nexus_crossings | This Mortal Coil

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This Mortal Coil

Micolash is in the Nexus Plaza, thankfully looking cleaner and smelling better than the last time he'd been asking questions. The cage is still in place, of course; why would it not be? He even looks a little healthier! Not much, as his skin is still sallow and gaunt over angular bones and features. But at least not as unsteady and proportionally more alert as well.

He's not quick to ask a question, however. The scholar is instead on a sofa, long legs pulled up onto the seat with him and folded in front of him. The rest of the sofa, normally big enough to seat three, is piled with books. Easily two dozen, if not more. A glance at the covers that are visible will show a selection of possibly recognizable names: Erwin Schrödinger. Charles Hartshorne. René Descartes. David Ray Griffin. The one he has open on his knees right now is a collection of Thomas Aquinas' summae and related theories.

The scholar is content to immerse himself in this reading for hours on end, but eventually, he seems to recall where he is. And that he can ask questions if the fancy takes him.

"What do you think. Or believe. Happens after death?"

Getting RIGHT to the heavy stuff, it appears.

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Strangely enough, his explanation does make sense. Perhaps it's because dreams are a more palatable subject than blood and death, or perhaps because she already knows at least two people who walk through other people's dreams. Both of them far, far less... eccentric (she wasn't going to think creepy, honest), who took the time to explain their abilities to her clearly and concisely.

"I think I understand," she says, giving him the beginnings of a friendly smile. "But, um... if you were the host, then who was the dreamer?"

His question has her shaking her head hurriedly. "No, never. I mean... not anything other people can't see." Except for that time in the maze of ice mirrors... she frowns to herself a moment before continuing. "A friend of mine in the Nexus has had a few visions on my behalf, and, um... there was one time at a party..."

He's been called creepy for the better part of his entire 45 years; it's not really going to dent him if it slips out, honestly.

His smile tilts into something more shrewd and knowing when Adia lists her limited experiences with visions. "A party? Say no more, say no more! I remember being a freshman. And I'm not. Opposed to imbibing those kindest of flowers still, from time to time."

Micolash doesn't dwell on the subject long, however, because a far more important and profound one is at hand! Pushing into a more forward-leaning seat, he rocks himself forward in eagerness and begins, "A remarkable being, as all who can shape Dreams are. But this one especially. Child of father Formless. Whelp of the doomed Pthumerian Queen." His voice has dropped into a reverent whisper. The caged man is increasingly animated as he goes on, talking with his hands and gesturing grandly.

"His name was Mergo."

Don't worry, Bucky is thinking it hard enough for the both of them.

It takes her a moment to understand what he's implying, and then she blushes, turning her gaze from that knowing smile. "No, it was more recent than that. I don't -- I didn't go to many parties when I was in college." She was too busy studying, or hanging out with her small circle of friends. And forget about drinking. What if she had too much and did something stupid?

But wait, does this mean that his man was once a college student, like her? He's significantly older than her, but he does look like the scholarly type. What sorts of things did he study? Did he go to a lot of parties? Did he wear a cage on his head at the parties? Stop staring at the cage, Adia, that's not going to answer any of your questions, and it's rude.

She manages to see past the metal bars and into his eyes when he explains who the dreamer is precisely. No human, from the sound of it. Not like anything she's heard before... once again, she wonders if he's speaking the truth, or if he has somehow caught himself up in a delusion.

"Mergo," she repeats slowly. "What, um... what is he, exactly?"

Poor Adia, now assumed a stoner until proven otherwise. But again, to be fair, college days are pretty wild sometimes. He gets it. From the teacher AND student standpoint.

And maybe if she's lucky, he'll forget that whole part of the conversation in his increasing eagerness to speak about his pet subject. His life's work. "Mergo, though but an infant, perhaps forevermore or needing eons more to mature...is a Great One. A being of a higher plane. So small, so vulnerable. But so special." His arms have moved to mime cradling an infant, arms bent and close to the chest. "Found by sheer chance. A ritual was conducted and I reached into the spaces between stars, feeling blindly, until. Someone reached back."

One of the greatest moments of his life, that, and it shows on his face. Pride, awe and wonder across his features in equal measure. His hands have left the cradling position to lean forward again, now resting his weight on his palms. "Do you know what the name Mergo means?" He doesn't wait to see if Adia knows Latin or not before pushing ahead with the answer. "It means to 'dive under'. To 'subsume'. To 'plunge into water', to 'overwhelm', to 'drown'."

It is honestly one of the more ludicrous things that's been assumed about her. Perhaps her nervous disposition will clue him in otherwise. Or not. People get into some crazy stuff in college.

She listens closely, better prepared now for the odd cadence of his voice. She has never heard of a Great One before, but she's familiar enough with the concept. Her own religion has tales of formless beings, older than the Gods, older than the Titans. They weren't prayed to, not for millennia. It took some serious digging in the Sacred Scrolls to even find mention of them.

But they were never described as babies. The way he lovingly cradles the empty space within his arms unnerves her. Take away the mystical elements, and it sounds like he kidnapped someone's baby.

It sounds like he drowned someone's baby.

"What's, um... what's Mergo up to now?" she asks hesitantly, leaning back when he leans forward. "Did they come with you?"

Micolash's face and smile, upon hearing the question, twitches and then drops. It gradually becomes a look of disappointed sadness as he leans back again into a less imposing sitting position.

"...No. No, Mergo likely remains in the Nightmare. With his Wet Nurse that I'd appointed." Well, that wasn't ALL him. Him and the being that defends the babe have a strange relationship to begin with. One where he does not have any authority over her but she obeyed him regardless. Tense, that. "If not the Nightmare, then..."

His face crumples worse with that sadness in the pause. He looks truly mournful, regretful. "I failed protecting him and all he stood for! If the hunter was able to cleave me down, so relentless with their assault... No matter how many times I saw them burnt or strangled, they would keep. Coming. Back. I treated it like a game and look what that cost me. I am here! And not in the Nightmare of Mensis where I belong!"

If the audience with Mergo was one of the greatest moments in his life, whatever this is clearly a crushing low in contrast. Micolash swings so easily from extremes, now looking despondent as he twists at his own fingers.

Oh, dear. She didn't mean to make him so sad. Even if she doesn't understand half of what he says. Who is the hunter? Why did they pursue him? Was it to save the baby? Never mind the strange way he emphasizes Wet Nurse. Guess there's no formula for Great Ones...

"I'm sorry," she says softly. "But, um... the Nexus isn't so bad, is it? And maybe someday you'll get to go back to your Nightmare."

Bucky gives her a Look. No! She's doing that thing again where she feels sorry for an obvious Bad Man. But Adia can't help it. She can't relate to his specific loss, but she knows what it's like to pin one's hopes on something, only to have it swept away from you in the blink of an eye.

"My name's Adia, by the way. And this is Bucky."

He smiles slightly, though the look in his eyes is still sad. Sad and tired, but the tired is basically default by now. "Wouldn't that be nice? Finding my way back? This Dream certainly presents interesting avenues, but none so much nearer to ascendancy than the Nightmare Frontier provided. Alas, alas..." Micolash shakes his head behind that cage, sighing.

The introduction gets him to smile slightly more, even though the expression always looks a little sickly on him. Like he's not entirely sure how to smile politely and has to consciously fake it to some degrees. "Adia. And...Bucky?" He looks at the bird especially. "He's a marvelous specimen. Very exotic. I am Micolash. Once Headmaster of Mensis. Once Host of the Nightmare. Now...Just Micolash."

She recognizes that smile for the social awkwardness that it is. Is that what she looks like, when she's trying to fake a smile? She hopes not. Yikes.

"It's nice to meet you, Micolash." She means it, too, if only so she no longer has to feel guilty about avoiding him in the library. "He is, isn't he?" She smiles fondly at the bird and pets his crest, but he doesn't seem to be interested in this man's flattery. He's on to you, buddy, he knows what you mean by "specimen". "He looks out for me, when I'm here."

But who is looking out for Micolash? He seems so lost, without purpose. "You'd be surprised by who you meet here. Maybe not a... a Great One, but I've met people who walk through dreams." She folds her hands in her lap, looking more thoughtful than nervous. "And sometimes help comes when you least expect it."

"Oh yes, I've met a young man who professes such a talent! It began with a...C? No, no, a V. Yes! A V!" The rest of the name is lost in the clutter that is Micolash's afflicted brain, but he would know the lad's face if and when he sees him, so there's that. "A wonderful ability to have innately, or to have mastered."

Talk of unexpected help, though, that gets Micolash to laugh, the sound dry and low. "Oh yes, that is true as well. I have been...taken in. By a benefactor of this Dream. He insists on seeing me healthier and re-acclimated to the. Various, unpleasant tedium of owning a physical human body once more. Ah, but it is such a repulsive thing! All this eating and drinking and having to sleep. And worse things still! The Kin insists that these things can become enjoyable in time, but I refuse to acknowledge such an abhorrent numbing to the horrors of it." Pretty dramatic repulsion to such basic needs.

A name that starts with V, huh? He probably means Viatorus, but the idea doesn't sit well with her for some reason. Maybe it's Isidor's concerns rubbing off on her, but she doesn't want to see her friend mixed up in any funny business.

(Never mind that she's willfully trying to cheer up this strange man who possibly stole a baby. She's a big girl, okay? She can handle it.)

For a moment, she's sidetracked by his complaining about having to do things that one needs to do in order to not die. "Oh, well... if you weren't used to it for a long time, I can see why it wouldn't feel that pleasant..." Wait. Didn't she have this conversation with someone before? This time, she does not hide her suspicions that she knows the person he's referring to. "Your benefactor... is he pale with a, um, a bandage over his eyes? And a tail?"

Micolash perks up immediately! "Yes! That is he, the Kin. Floating about and very elongated? How marvelous, that he let you see him! He is so dreadfully patient and terribly kind. And fascinating."

Micolash's gestures and mannerisms are becoming more lively again, once more on a subject he's invested in. "He says he is a breed of demon, but his placement in the strata of reality classifies himself as something else entirely as I have come to understand it. He is able to freely roam the planes, passing through their various veils and sundry borders with little effort. How he claims this ability was given to him by a god secures my suspicions that he is indeed Kin, favoured and in communion with some form of Great One. Elevated by Their blessings and will.

"Why, even his anatomy is suspect of a higher being's dabblings! Though his lack of eyes is concerning, of course, the fact he possesses the primary sex characteristics of both genders is a wonder! Both intact and autonomous, not an uncertainty as humans are born as such, or chimeric as butterflies, not even frogs who can alter their sex when species proliferation requires it! Have you ever seen or heard of such a thing?"

He sounds REALLY excited about this WAY too personal detail about Abysa that he just...blabbed. To a perfect stranger. Didn't even hesitate. Like he's talking about a specimen again...

She nods, pleased that they are thinking of the same person. Abysa is indeed very kind and patient for trying to help a man who is so recalcitrant to self-care. She's glad that Micolash acknowledges that, even if he seems more fascinated by the pale demon's lineage.

...fascinated by his reproductive anatomy, too. She frowns, not finding this an appropriate topic of conversation for a number of reasons. It's a topic that hits too close to home, anyway, as she thinks about her friend Shark and how he'd feel about having his own situation shared with complete strangers.

"Listen," she begins, before he can say anything else. "He showed himself to me and several other people in the Nexus because he was trying to get advice on taking care of you. Sharing personal information about him is not a nice way to repay his kindness." And speaking of that advice, she can't help but remember the demon mentioning some strange symptoms that give her a newfound suspicion of the man in front of her. "Are you really human? He seems to think you are. You aren't leading him on somehow, are you?"

He is indeed about to keep babbling excitedly before Adia cuts in, making his smile drop in confusion and his head jerk back in surprise. Said motion makes the back of his head meet the hindmost bars of his cage with a muted 'bink'. Micolash looks completely, openly caught off-guard and baffled by this dressing down. Why is she so upset with him?

"Asking about-...? You think me rude? I admit it is not always polite conversation, speaking on matters of anatomy, reproductive or otherwise. But what malice could you possibly garner from what has been said? I speak with nothing but amazement! Wonder! That such a creature could exist and the implications of what it could mean for-...Good heavens, so much! The urgency of child-bearing is central to understanding the Great Ones and Their desires and contact. Could it be replicated surgically? Would a male-bodied mortal be given the opportunity to invite Formless Oedon's blessing? What Insight could be gained from sharing such vital traits with the Great Ones, so many of them female? I would be remiss as a scholar and scientist if I were to let this go by without note! Without speculation! I'm sure you understand."

He obviously doesn't. He's stuck only on seeing this detail of Abysa from the standpoint of study and theories, not as a consideration any sentient being should be owed.

And the last question makes Micolash stare at Adia again, wondering. "...Do I strike you as something...inhuman?" Why does he sound hopeful...

Nope, no, this is the opposite of what she wanted, even more babbling about Abysa's reproductive anatomy. He's talking about the demon as if he's a science experiment, or worse yet, a stepping stone to create some sort of breeding program for Great Ones. It roils her stomach, reminds her of stories she heard about Cylons who attempted to unlock the secrets of biological reproduction and how it could be used to further their own agenda.

The only thing that keeps her from being offended outright is the blatant confusion on the scholar's face. Could he really be that clueless?

"He's not a creature," she says finally, trying her best to keep her voice steady. "He's a sentient being. A person. And most people like to keep the nature of their reproductive anatomy private. They don't want to be talked about as if they're only worth the value of their parts." Her frown returns. "I think it'd really hurt his feelings if he knew that you were talking about him like this. He might be embarrassed, or upset that you didn't ask him first how he felt about sharing this information. I think it'd be a good idea if you kept your speculations to yourself from now on."

She puts a hand on Bucky protectively. His earlier remarks on her feathered friend's splendor suddenly don't sound so innocuous.

"I don't like to assume," she replies plainly. "Your friend said that you were bleeding explosively from the head and growing tentacles. He was concerned about it."

Micolash stammers, looking like he's properly taken aback now! His pallid face makes the fact colour rises to his cheeks painfully obvious. "I didn't-...He never-...Now see here...!" But he doesn't get much further than that before he huffs and looks sidelong, hugging his arms around his knees now. Embarrassed. Muttering something about how he didn't mean that, it's just science, something something we're all just parts, mumble mutter.

He...really doesn't realize that what he'd said was rude, even cruel. He's so wrapped up in whatever it is he studies that he saw nothing wrong with speaking openly about people and things he finds interesting. He might have been even speaking of Abysa in praise, or hope that someone else would share his amazement.

There's a lot to be said about the men and women of science who get so far gone into their work and theories and research that it warps how they perceive the world and others in it. How far is HE?

Still looking sidelong and wearing an abashed frown, Micolash replies eventually regarding his race, "...I am terribly human, I'm afraid. Miserably human. I'd entered the Nightmare hoping I would exit changed, but no, no. I simply wind up here in another Dream with all my revelations and progress ripped from me. Slain like a beast and dropped like a tottering calf into this place. I should be so lucky if I had at least transcended my accursed species."

A pause, now just pouting and furrowing his brow.

"...The tentacles aren't mine."

Right, that explains everything.

It gives her no pleasure to embarrass him, to have to lecture him on the ethics of friendship. Her heart beats a little harder in her chest from the spike of adrenaline she always feels when she gets into any sort of conflict. But someone needs to tell him that his behavior is inappropriate. She knows well enough what it's like to delve so deeply into your research that you can talk of little else. But she also know what happens when you let your obsessions override any sort of decency for others.

It isn't pretty. It isn't right. And that, more than his cage or strange mannerisms, is what truly disturbs her.

At least he seems to have absorbed the lesson enough to stop talking about people's genitals. And it is very hard not to feel sorry for the pathetic way he pouts over his human existence. She loses her frown, looking him over with a soft sigh.

"I've had plenty of failed experiments," she says kindly. "And lost data, besides. But even if we don't get what we had hoped for out of an experience, we can still learn something from it."

Not sure if it's worth asking, she pauses a moment, then says, "Whose tentacles are they, then?"

"I knowww," he whines. "But if you had any idea how much I'd sacrificed, how much I've lost with so little to show for it..." He huffs another petulant sigh. Micolash must not want to get into it lest it become salt in the wounds, because he's quick to move onto the other subject.

"The limbs are formed and conjured from my flesh as conduit and material. But they are the blessing of Ebrietas and her augur." He fidgets, fingers scratching at the material of his trousers where his arms are still wrapped around them. Looks at Adia sidelong, face still turned away in embarrassment.

"...Do you want to see?"

Yeah, Adia, do you wanna see a strange man's tentacles?

Oddly enough, it's his whining that lets her shake off the last of her hard feelings. She's even trying to come up with something else she can say to help him end his pity party, but it seems like he is doing that himself by dropping the subject completely.

"Who is Ebrietas? Is she another Great One?" She doesn't understand why that means that the tentacles aren't his, and is about to ask another question, when he makes his offer to show her said tentacles.

Hmm. She looks him over, her mouth pinched with uncertainty. He's not the only scholar here, and she'd be lying to herself if she weren't at least a little curious about what it looks like...

"You can control it, right? You aren't going to start smacking books around or anything?" She can't remember if his friend told her that both the blood and tentacles are explosive, or only the blood. Her hand presses into Bucky's side. She has a feeling he's not going to like the display. "If you can do it safely, then okay."

Micolash at least seems to have his spirits lifted by being able to show off. "Oh of course! The start might be a little...sudden, but give me a moment and all will be well." That's not encouraging!

Regardless, the caged scholar unfolds his legs and totters into standing, making sure he has his balance and his feet planted. One arm is raised, shaking down his cape's sleeve, pulling it back with the other hand to make sure it is properly out of the way. Now it's just his arm outstretched, clad in the white sleeve of his button-up.

There's no gesture, magic word, incantation, flexing or anything similiar to precede the sudden loud, visceral eruption. A sound (BOOSH!!) and sparks and swirls like a night sky dotted with stars accompanies their arrival. A dozen pale, segmented tentacles burst from Micolash's hand, transforming it entirely to a mass of squirming, grasping, reaching tapered limbs. Micolash keeps his arm locked and held out straight as the bizarre appendages stretch outwards to several feet's length. Some seem to fall as if stretched thin enough that they break free to the flesh conjuring them, but they dissolve into silver mist before they ever touch the floor.

Micolash can't help a frantic laugh, briefly struggling to tame them, exert his will to keep them present and behave how he dictates. Soon, the tentacles are waving and squirming like branches in the wind, making a series of slithering, wet noises. The scholar watches them with obvious pride.

Adia watches him stand, wishing he'd step away from the couch as well to put more space between them. If he's going to grow tentacles out of his arm, better to do so while not being in range of any --

Holy frak!

Flinching, she shrinks back into her seat, watching the tentacles in awe and fear. Bucky has a similar reaction, puffing up in reminiscence of his earlier evolution. "It's okay, Bucky," she whispers, even if she isn't entirely sure that it is. How much control does Micolash really have over those slithering, slippery appendages?

She's never been afraid of snakes, or worms, but something about the sound they make as they writhe against one another makes her a little queasy. She can't stop staring at them, though. They're beautiful, in their own way, like a glimpse into another world.

...what's a polite way to tell someone that they can put their tentacles away? "They're remarkable," she says quietly. "I, um... I think I get the idea, thank you."

Another strange part about these tentacles is gazing upon them might give someone the distinct thought of butterflies. As to why, who can be sure? Seems out of place, but it's not the weirdest thing going on here either.

Adia's request gets Micolash to glance over towards her, then back to the squirming display he's put on. It takes a few moments, but whatever action he must take to conjure things things is finally ended and the tentacles all fall and dissipate into that silver mist. It's nice that they don't leave a mess at least. When they have all dissolved into nothing, Micolash pulls his arm back to himself, flexing his hand a few times as he examines it. It appears to be completely unmarred and unharmed, but the process must feel weird. His body just exploded tentacles from that hand.

"See? Nothing to be afraid of."

"Nothing to be afraid of," she repeats, as if she's trying to puzzle out the punchline to a joke. She's grateful for the opportunity to have seen something so unusual, but it's a relief that it's over. "How are you able to do that? You said it was through someone's blessing?"

What kind of blessing could that possibly be?

"It concerned your friend," she remarks, absently smoothing down the feathers that are in a permanent poof around Bucky's neck. "But it doesn't seem to hurt you at all. What do you use them for? Self-defense?"

"Yes! A gift from poor Abandoned Ebrietas, Daughter of the Cosmos. Normally a tool meant only for the Choir, but...I have my methods of securing things. Ah, but to speak on the how is another matter entirely. Another display. A moment, if you would."

Micolash closes his dark-ringed eyes, looking to be concentrating briefly. ~~Somewhere unseen, another eye opens.~~ It is a curious glint of light first, glowing a soft and dreamy blue from underneath the curls at Micolash's left temple. And then, slowly, cautiously, it emerges. A pale slug-shaped creature shining with pearlescent starlight slides, ghost-like, from the man's skull, the little eyestalks curiously twitching as it seems to take in its new surroundings. It drips some manner of opal fluid, but it evaporates should it fall too long or once it has dropped onto a surface, leaving no wetness. It is a simple, timid creature but it has the sense of those tentacles. The smell of sea breeze, the unlikely impression of butterflies.

Once entirely free from the man's head, it promptly begins to weave about on the bars of his cage like a jungle gym. Micolash opens his eyes again, looking around for the slug and then spotting it climbing. Huffing a laugh, he points up at it with a single finger. "There we are. Through this augur, the familiars of Ebrietas, we are able to call the memory of her flesh from our own. Is it not marvelous?"

Although Adia's previous question about Abysa's concern makes the scholar sober up slightly. "Oh, he was. Concerned? It was likely because he first saw it happen when I was...incapacitated. Summoned without control or thought from an unconscious body in fits. But yes. They are largely for self-defense. It would be a horrible desecration of such wonder to use it only for reaching high places, don't you think?"

Edited 2017-10-22 00:44 (UTC)

Oh, well that clears that up. What does he mean by choir? And why would a daughter of the Cosmos be abandoned? But before she can ask anything, he has his eyes closed and is concentrating on showing her something else.

She grips the arms of her chair instinctively. It's not going to be the explosive blood, is it? She can handle all sorts of things, but lots of blood, especially blood exploding from someone's head, nope, no thank you, she will get out her PINpoint and --

But it's not blood that pulls itself from his temple. Iinstead it's a... slug? A pale, glowing slug. And though she was completely unprepared for its appearance, its gentle arrival and almost playful way it climbs upon Micolash's head cage set her immediately at ease. Even Bucky seems to ease up on the hate glare a little.

"It's cute," she half-whispers, before blushing and clearing her throat. "I mean... it is marvelous. Does it talk to you at all? Can you touch it, or will your fingers pass through it?" Her own fingers stray from Bucky's feathers before she folds her hands neatly in her lap to avoid the temptation.

"He was concerned that it was a symptom of an illness," she murmurs, her gaze transfixed on the slug. It really is a strangely pleasant creature. She smiles a little at his comment. "You've never been tempted? That's because you aren't short... does that mean those tentacles are solid? How were they able to dissolve into mist?"

Edited (the broken italic! MY EYES) 2017-10-22 02:02 (UTC)

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