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]

"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."

[plagueofdeception]

"I'M NOT DEAD!"

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.

[grantuseyes]

Micolash jumps at the loud outburst and blinks owlishly in the aftermath. Like someone who'd just gotten jolted awake suddenly and unexpectedly.

"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?"

[plagueofdeception]

"Yep! Only inhaled it on accident," he grins, hoping to move the conversation past the weird part.

"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?!

[grantuseyes]

"Accidents happen," Micolash murmurs offhandedly, dreamily. "But all mistakes and failures can be salvaged. It is simply a matter of understanding the consequences as an adventure. An opportunity. Wonderful, wonderful..."

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.

[plagueofdeception]

"-Except when you die from it." He interrupts. "Can't really take notes if you're dead."

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.