logs | [closed] hey get your knives out

[excuse him, he's getting distracted from books by some of the skely-tons coming close to clean up the dirt from their footwear. he gives them a soft greeting, patting them on their skulls and even holding out a finger for them to tap their tiny hands against.

then he remembers he's being spoken to, and looks up.]

No, nothing as of yet. Perhaps, however, useful is subjective. Whatever is useful for you is something trivial to me. Come, sit, and search for yourself.

[he doesn't feel bad about ignoring the man for a bit, though.]

[Honestly, he cannot disagree with the logic. Gently, he frowns at the skellies even though they are simply doing their jobs, and he doesn't bother them. He wanders over toward Shalem and the books, glancing at a few of them as he goes.

They are an eclectic bunch...]

I'm not sure if any of these are the ones which had been missing.

[He won't sit, but he does stand for the time being to look over the tomes.]

Likely not... [were they even told what volumes were missing...? shalem is fuzzy on that recall.]

But then again, I believe some would consider the knowledge on how to deal with beasts important enough to be required out in the front.

[then he raises the aforementioned tome, and begins to skim through it as well, as the skely-tons disperse, trying to find a way around his tail that's just laying limply on the floor like a particularly shiny rope.]

[They weren't which is very strange to him, honestly. But whatever. Plenty of people have tried to swindle him a little. Is this why he's so distrustful of everything going on in this room? Maybe.]

Something isn't adding up...

[He frowns at the Nightwalker book in particular, but doesn't open it yet. He looks over the book Shalem is browsing through, and then he looks around the entirely of the room again without moving from where he's standing.]

You could try the key on the door.

[Not that it will work, but at least they will know then.]

[why must you try to keep him from reading... shalem sighs.]

In a moment, please, this book is fascinating. [and he flips through a page before he stands, nose still buried in that book.]

I can do it for you, but you will have to give the key to me.

[He didn’t know whether Shalem would reject the offer, so he hadn’t bothered to ask.

Not a lot of people like to give up their keys.]

What are you reading?

Under the Silver Moon. [and still he doesn't take his nose away from the pages, walking around like it's nothing to him, even if he does almost step on some books as he goes. almost.] From the title, you would think it's quite poetic, but it's actually quite... grim. Though I suppose the author's fascination with the process makes it poetic in itself.

[he's certainly trying to get to the door with his noise in that book, and he's definitely going the right way, which means he remembers where it is in relation to him... but he's about to bump into a desk.]

Like…?

[See.

He glances up to watch Shalem mosey for the door while refusing to disengage from the book. His lips frown. It really isn’t his concern what happens to Shalem, and a desk is the least of their worries, but…

It’s just kind of rude still.]

Shalem. [His voice is somewhat louder, surprisingly. There is a weight to it, more forceful. A bark with a strange and unnatural gravity.] Watch where you’re going.

[Then his voice is quiet and low again.]

The desk.

Mm? [with a flick of his tail, shalem finally, finally looks up, startled by the increased volume of his companion's voice. it's enough to make him stop in his tracks-- and thus save him from banging into the desk.

and then he sees it in his periphery.]

Ah! I see. [he sidesteps it, using his finger to mark the page he's been using, while his other hand digs into his pocket to fish out the key.] Thank you.

[shalem finally tries the key on the door, but it can't even be inserted. he tries turning it, and still, nothing.]

No, the key won't fit into this.

[Hmm. Alright. For now, the key gets tabled since it’s not use for the door.]

Thank you.

[For trying, he means. Even if it didn’t give them any results aside from what it doesn’t work on. Shalem is free to come back over.]

Does your book say anything out of the ordinary? In regards to what it’s about.

[without another word, shalem wanders back to his original spot, and sits back down among the books to read more.]

You'll have to elaborate on that. [what is this it d wants to know, really.] Are you asking what the book is about? Or if there's anything in it about the door?

[if shalem sounds a little chilly... it's because he still hasn't forgotten how unpleasant he found their previous conversation, and is keeping everything about himself further away than arm's length.

but his nose is no longer buried in the book, and he's looking directly at the man. victory?]

Edited 2022-11-27 06:40 (UTC)

[Not unlike how frankly he spoke through text, he equally meets Shalem's gaze directly without wavering. If he understands where the icy treatment came from, he doesn't show it. Shalem still has indifferent respect.]

Is there anything inside which seems out of place for what the book is about?

[Not that he thinks it definitely has clues, but this is what they are working with currently.]

Hmm. Let me think...

[shalem turns back to the book, and buries his nose in it again.]

In a way, you could say everything is out of place. This book describes an unwanted transformation into a beast in lurid detail, but the author takes great pains to choose his words in a way that makes it sound like it's a religious experience. Or a sexual one. At the very least, an enlightening one that will end with the afflicted as a wholly changed person for the better.

[Who the HELL is out here writing these books?]

Lycanthropy? [Weird. But what does he truly know about lycanthropy that isn't just clinical assessment? Maybe people do find something arousing in transforming into a beast...?] I wouldn't know.

[He can at least admit his shortcomings.]

Perhaps some find it fulfilling. Your book sounds as if it may be a little bias.

[when you're a person from a world with actual wolf-people forming packs somewhere in the world... well.]

I wouldn't know what lycanthropy is, either. All I know is how it involves wolf-beasts, and from this book. [and he waves it around, before closing it properly.] And the only way to see another perspective is to actually read something else, especially if the author or authors have a bias that swings the other way.

[he reaches for nightwalkers, just in case it has a passage on werewolves on it.]

But truly, I would rather stay... myself. [even if being himself sucks. but at least he know who he is.]

[He frowns at the Nightwalker book again. Plenty of people on the Frontier, both human and vampire, made vampirism out to be something amazing, something worth achieving.

But of course, he doesn’t think so.]

Where I’m from, those with lycanthropy are a type of mutant. The lycanthropy came from a fallout’s radiation during a time long ago, or from the genetic tampering of the Nobles. Many of them stay in one place with other mutants. Barbarois.

They take pride in what they are, but I don’t think it’s something they consider wonderful.

Ah, of course. Radiation sickness. [where has he heard that before?

of course, he's only being glib in his train of thought because here he is, a victim of some sort of radiation too, even if it's not immediately obvious.]

It does strange and always terrible things to people, but this is the first time I've ever heard anyone call their illness wonderful.

[Hmm.

Look, he hasn't forgotten the last conversation by any means, but he's still somewhat curious all the same. He's heard a bit from Rosa, though that isn't like hearing it from Shalem.]

You have an understanding of radiation poisoning?

I am no scientist. [he needs to say that immediately.]

But like I said, I worked with medics, once upon a time. Of course, the radiation you speak of and the one I know are entirely different things, because you don't need a Catastrophe for radiation to be available.

Before any catastrophe, radiation could be found sometimes in different places. Most of it was contained, however.

[Except for accidents. Which sucked.

He is quiet for a long moment, then carefully:]

Is it the reason for your illness?

[shalem's smile turns brittle, but sharp. like glass that can break any time and turn into shards that will cut.]

Yes.

In my home world, there's often no way to know if a place is safe or not until you see the source of the radiation. [is that how he got sick? maybe, maybe not. but since he didn't reveal the true circumstances of his infection to even his own doctors, he won't reveal it now.]

I understand.

[As in, he gets it but also he won’t press any deeper. So Shalem doesn’t have to worry.]

It’s a difficult and dangerous thing to deal with. The mutants on the Frontier are generations of radiated evolutions from a long time ago. The Frontier is dangerous in other ways. Radiation only lingers here and there.

[shalem returns to his book-- rather, finally starts it from the very beginning to absorb as much as he can from it.]

The common term for someone with my affliction is Infected, but Rosa is uninfected. [thankfully. he's glad she and the other ursine kids managed to avoid infection after all they've been through.] So I would rather not be called a mutant.

But it's a misnomer, I'm not infectious and can be touched safely.

[His conceding comes with silence, but also acceptance. For him, he understands it’s clinical, a categorization.

But he is still half human. He knows there are connotations.]

It seems they haven’t given you a much better word than mutant.

[Rosa isn’t infected…? Well, now he can’t place the strange vibe he gets from her. She really is just out here with depression from the times… Worrying.]

You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.

Well then, I appreciate the directness. [a flip of the page, as he tugs his tail into his lap.]

I'll be direct back to you-- I do not discuss the specifics of my condition to anyone who isn't already aware, such as those from my world, or my doctors. [then he looks away from the book for a moment, and smiles. briefly. sharply. there's no mirth in it.] It's not about not wanting to. It's simply about medical privacy.

I shan't budge from this stance, even if you were to repeat your attitude from our first meeting.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject