deernet | 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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's a story I don't know, honestly. He's very guarded about his past. All I know now is that he's made of smoke- for the most part. He can solidify, but...yeah.

[And he knows Moria was working on a cure, but Reaper very much declined Varian continuing on from that, so he left it as was.

The lab is definitely...eclectic a mix of various machines half-finished and a lot of bubbling chemicals creating whole new things- experiments in the process of being. Varian heads over to one of the desks, rummaging around through some folders.]

Weirdly, no. It was exactly as I left it. I honestly expected it to be...well at least in need of a clean, but it was fine.

[Made of smoke. Illarion's eyes widen at that, his curiosity clearly piqued. ...Though most of the questions this bit of information raises are likely not ones Varian's got answers for.] This is a marvel.

[Though, from his own experience becoming something very different than what he'd started as--twice--he knows better than to imagine it's a fun experience. ...Perhaps he'd have to poke into that, though. If he got the chance.

Illarion is--fortunately or unfortunately--not one to know from labs; all he can tell is Varian's seems reasonably well-stocked. Certainly enough he now knows where to come if he has anything that might require a technological solution.

...He stays by the stairs, however. Jostling any of this (or giving into the sudden, intrusive thought to swat one of those beakers off a table) might be a bad idea.]

As would I; it should have aged some, if only a few years. Perhaps whatever kind impulses guarded you in the Dream have not left you.

((ooc: I think I'm running out of steam on this one--shall we call it a wrap in the next couple of tags or so?))

[Please don't swat the beakers, buddy, there would be so many explosions. ]

That's what I was expecting. After all, from what we've been led to believe, this world is a looong time in the future of the dream dying.

[He scoffs lightly, picking up some folders, before handing them over to Illarion.]

Buuuut you'll figure out pretty quickly that logic doesn't always apply here. Here you go, all my notes. They're...uh- written. If that's a problem like I can...try and dictate them for you?

[[ooc: not a problem at all! we can do that]]

[He accepts the folders as they're given him, running a thumb over them lightly to gauge their contents. What's there is enough to tell him--]

You would be a very long time doing this, yes? [It's said with a smile.] I think, this is too much of an inconvenience. Perhaps instead there is a way to ask the Omni device to do the reading?

[Not that he'd have any idea of how to do it, but it seems like a sensible notion to him. If it can read the text dispatches sent to it and take pictures, then...]

[There's definitely a lot of them, a year and a half's worth of his own observations, and notes from those that were in the town before him. ]

I would...probably take a while, yeah. But maybe the Omni would be able to read it for you. They seem pretty advanced.

[More magic than science, really.]

Anyway, feel free to keep them as long as you need to- I hope they help.

I will explore what it can do. [If it can take pictures, he can also copy the notes... Which will spare him the difficulty of storing them long-term when he doesn't have any fixed residence.

He gives a shake of his head, putting that musing on the shelf for later.]

Certainly they will help, as I am starting from very little, and you seem a good observer. [He smiles to punctuate the praise.] I will get them safely back to you once I am done having them read.

Which, if you do not mind, I would go to start on right now.

[The praise means a lot. Varian's always had a tendency to be a little needy when it comes to external validation. ]

No problem, I'm glad I could help. Uh...I'll catch you later.

[Illarion might've picked up on that need, just a little. Call it parental instinct.

It hurt nothing and helped much to make Varian know he's appreciated.

He touches two fingers to his forehead in what's recognizably a salute.]

You as well. Perhaps you will have a name for me by then, yes?

[And with that, he takes his leave.]

un: trienemybest; video

so tragic

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