Broad-spectrum imaging. [ His voice matches his pace, brisk and businesslike, as he drives the pole into the soil. They did discuss this before, but it doesn't hurt to go over it again. ] The cameras can "see" wavelengths invisible to the human eye - infrared, ultraviolet, x-ray. Even if we can't observe the flow of eksth'alva directly, we can still quantify its effects.
[ Temperature's the big one, obviously, with the rest included for completeness. He's still not sure the x-ray will provide enough relevant info to justify its inclusion, but ... this is really a survey more than anything, and Carlisle did agree to it. ]
[He pulls in another deep breath. He feels better, honestly. Maybe they can put this off. Maybe—
No no, no thinking like that. Qubit already chastised him once for delaying the inevitable. He frees one hand from around him and adjusts the tea on the glyph. His entire arm is trembling, and he fights the urge to gnaw his lip. Doesn't have much of it left, after all.]
[ Qubit pauses, then glances up, and... he's struck by how small Carlisle looks. Of course he's no bodybuilder at the best of times, but the way he's sitting, curled in on himself like that... He's frightened, vulnerable. Suffering. And for a second, Qubit wants nothing more than to go to him - pat him on the shoulder, assure him it's going to be all right -
- but that's not the best idea right now, as the withering grass reminds him. He does still need both his hands. ]
[Carlisle's apparently not done, his voice croaking its way out of him once again, his shaking hands more animated as he tries to gesticulate his overwhelming anxiety.]
I don't like this, and I don't like you being here for this. [His tone sounds harsh as it comes out, grating in his throat in a way he finds distinctly uncomfortable.] I know that- I know I ought not do this on my own, and I trust no one else with this endeavor, but I don't— I don't...
[He shakes his head, unable to figure out exactly what he's trying to say. It must be his nerves drowning out rational thought, he assumes — or worse, his mind failing him as a precursor of the worst case scenario. Qubit is right: he's utterly terrified, and he's not sure any outcome of the day's experiment will grant him solace. If it works, it means he'll have to do this again and again, draining the life out of the plants of Anchor periodically in the hopes he doesn't turn on the people. It's necromancy, abhorrent and repugnant and absolutely vile in the eyes of his goddess, further proof of his monstrous nature. He is a creature, not a man; he cannot forget that.
And if it doesn't work, well... they'll have more catastrophic problems to deal with. Correction: Qubit will have to deal with them, as Carlisle expects he will no longer exist in any capacity. He shifts in his spot, feeling the physical distance between them, and in that moment, Qubit might as well be across the colony. At least he'd be safer there.
He sighs one more time.]
Forgive me. I am unwell. I know this is for the best, but I cannot help but feel we are making a mistake.
[ While Carlisle talks, Qubit resumes working - he's still listening, but doing something with his hands helps him keep his cool. Tapping his watch, he pulls up a 2D image in hologram form, and the camera lights up again as he modifies it to inscribe the design on one side. It's one Carlisle should be familiar with - Qubit got it from his notebook, after all. ]
It's all right, I understand. [ He's worried too, of course, but now's not the time to get bogged down in it. That's the last thing Carlisle needs at the moment. ]
But we're doing all we can to mitigate the risks. And whatever happens next, we'll learn from it. That's the most important thing. We'll learn, and put what we learn into practice going forward.
[ Iterate, experiment, gather evidence, improve. That's what science is, at its heart, even if the problem itself is stubbornly unscientific. ]
[He's about to ask about the possibility that there is no going forward from this experience, but he's so taken aback by the glyph that pops up from Qubit's watch that the question instead gets lodged somewhere in his throat. He knew Qubit was futzing with glyphcrafting — he's been keen to foster Qubit's interest in the subject, after all — but Carlisle wasn't expecting him to use it here, and certainly not with what appears to be one of his glyphs.
He recognizes it, and despite his anxious state, pieces together a couple of key details: Qubit, clever as he is, recognized what the glyph was designed to do, and he intends to use it here to protect his devices. Carlisle unwraps his arms from around himself, leaning on one hand to get a better look.]
You're a quicker study than I thought. I've not — [a tremor runs through him, but he recovers] — fully tested that one yet.
[ Okay, despite the circumstances, Qubit can't help preening just a tiny bit. Why yes, he is the smartest, thank you for noticing. He shrugs casually, shooting Carlisle a glow-eyed smile. ]
Consider this a field test, then. Though I'll have to leave interpreting the results up to you - don't have a clue how to debug these things myself, I'm afraid.
[ Which means you're obligated to come back in one piece, Carlisle. It's your job. ]
[While Carlisle's eyes glow all the time — some days brighter than others, as is the current case — he finds it unsettling when Qubit's eyes do the same, largely because he doesn't fully understand the reason for it. It's connected to his technokinesis, he's sure, but Qubit's insistence it isn't like magic, despite all the signs that say otherwise, always leads to Carlisle having more questions than answers.
His teeth grind behind his mask, his fingers curling into the desiccated soil beneath him. Qubit trusts Carlisle's work more than Carlisle himself does. Then again, Carlisle doesn't trust much of what he does these days, but that may just be his aggravated condition talking. He tries to clear his throat; his voice sounds worse with every word that escapes him.]
Your faith in me must be misplaced. I'll not apologize should your machines be ruined.
[Yes he will, but maybe a few times less than his normal dozen apologies.]
[ Right - no use getting distracted. It's only stressing Carlisle out, and they are on sort of a deadline here. He pulls his focus back and finishes the glyph, double-checking it for accuracy and finally putting his thumb to it. He wouldn't say he's used to the activation twinge just yet, but he's been futzing with glyphs on and off for long enough that the uncanny sensation's stopped making him squirm, at least.
The process goes quicker for the other two cameras, both identical to the first; these he jams into the ground such that the three of them form a rough triangle around Carlisle. They both get the glyph treatment as well, of course. He finalizes the configuration from his tablet, muttering to himself as he returns to Camera 1. ]
... and, all feeds active and recording. That ought to do it.
I suppose I'm as ready as I can be, given the circumstances.
[He looks back to the glyph on the ground next to him, his uncertainty still woven into his brow. He closes his eyes, trying his best to push out the mental image of a black streak of rot snaking its way across the ground toward Qubit the moment he activates it. He has to trust this will work, or that, at the very least, Qubit will know how to handle it if something goes horribly wrong. He has no other real choice, and it's better than the alternative.
One more breath to steel himself, in and out.]
May her watchful eye observe us in this endeavor; may not a day go that she does not dream, and that we do not dream in turn. May it be that when we return to the cycle, our dreams are the same.
[That brief prayer said, he activates the glyph; the array lights up with a flash, leaving the cup steaming pleasantly beside him. Carlisle holds his breath as he lifts the mug to his face, inhaling deeply only once it's there—
And he's out like a light. That's nearly literal in the case of his eyes, the overwhelming illumination of them fading to nearly imperceptible glow. His hand trembles as he drops the mug, the rest of his body stiffening bit by bit for a second or two before going completely slack. His torso topples sideways rather than back, leaving him in a crumpled heap as he hits the ground without the slightest bit of resistance.
Said ground does suffer immediately: much like it did with Ami, it fades and withers around him, but the distance this time is limited, not even reaching Qubit's cameras. It seems the plan has been met with some success, but how much there will ultimately be is yet to be determined.
That's if Carlisle ever wakes up again, of course.]
[ Carlisle's prayer gives Qubit some time to take a few steps back, hoping for the best, but ready to bolt if need be. Fortunately, need does not be. As Carlisle's body collapses, the decay around him expands rapidly at first, but tapers off after only a second or two, with meters to spare. Qubit waits a moment to be sure it's stabilized; another passes before he remembers to exhale.
Carlisle was already dead, he reminds himself. He's been dead since before they met. But this is the first time he's really looked it - crumpled haphazardly on the ground, utterly motionless, eyes open but seeing nothing. Even with the knowledge that it's only temporary, and before long he'll be wide awake and back to his old self (because this will work, it has to work), the sight ties Qubit's stomach in knots.
This time, he allows it. He lingers a few minutes longer to collect himself, to remember some of the other faces he's seen wearing that same haunting expression. And gradually, the mood passes.
Qubit straightens, taking one lapel in his free hand, and meets his friend's darkened eyes. ]
Carlisle often calls his existence a conundrum, and I'm inclined to agree. The inner workings of his physiology - and whatever arcane processes keep him ticking over - are a mystery even to him. But there are some things we know.
We know his body is, by all objective measures, dead. As a result, he can't digest food or drink. He still breathes, but mostly out of habit.
We know his reanimation is the result of magic. Specifically, by some perverse twist of fate, the same curse that torturously killed him is now what keeps him torturously "alive."
But magic or no, that energy has to come from somewhere. And we know the curse draws on his own eksth'alva reserves for its upkeep. We know he can replenish them by siphoning directly from sources in his environment. This usually kills the sources, so obviously he doesn't like doing it - but when he puts it off for too long, his Revenant side takes over and does it for him.
We don't know why that is. Carlisle maintains it's simply his "true nature" coming out under stress. I maintain that's a crock of nonsense. If it were his true nature, I doubt he'd still be fighting it so hard.
Granted, I don't think we can say the Revenant is entirely separate from him. It's a powerful source of instinct, clearly. Tells him to fight when he's threatened, "eat" when he's starving, etc. And it's unambiguously tied to his emotional state.
But where does the violence come from? He's a lifelong pacifist, despite his family's best efforts. He's dedicated himself to a religion that holds all life sacred - that demands extermination of the undead. There's nothing he abhors more than necromancy.
So how do you explain Scraps?
We weren't sure what would happen to it when Carlisle lost consciousness. He doesn't have much control over it at the best of times, so it seemed possible it might go on a rampage.
But we needn't have worried. The second he hit the ground, so did Scraps - in pieces. It didn't just go dormant, it fell apart at the seams. I'd assumed it had some degree of autonomy, but that's not the case. In reality, it's completely dependent on him.
Which makes it something of an anomaly. I've known Carlisle to accidentally raise the dead before, but he's never had much trouble un-raising them afterward. Scraps, on the other hand, has resisted all such attempts. He was half reverted when he first raised it - could that have something to do with it? But why should that make any difference?
... I suppose that's something to ask him when he wakes up. He's the expert.
It was one of the reindire, a doe, I think. Must have strayed from the herd. But before I could decide how best to deal with it, it simply... lay down next to him and fell asleep. Within half an hour, all life signs had ceased.
I'm not surprised that it died - but it happened remarkably quickly. Carlisle's "kill zone" (much as he'd hate me calling it that) is still widening, but the rate of expansion is in steady decline. This morning, my calculations indicated it would stop in roughly 70 more hours. But when I updated them a moment ago, that single incident had shaved off nearly an entire day.
It's too early to draw any conclusions, naturally, but what it suggests is very interesting. It seems that, although Carlisle can draw energy from plant life, he draws it much more efficiently from animals.
He's not going to like that, I'm sure. But I actually think it's cause for optimism. Going off preliminary estimates, the total amount of energy he's absorbed is significantly lower than I'd anticipated. It's possible a single herd animal could sustain him for months, and they're already marked for the food supply. If he's willing to try it, then maybe...
Maybe he won't have to feel like he's running on fumes all the time.
Anyway. If all goes well, I should be able to wake him sometime tomorrow. The sooner the better, I say. It... hasn't been easy, seeing him like this.
Total time elapsed: 71 hours, 25 minutes Maximum radius: 14.83 m
I've decided to call it. The expansion rate's practically zero, there's no point dragging this out any longer. I think Carlisle's ready for his wake-up call.
Sadly, it seems one of his uncountable worries came true: the broom he left here does not have a 15-meter handle. But I think I've put together a suitable workaround...
[ His workaround? A crablike robot, six-legged, which he's been building piecemeal over the last day or so. He deposits it just outside the kill zone, steering it with a remote control handset like the ones he uses to pilot drones. The little robot scuttles up to Carlisle's corpse, raises one front leg, and pokes him sharply a few times.
Nothing. ]
... Hm. Probably all that padding.
[ The crab backs off and approaches his face instead. It's hard to see what it's aiming at from this angle, so Carlisle gets poked mostly in the glasses and the eyebrow. Still, there's no response. Sighing, Qubit backs it up again. ]
No, the actuators are too weak. I was afraid of that. Well... [ He flips a switch on the controller. ] Plan B it is, then.
[ And with its stun gun thus armed, the robot rams itself directly into Carlisle's chest. ]
[Qubit's backup plan was a good one, but he's right: there's just not enough force behind the robocrab's pokes to stir Carlisle. Thankfully, he has a backup backup plan, and that one gets results. The stun gun connects with Carlisle's chest, there's a split second of sharp krrkkrrkkrrking as the taser goes off, and then—]
GAHHH!!
[Carlisle rises with enough force to knock over the mechanical crab before he even realizes it's there. His fingers — with his hand at his abdomen rather than his chest — curl against his coat, the fabric pulled taut as he gasps; the air rakes along his windpipe, his throat impossibly dry. Unfocused, violent light spills from his eyes as he buckles to the pressure of his own magic, and he feels his aural compulsion lash out at those around him — in this case, the only one around him. Though he's helpless against it, he tries to rein it in anyway.]
I'm here! I'm here, I'm- I don't- don't do this—
[He buries his face in his hands, his fingers knocking his glasses and crown askew, his body trembling as he forces himself to take a few deep breaths. One by one, they calm him, and he gains more control over himself, his energies evening out as they flow once more through his frame. Carlisle slowly becomes aware of that current, and of how strong it is, stable in a way it hasn't been since—
Since... well, he can't think of the last time he felt this steady, magic-wise. There's a balance that wasn't there before, and it feels undeniably good. After a minute and some change, he lowers his hands, and while his legs are shaking beneath him more from his nerves than any legitimate weakness, he still manages to get to his feet, straightening his accessories along the way. He looks around him once his glasses are back in place, first at the withered grass, then the decaying remains of the reindire, then the treeline, and finally at Qubit himself. By the time his eyes make it to his friend, the light in them has settled, honed into their usual, illuminated pupils.]
[ Qubit remains at a safe distance, watching his friend carefully. As he'd thought, a mild electric shock was enough to kick Carlisle's energies into motion, but it's such convulsive motion that he's suddenly worried he might have overdone it. Carlisle's visibly struggling, gasping for breath he doesn't need, his eyes glowing like Cherenkov radiation - and though Qubit's brain shielding deflects the compulsion effect, he still dimly feels the psychic shockwave.
But then he speaks, and Qubit lets out a sigh of relief. He's talking, that's a very good sign. He's here. Even if his energies are in flux, and he's overwhelmed and disoriented and thinks he's under attack - it's him. ]
Carlisle! Carlisle! It's all right, I'm here! ... Just focus. Take your time. It's only us.
[ Whether or not his friend can hear him right now, he doesn't feel right just watching in silence. He really wishes he could offer more substantial help, but for now, moral support will have to do.
Fortunately, Carlisle manages to collect himself soon enough, shakily getting to his feet within a few minutes. And rude awakening aside, he's already looking much better. Even from this distance, Qubit's noticing signs of it - he's calm, attentive, even his posture's improved...
In short, it seems like it worked. He does his best to restrain his elation - not just yet, get confirmation first - but he can't keep all the hopeful eagerness out of his voice. ]
Just shy of 72 hours. Are you all right? How are you feeling?
[72 hours. Days. Carlisle had hoped it wouldn't take that long, given he had to be under constant supervision during that time, but at least it seemed to have been worth the trouble. The forest overall looks relatively intact, save for the area directly around him. That looks like he expected: shriveled trees, discolored grass, the sad remains of the reindire he spotted seconds ago. He takes another look at it — definitely deceased, certainly his fault — and rubs at his chest in discomfort. He has a couple of new holes in his coat from the stun gun that will need fixing, but other than that—]
Remarkably well. [His voice is clear, his tone smooth, the more melodic parts of his accent coming through.] Better than I can recall feeling, even long before... [A beat as he shakes his head just a fraction, trying to think of a nicer way to describe his demise.] Well, this.
[His eyes land on the mechanical crab lying on its back, its legs unable to right it; he stoops and puts it back on its feet, still frowning behind his mask at the reindire in eyeshot. It remains unmoving, almost peaceful; it died without struggle. Maybe it simply thought itself exhausted, he considers for a second, lying down to sleep — only dreaming, never waking.]
I apologize for any inconvenience this caused you. [He turns from the reindire to Qubit, brushing his hair back into place with his hand before picking up the belongings he'd brought out there with him.] I hadn't expected to be out so long. It- it felt like moments for me. I was here, and then... I wasn't.
[ So he's not just back to normal - Carlisle's feeling better than he did when he was alive! That's all the confirmation Qubit needs; he immediately drops any pretense of hiding his excitement. ]
Astounding! Carlisle, that's wonderful!
[ Rather than pilot the righted crab away, he decides to go retrieve it himself, striding into the kill zone with an unmistakeable spring in his step. (It's probably safe now, right? Yeah, he's not dead yet, it's fine.) ]
No need to apologize, it's no trouble at all. [ He's your friend, Carlisle, it comes with the territory. I mean, sure, he hasn't slept much over the past few days, but that's not so unusual for him. And it's not like he got dragged away from anything time-sensitive. ] Anyway, this has given me some valuable insights. I think you'll find them quite illuminating.
[ He picks up the crab and inspects it briefly before tucking it under his arm. The controller ends up in his coat pocket, though the antenna remains sticking two or three feet out of it. If Qubit notices this oversight, he doesn't seem to care, as he's still chattering a mile a minute. ]
I'm still running some preprocessing on the data, but that shouldn't take long - we can review it whenever you're ready. Your glyph worked perfectly, by the way, I had virtually no issues with the cameras. Oh - let's stop by the pasture first, though, there's something I want to show you. In the meantime, what was your experience like? Tell me more about that. When you say, "I wasn't here" - what do you mean by that? Were you dreaming?
[Though he has no idea what data Qubit could have possibly gleaned from his devices while he was sleeping, Carlisle can't help but be encouraged by his friend's optimistic chatter. Maybe that's just how wonderful he feels talking, but he finds Qubit's energy to be surprisingly contagious. Despite how dubious Carlisle had been in his last waking moments about those glyphs, he's delighted to hear they worked — smiling at the prospect, even.
He tries to answer Qubit's questions as they prepare to meander toward the field. Are the cows okay? Surely the cows are okay. Qubit would have said something if the cows weren't okay, right? Or maybe what he wants to show Carlisle has to do with Scraps.
Oh, perhaps he's finally gone, Carlisle considers. The very thought makes him perk up as he starts talking.]
I don't know, honestly. I certainly had a dream the last time I tried this concoction, though my enchantment was not as strong then. Before I passed out, there was this brief... [He waves a circle with one hand, as though trying to conjure the correct word from thin air.] Distance from my body, as though I were simultaneously there and not. Cisth, I feel better than I've felt in so long, and I still cannot describe it properly. Does that help? Or make any sense at all? And it's so quiet now! Has it always been this quiet?
[Forgive him, Qubit — he's just excited to not have a consistent, maddening hum competing with his every waking thought for a change. It's still there, as that's the magic keeping him animated, but the current is so much calmer than it was before, as though it has nowhere in particular to be.]
[ Once Carlisle's got his things together, Qubit will lead them back toward the homestead and pasture, setting a brisk pace. They're only about five minutes out, so they'll come up on the fence in short order.
He quickly catches on to what Carlisle means by quiet; it's to do with how he perceives his own energies, which he's often described as a near-auditory phenomenon, not unlike the low-grade hum Qubit "hears" from electronics. Up until now, though, he's characterized the sound as incessant and cacophonous, deafening, even maddening. ]
I suppose it has! [ He laughs. ] That's interesting. Sort of an out-of-body experience, then? - [ quickly ] I mean - that's a colloquialism, it doesn't necessarily mean you were detached from your body, just refers to a certain sort of perceived dissociation - although given the circumstances and your unique mind-body connection, the literal option may actually be worth ruling out - but my point is -
[ Yeah, Qubit, what is your point? You remember periods? Those things you're supposed to end sentences with, occasionally? ]
- my point is, based on the note you left me, your spell was designed to essentially freeze your eksth'alva, correct? That is, you weren't trying to displace anything.
I wasn't, but it certainly felt like it from the inside. That begs the question of not only why that happened, but also if there are any consequences or lingering effects of such a phenomenon.
[He gesticulates with his free hand as he follows Qubit, sorting through his own guesses, hoping maybe some of that data Qubit was talking about might help paint a more complete picture of why he is the way he is.]
For example, Reynir visited me in that dream I had before. Literally visited, as it was within his capacity to do so. Did I only dream because of his presence? Or is my conscious somehow separate from the rest of me? If so, have I merely been- been possessing my own body all this time? And how? Was I exorcised, then drawn back? And who would have done so were that the case? Was the Blight Heir not a Revenant? And if not, what was he? And by extension...
[His voice slows with his gait, his brow furrowing.]
[ Those are all fascinating questions, naturally, but there sure are a lot of "if so" clauses in there. Noticing Carlisle starting to lag behind, Qubit matches his pace, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. ]
You're getting ahead of yourself, is what. [ A smirk. ] One thing at a time, all right? We will get into the hows and whys, but that comes after we nail down the what. Scientific method, remember?
[Carlisle nods, successfully reassured for the time being. Qubit's right that he's putting the cart before the horse, something he really ought not be doing when he just woke up from a magically-induced nap. They have enough questions to deal with before they get to the more nuanced angles of his existence. Once step at a time.]
Of course, of course. Forgive me, there's just a lot on my mind, and it's clearer than it's been in days. I'll consider these things when I can, but I want to hear about your findings, first.
[ Wow, Carlisle must be feeling phenomenal, if it's that easy to derail his existential navel-gazing. Qubit returns his nod, grinning. In fairness, he's feeling pretty phenomenal himself.
Three days. And unlike Carlisle, Qubit didn't get to sleep through them. It's never easy, the waiting game. This may come as a complete shock, but Qubit is not by nature a patient man. Obviously, he's no stranger to stress and uncertainty, but at least in an acute crisis there are things he can do about it. He's hated having to stand around twiddling his thumbs, waiting on the other shoe to drop, wondering how this might still manage to go wrong despite all their precautions...
... and then nothing went wrong. Carlisle came back, just as planned, and better than ever. The relief is extraordinary; it's no wonder he's a little lighter on his feet, and as eager to share his findings as his friend is to hear them. ]
Right. Well, as I'm sure you've guessed, the first thing has to do with Scraps.
[ They're coming up on the pasture fence now, and Qubit gestures broadly over it toward the lifeless pile of bones in the middle of the field, stark white against the green grass. ]
[ Then he double-takes, his grin fading to bewilderment as he realizes that yeah, it wasn't a trick of the light, those bones are unmistakably moving. ]
What? No! Are you kidding me?!
[ He rushes to the split-rail fence, his hands landing on the top rail as he leans far over it for a beter look. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
superposition) wrote2019-09-06 02:00 am
no subject
[ Temperature's the big one, obviously, with the rest included for completeness. He's still not sure the x-ray will provide enough relevant info to justify its inclusion, but ... this is really a survey more than anything, and Carlisle did agree to it. ]
no subject
[He pulls in another deep breath. He feels better, honestly. Maybe they can put this off. Maybe—
No no, no thinking like that. Qubit already chastised him once for delaying the inevitable. He frees one hand from around him and adjusts the tea on the glyph. His entire arm is trembling, and he fights the urge to gnaw his lip. Doesn't have much of it left, after all.]
I don't like this.
no subject
- but that's not the best idea right now, as the withering grass reminds him. He does still need both his hands. ]
... I know. [ - he replies, more gently. ]
no subject
I don't like this, and I don't like you being here for this. [His tone sounds harsh as it comes out, grating in his throat in a way he finds distinctly uncomfortable.] I know that- I know I ought not do this on my own, and I trust no one else with this endeavor, but I don't— I don't...
[He shakes his head, unable to figure out exactly what he's trying to say. It must be his nerves drowning out rational thought, he assumes — or worse, his mind failing him as a precursor of the worst case scenario. Qubit is right: he's utterly terrified, and he's not sure any outcome of the day's experiment will grant him solace. If it works, it means he'll have to do this again and again, draining the life out of the plants of Anchor periodically in the hopes he doesn't turn on the people. It's necromancy, abhorrent and repugnant and absolutely vile in the eyes of his goddess, further proof of his monstrous nature. He is a creature, not a man; he cannot forget that.
And if it doesn't work, well... they'll have more catastrophic problems to deal with. Correction: Qubit will have to deal with them, as Carlisle expects he will no longer exist in any capacity. He shifts in his spot, feeling the physical distance between them, and in that moment, Qubit might as well be across the colony. At least he'd be safer there.
He sighs one more time.]
Forgive me. I am unwell. I know this is for the best, but I cannot help but feel we are making a mistake.
no subject
It's all right, I understand. [ He's worried too, of course, but now's not the time to get bogged down in it. That's the last thing Carlisle needs at the moment. ]
But we're doing all we can to mitigate the risks. And whatever happens next, we'll learn from it. That's the most important thing. We'll learn, and put what we learn into practice going forward.
[ Iterate, experiment, gather evidence, improve. That's what science is, at its heart, even if the problem itself is stubbornly unscientific. ]
no subject
[He's about to ask about the possibility that there is no going forward from this experience, but he's so taken aback by the glyph that pops up from Qubit's watch that the question instead gets lodged somewhere in his throat. He knew Qubit was futzing with glyphcrafting — he's been keen to foster Qubit's interest in the subject, after all — but Carlisle wasn't expecting him to use it here, and certainly not with what appears to be one of his glyphs.
He recognizes it, and despite his anxious state, pieces together a couple of key details: Qubit, clever as he is, recognized what the glyph was designed to do, and he intends to use it here to protect his devices. Carlisle unwraps his arms from around himself, leaning on one hand to get a better look.]
You're a quicker study than I thought. I've not — [a tremor runs through him, but he recovers] — fully tested that one yet.
no subject
Consider this a field test, then. Though I'll have to leave interpreting the results up to you - don't have a clue how to debug these things myself, I'm afraid.
[ Which means you're obligated to come back in one piece, Carlisle. It's your job. ]
no subject
His teeth grind behind his mask, his fingers curling into the desiccated soil beneath him. Qubit trusts Carlisle's work more than Carlisle himself does. Then again, Carlisle doesn't trust much of what he does these days, but that may just be his aggravated condition talking. He tries to clear his throat; his voice sounds worse with every word that escapes him.]
Your faith in me must be misplaced. I'll not apologize should your machines be ruined.
[Yes he will, but maybe a few times less than his normal dozen apologies.]
no subject
That's fair. Wouldn't ask you to.
[ Right - no use getting distracted. It's only stressing Carlisle out, and they are on sort of a deadline here. He pulls his focus back and finishes the glyph, double-checking it for accuracy and finally putting his thumb to it. He wouldn't say he's used to the activation twinge just yet, but he's been futzing with glyphs on and off for long enough that the uncanny sensation's stopped making him squirm, at least.
The process goes quicker for the other two cameras, both identical to the first; these he jams into the ground such that the three of them form a rough triangle around Carlisle. They both get the glyph treatment as well, of course. He finalizes the configuration from his tablet, muttering to himself as he returns to Camera 1. ]
... and, all feeds active and recording. That ought to do it.
[ Finally, he raises his eyes to Carlisle. ]
Ready when you are.
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I suppose I'm as ready as I can be, given the circumstances.
[He looks back to the glyph on the ground next to him, his uncertainty still woven into his brow. He closes his eyes, trying his best to push out the mental image of a black streak of rot snaking its way across the ground toward Qubit the moment he activates it. He has to trust this will work, or that, at the very least, Qubit will know how to handle it if something goes horribly wrong. He has no other real choice, and it's better than the alternative.
One more breath to steel himself, in and out.]
May her watchful eye observe us in this endeavor; may not a day go that she does not dream, and that we do not dream in turn. May it be that when we return to the cycle, our dreams are the same.
[That brief prayer said, he activates the glyph; the array lights up with a flash, leaving the cup steaming pleasantly beside him. Carlisle holds his breath as he lifts the mug to his face, inhaling deeply only once it's there—
And he's out like a light. That's nearly literal in the case of his eyes, the overwhelming illumination of them fading to nearly imperceptible glow. His hand trembles as he drops the mug, the rest of his body stiffening bit by bit for a second or two before going completely slack. His torso topples sideways rather than back, leaving him in a crumpled heap as he hits the ground without the slightest bit of resistance.
Said ground does suffer immediately: much like it did with Ami, it fades and withers around him, but the distance this time is limited, not even reaching Qubit's cameras. It seems the plan has been met with some success, but how much there will ultimately be is yet to be determined.
That's if Carlisle ever wakes up again, of course.]
1/?
Carlisle was already dead, he reminds himself. He's been dead since before they met. But this is the first time he's really looked it - crumpled haphazardly on the ground, utterly motionless, eyes open but seeing nothing. Even with the knowledge that it's only temporary, and before long he'll be wide awake and back to his old self (because this will work, it has to work), the sight ties Qubit's stomach in knots.
This time, he allows it. He lingers a few minutes longer to collect himself, to remember some of the other faces he's seen wearing that same haunting expression. And gradually, the mood passes.
Qubit straightens, taking one lapel in his free hand, and meets his friend's darkened eyes. ]
... Good night, Carlisle.
2/4
Carlisle often calls his existence a conundrum, and I'm inclined to agree. The inner workings of his physiology - and whatever arcane processes keep him ticking over - are a mystery even to him. But there are some things we know.
We know his body is, by all objective measures, dead. As a result, he can't digest food or drink. He still breathes, but mostly out of habit.
We know his reanimation is the result of magic. Specifically, by some perverse twist of fate, the same curse that torturously killed him is now what keeps him torturously "alive."
But magic or no, that energy has to come from somewhere. And we know the curse draws on his own eksth'alva reserves for its upkeep. We know he can replenish them by siphoning directly from sources in his environment. This usually kills the sources, so obviously he doesn't like doing it - but when he puts it off for too long, his Revenant side takes over and does it for him.
We don't know why that is. Carlisle maintains it's simply his "true nature" coming out under stress. I maintain that's a crock of nonsense. If it were his true nature, I doubt he'd still be fighting it so hard.
Granted, I don't think we can say the Revenant is entirely separate from him. It's a powerful source of instinct, clearly. Tells him to fight when he's threatened, "eat" when he's starving, etc. And it's unambiguously tied to his emotional state.
But where does the violence come from? He's a lifelong pacifist, despite his family's best efforts. He's dedicated himself to a religion that holds all life sacred - that demands extermination of the undead. There's nothing he abhors more than necromancy.
So how do you explain Scraps?
We weren't sure what would happen to it when Carlisle lost consciousness. He doesn't have much control over it at the best of times, so it seemed possible it might go on a rampage.
But we needn't have worried. The second he hit the ground, so did Scraps - in pieces. It didn't just go dormant, it fell apart at the seams. I'd assumed it had some degree of autonomy, but that's not the case. In reality, it's completely dependent on him.
Which makes it something of an anomaly. I've known Carlisle to accidentally raise the dead before, but he's never had much trouble un-raising them afterward. Scraps, on the other hand, has resisted all such attempts. He was half reverted when he first raised it - could that have something to do with it? But why should that make any difference?
... I suppose that's something to ask him when he wakes up. He's the expert.
3/4
Carlisle's had a visitor.
It was one of the reindire, a doe, I think. Must have strayed from the herd. But before I could decide how best to deal with it, it simply... lay down next to him and fell asleep. Within half an hour, all life signs had ceased.
I'm not surprised that it died - but it happened remarkably quickly. Carlisle's "kill zone" (much as he'd hate me calling it that) is still widening, but the rate of expansion is in steady decline. This morning, my calculations indicated it would stop in roughly 70 more hours. But when I updated them a moment ago, that single incident had shaved off nearly an entire day.
It's too early to draw any conclusions, naturally, but what it suggests is very interesting. It seems that, although Carlisle can draw energy from plant life, he draws it much more efficiently from animals.
He's not going to like that, I'm sure. But I actually think it's cause for optimism. Going off preliminary estimates, the total amount of energy he's absorbed is significantly lower than I'd anticipated. It's possible a single herd animal could sustain him for months, and they're already marked for the food supply. If he's willing to try it, then maybe...
Maybe he won't have to feel like he's running on fumes all the time.
Anyway. If all goes well, I should be able to wake him sometime tomorrow. The sooner the better, I say. It... hasn't been easy, seeing him like this.
4/4
Total time elapsed: 71 hours, 25 minutes
Maximum radius: 14.83 m
I've decided to call it. The expansion rate's practically zero, there's no point dragging this out any longer. I think Carlisle's ready for his wake-up call.
Sadly, it seems one of his uncountable worries came true: the broom he left here does not have a 15-meter handle. But I think I've put together a suitable workaround...
[ His workaround? A crablike robot, six-legged, which he's been building piecemeal over the last day or so. He deposits it just outside the kill zone, steering it with a remote control handset like the ones he uses to pilot drones. The little robot scuttles up to Carlisle's corpse, raises one front leg, and pokes him sharply a few times.
Nothing. ]
... Hm. Probably all that padding.
[ The crab backs off and approaches his face instead. It's hard to see what it's aiming at from this angle, so Carlisle gets poked mostly in the glasses and the eyebrow. Still, there's no response. Sighing, Qubit backs it up again. ]
No, the actuators are too weak. I was afraid of that. Well... [ He flips a switch on the controller. ] Plan B it is, then.
[ And with its stun gun thus armed, the robot rams itself directly into Carlisle's chest. ]
Bless Qubit, man.
GAHHH!!
[Carlisle rises with enough force to knock over the mechanical crab before he even realizes it's there. His fingers — with his hand at his abdomen rather than his chest — curl against his coat, the fabric pulled taut as he gasps; the air rakes along his windpipe, his throat impossibly dry. Unfocused, violent light spills from his eyes as he buckles to the pressure of his own magic, and he feels his aural compulsion lash out at those around him — in this case, the only one around him. Though he's helpless against it, he tries to rein it in anyway.]
I'm here! I'm here, I'm- I don't- don't do this—
[He buries his face in his hands, his fingers knocking his glasses and crown askew, his body trembling as he forces himself to take a few deep breaths. One by one, they calm him, and he gains more control over himself, his energies evening out as they flow once more through his frame. Carlisle slowly becomes aware of that current, and of how strong it is, stable in a way it hasn't been since—
Since... well, he can't think of the last time he felt this steady, magic-wise. There's a balance that wasn't there before, and it feels undeniably good. After a minute and some change, he lowers his hands, and while his legs are shaking beneath him more from his nerves than any legitimate weakness, he still manages to get to his feet, straightening his accessories along the way. He looks around him once his glasses are back in place, first at the withered grass, then the decaying remains of the reindire, then the treeline, and finally at Qubit himself. By the time his eyes make it to his friend, the light in them has settled, honed into their usual, illuminated pupils.]
How long? How- how long was I out?
counterpoint: bless YOU
But then he speaks, and Qubit lets out a sigh of relief. He's talking, that's a very good sign. He's here. Even if his energies are in flux, and he's overwhelmed and disoriented and thinks he's under attack - it's him. ]
Carlisle! Carlisle! It's all right, I'm here! ... Just focus. Take your time. It's only us.
[ Whether or not his friend can hear him right now, he doesn't feel right just watching in silence. He really wishes he could offer more substantial help, but for now, moral support will have to do.
Fortunately, Carlisle manages to collect himself soon enough, shakily getting to his feet within a few minutes. And rude awakening aside, he's already looking much better. Even from this distance, Qubit's noticing signs of it - he's calm, attentive, even his posture's improved...
In short, it seems like it worked. He does his best to restrain his elation - not just yet, get confirmation first - but he can't keep all the hopeful eagerness out of his voice. ]
Just shy of 72 hours. Are you all right? How are you feeling?
:>
Remarkably well. [His voice is clear, his tone smooth, the more melodic parts of his accent coming through.] Better than I can recall feeling, even long before... [A beat as he shakes his head just a fraction, trying to think of a nicer way to describe his demise.] Well, this.
[His eyes land on the mechanical crab lying on its back, its legs unable to right it; he stoops and puts it back on its feet, still frowning behind his mask at the reindire in eyeshot. It remains unmoving, almost peaceful; it died without struggle. Maybe it simply thought itself exhausted, he considers for a second, lying down to sleep — only dreaming, never waking.]
I apologize for any inconvenience this caused you. [He turns from the reindire to Qubit, brushing his hair back into place with his hand before picking up the belongings he'd brought out there with him.] I hadn't expected to be out so long. It- it felt like moments for me. I was here, and then... I wasn't.
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Astounding! Carlisle, that's wonderful!
[ Rather than pilot the righted crab away, he decides to go retrieve it himself, striding into the kill zone with an unmistakeable spring in his step. (It's probably safe now, right? Yeah, he's not dead yet, it's fine.) ]
No need to apologize, it's no trouble at all. [ He's your friend, Carlisle, it comes with the territory. I mean, sure, he hasn't slept much over the past few days, but that's not so unusual for him. And it's not like he got dragged away from anything time-sensitive. ] Anyway, this has given me some valuable insights. I think you'll find them quite illuminating.
[ He picks up the crab and inspects it briefly before tucking it under his arm. The controller ends up in his coat pocket, though the antenna remains sticking two or three feet out of it. If Qubit notices this oversight, he doesn't seem to care, as he's still chattering a mile a minute. ]
I'm still running some preprocessing on the data, but that shouldn't take long - we can review it whenever you're ready. Your glyph worked perfectly, by the way, I had virtually no issues with the cameras. Oh - let's stop by the pasture first, though, there's something I want to show you. In the meantime, what was your experience like? Tell me more about that. When you say, "I wasn't here" - what do you mean by that? Were you dreaming?
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He tries to answer Qubit's questions as they prepare to meander toward the field. Are the cows okay? Surely the cows are okay. Qubit would have said something if the cows weren't okay, right? Or maybe what he wants to show Carlisle has to do with Scraps.
Oh, perhaps he's finally gone, Carlisle considers. The very thought makes him perk up as he starts talking.]
I don't know, honestly. I certainly had a dream the last time I tried this concoction, though my enchantment was not as strong then. Before I passed out, there was this brief... [He waves a circle with one hand, as though trying to conjure the correct word from thin air.] Distance from my body, as though I were simultaneously there and not. Cisth, I feel better than I've felt in so long, and I still cannot describe it properly. Does that help? Or make any sense at all? And it's so quiet now! Has it always been this quiet?
[Forgive him, Qubit — he's just excited to not have a consistent, maddening hum competing with his every waking thought for a change. It's still there, as that's the magic keeping him animated, but the current is so much calmer than it was before, as though it has nowhere in particular to be.]
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He quickly catches on to what Carlisle means by quiet; it's to do with how he perceives his own energies, which he's often described as a near-auditory phenomenon, not unlike the low-grade hum Qubit "hears" from electronics. Up until now, though, he's characterized the sound as incessant and cacophonous, deafening, even maddening. ]
I suppose it has! [ He laughs. ] That's interesting. Sort of an out-of-body experience, then? - [ quickly ] I mean - that's a colloquialism, it doesn't necessarily mean you were detached from your body, just refers to a certain sort of perceived dissociation - although given the circumstances and your unique mind-body connection, the literal option may actually be worth ruling out - but my point is -
[ Yeah, Qubit, what is your point? You remember periods? Those things you're supposed to end sentences with, occasionally? ]
- my point is, based on the note you left me, your spell was designed to essentially freeze your eksth'alva, correct? That is, you weren't trying to displace anything.
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[He gesticulates with his free hand as he follows Qubit, sorting through his own guesses, hoping maybe some of that data Qubit was talking about might help paint a more complete picture of why he is the way he is.]
For example, Reynir visited me in that dream I had before. Literally visited, as it was within his capacity to do so. Did I only dream because of his presence? Or is my conscious somehow separate from the rest of me? If so, have I merely been- been possessing my own body all this time? And how? Was I exorcised, then drawn back? And who would have done so were that the case? Was the Blight Heir not a Revenant? And if not, what was he? And by extension...
[His voice slows with his gait, his brow furrowing.]
What am I?
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You're getting ahead of yourself, is what. [ A smirk. ] One thing at a time, all right? We will get into the hows and whys, but that comes after we nail down the what. Scientific method, remember?
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Of course, of course. Forgive me, there's just a lot on my mind, and it's clearer than it's been in days. I'll consider these things when I can, but I want to hear about your findings, first.
1/2
Three days. And unlike Carlisle, Qubit didn't get to sleep through them. It's never easy, the waiting game. This may come as a complete shock, but Qubit is not by nature a patient man. Obviously, he's no stranger to stress and uncertainty, but at least in an acute crisis there are things he can do about it. He's hated having to stand around twiddling his thumbs, waiting on the other shoe to drop, wondering how this might still manage to go wrong despite all their precautions...
... and then nothing went wrong. Carlisle came back, just as planned, and better than ever. The relief is extraordinary; it's no wonder he's a little lighter on his feet, and as eager to share his findings as his friend is to hear them. ]
Right. Well, as I'm sure you've guessed, the first thing has to do with Scraps.
[ They're coming up on the pasture fence now, and Qubit gestures broadly over it toward the lifeless pile of bones in the middle of the field, stark white against the green grass. ]
Or what's left of -
2/2
What? No! Are you kidding me?!
[ He rushes to the split-rail fence, his hands landing on the top rail as he leans far over it for a beter look. ]
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