[Fortunately for her, he is actually near there, since that's what he thought the original message kinda was and was just fuckin' confused for a solid half hour. That's fine.]
[She looks annoyed at him like he took too long to get there. His friend just died, Harrow.]
His skeleton is intact, and doesn't particularly resemble the one we found. But I still find myself suspicious of him. He was very insistent on the notion she'd done it under possession, or a spell. He suggested some individuals are being given powers - but as you know, that happened on Friday.
I don't trust him whatsoever, and at this point, he knows I'm on to him.
cHe just looks a bit-- worried? Harrow? Please be careful around the potential murderer who now knows you're digging.]
. . . Be careful around them. [He's honestly a little impressed she just went charging in there to question this terrifying clown, but at the same time. Yikes?] I really don't think she was possessed or bespelled.
[At that, though, she'll reach into her corset and pull out a knife - just showing it before tucking it away again, hidden.]
I've made preparations of my own, in case I'm targeted. It can't be denied that physically I'm frail, and I'm without power here. But I've spent the better part of a year now avoiding attempts on my life from someone far stronger and more relentless than Douman. I'd become adept at living with the prospect of assassination. So long as I see it coming, I believe I'll be able to fend them off.
Really making me regret trying to be kind and giving mine away.
[But. Ugh, fine. That's fair enough.]
Alright, I believe you. I did say I think you can defend yourself. Fuck if I had my powers I could do more. A charm, simple, get them to spill whatever their hiding behind their fucking teeth.
If I had my powers, I would make them answer my questions. I would have taken that skull and made it speak its secrets to me. But I do not, and neither do you, and we must improvise.
[Only because she has to stare you down directly in the eyes to prove dominance?]
. . . To say someone is a witch is usually derogatory; it suggests a form of necromancy developed on their own rather than through the study of theorems. I haven't heard necromancers called wizards before. But very well - if you mean it that way, it's acceptable.
[yeah exactly. social maladapted little hyper-nerds.]
You're not a witch. I never said witch! [witches are cooler.] Definitely . . . wizard. Mage. Books and. Whatever that word you just said was. [Theorems.] Personally I just happened upon all my magic by complete accident and never questioned it.
[It's fine neither does Molly. I mean. Better than Harrow, but he's not an expert.]
Might as well be. [Sniff.] My blood does funny stuff. Put it on a blade, it hurts more. Glows sometimes, which makes-- well. Undead things hurt even more.
[He'll hold out the hand that ends with the snakehead tattoo. The red eye on the back and another on the palm.]
Different ones do different things I think. Or at least, different ones bleed with different spells. Curses and the like.
[Oh, hmm, yes. There's plenty she's only vaguely aware of, like the suspicious stuff on his profile. He's two years old, has a dead man's memories, and specializes in dying and undying. It isn't so difficult to figure out he may have a dead man's powers, too. But she'll let him brush past it.]
Obviously. But it is an impressive skill to master.
[Sure! Mastered them! Definitely! Let's call it that. He huffs a small laugh.]
I say this honestly, your approval means the world. [He seems a little sarcastic. But only a little! But then more sincerely:] I'm sure you're quite the sight in full-pitch battle. Would like to see it one day. All the bones and such.
. . . Ah. Thank you. For talking about anything else right now.
It ought to. I don't offer it lightly. And I am a sight. Perhaps I'll show you in the simulator, if you earn it.
[At his statement of thanks, her ears go a little red, and her face becomes a little pinched and desperate, and she suddenly starts talking a little more quickly.]
. . . Or perhaps I'll tell you how the last man who crossed me fared. The Saint of Duty has tried to kill me dozens of times. His power over me was such that he could destroy my wards with a thought, undo my healing a dozen times with his sword before I can protect myself. I could rip an ordinary man apart from inside out, but the interior of a Lyctor, his bones and organs, is unseeable and untouchable to me.
So I cut out a piece of my tibia and used the marrow to prepare him a soup. When he ate it, expecting nothing, I grew my marrow inside of him into a skeleton construct and tore him apart from within. Only the intervention of God saved his life.
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devilstongue:
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[And she'll wander over to his room, expecting that he was waiting nearby as she obviously intended him to do?]
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Not much of a time waster, then?
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His skeleton is intact, and doesn't particularly resemble the one we found. But I still find myself suspicious of him. He was very insistent on the notion she'd done it under possession, or a spell. He suggested some individuals are being given powers - but as you know, that happened on Friday.
I don't trust him whatsoever, and at this point, he knows I'm on to him.
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. . . Be careful around them. [He's honestly a little impressed she just went charging in there to question this terrifying clown, but at the same time. Yikes?] I really don't think she was possessed or bespelled.
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[Raising an eyebrow when he says to be careful.]
Douman is not a threat to me.
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[Look--]
Look, I've no doubt you can handle yourself, it's just that all it takes is one unlucky move.
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[At that, though, she'll reach into her corset and pull out a knife - just showing it before tucking it away again, hidden.]
I've made preparations of my own, in case I'm targeted. It can't be denied that physically I'm frail, and I'm without power here. But I've spent the better part of a year now avoiding attempts on my life from someone far stronger and more relentless than Douman. I'd become adept at living with the prospect of assassination. So long as I see it coming, I believe I'll be able to fend them off.
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Really making me regret trying to be kind and giving mine away.
[But. Ugh, fine. That's fair enough.]
Alright, I believe you. I did say I think you can defend yourself. Fuck if I had my powers I could do more. A charm, simple, get them to spill whatever their hiding behind their fucking teeth.
[Which could be nothing?]
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Also I suppose it's because you remind me a little of the wizard I know. You're a little better at eye contact.
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. . . To say someone is a witch is usually derogatory; it suggests a form of necromancy developed on their own rather than through the study of theorems. I haven't heard necromancers called wizards before. But very well - if you mean it that way, it's acceptable.
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You're not a witch. I never said witch! [witches are cooler.] Definitely . . . wizard. Mage. Books and. Whatever that word you just said was. [Theorems.] Personally I just happened upon all my magic by complete accident and never questioned it.
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[Though now she's feeling competitive about his lack of schooling.]
Though I am primarily self-taught. Making use of the writings of older necromancers, but without a tutor.
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Cut myself shaving once and the razor turned to ice.
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. . . Is that really how you discovered your power? How does it work, anyway?
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Might as well be. [Sniff.] My blood does funny stuff. Put it on a blade, it hurts more. Glows sometimes, which makes-- well. Undead things hurt even more.
[He'll hold out the hand that ends with the snakehead tattoo. The red eye on the back and another on the palm.]
Different ones do different things I think. Or at least, different ones bleed with different spells. Curses and the like.
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And you don't do it consciously? I've never had the knack to do more with my own than wards.
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[Hm. Oh yes. He hadn't quite explained some stuff here. Well. Brushing past it.]
I've got more control now. It was a bit of trial and error. Obviously I don't want to start bleeding myself for no reason.
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Obviously. But it is an impressive skill to master.
[Grudging respect.]
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I say this honestly, your approval means the world. [He seems a little sarcastic. But only a little! But then more sincerely:] I'm sure you're quite the sight in full-pitch battle. Would like to see it one day. All the bones and such.
. . . Ah. Thank you. For talking about anything else right now.
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[At his statement of thanks, her ears go a little red, and her face becomes a little pinched and desperate, and she suddenly starts talking a little more quickly.]
. . . Or perhaps I'll tell you how the last man who crossed me fared. The Saint of Duty has tried to kill me dozens of times. His power over me was such that he could destroy my wards with a thought, undo my healing a dozen times with his sword before I can protect myself. I could rip an ordinary man apart from inside out, but the interior of a Lyctor, his bones and organs, is unseeable and untouchable to me.
So I cut out a piece of my tibia and used the marrow to prepare him a soup. When he ate it, expecting nothing, I grew my marrow inside of him into a skeleton construct and tore him apart from within. Only the intervention of God saved his life.
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wizards?????????????????????]
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