nexus_crossings | New Years Tradition

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New Years Tradition

Micolash is back in the Nexus again after a long period away, though that part's understandable, given the state he was in that time. He's no longer in a wheelchair nor hooked up to an IV, but his eyes are still bandaged tight behind his cage. He at least looks a little healthier in general and curiously well-dressed today. Clean pinstripe trousers, polished (but still untied) shoes, a fitted waistcoat, a new light blue ribbon tied at his throat, a clean white button-up with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows.

He has two things of note with him: a table with a lot of writing supplies and a cat. The cat is a handsome, plush creature, mostly white with patches of tabby orange. One such patch on its forehead looks a lot like an eye. Another on its back looks a lot like a skull. Markings are funny like that, huh? Said cat is always close to where Micolash is seated, curling around his ankles, napping under his chair, hopping up onto the table to lazily peruse. Sometimes it even perches on the top of Micolash's cage for an even BETTER vantage.

The table, meanwhile, looks to be loaded up with pencils, strips of paper and gilded envelopes. On the far end, opposite of where the scholar is seated, is a wax sealing kit as well.

"Ahem. Soooo," Micolash starts in that nasal drone of his. "This past weekend marked the celebration of a new year back in Yharnam. And while I am very much not there at this time? I thought it would be. Interesting to still observe at least one tradition we have. Namely, writing down a wish. Or wishes! You have for the coming year and seal them away, only to be read at the start of the next year. To see what did and did not come true. To see how much you've changed from one New Year celebration to the next."

He pauses, almost looking to be lost in thought for a time, staring sightlessly somewhere into the middle distance. Eventually, he adds, "...Do you have any taboos for these sorts of celebrations? Where you are from? Things that you avoid to not have the new year sullied? Or set into an...unfortunate pattern?"

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It takes all of Caspar's willpower to not mentally project while Micolash delivers his little lecture. He gets the point that the scholar is trying to make, but is it necessary to be so long-winded and nasally smug about it? It reminds him far too much of Gaius Baltar, and he'd like to dropkick that sorry excuse of a man on a good day. What is it with academics and loving to hear the sound of their own voices?

The tail end of that, though, the bit about the moon, that holds his interest a moment, if only so long as to remind himself to mention it to Adia later.

When Micolash reaches out, Caspar stiffens immediately. It is a very wise move on the scholar's part to not follow through with that patronizing touch. You keep your hands over on your side of the table, Creepy McCageFace. "Every full moon, huh? Are these beasts werewolves?" It makes him a little nervous, to be honest. Adia is so fascinated by the moon's light these days...

The cat's adorable chatter bring a ghost of a smile to Caspar's face. He'd be more concerned about the scholar having access to a cat, but Henry is obviously a good helper boy who can take care of himself. "Your eyes?" he guesses rhetorically, returning his attention to the man in front of him. "What's going to happen when you can see again? Are you going to stay shacked up with Abysa?" Nosy! Caspar sure seems to have a lot of interest in this human-demon relationship.

"Were...wolves?" He repeats the term with uncertainty and unfamiliarity, pronouncing it instead as if it was a question regarding their former shapes. WERE wolves, not WARE-wolves. "No, they were man. Once upon a time. But every human has the seed, the capability of becoming a beast. It is the regressive side of ascension's coin. Though they do tend to take the shape of wolves. Or...wolf-like beings." How did Caspar guess!

Micolash's brows raise and his mouth pinches into a surprised pout at the following question, however. He'd be blinking rapidly if he had the capability. "...By the gods, aren't you a little. Forward with your gossip. I don't know whether to applaud you or scold you for at least coming directly to the subject of your wonderings? 'Shacked up', my goodness." Seems like Yharnam acknowledges or knows THAT particular slang and all its implications. He finally deigns to answer, however, sitting up straighter and folding his hands together, curled fingers clasped to one another sideways. "Ahem. I have no qualms of saying I would continue. Cohabitation with the Kin if he is to allow it. But as to who he shares a bed with, well. That is to his distinction and his disclosure, not mine."

Edited 2018-02-23 01:08 (UTC)

Caspar stares at him in disbelief. If this turns into "Who's on First?" but with werewolves, then he's going to get up and leave. Thankfully, it doesn't, and an answer is forthcoming, albeit not entirely what he expected. "There's a myth where I'm from of people cursed to turn into wolf-like beings during a full moon," he explains. "But that's all it is. A myth. The truth is that humans don't need the moon to turn into monsters. They do it in broad daylight if they think they can get away with it."

His prissy response makes Caspar unabashedly grin, although his stops himself from chuckling outright. "Just wondering. No offense, but you strike me as a loose cannon. I think it's good that you have someone in your life who cares about your well-being as much as he does."

Satisfied so far by what he's hearing, he settles a little more comfortably into his seat. "My name's Caspar, by the way. Adia's boyfriend. You know her, right? The nice girl you sucked into your Nightmare?"

As much as Micolash would love to continue discussing the nature of beasts, this man is being really impolite! Sure, Micolash has his eccentricities and overlooking common decency in the name of being scientific. But Yharnam instills in all its sons and daughters a very stringent means of etiquette! Just asking who's 'shacking up' with whom is just Too Much, Caspar.

Adding in the term 'loose cannon' really is increasingly questionable. Yes, he marches to the beat of his own drum at the best of times, but pairing off words like 'loose' with questions of shacking up? Hmmm. Micolash's brow has furrowed slightly and a bitter smile on his face. Oh, and there it is. It all comes together when he asks about Adia and the continued notable choice in words when it comes down to 'his' Nightmare.

"Ahh, yes. Yes, I do know her. I spoke with her even before the Nightmare on matters philosophical. And again following the Nightmare." The one that ended rather poorly and abruptly, the one Caspar watched from a few paces away. Micolash wrings his hands a few turns before Henry suddenly hops up into his lap and settles down, purring. The scholar proceeds to pet the orange and white cat instead.

"Given that you are her sweetheart, I am already. Concerned about the direction of this conversation...?"

Caspar crosses his leg over the other and folds his hands in his lap. Is he offending the other man's sensibilities? Good. Reasonable payback for the sniffing and general creepiness, so far as he's concerned. But when Micolash expresses open-ended concern about his intentions, the Cylon makes a dismissive sound and rolls his eyes.

"Relax. I'm not here to threaten you or tell you to stay away from my girl. In fact, the only thing that worried me about you talking to her was how angry she got afterwards. Do you know how rare that is? You're a special guy, Micolash. Truly." He falls silent a moment, then adds more quietly, "I want to be supportive of her, but I don't know anything about Great Ones or runes. You're the expert on that, right? She's not in the mood to talk to you right now, but I will."

Micolash actually perks up briefly being told he's special. He knows that, but it's always nice to hear outside affirmation. Although that change in posture is shortlived, after he hears that Adia is avoiding him. Oh no. Did he really offend her that grievously? What part upset her? He genuinely doesn't know.

"Great Ones and Their runes? Yes, yes! I know more than most everyone regarding these matters. What do you wish to know? Or...what does she wish to know."

Caspar makes a face. He didn't mean it a compliment! But, considering how the other man seems perplexed over Adia's avoidance more than anything, perhaps he shouldn't expect much when it comes to subtle sarcasm.

"How's it going to affect her, to have a rune in her head? Does it matter that she's not from your world? Does this mean she can communicate with Great Ones?"

"Why, she will be nothing but continually blessed to have memorized Their words. She will see new threads and new connections in the weave of reality, of the Waking. To know the Caryll rune described as MOON, that is to know Their tenderness. Their unique interest in mortalkind." He thinks, trying to dredge up anything that could be considered negative of having a rune, but of course he's the sort to see ALL effects as positives.

"Oh, They communicate with us as They care to. As They see fit. And we can understand Them, even without an existing rune! But to fully grasp Their primordial thoughts, Their fundamental, inhuman concepts so elevated beyond what we may glean with our eyes so untrained, still so closed... Perhaps if Adia is fortunate enough to meet one, her already having the mark of Their language will attract Their attention. And that is never a cause for alarm! Only excitement! Discovery!"

He pauses as he gestures with one hand, which is promptly headbutted by Henry. Why gesture when you can pet? "I would only urge...concern if she were to garner audience with Formless Oedon, as His. Particulars of mortal communion are. Unique. But the odds of that are sadly poor. A shame, truly." Micolash sighs wistfully.

It's obvious from the get-go that Micolash is not an unbiased source when it comes to these Great Ones, but Caspar does not appear concerned at first. In fact, the idea of Adia becoming more in-tune with reality -- and more advanced than her human peers -- puts a small, warm smile on his face. She's special -- well, she was always special, but it's nice of the multiverse to finally acknowledge that.

The rest of the scholar's answer doesn't sit with him nearly so well.

"What's it like to communicate with a Great One?" he asks, leaning in a little, brows furrowed. "Does it hurt? Touching the Brain of Mensis caused her a lot of pain, even though she says it wasn't intentional." He's trying to keep an open mind, not the least of which because believing that the Great Ones are dangerous means that Reynard was right, and he absolutely won't have that. "And what's the deal with Oedon, why should she watch out for him?"

Micolash normally would have been rushing right into gushing about how transcendent and amazing it is to speak with the Great Ones, but it's tempered by this talk of the Brain. His beautiful, tragic, misbegotten living relic. "That one is...unique as well. Transcendence gone. Poorly. It speaks in terms of agony because it. Understands pain in a powerful, deeply exquisite way. It does not know that what it feels is not something a lone mortal can withstand. Blame it not. She is gracious indeed to understand that..."

The scholar's tone becomes less cautious as he moves onto the other being, however. "Ah, and Odeon! Greatest and highest of all we know of. So above even the other Great Ones that He exists now in only voice and will. Completely shedding any need for a body to traverse the highest planes that we mortals, even the other Great Ones, strive for! But He remains keen and close to the affairs of mortals, either in securing young for the other bereft Great Ones, or to bless a womb upon each Paleblood Sky. To grant a child upon a suitable woman He notices and favours. A profound blessing. A profound privilege."

"She is," he agrees quietly, his voice cool and tempered. "She told me what happened to it, how it came to be like it is." He pauses, the silence meaningful. There's no outrage, but there is wariness. A man who leads his students to such a tragic end is one that has his priorities super screwed up. "Glad to hear that it's not like that with the other Great Ones."

Odeon's exploits remind him of Zeus, and the comparison makes him chuckle darkly a moment before the words truly sink in. Then he stiffens, hands unfolding and gripping the chairs of his arm with a ferocity that turns his knuckles white. "He's not going to seek her out, is he?" he demands. That formless bastard better keep his non-existent paws off Adia if he knows what's good for him.

Micolash straightens up in his seat again, stiffening, folding one arm against his stomach, the hand curled into a fidgeting fist. The furtive jabs about the Brain and its origins cause the professor to grow prickly, speaking now in a haughtier voice, "No others of its nature because no one else has come as close as I have. Misbegotten and failed, it is still a legitimate Great One. One created where one was not before. A remarkable accomplishment. I will brook no chastisement from those who do not understand the greater scope of its circumstances. Or mine."

He finally turns his head to look away sidelong, that hand clenched into a fist now fiddling with the bunched, rolled-up portion of the other arm's sleeve at his elbow. "His influence is fleeting and His reach is limited. I would not doubt Formless Oedon could find his way to this Dream, but I would not understand the why. There is no chapel dedicated to Him, nor the Old Blood to guide Him, save what remains in my own veins. And the ones he chose are usually...marked well before the time comes for the conception. His runes are...furtive. Secretive. Most who hold them never know they do. I could always take a closer look at the young lady to see if she bears one..." Though he's not so sure he'll be given that allowance, going on how cagey (no pun intended) Caspar is being, coupled with Adia's apparent avoidance.

"Oh, pardon me. I didn't realize bringing into existence a being that suffers endlessly deserves such accolades. Did you get first author on that publication, too?" The sarcasm in his voice is laced with irritation. "That's the trouble with you humans, you keep trying to make things you have no business making. You've got all that DNA of your own to mess with, why do you need to drag anyone else into it?"

His grip on the arms of his chair relents, but only a little. He has enough to worry about when it comes to Adia's safety, he doesn't need tales of promiscuous Great Ones to add to his paranoia. "So... you're saying it's unlikely he'll just show up out of the blue..." As for his offer, that's surprisingly the least bothersome thing to Caspar. "That's up to her. I know she'd rather not be upset with you..." He tilts his head in mild acquiescence. "I'll let her know."

"No different than parenthood, really," quips Micolash sardonically. His curled fingernails pick and scrape over that same hands' thumbnail, plucking at ragged edges of where it looks to have been chewed off. "And quite honestly, I would say that's our greatest asset. The ability, the drive, to create. Even by way of flesh reshaped, should it come to that."

Caspar snorts, but he does relax a little further, sitting back in his chair and re-folding his hands in his lap. Philosophical discussions on the stupid, thoughtless things humans do he can handle without breaking a sweat.

"Sure, like parenthood. Expect parents know when to get out of the way and let their children take care of themselves. They don't turn them into slaves or experiments for their own amusement." He pauses thoughtfully, then shrugs. "Or maybe they do. I don't know anything about raising kids. Except that you reap what you sow."

"I think an...integral disconnect has happened here. That you think I do what I must for the sake of. Entertainment? Oh, certainly, it passes the TIME, but that's not the point either."

Henry has lifted his head from where he's been dozing in Micolash's lap, then rolls his neck to boof that head into the man's stomach. Perhaps serving as a reminder that he is still here and he MUST be petted. Micolash is prudent about getting back on that as he strokes one skinny hand down the feline's skull-spotted back.

"I've never been a parent proper, no. But I have...cared. For young. And created new life. This is neither here nor there, isn't it, though? We're getting well off topic." Though he stops and frowns as he tries to recall what the real or prior topic was? Oh right, it was about dressing him down for the Brain. Ugh. So rather than get back into it, the professor just...ignores it and keeps petting a cat instead.

The cat is really soft.

"Yeah, I've heard about that, too." The ghost baby that he stole. Something like that.

Micolash is right about one thing, though; they have gotten off-topic. However, what Caspar considers on-topic has little to do with the Brain. "What's your plan once you get your sight back? Going back into your research?" He doesn't see Micolash as much of a threat now, but things can change. He'd like to be prepared.

"Of course. I am researching constantly, even now, despite the handicap." A dire one, if you go too far into it. There's not seeing, and then there's not having eyes to see. They're different matters in Micolash's mind and one more dire than the other. "Tireless pursuit of understanding was never off the table. And if...you are asking what in particular I shall be researching, still matters of ascension. Higher planes. The nature of the Dream and the Nightmare. Same as it ever was."

He's not sure why he bothered to ask, of course someone with a one-track mind like Micolash is going to keep researching his topic of interest. Well, if they're lucky, maybe the scholar will ascend himself right out of the Nexus.

A Cylon can dream, can't he?

"What's this research of yours entail?" he asks, trying to sound more curious than derisive. Preparing himself for another long-winded speech, he adds, "In layman's terms, if you don't mind."

Caspar would hopefully be gratified that Micolash feels the exact same way. It WOULD be nice to just ascend right outta here and never come back!

"Presently? It is largely a matter of compiling and. Transcription. Recording what knowledge I still retain from my time in the Nightmare of Mensis, as well as...general knowledge and discoveries made by the college. To lose all we learned would be a tragedy I cannot simply stand idly by and allow! So I remain diligent in committing it to writing.

"Though that is...clearly on hold at the moment. Dictation might be a thought?" Henry makes a sneezing noise, making Micolash's hand pause in its petting, instead hovering over his back uncertainly. When he feels/hears purring again, he resumes.

Wow, something they can agree on!

Actually, too be fair, the scholar's intention to put into writing everything he's learned so far is not something he can find fault with. Knowledge is meant to be preserved. What Micolash plans to do with that knowledge is what has Caspar concerned, but it sounds like this transcription process will keep him out of trouble for a while, especially as there is an inherent roadblock to the process.

"Can't Abysa do it for you?" He grins unconsciously at Henry's cute kitty sneeze. "I'm sure he already listens to whatever stories you feel like sharing with him." Or at least pretends to. Why that demon wants to waste an ounce of his time or resources on Micolash is absolutely beyond him.

Micolash's expression becomes one of slight, uncertain tension. Like a sour note was just tripped over unexpectedly in the conversation. The scholar's hand stops again, resting on Henry's soft back as he struggles to find an answer. His face twitches between a forced half-smile that looks more like a grimace and a look of closed-mouth concern.

"...I would rather. Not." Perhaps feeling elaboration is required, it's only a few seconds before Micolash adds, "I simply do not wish to further burden my caretaker with such matters. And thinking further upon it, coming to matters of me wishing to. Compile things, dictation is lacking because it invites questions. Or debate. Which results in valuable lost time and memory. There are nights I can feel the knowledge seeping out of me, like sand. Like water. Truths I'd learned in the Nightmare that I now cannot recall. It's dreadful."

Caspar raises an eyebrow at the tactful but surprisingly revealing answer. Adia had mentioned that Abysa was as displeased with the scholar's pre-Nexus antics as she was. It makes sense that he wouldn't want to get into it every time he opened his mouth.

"Have you thought getting a digital voice recorder? You could at least get your thoughts out verbally and transcribe it once your sight is back."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he feels immediate regret. Did he forget that he's not trying to help? Ugh. It must be the sight of the cat. It's making him soft.

His head cants to one side behind his iron bars. "A...what? I am no Caryll, and the device he used to transcribe are lost to us. Ah, but there are wax cylinders, aren't there? Gramophones! Of course!" Micolash is suddenly much more energetic, his confused face giving way for an excited one.

"Oh, certainly there must be shops about with such supplies! Labeled and preserved, stored away until young Viatorus secures a study space where they can be transferred to...Oh, you are the clever one, aren't you, sir?" That's a compliment, Caspar. For you!

Caspar keeps silent, not about to elaborate on the efficiency of a digital recorder versus a phonograph. He's already done enough damage by making the suggestion in the first place. At least Viatorus might inadvertently provide another obstacle to Micolash's research. He hasn't spoken to Isidor specifically about the caged scholar, but he can easily guess how she would feel about her brother working with Micolash. She'd probably try to set him on fire or something. Hah, what a mental image.

"I already knew I was clever, but thanks anyway," he quips. He taps at the table once, weighing the value of asking more questions or cutting his losses. Deciding on the latter, he stands up, smoothing out his blazer. "I have to go now, but I'm glad we had a chance to talk." Almost sounds sincere about that. "Just want to make one last thing clear... make sure your research doesn't take you anywhere near my girl. I'll give you Halloween, that wasn't your fault, but anything like that happens again? She better not be involved."

Edited 2018-03-31 01:05 (UTC)

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New Years Tradition

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