This Mortal Coil

[grantuseyes]

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.

Comments

[grantuseyes]

Micolash listens attentively, hands behind his back where his fingers pull at one another in restless fidgets. His face especially lights up at the talk of dissection. Although he tuts in sympathy (and disappointment) at the talk of there being a mix-up. What a letdown.

"So...No samples in the sack, I take it." He'd been so hopeful too. "Was the 'certain chemical' lethal? Acidic? Quicksilver perhaps." Ooh, imagine an aerosolized version of mercury. What an interesting thought. Wait, but why is Micolash only asking about lethal outcomes?

[plagueofdeception]

"No, but I do keep some chemicals on me. Thankfully." Those test tubes strapped to the apron aren't just for show.

"I don't think so. It was more of a sedative. Can't have them trying to escape during treatment, now can I?" That was an odd way to put it... Dr. White does have more lethal toxins, though. Some of them cause explosive death!

[grantuseyes]

Micolash can barely suppress a gleeful sound at that lovely word, sedative. Eyes are bright and alert now, a drastic transformation from the languid man that had been on the sofa moments sooner. Hands are now back at the front, twiddling in excitement.

"Oh, marvelous, how marvelous! Dead or otherwise, how thankful I am to meet such a kindred soul! Oh but you must tell me everything. Your field of work, specialties, what the nature of this plague of yours is..."

The caged scholar is moving again, turning towards the sofa he'd been occupying and hastily shoving all the books to one side. A bit carelessly so due to his excitement. Making enough room for two. And then he plops himself back down onto the middle cushion, hands folded in his lap and wearing an expectant smile. He also pats the seat next to him after a few moments. Come! Sit!

[plagueofdeception]

"Woah! Woah, one thing at a time!" Goodness, he is not used to having such an adoring fan all of a sudden. "I can start with the plague, if you've never actually heard of it before..."

Yeah, that was the safest place to start. He never really mentions this to anyone, but he actually has zero medical training whatsoever. The position of a plague doctor was pretty much open to anyone who was brave enough to come close to the infected and attempt a cure, and... Well, not that he needed to worry about that. His particular situation gave him an advantage...

But would you look at that, there's a couch under the books. Let him set his bag to one side and sit for a bit.

"... You have heard of the Black Death, right?"

[grantuseyes]

Someone being willing to sit next to the strange caged man who is gaunt enough to be mistaken for a plague victim himself? That's special. This is a special friendship forming. (Sorry in advance, Abysa.) Micolash's smile widens as he gets ready to be told all kinds of exciting things, pulling his long legs back up onto the sofa with the rest of him.

"No!" Hearing of something called the Black Death and responding as though asked if he's heard some particularly juicy gossip? That's normal. This is normal. "Go on. What is it? What are the symptoms? How did you come into studying it?" Micolash drums his fingers on his raised knees in eager little taps, still smiling.

[plagueofdeception]

Honestly, Micolash wasn't the worst White has ever spoken with. Of course gossiping about the plague is normal! These are perfectly normal human beings.

"Oh. My. God. How could you have not heard of it? It killed off 'bout a third of Europe, it's so deadly! You got fever, black spots, pus, coughin' up blood- the works!"

[grantuseyes]

"Europe? I'm...not familiar with such a city. Or nation? Goodness, it must be far. And it sounds to have no overlap with Yharnam's plague, which is remarkable. Blood ministration made a bit of a mess of things far and wide..." Yeah, just a bit. Micolash is tapping at the collar of his cage in thought, still trying to figure out if this 'Europe' rings any bells.

[plagueofdeception]

"Never heard of Europe? It's kind of like a whole bunch of countries, but that's not important." Seriously, he couldn't be bothered to remember the proper name for it anyway.

"But you mentioned... Yarn-numb was suffering from some kinda plague as well, eh?" He puts one arm over the back of the couch, almost completely invested in their twisted conversation. "Now you've got me curious! I mean, I already told you what the Black Death does to people. What about the plague you're familiar with?"

[grantuseyes]

Micolash hums in vague agreement, but also takes up a pen to quickly scribble something in the margin of a nearby notepad: Yurrip. Yes, he is sure that is how it is spelled. Now he will remember to look into its location the near future.

"Oh, the Beast Plague? It does exactly as it sounds; it transforms man into blood-crazed beast. Caused by tainting the Old Blood with human veins, human idiocy. Degenerating the feeble-minded and the infirm as the Old Blood was presented by the Healing Church," boy, does he say THAT organization with sneering sarcasm, "as a cure to every ailment that befalls the masses. And now look; we have an epidemic of clawed men and slavering dogs who dearly wish to bathe in entrails and little else."

You know, just a case of the werewolves.

[plagueofdeception]

He glances over Micolash's shoulder as he writes. "... No, it's E-U-R-O-P-E. It doesn't look like 'turnip.'"

Following that spat of helpful advice, he pays attention to the scholar's story, and boy is he intrigued.

"Some church!" he grins, with a slightly sinister gleam in his eye. "Tellin' people the have the cure when all they really have is the disease! Never heard of something that turns people into monsters before, that's new."

FYI, werewolves don't look like mutant abominations. But we're close.

[grantuseyes]

Micolash frowns in confusion at the correction, but then scratches out his misspelling and spells it accordingly. Huh. His version looks better. That's his hot take. Yharnam, Yahar'gul, Yurrip. Places starting with Y are ideal.

"I once had a...working alliance with said church, but I could not abide their arrogance and sloppiness any longer, nor their self-inflicted Plague. All a misled attempt at evolution without courage, you see. Thinking simply taking in the Old Blood would trigger a very different transformation. One closer to ascending, rather than turning into a mindless animal who craves only slaughter."

[plagueofdeception]

Look, he's not trying to be mean here, but you're not gonna find "Yurrip" on a map anytime soon. Why all the Y names anyway?

"Huh... Kind of a common end goal for cultists. I mean, what kinda ascension are we talking here? Immortality? Omnipotence? Energy beings that look like your kid's shoes?" He shrugs questioningly. In all honesty, he should know that being more or less than human ain't all it's cracked up to be.

"But how did they do it?" That's the more interesting question. "How'd they manage to get people to think having a bunch of old blood was gonna cure anything? What other diseases would make folks that desperate?"

[grantuseyes]

"I shall not comment upon the nature of they being a cult or not. But they shared the same goal as me and mine in the College of Mensis. Enough that our alliance eroded and became a bitter rivalry. Our desires the same, our methods divorced. Their profane reliance on the Old Blood was to spit in the face of our shared founder and greatest teacher, Provost Willem! I could not abide by such atrocities." Oh, but the atrocities he did abide by might be more frightening interesting conversation.

"Mind, they did not act with complete arrogance and guile. The Old Blood is miraculous, able to heal ailments of all kinds. Injuries, maiming, consumption, gout, cholera... Goodness, but it would nearly be easier to list the things it did not heal! Which would be gratuitous ignorance and crippling lack of foresight. Perhaps a touch of ignoring the words of men far wiser than we. 'Beware the Old Blood', Master Willem had told Laurence. And he simply threw it aside..." Micolash scoffs. Whoever this Laurence is, he's clearly a jackass.

[plagueofdeception]

"Uh huh..." Well, that explains the cultist robes and cage. Of course, his companion could be talking about curing people instead... The first assumption seems more likely.

Dr. White doesn't understand why anyone would want to become an omnipotent immortal whatever, though...

"That's a twist!" He attempts to refocus on the old blood. "A plague that actually cures people at first. Gotta wonder how long it took for people to start becoming mindless savages?"

[grantuseyes]

Hey now, these are scholar's robes! Like college students and professors wear! And he'd argue the cage is just as scholarly and respectable, but that's another matter entirely.

"Not long," drones Micolash, unimpressed. He leans one elbow on the stack of books to his right, resting his cheek on the curled fist through one of the cage's slats. He's got practice at doing that these days. "The church was swift to contract hunters to slay the first beasts and all beasts ever after. And hurried to amend their doctrine that only those that succumb are weak of will to begin with. Folly. Poppycock." He scoffs.

"There are ways to resist it, but it requires a higher mind of things. Perception. The knowledge that we are not limited by the potential of this plane alone." Oh boy, we're gettin' highbrow now.

[plagueofdeception]

No, the cage doesn't make him look scholarly. Nice try, though.

Dr. White couldn't help but chuckle at that. "Wait, so you're saying they told everyone that they were spineless? And they bought that lie? Woooo, humanity can be so stupid at times!"

He continues to laugh a bit, but it finally dies down a bit as Micolash continues droning on. "Wait, you just said that was a stupid idea. Isn't that like the flimsy weak willed excuse?"

[grantuseyes]

At least the cage gets good reception.

"Oh! No, please do not think I am confusing matters or co-opting the church's excuses. I've had the Old Blood in myself, after all, and I'm no more beastly than you, correct?" At least not physically. Spiritually, empathetically, morally? Mmm, another matter entirely, isn't it.

"No, no, the transformation only seizes you if you wholeheartedly believe that it shall elevate you, but then think that this reality, this Waking, is all there is to aspire to. It alerts humanity to their potential to change, to transcend. But those who do not believe there are higher planes are doomed to become creatures who are the top of the food chain and little else. Does that...make sense?"

He's a little concerned now that his beliefs and discoveries are being doubted! Which would be upsetting. Micolash researched so much of this, he knows what he's talking about! But do others? That's the much bigger issue.

[plagueofdeception]

How many channels does he get?

Huh. So this fellow's a carrier. Instinctively, Dr. White could just grab the man and take him back to the lab... But things are stopping him. Like this wonderful conversation, for instance. Plus, he still needs to figure out how to get home before he can even hope to continue his work.

"... Let me get this straight. You believe there's a higher plane of existence than regular boring humanity, and somehow you can work towards that. However, thinking that old blood in your system is gonna do it will just turn you into some kinda hungry fleshbeast? Is that what you're saying?"

Maybe he could ask for a blood sample. That old blood might have some mind-altering chemical things in it.

[grantuseyes]

Micolash's face breaks into a wide, wobbly grin and he claps his hands. "Yes! Yes, precisely! Oh wonderful, I'd feared I'd lost you. And to be fair, I stopped intake of the Old Blood quite some time ago. Heavily discouraged it in my college as well, unless monitored and measured carefully. I would have hated for any students to suddenly start rampaging and eating the others. A terrible mess to clean up." Right, that's the...biggest issue. Not students being devoured, just the ensuing overturned clutter and bloodstains.

[plagueofdeception]

So this guy is a weirdo. We have confirmed this.

Dr. White isn't as concerned for the students than someone probably should be. After all, what are they but potential casualties in a disaster that looms just outside...?

"Yep. Blood and guts everywhere! Potentially spreading disease in the process..."

"Speaking of blood," he suddenly pipes up, "You really think you managed to detoxify the old blood from your system? 'Cuz unless you maaaaybe tried letting some leeches nibble on you, I doubt you could ever truly be rid of it."

He would be more concerned for the guy's sanity if he thought he would be stuck living with him or something. There has got to be an exit back to where he came from, if he didn't just wake up after a while... Nothing to be worried about.

[grantuseyes]

"Do you think so? I'm sure it's still in there to some degree. I've made my peace with this. And while I have...committed to not adding anymore to my system, I do worry about it now that I am. So far away from the Great Ones. From Yharnam, the college, the chalice labyrinths..."

He thinks, tapping the collar of his cage, looking slightly troubled. "And I did arrive with some samples still in my coat. Perhaps the right thing to do is to," he sighs, "add them to my own bloodstream and thusly preserve it? That or find someone who's willing to volunteer to become a blood saint." Ugh, even saying it like that makes him curl his lip. Him? A blood saint? Horrid.

[plagueofdeception]

He blinks, then quickly shakes his head. "Uh, no. The last thing anyone needs is for you to suddenly turn into a raving beast. Though I do get the sentiment. Really."

Although the extra samples is convenient. "By the way, may I trouble you for a sample? Not planning on consuming it myself, just wanted to try studying it."

[grantuseyes]

Micolash 'hmms' to himself, left to further mull on the options present to him. It's not good to imbibe carelessly, but at the same time; he still really needs access to the Old Blood to continue his research! A conundrum...

But he IS always willing to help out a fellow scientist. "Certainly. I've come with three vials upon my person. I'll gladly grant you one of them if you think you'll be...mindful with it. Keep Provost Willem's words in your thoughts when you begin to experiment." Because nothing says like friendship or good working habits like just turning god blood over to one another to mess with. "Give me time and I will see one of these vials delivered to you. And keep in mind that I cannot, at this moment, secure more. Sparingly, ever so."

[plagueofdeception]

"Three vials? I guess I could work with half a vial 'cuz of your limited supply."

He doesn't want to drink the sample, but he does want to see what happens if...

"Plus, I'd have to find my way back to my Laboritorium before I can actually do anything."

[grantuseyes]

"Oh! Gracious of you. I will measure it out accordingly." Though Micolash's thoughts continue to stew on the idea of his limited supply. His newfound compatriot hates the idea of self-infusion and for a good reason! What with what the scholar told him about what the Old Blood is capable of doing. But all the same...

"I do hope you can. Find your way back, that is. Others I have spoken to only arrived when doing so post-mortem. Hopefully, that is not your situation, as that is mine."