Micolash, Host of the Nightmare (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
grantuseyes) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
nexus_crossings2017-10-12 07:51 pm
grantuseyes) wrote in nexus_crossings2017-10-12 07:51 pm
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.
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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"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?"
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"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.
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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.
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"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."
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"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?"
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frighteninginteresting 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.
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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?"
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"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.
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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?"
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"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.
no subject
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.
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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.
no subject
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.
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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."
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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."
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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."
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"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."
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The response is barked out like a knee-jerk reaction. It takes an awkward moment for Dr. White to recollect his thoughts.
"Sorry, what I meant to say was, I'm pretty sure I'm not dead. Like I mentioned earlier, my assistant was using a sedative. Since when has that killed anyone, eh?" He's pretty sure he nailed it.
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"Oh, sedative overdose was quite common back in Bergynwerth and Mensis." He says this carelessly and airily, as if it won't add to the anxiety of the situation. Micolash... "But I'm sure you're fine. You didn't actually drink it, after all. Just inhaled. One might as well enjoy the trip while you are at it, correct?"
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"Nothing too serious, really. Gonna have to give Stoultus a little talk when I get back home, though.."
Yeah, right. More like he's gonna yell at the poor henchman for screwing up big time. Who knows what else those chemicals might have done?!
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That notebook from before is picked up as he talks, pen once more in hand as he writes another note, reminding himself to measure out and deliver one of his vials of Old Blood to his new compatriot. "You will tell me of any results you have, yes? And what procedures you do, regardless of the outcome? Documentation is key, after all. No comparing notes without it, hah." Was that his idea of a pun or a joke? Pretty weak, man.
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Glancing over at Micolash's notes again, he's pretty happy with them this time. "I'll try. Can't make any promises, though. Not if the test subjects decide to eat my homework or something." Now that is funny. To him.