulations go to die. The boy himself isn't looking that great, his skin has a grey-ish tinge to it and he looks more exhausted than usual. But that's fine, he's fine. He turns the camera around to take in some sapphires on his workbench. Some are soaking in various chemical substances, some are under a microscope, some are in various steampunk-y machines: it's clear some testing has been going on. ]

So, Flynn was kind enough to give me some of the crystals that grew on his corpse during...whatever weird new thing death is here. [He doesn't sound as excited about this as his usual projects and anyone who knows about his deeply unfortunate past will know why.] I have experience in creepy, magical death rocks -no...no I'm not going to elaborate on that- so I decided to study them. They seem to be crystalising the actual cells of the body- so not just a separate coating. I also found traces of warmblood within the crystals themselves, which I think is what Flynn is? A-anyway, it seems they're working on a cellular level, like they're what jumpstarts the reversal of the cell degeneration after death- so- so it's possible they're what reverses then entire process.

Anyway, moral of the story is, they're probably super important in resurrecting people so maybe don't mess with the process when it's happening? Of course, without having any other samples to compare this to, it's all conjecture right now.

[A beat, he turns the camera back to himself, grimacing.]

Sorry, I forgot who I was talking to. Please don't take that as encouragement to get yourselves killed in the name of science.

[Another beat, then he waves a hand airily.]

Thaaaaaat said, this is October, so statistically, there's a high chance that a not-insignificant portion of the population will be dead by the end of the month. So...if you wanna donate your death crystals for science then, that would be less...morally grey. Probably? Probably.

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[He gives a laugh at that, one that echoes a little wrong over the Omni.] Of course--if it is a dream, then it follows its own mad logic. Here, we do not have that excuse for things not to make sense.

[Having been on guard for centuries against the sense-making world decaying around him, it's a worry he understands.]

No, of course--this is better, and I am glad all of you from the dream are in better situations now. But I do wonder, if this world was made in its mirror image--somehow, as the Pthumerians' bridge worked.

[Though mere conjecture is nothing on hard information.] Though I should not speculate beyond my own understanding. I will ask and listen more, having heard all this.

[Well. That sure is a 'lil creepy.]

Oh, I don't know. The dream was the foundation for this world. I guess I was being a little too hopeful that it wouldn't be equally crazy.

Yeah, I'm glad too. It was...difficult to live in. I guess we'll have to wait and see how it all...rolls out.

[He smiles.]

And hey, if you wanna read up on the dream, I still have all my notes on it.

[And that's only the tiniest part of the creepiness. What joys lie in store later!] Oh, I do not know--it is early yet to judge a whole world crazy, yes? As you say, let us watch what the new months bring.

I would like that, if you can spare them for a time. It is well to know one's history.

[Nothing like a little extra creep to spice up a life.]

That's pretty much it. We need to observe- gather our data.

Of course! You're welcome to them, I'm not using them right now. You can drop by any time for them- I live in Cassandra- one of the little Lamp Guys is on our front lawn.

Cassandra! I had been meaning to visit there. [A pause. There's a weird static pop that covers up the silence.] You are free right now? The sooner I can come get them, the less likely I am to forget.

It's pretty interesting- not exactly my first choice of a place to live, but this is where our house from the dream ended up.

[Varian is far too science-minded for a place like Cassandra, but at least the incense keeps the monsters largely at bay.]

Sure thing, I've got nothing going on right now. Feel free to come on over- can't miss our house, it's the big one with the tower sticking out of it.

[Contrariwise, Illarion's been feeling a pull to the place nearly since he heard of it. The Disciples' mysticism bears investigating.]

The house with the tower, [he echoes.] Who am I to ask for, when I arrive?

[Varian has some housemates who definitely feel that connection, so he'll put up with it for their sake. Plus, you know, he doesn't want to try and move an entire house. ]

Seriously. It...uh appeared in the dream. It's a whole... thing back home. [An awkward thing that will be made a hundred times awkwarder if Rapunzel ever shows up. ] Oh right. I'm Varian. Hi.

"A whole thing," [another echo, and then Illarion gives a quiet chuckle.] I am thinking there is a story here I might like to hear sometime, Varian, if you are telling it.

It is good to speak to you. You may give me a name, if you wish, so you have something to call me. [Which is another kind of whole thing back home, now from Illarion's side.] I will be along presently.

Oh yeah, sure. I can do that. It's...definitely a story.

[Well. That's...definitely new.]

You- you don't have a name of your own?

[Ah. Right.

Intellectually he's well aware no one here has any reason to know of shrikes and their peculiar habits; emotionally, the whole notion of being in another world hasn't totally sunk in. Explanations were owed.]

I do, but I do not share it; it is an unfair burden to give to those I have only just met. [He says it kindly enough.] So, whatever you prefer, that is what I will be called by you.

[Varian's been here a while now. He's met people from all sorts of worlds, all sorts of walks of life, all with their own traditions and rules of living. But this... is a new one. ]

Uh. I haven't heard someone's name being a burden before? It's...uh- well, what do people you know call you? Back home? I don't know if I should have the job of naming an entire person.

What do people call me? [Illarion laughs, low and ironic and a little uncanny.] Mostly things you should not be repeating, I think.

["Oh fuck, not you again," as a common example.] "Traitor" or "Monster" are the most complimentary, these days. Or "Knight-Captain," but that is for those who answer to me.

You really could not do worse, whatever you chose.

...Yeah okay those are not great names to call people.

[Those are names he's been called, he doesn't especially want to continue the trend.]

Do...do you not have friends? Back home? To uh...call you something?

[A long, thoughtful pause.]

You know, I do not think I have many friends left alive. [He sounds faintly sad about this.] The few who are use my name, so that will not do.

[Kindly, then,] This is not something you need decide at once. It is for your convenience; I will not wither away and die like the old fey if you do not find something to call me.

Anyway, I believe I am outside your house. [Don't look now but there's a pale creeper by the Lamp Friends. When did he get there??]

Oh...I'm really sorry to hear that. And yeah...thanks. I've not been asked to...name a whole person before? It's a weird concept to try and get my head around.

[It's such a big responsibility!! He can barely name his inventions anything good!! ]

Oh, um! Be right out!

[And lo, before long a skinny teen with a steampunk prosthetic leg is opening the door to peer out. At least the Disaster House is pretty used to creepers. A guy made out of smoke lives here, after all. Varian smiles, raising a hand in greeting.]

Uh...hey? [Yep, no name yet.] You uh... wanna come in?

[Illarion raises his head from contemplating the Lamp Friends at the sound of the door. (His own Lamp Friend, dangling from the bag on his back, waves a tiny hat at its grounded cousins. Triumph? Taunting? Who knows.)]

I would, and thank you for the kind sentiment. It has been years since I lost many of them.

[Since it was easier to resolve their paused conversation in person.

He hikes up his bag on his shoulder and starts toward the house. Notably, he doesn't seem to be looking at anything.] This is a fascinating district, Cassandra. How do you like it?

[Illarion's Lamp Friend knows true freedom, it has seen the world, lucky duck. Varian's got dumped on the ground as soon as he found the house again. They barely got a sniff in. ]

...I see, time never really makes any of that easier though, huh?

[That's...interesting and Varian definitely makes a note of it. ]

It's not where I'd choose to live. They're all about...uh spiritualism and magic here- very anti-research which is the complete opposite of me. Buuut this is where our home ended up and we're not gonna move to a different one. All our stuff is here. Besides, one of the housemates is all about the magic and she finds the whole thing kinda useful.

[It may well remain a vagrant for a long time, if its owner stays paranoid about the access the Lamp Network would give to his house.

Not that he has a house yet. Lamp Friend will be free for the foreseeable future!]

It has grown duller over the years, but no; I do not think I will ever stop missing them. But perhaps I will see them again--this thought keeps me going.

[Given the nature of their own rebirth through the squids, seeing his friends again in Trench wasn't out of the realm of possibility. Heartening thought.

He gives a quiet cluck of his tongue as he stops before Varian, and the door.]

"Anti-research." [He repeats the word like he's tasting it.] Some of them, yes. Many, I think, do not wish to trespass where they are not wanted. This is uncomfortable when you wish to learn all there is to know, yes?

Still--it is a fine home. [...He still hasn't even looked at it.] A good thing to keep it.

[A Lamp Friend free from the shackles of a homestead! Though good god, Illarion, find somewhere to live, buddy.]

It's possible! From what I understand of this place so far...uh people seem to think it's like the final stop. Everyone gets here eventually kinda thing.

[It's what made his choice to exit the dream and start a life here a lot...easier to do. ]

Prreeetty much yeah. Luckily, they do keep away from the house- they keep their crazy confined to their creepy tree temple over thataway.

[He gestures- mostly to see if Illarion will follow his hand or not- he's starting to have...supsicions. ]

Hah, thanks, I wish I could take credit for it, but most of the decorating was done by my housemates. When I first found it, I pretty much ignored it to set up my lab in the basement. [He steps aside, in order to let Illarion in.] Come on in, that's where all my research stuff is. You okay with stairs?

[What's a house good for but sleeping in and worrying about? Illarion doesn't do the one and would rather not do the other. Homeless forever!!

The notion of Trench as the eventual resting place of all souls draws him up short; his eyes widen as he lets the idea sink in. On the one hand, that is good for his hope of seeing--well, everyone he cares about again some day. (Especially given his own curious lack of worry about getting back to the rest of his life. Undeath. Whichever.) On the other--]

This is not what I expected the Land of Death to be. The ocean does not smell nearly terrible enough. [And it wasn't on fire, either.] Also--

[Also, he is still trapped in his own corpse and clearly not a free soul awaiting reincarnation, but he snaps his fangs shut on that doubt. These are worries for a priest, not someone he's just met.

As Varian might have guessed, he doesn't follow the gesture with his eyes, though his head twitches toward the actual movement of the younger man's hand. He is blind.]

--also, I perhaps owe the creepy tree a visit once we are done. I will not tell them about the scholar in their midst.

[A joke. Kind of a lame one, but he's feeling wrong-footed all of a sudden now that his idea of Navia has been jostled.

He takes the offered invitation, stepping through the door.] If you mean, will I fall down them because I cannot see them, no--I can manage. But I also have no philosophical or moral objections to stairs.

[Illarion, don't be a prat.] Who are your housemates?

Edited (minor text fixes) 2021-10-23 07:52 (UTC)

[Illarion, no!]

Well, I don't know if this is a land of death really. I know I'm not dead back home. [He got better.] This is more... I don't know. Somewhere else. Something else.

[Varian catches the lack of movement. Ah. That... makes some sense. Still, Varian understands wanting to be treated the same as everyone else despite disabilities that might put them at a disadvantage. So he's not going to draw too much attention to the fact- he'll... keep playing it by ear, chuckling at the joke.]

Hah, thanks, I appreciate that. They've probably noticed with all the explosions by now, but you never know!

[He clears his throat- ah rumbled.]

Sorry, just... making sure? But hey, you never know, you might really find stairs against your moral beliefs!

[He starts inside, still speaking so Illarion can follow the sound of his voice.]

There's Fern- he's...uh he's my boyfriend. Then there's Luz, Luca and Reaper. If you've met any of them? They're... well, we're kind of our own little family here.

[Illarion absorbs the notion of Trench being something else that wasn't an afterlife, weighing that notion against his own beliefs. It certainly fit facts better: He wasn't (strictly) dead either and shouldn't be in Navia unless he'd been properly cremated. (He also should not have gone through a squid as an intermediary form on his way. That was nowhere in his theology.)

But where else would everyone, and everything, collect if not that? This couldn't be Generation's realm beyond the sky and star-river.] Mm. I have more to learn, then, before I am passing judgment on where we must be.

[Which is, in fact, why he is here!] It is kind of you to make sure; do not apologize. [He still isn't wholly used to being blind, truth be told, and how...differently people feel and act when they learn that. Politeness about it is an easy pattern to follow, however.] And I suppose I might--are yours particularly offensive, before gods and men?

[He ambles after Varian, stretching out his other senses to take in the ((feel)) of the house, how it smells and ((tastes)). What he can perceive does seem well-kept; not quite a proper refuge by shrike standards, but close. A home indeed, as well as a house.] Unless I have spoken to them without hearing their names, I have not met any of these.

[A pause.] Varian, Luz, Luca, Fern, and--Reaper. One of these does not sound very much like the others. I take that is her use-name, yes? Or else I am very sorry her parents had such odd tastes.

[That cultural default to female pronouns is going to bite you in about three seconds, Illarion.]

Edited 2021-10-25 08:20 (UTC)

Don't worry, it... takes a while to get used to. I've only been here for two months, I'm more used to the dream than anything else.

[He says it gently, carefully. It's a lot to get used to, and he sure as heck hasn't yet. Trench plays by similar rules as Deerington once did, but at the same time it's extremely different. He chuckles a little at the comment though.]

Last time I checked, they were just regular stairs, but maybe I'm just blind to their awfulness.

[You just never know!! The is definitely a ramshackle place, the sort of home you'd expected from four extremely bizarre teenagers and one smoke man living in it. As they head through the kitchen and down the big, stone steps that lead to the basement- the chemical and metallic smells grow considerably stronger. ]

Oh hah, do you mean Reaper? That's a guy. I...I don't think it's his actual name, but it's the one he likes to go by. Luz is the only lady living here.

[As they proceed through the house, and the decorations get progressively weirder, Illarion finds himself distracted from the conversation at hand. He hums a noise of agreement at the notion it takes a while to get used to; Varian could say that again. Also, is that a tyrant lizard skull? Incredible.

He'll have to ask whether or not they killed that one themselves, soon.]

--Ah? Yes, Reaper. I am taking it he is human, then; it is a use-name found among women, with us. [Since they were far more often being intimidating in the front lines than men.

He hesitates at the top of the stairs for a split second, tipping his head this way and that, before clattering down after Varian as confidently as if he could see his footing.] These do not seem particularly offensive, by the by.

[The reek of an inventor's laboratory, on the other hand... Is not really offensive, either, but it definitely wakes some interesting memories.] Did you find all this in the dream, too? The parts of your laboratory?

un: trienemybest; video

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action forever!

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wow that html sure borked

rest in pieces, a tag

so tragic

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