[ 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. ]
[As Qubit runs to the fence, Carlisle follows leisurely behind him, missing the part where the skull that serves as Scraps' head rises from its spot on the grass. The aberration's spine comes together behind it, snaking into place as the fragmented femurs and arms that serve as its rib cage claw through the soil to form its hulking torso.
Carlisle cranes his neck once he gets close enough to the field to see what the hullabaloo is about; he assumes it'll be obvious, but by the time he reaches the fence, nothing seems out of place. There are a couple of cows in eyeshot, some reindire further back, and of course, Scraps. The nearest cow meanders toward the abomination the moment there's enough room for her to walk underneath, scratching herself on the jagged bones while her guardian stands there, unfazed by her presence. Though Carlisle does note that Scraps seems to be in a different arrangement from behind, nothing else seems out of the ordinary.
He leans left, then right, still looking before he glances at Qubit.]
He does seem to be missing his collar. [The collar in question, complete with bell, sits on the ground just beneath Scraps' feet. It seems it didn't get picked up when the bones were pulling themselves back together.]
[ Shooting an annoyed glance over his shoulder - ] That's because he didn't have a neck thirty seconds ago. [ He turns back to Scraps, watching the abomination idle among the herd. ] Carlisle, the moment you fell asleep, Scraps fell apart. For the last three days, he was nothing more than dry bones. I inspected them personally! This doesn't make sense.
[Oh, now Scraps has Carlisle's undivided attention. He comes up beside Qubit and leans on the fence, his eyes narrowing as though just looking at Scraps could tell him why that happened.]
You're certain? Yes yes, of course you're certain, but- but I've tried time and time again to rid this field of that creature, and it always comes back! It pieces itself together — without my permission, mind you, not that I would be granting any sort of permission for an undead abomination to exist in my presence — and stands there day and night without a care to be had. It's bound to me somehow, but how?
[ Admittedly, Qubit has a few ideas, as he's been puzzling over that very question for days. But those were all based on the premise that Scraps was permanently - well - scrapped. He's going to have to rework his hypothesis. ]
I don't know. But it must be continually drawing power from you, right? There's no other explanation. [ That he knows of, anyway. ] Tell me - what's your eksth'alva doing right now? Are you absolutely sure none of it's going to him?
[He closes his eyes, trying to focus. It's quieter now, clearer, and thus far easier to hone in on his own energies and where, exactly, they're going as they continually cycle through him. When he really concentrates, he can still feel the escape of his magic from his frame, oozing into the very air around him. One had tightens on the fence, the other pressing idly to his abdomen.]
But it is. It is my energy that animates him, and thus, he is revived again and again as dictated by my will. But I want him gone, so why does he remain?
[ Watching him, Qubit can't help but notice where his hand comes to rest for a second time. That's the location of Carlisle's curse scar - in a sense, the point where man and Revenant intersect. There is one hypothesis that still works in light of this new information, but... ]
Perhaps -
[ - he begins, but then shuts his mouth, reluctant to actually voice his thought. He probably should spit it out, he knows, but ... Carlisle's not going to like it. ]
[ Qubit takes a deep breath and sighs, slowly coming back to face him. ]
Perhaps it's not exactly your - dear God!
[ So apparently, at some point during the last five seconds, a reindire decided to wander up behind Carlisle, peering curiously at Qubit with glowing blue eyes. Did I mention it's dead? It's dead, by the way. Yeah, it's that reindire. ]
[Carlisle doesn't even turn to look at what it is that so startled Qubit before nearly leaping onto him; he trips over himself as he skitters to Qubit's side, barely regaining his balance before he turns to confront the threat. The reindire — what's left of it, with its skin hanging in some parts and one eye sinking into its socket — looks at him, the one eye it has left glowing with the same vibrant, blue illumination as Carlisle's and Scraps' own.]
[He rolls his eyes, all aggravation instead of agitation as he stomps over to the reindire. It continues to watch him with dim interest, its neck arcing as he gets close.]
You have no business being here.
[The deer doesn't budge. Carlisle throws his arms up and turns back toward Qubit, irritated.]
Well? Let's hear your theory. [Because acknowledging the existence of the enthralled reindire while discussing his obvious and uncontrollable tendencies for necromancy doesn't sound like a good time.]
[ Meanwhile, Qubit runs a hand up his forehead, baffled. This resurrection makes no sense. All other times, Carlisle's been under some form of stress. But if it walked all the way over here, it would have to have gotten up not long after Carlisle did. That initial burst of energy, then? Carlisle seemed to briefly think he was under attack, at first - is that all the time his Revenant instincts needed to call up a defender?
It seems to support what he was about to say, unfortunately. God damn it. He keeps his eye on the undead reindire, not entirely sure what it's going to do, though he trusts Carlisle to rein it in (so to speak) if the need arises. ]
First of all, it's a hypothesis. Not a theory. [ He's a scientist; he doesn't call things theories until he's practically certain. ]
I've begun to suspect... [ He shakes his head, deciding to pose it differently. ] Carlisle, when you're fully in control of yourself - what do you think happens to the Revenant in you? Where does it go?
[Carlisle puts a hand on the reindire's head and draws the energy from it; the beast collapses into a heap, much like the one he was crumpled in for three days. Dusting off his hands, he comes back to Qubit's side, his eyes on Scraps in the field. The abomination remains impassive to the fact Carlisle put another one of its kind out of its misery. It was not one of the herd.]
It is likely suppressed by my will, by who I am. I know not how it happened the first time, why I am aware when similar aberrations are not. It may be my true nature, but I refuse to succumb to it again. You know this.
[Carlisle is barely through that answer when the lights come back on in the reindire's eyes behind him, the glow dim, but visible even in the simulated daylight.]
[ Qubit folds his arms sternly. ] It's not your true nature. We've been over this.
[ Normally he wouldn't belabor the point further, but it sort of is the point this time. He pauses briefly, noticing the reindire's remaining eye coming back on - well, that's all we need, isn't it - but decides not to mention it just yet. ]
It's deeply connected to you, somehow, but it's not who you are. You said it yourself - who you are is what suppresses it. Your affliction is just that - a disease, an infection. [ He waves his hand vaguely, growing more vehement. ] There are - certain parasites that can alter the host organism's behaviors to their own advantage, and I think something similar may be going on here.
[Touched as he may be at Qubit's insistence that his Revenant nature is not his true one, but is something more akin to an infection, Carlisle's brow knits with immediate worry at the very prospect. Behind him, the reindire's neck lurches upward with its shoulders, its legs wobbling beneath it as it struggles to get to its feet, its body jerking as it animates bit by bit.]
I'm sorry, they what? Are you really comparing the nature of an aberration to something like a leech? Do leeches have the ability to compel people in your world, Mister Qubit?
[Because that sounds appalling. Maybe even more so than the whole being undead thing.]
What? No, it's mostly found in protozoa or helminths with insect hos- [ He shakes his head. ] Look, that's not the point. The point is - you hate the undead. You loathe necromancy. And yet things like this - [ he gestures to the reindire as it's getting back up ] - keep happening. Your own energies, reanimating the dead, without your consent or even conscious awareness.
[He turns as Qubit gestures, his expression souring, eyes narrowing as they land on the risen reindire; the creature looks up at Carlisle, hobbling the couple of steps to close the gap between them and itself. Carlisle groans, his fingers curling against his palms.]
What are you suggesting, then? I would stop this if I could. I've tried so many times with Scraps, and he simply rebuilds himself. It's frustrating, to say the very, very least.
[ Okay, no, this is threatening to become an argument, isn't it? Qubit closes his eyes and holds up his index finger for a second, and when he starts again, his tone is significantly gentler. ]
Sorry. I know it's frustrating. I didn't mean for that to sound like an accusation.
[ The reindire doesn't seem at all aggressive so far, though, so he approaches, slowly coming abreast of Carlisle. ]
What I mean is... it's the fact that this can still happen. Even when you're in full control of your faculties, even when you're actively countermanding your energies. That, to me, suggests that even when the Revenant is suppressed... [ he frowns apologetically ] ... it may not actually be dormant.
[Qubit softens his tone, and that strikes some contrition into Carlisle, who prepares to do the same. He hadn't meant to be so irritated, especially not with his dearest friend. He murmurs an apology as well, pushing a hand under his veil to rub at the back of his neck. The reindire meanders to his side, and he turns his head in obvious disgust.]
I... [He sighs, the bridge of his nose wrinkling.] I admit that I have wondered if that may be the case. If certain- aspects of my being are not as separate from my Revenant nature as I'd like to believe.
[The reindire, perhaps responding to an earnest, deep-seated need in that moment, attempts to nudge his hand — he yanks his arm away, pushing a heavy sigh out of his chest. With his head clearer than it's been in some time, he finds it in himself to vocalize his suspicions, conclusions he's sure Qubit has already drawn.]
They are extensions of my will. I want to protect the herd, and am incapable of doing so on my own. Therefore, something else must do it for me. I despise necromancy with all that I am, and yet...
[Qubit's right: Carlisle continues to raise abominations without even realizing he's doing it. The implications of that — of the reach of his energies, of their unabated strength, of what patterns and behaviors became so instinctual during his time as the Blight Heir that he performs them now without so much as a conscious thought — are troubling, to say the very least, and abjectly horrifying at their worst. He glances down at the reindire.]
Where is the line drawn between the man I used to be, and the monster I now am?
[ Honestly, it's somewhat surprising to hear Carlisle's already given this idea some thought, in light of his longstanding tendency to avoid difficult topics. Not only has he considered it, though, he's come at it from a slightly different angle. Qubit was tentatively thinking of the Blight Heir as something like a background process, operating independently to what's going on in the foreground.
But Carlisle raises an intriguing possibility. The connection between the two entities runs deep, obviously, but - what if it's bidirectional? Could the actions of the Blight Heir actually be serving Carlisle's goals, albeit in its own twisted way?
If that's the case, it would mean Carlisle already has greater control over the "darkness within" than he's ever realized. With time and practice, could he learn to exert even more?
Well, for now, those are all hypotheticals. There is, however, one thing he's certain of - one small correction that needs made. Qubit rests a hand on Carlisle's arm, his head askew and tone gently chiding. ]
I know, I know. I ought not think such things about myself, no matter how true they may be in a literal sense. I am here. That is significant and worth remembering.
[He gives Qubit's hand an appreciative pat as the reindire moseys beside them. Apparently, the gratitude and stability he mentioned in that note he left Qubit are alive and well after his nap.]
[ Qubit shoots him a wry smile, patting his arm in return before he withdraws his hand. Language shapes our ideas, Carlisle. ]
I'd even say it's worth celebrating. You're here. You're feeling better than you have in years, and it shows. Honestly, these couple of hitches aside? I could hardly have dreamt of a better outcome.
[ His smile broadens as he talks, gesticulating with open hands. It's not always easy to be optimistic these days, and he intends to enjoy it when he can. ]
We'll have our answers in time, but whatever they may be - [ he breathes deep a second, meeting his eyes ] - for now, I'm just happy you're back.
[ ... It's right about then that the undead reindire starts to nose into their space again, its head bowed slightly as if to ask "May I have a pat too, please?" And Qubit, for some reason, without looking, absently raises his hand and obliges, giving it a firm pat on the neck.
Then the cold flesh squelches audibly between his fingers, and all at once he realizes his mistake. ]
Guh!!
[ He jerks his hand back, but it comes away coated in some kind of dark, foul-smelling, purulent goo. Despite his vigorous efforts, it's too viscous to simply shake off, so he ends up holding his hand out as far as possible from his scrunched-up face. ]
[Well, so much for that tender moment of optimistic affirmation. Carlisle goes from encouraged to appalled in the span of a second, his eyes flicking to the reindire; he gives it a hard, disdainful glare, as though it chose to ooze itself all over Qubit's hand —
The reindire looks back at him in tandem, its head moving at nearly the same time as his own. Carlisle's expression remains, but his eyes widen in private, subdued alarm. They are extensions of his will, he reminds himself, his own voice echoing in his head.
Forcing himself to look away from the reindire, he conjures an orb of water and offers it to Qubit, though he sincerely doubts it will do much against the foul muck coating Qubit's palm.]
This one is worse than Scraps because it isn't yet entirely dry bone devoid of decaying flesh. Duly noted. Perhaps you ought wash your hands while I, um... tie it to something, preferably far away.
[ For better or worse, any implications of the reindire's behavior fly right over Qubit's head, as he's a bit preoccupied at the moment. He readily accepts the orb, giving it enough of a squeeze to burst it so the water splashes over his hand. It does take some of the filth off, but let's be real, he's going to want to sanitize that ASAP. ]
[ He sighs, shaking his hand dry-ish. ] Right. Well, I could use a shower anyway. [ It's been three days, after all. He's passably clean, but the facilities at the homestead are a little... shall we say, low-tech. ]
Tell you what. Why don't you swing by the lab in, say, thirty minutes, and we can start going over the data there. [ Mid-sentence, he notices some dead grass caught in Carlisle's hair, and reaches up with his clean hand to pluck a few of the blades out, examining them for a half second before tossing them over his shoulder. ] Sound good? That'll give you some time to clean up yourself. [ - he adds wryly. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
superposition) wrote2019-09-06 02:00 am
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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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Carlisle cranes his neck once he gets close enough to the field to see what the hullabaloo is about; he assumes it'll be obvious, but by the time he reaches the fence, nothing seems out of place. There are a couple of cows in eyeshot, some reindire further back, and of course, Scraps. The nearest cow meanders toward the abomination the moment there's enough room for her to walk underneath, scratching herself on the jagged bones while her guardian stands there, unfazed by her presence. Though Carlisle does note that Scraps seems to be in a different arrangement from behind, nothing else seems out of the ordinary.
He leans left, then right, still looking before he glances at Qubit.]
He does seem to be missing his collar. [The collar in question, complete with bell, sits on the ground just beneath Scraps' feet. It seems it didn't get picked up when the bones were pulling themselves back together.]
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[Oh, now Scraps has Carlisle's undivided attention. He comes up beside Qubit and leans on the fence, his eyes narrowing as though just looking at Scraps could tell him why that happened.]
You're certain? Yes yes, of course you're certain, but- but I've tried time and time again to rid this field of that creature, and it always comes back! It pieces itself together — without my permission, mind you, not that I would be granting any sort of permission for an undead abomination to exist in my presence — and stands there day and night without a care to be had. It's bound to me somehow, but how?
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I don't know. But it must be continually drawing power from you, right? There's no other explanation. [ That he knows of, anyway. ] Tell me - what's your eksth'alva doing right now? Are you absolutely sure none of it's going to him?
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[He closes his eyes, trying to focus. It's quieter now, clearer, and thus far easier to hone in on his own energies and where, exactly, they're going as they continually cycle through him. When he really concentrates, he can still feel the escape of his magic from his frame, oozing into the very air around him. One had tightens on the fence, the other pressing idly to his abdomen.]
But it is. It is my energy that animates him, and thus, he is revived again and again as dictated by my will. But I want him gone, so why does he remain?
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Perhaps -
[ - he begins, but then shuts his mouth, reluctant to actually voice his thought. He probably should spit it out, he knows, but ... Carlisle's not going to like it. ]
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You sound as though you have more to say.
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Perhaps it's not exactly your - dear God!
[ So apparently, at some point during the last five seconds, a reindire decided to wander up behind Carlisle, peering curiously at Qubit with glowing blue eyes. Did I mention it's dead? It's dead, by the way. Yeah, it's that reindire. ]
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[He rolls his eyes, all aggravation instead of agitation as he stomps over to the reindire. It continues to watch him with dim interest, its neck arcing as he gets close.]
You have no business being here.
[The deer doesn't budge. Carlisle throws his arms up and turns back toward Qubit, irritated.]
Well? Let's hear your theory. [Because acknowledging the existence of the enthralled reindire while discussing his obvious and uncontrollable tendencies for necromancy doesn't sound like a good time.]
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It seems to support what he was about to say, unfortunately. God damn it. He keeps his eye on the undead reindire, not entirely sure what it's going to do, though he trusts Carlisle to rein it in (so to speak) if the need arises. ]
First of all, it's a hypothesis. Not a theory. [ He's a scientist; he doesn't call things theories until he's practically certain. ]
I've begun to suspect... [ He shakes his head, deciding to pose it differently. ] Carlisle, when you're fully in control of yourself - what do you think happens to the Revenant in you? Where does it go?
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[Carlisle puts a hand on the reindire's head and draws the energy from it; the beast collapses into a heap, much like the one he was crumpled in for three days. Dusting off his hands, he comes back to Qubit's side, his eyes on Scraps in the field. The abomination remains impassive to the fact Carlisle put another one of its kind out of its misery. It was not one of the herd.]
It is likely suppressed by my will, by who I am. I know not how it happened the first time, why I am aware when similar aberrations are not. It may be my true nature, but I refuse to succumb to it again. You know this.
[Carlisle is barely through that answer when the lights come back on in the reindire's eyes behind him, the glow dim, but visible even in the simulated daylight.]
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[ Normally he wouldn't belabor the point further, but it sort of is the point this time. He pauses briefly, noticing the reindire's remaining eye coming back on - well, that's all we need, isn't it - but decides not to mention it just yet. ]
It's deeply connected to you, somehow, but it's not who you are. You said it yourself - who you are is what suppresses it. Your affliction is just that - a disease, an infection. [ He waves his hand vaguely, growing more vehement. ] There are - certain parasites that can alter the host organism's behaviors to their own advantage, and I think something similar may be going on here.
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I'm sorry, they what? Are you really comparing the nature of an aberration to something like a leech? Do leeches have the ability to compel people in your world, Mister Qubit?
[Because that sounds appalling. Maybe even more so than the whole being undead thing.]
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What are you suggesting, then? I would stop this if I could. I've tried so many times with Scraps, and he simply rebuilds himself. It's frustrating, to say the very, very least.
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[ Okay, no, this is threatening to become an argument, isn't it? Qubit closes his eyes and holds up his index finger for a second, and when he starts again, his tone is significantly gentler. ]
Sorry. I know it's frustrating. I didn't mean for that to sound like an accusation.
[ The reindire doesn't seem at all aggressive so far, though, so he approaches, slowly coming abreast of Carlisle. ]
What I mean is... it's the fact that this can still happen. Even when you're in full control of your faculties, even when you're actively countermanding your energies. That, to me, suggests that even when the Revenant is suppressed... [ he frowns apologetically ] ... it may not actually be dormant.
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I... [He sighs, the bridge of his nose wrinkling.] I admit that I have wondered if that may be the case. If certain- aspects of my being are not as separate from my Revenant nature as I'd like to believe.
[The reindire, perhaps responding to an earnest, deep-seated need in that moment, attempts to nudge his hand — he yanks his arm away, pushing a heavy sigh out of his chest. With his head clearer than it's been in some time, he finds it in himself to vocalize his suspicions, conclusions he's sure Qubit has already drawn.]
They are extensions of my will. I want to protect the herd, and am incapable of doing so on my own. Therefore, something else must do it for me. I despise necromancy with all that I am, and yet...
[Qubit's right: Carlisle continues to raise abominations without even realizing he's doing it. The implications of that — of the reach of his energies, of their unabated strength, of what patterns and behaviors became so instinctual during his time as the Blight Heir that he performs them now without so much as a conscious thought — are troubling, to say the very least, and abjectly horrifying at their worst. He glances down at the reindire.]
Where is the line drawn between the man I used to be, and the monster I now am?
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But Carlisle raises an intriguing possibility. The connection between the two entities runs deep, obviously, but - what if it's bidirectional? Could the actions of the Blight Heir actually be serving Carlisle's goals, albeit in its own twisted way?
If that's the case, it would mean Carlisle already has greater control over the "darkness within" than he's ever realized. With time and practice, could he learn to exert even more?
Well, for now, those are all hypotheticals. There is, however, one thing he's certain of - one small correction that needs made. Qubit rests a hand on Carlisle's arm, his head askew and tone gently chiding. ]
Carlisle.
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I know, I know. I ought not think such things about myself, no matter how true they may be in a literal sense. I am here. That is significant and worth remembering.
[He gives Qubit's hand an appreciative pat as the reindire moseys beside them. Apparently, the gratitude and stability he mentioned in that note he left Qubit are alive and well after his nap.]
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I'd even say it's worth celebrating. You're here. You're feeling better than you have in years, and it shows. Honestly, these couple of hitches aside? I could hardly have dreamt of a better outcome.
[ His smile broadens as he talks, gesticulating with open hands. It's not always easy to be optimistic these days, and he intends to enjoy it when he can. ]
We'll have our answers in time, but whatever they may be - [ he breathes deep a second, meeting his eyes ] - for now, I'm just happy you're back.
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Then the cold flesh squelches audibly between his fingers, and all at once he realizes his mistake. ]
Guh!!
[ He jerks his hand back, but it comes away coated in some kind of dark, foul-smelling, purulent goo. Despite his vigorous efforts, it's too viscous to simply shake off, so he ends up holding his hand out as far as possible from his scrunched-up face. ]
Eugh! Revolting!
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The reindire looks back at him in tandem, its head moving at nearly the same time as his own. Carlisle's expression remains, but his eyes widen in private, subdued alarm. They are extensions of his will, he reminds himself, his own voice echoing in his head.
Forcing himself to look away from the reindire, he conjures an orb of water and offers it to Qubit, though he sincerely doubts it will do much against the foul muck coating Qubit's palm.]
This one is worse than Scraps because it isn't yet entirely dry bone devoid of decaying flesh. Duly noted. Perhaps you ought wash your hands while I, um... tie it to something, preferably far away.
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[ He sighs, shaking his hand dry-ish. ] Right. Well, I could use a shower anyway. [ It's been three days, after all. He's passably clean, but the facilities at the homestead are a little... shall we say, low-tech. ]
Tell you what. Why don't you swing by the lab in, say, thirty minutes, and we can start going over the data there. [ Mid-sentence, he notices some dead grass caught in Carlisle's hair, and reaches up with his clean hand to pluck a few of the blades out, examining them for a half second before tossing them over his shoulder. ] Sound good? That'll give you some time to clean up yourself. [ - he adds wryly. ]
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