comin' on to the overload

[doyoulikecake]

[OOC: Okay, so the first section is a bit tailored and QUITE timey-wimey, as I'm not actually sure what day the Mio & Roxis meetings went down. But feel free to have it be backdated, forward-dated, not-actually-on-the-same-day-as-each-other-at-all, etc. To Kaden, it'll have happened on the same day, but I doubt that anyone's going to be like 'so

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[sophicsulphur]

She can't help but smile a little at how much Roxis is tripping over himself, but there's an element of wryness in that smile. She's pretty soon that once he's aware of what's become of her, that honour won't remain for very long. "Please, sit down," she urges kindly, in lieu of out and saying that straight away. "--I promise I won't keep you long."

She won't be keeping him long because she's not sure she has anything to offer him, not any more. A part of her heart still twinges at the presence of another alchemist, makes her wish she could become this one's friend, but she knows she can't deceive him, and it would make her a worse person to try. She's not who she was. She just needs to admit that, and then... well. Hope he gets as far away from her as possible, before he catches the taint, and works out how to carve out a niche in this crazy city. One that won't tear him down, the way it's torn down her.

She dutifully pulls up the chair next to Kaden, across from where Roxis is sitting. She turns down the offer of coffee or snacks with a quick "Not for me, thanks," though she's quite able to see that Kaden's already downed several cups. Or maybe several pots, by this point. He left obscenely early, and she's pretty sure someone's got to have bussed the tables at least twice by now. But she doesn't need coffee, and she doesn't really want food. Best to just get this over with, as quickly as she can.

"For what it's worth," she says, after a brief throat-clearing, "I did see your message on the journals. I-- apologise for not wanting to respond, though it seems my ward here decided it for the best that we meet anyway. That or fate." Her diction, indeed, is not at all what it is with Kaden, much less the stream of likes and totallys she throws around with Molly: it's in its way too formal, sort of stilted. She feels awkward being here, having him treat her like she's something special when she knows what she is, and it shows.

"Well, if it is fate, maybe that's something. Though-- please don't take it personally when I say I'd rather not be here today. It has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with me." Her gaze drops from his face to the table. "I'm not someone you should honour."

[strivingupward]

Roxis likes the idea of getting some coffee; the sight and smell of the warm-drinks restaurant has been subtly exerting its influence on his appetite, and he's planned to stay for a long chat. "If you could choose something with lots of cream and sugar in it, please," he requests. Ever since he drank Pamela's potion, he's been nauseous from the taste of too-bitter liquids. Some might call his preference for sweet drinks childish, but he knows better-- drinking that potion was a very noble thing to do. It feels like an eternity ago, but his taste buds know it was merely a few months.

As Iris sits down across from him and apologises, he's trying to figure out what's wrong. "Kaden said you aren't practicing," he mumbles, like he's just putting things together. "Is that actually true? I-- oh, gods, I'm sorry. You are an alchemist, aren't you?" He hopes it hasn't all been a mistake, a non-alchemist mistaken for one because of her family line. Partly because he'd been hoping to find anyone who could work creatively with him, but also partly because the idea that he might be mistaken, that she might not be an alchemist, is so embarrassing. Not that she'd know how much he was looking forward to this meeting, but being so worked up over a mistake feels awkward nonetheless.

What if she wasn't born a Fortner? What if she was, and she isn't an alchemist anyway? The slightly unwell expression he's wearing is partly because he's afraid he's made a mortifying mistake, and partly because he knows there's something about this situation he can't remember. Which lends credence to the mistake theory. And he has no idea how he can gracefully save this situation. "If you're not," he says very quietly, "I won't tell anyone. If you don't want me to."

[doyoulikecake]

Kaden nods, giving Iris's shoulder a pat -- no hair ruffles for something that's so obviously important and formal. He doesn't want to completely undermine her just yet, not before he's gotten a sense of this interaction, because right now he can feel a slow itch crawl over his shoulders just watching them. He wants to write all of this down right now.

"Nothing, check," he says, standing up. "And lots of cream and sugar, definite check." He's good at getting sugary drinks. It's practically what his sister lives on. Sure, he can't make the drinks, but he knows what's what at every coffeeshop in town.

He doesn't leave right away, though, instead staying bent over his computer for a minute, as if he was in the middle of something when he got up and he has to finish it before he goes to get the drinks and therefore forgets. He's not actually doing much, though neither of them could tell, given the computer is buried in the piles of books. He just wants to listen. And maybe open up a sticky note and start jotting down some of the conversation.

Though after a minute he catches himself just staring at the screen, not even really bent over anymore, listening. He shakes his head, putting a brief hand to his forehead and laughing a bit to himself. "Sorry," he mutters, minimizing the notes. "Coffee, then work."

He doesn't need to be there constantly, he tells himself. He has the recorder going; it's been on since Roxis showed up even if Iris was a bit late. The notes are just easier to decipher later, when he stops being able to concentrate. So he forces himself to walk away, go over to the counter and order something for Roxis and himself, give them their few minutes alone.

[sophicsulphur]

Iris' gaze returns to Roxis long enough to note that look of ill ease, and for an instant, humiliation wars with anger in her eyes. How dare you, a part of her is still proud enough to think, some of her old spirit surging back to life. That spark of rage dies down in moments, though, replaced with an expression of pure mortification.

"...Do I seem that lost to you?" she can't help saying, her tone one of near-disbelief. But then she rethinks it: he can't have known, of course. Unless he's more psychic than she is, he can only go off what Kaden's told him. Which is false, and she's going to tell him that, as soon as she's done with Roxis. She's not not practicing; she's just had to slow down. Way down. But she's still an alchemist, and always will be.

"I am an alchemist," she insists to him, pleading with her gaze. Don't dismiss me. See through to me. I'm scared of your judgment. Tell me I'm okay. An unworthy as she feels, she's also desperate: to not be disregarded by this, perhaps the only other true alchemist she'll meet in this life. "As my mother and father were before me. I'm just--"

There's no good way to put it that doesn't lay her secrets bare. Struggling? But that would just suggest she was bad, unskilled, and that's not it at all. Lapsed? No, she's not going to call herself lapsed. It's not like she doesn't plan to pick up the pace again, as soon as she's more healed.

Healed from the damage this place has done to her.

"--damaged," she says eventually. "My mind is damaged."

She's not looking at him when she says it. She doesn't want to see that look on his face again.

[strivingupward]

Roxis blushes instantly and vividly. "I'm sorry," he mumbles awkwardly. Terror of saying the wrong thing looms large. "I just didn't know. I'm sure you're a perfectly fine alchemist." He never, never means to speak ill of the... ill. He just never realised that someone could be too unwell to practice, if they could still walk and remember their own name. Even the doddering, ancient professor at his school who can hardly speak the common language coherently still crafts fine, glistening, powerful potions. Every day.

Then, all at once, his pent-up confusion explodes. "It's just that things in Chicago are so different. Nothing is ever what I expect. Where I come from, we don't talk like this or dress like this or eat like this or anything, and every alchemist I've seen here does things so differently they don't even heat up half their mixtures, and sometimes the names match ones I know but it doesn't mean anything, and I can never count on anything anymore!" He's shouting by the end. People at other tables are glancing in his direction and someone is covertly staring at him, and he grimaces.

Returning to his normal volume-- which is barely audible to normal human hearing; you're perfectly likely to miss or mishear his words on occasion-- he continues, "But you are a Fortner, after all. You must be quite formidable. I'm nothing special and I'm honoured that you'd even take the time to speak to me. Even if you are unwell, there's no comparison between your talent and mine."

[sophicsulphur]

She waits until he's finished his rant, then nods sympathetically. When she does speak, her voice is soft, and she leans across the table to make sure he hears. His words on her alchemy have mollified her, though she knows he knows nothing of it-- she's letting praise flatter her, just this once, because the alternative hurts so much.

And besides, she knows what he's talking about. I can never count on anything anymore. She knows that feeling all too well. Just when she starts to believe in something, it turns out the real meaning behind things is something else entirely. She's learnt to weather the storms, but they're wearing her down, too.

"This place we're in, it's-- not right," she agrees. "Not just the food, or the words for things, all of that, but... this place. The way it works. I thought I was stronger-- I was the heir to the Escalario. If you know of my family, you might have heard of that." For all she didn't want to see Roxis, she's opening to him now, talking in hushed and hurried tones about things only the two of them would understand. They have a shared knowledge base, something she doesn't have with anyone else here, and she can't help but pour out to him.

"I fulfilled my destiny-- I-- I went up against Uroboros, and... well, I didn't live, but I made things right." For some reason, none of it sounds arrogant, when she tells it to Roxis. He's of such prestigious blood, hardly anything could seem arrogant if she were saying it to him. His family have easily enough feats under their collective belts to class alongside her own. And he's still young, she can tell, but then, so is she.

"I survived absolute stagnation. I brought down the Mediator of Dimensions. I never-- I wasn't someone who'd lose my mind. I was stronger than that. And yet here...." She shakes her head. "Everything's different. This world doesn't work like ours did. You can feel it, can't you? The whole world is... so many different strands of magic, so many different voices." It's beautiful when people are different, she thinks, when worlds are different, but this isn't different songs for different times-- this is like everyone trying to sing their own song at once. Noisy and discordant. "There's no structure to it."

Perhaps she can help him, after all. Even if it's only that they've set their roots in the same shallow sands, and now there's two of them to figure out how not to be washed away entirely. She doesn't know. It's hard to know what she's capable of, any more. But she reaches a hand out across the table, for him to hold, if he wants. It might be all the comfort they have, but it's something.

[doyoulikecake]

This is about when the conversation's interrupted by Kaden returning with a small tray full of drinks. He's spent the entire time fidgeting in line, waiting impatiently for the drinks to be done; he just wants to be over there, listening. He knows he probably doesn't have anything to contribute to the conversation, unless addressed directly, but it's his table and his setup and this is an insight into Iris that he wants -- no, needs.

All the same, he's very careful not to spill them more than he can help it, though a little bit has gotten on the tray anyway. He sets his own drink next to his almost-finished previous one. "Order up," he says, then, setting down Roxis's drink in front of him. It's certainly something sweet, one of their seasonal drinks. "There's extra cream and sugar up there, though that might upset the balance of stuff in there. Sugary drinks are one of the few things I don't know how to do that I probably should."

He sets a cup of water in front of Iris with an apologetic smile. She almost always ends up with a glass of water when she's upset, he knows, and she certainly looks it now. Probably for good reason, sure, but that's not the point.

Five seconds to dart back up and return the tray, and he's back, sliding into his seat much more gracefully than he got out of it and gripping his fresh coffeecup with slightly shakey hands. "Sorry for the interruption," he says, poking at the computer again. The recorder's not getting everything above the other conversations around them, but he figures it'll probably pick up enough for him to figure the missing parts out via context. "Go on."

[strivingupward]

As Iris talks, Roxis nods, knowing exactly what she means. This place is all wrong. It's crazy. Sheer bucketfuls of chaos. And Roxis doesn't like chaos. He-- ah, Kaden has come back with drinks. He thanks him and accepts his coffee, and takes a tentative sip. It's sweet and full of delicious things he didn't at all expect, and doesn't taste like anything he's ever had before. Spices in his coffee! This is awesome. Ginger, nutmeg, something else... He can get free coffee in the lobby of the building where he lives. He'll definitely be making creative coffee at home.

Iris's words, however, haven't failed to sink in. The Escalario. He's heard of the Escalario. A book with the secrets of the universe, locked to all but the one to whom it grants any wish. The heir-- He's suddenly gazing at Iris like she's the biggest celebrity he's ever seen. In fact, she is.

"You opened the Escalario?" he says under his breath. In a city of crystal spires and tamed lightning dwells the heir to the Escalario. It's amazing that he's here.

Until now, he's wanted to go home. Now, he wants to explore every inch of this fantastic land, and soak in its enlightenment through his pores.

He reaches across the table-- he's not sure how someone like her would offer him her hand, but he takes it in his reverently. It's a gesture of loving without familiarity, without presumption. Infused with pure awe, because she is a legend like those he longs to be. He knows, now, that she won't take him home. That she's here for reasons far beyond him, and so is he, but she has a meaning he can only imagine.

[sophicsulphur]

She's not expecting the water, and looks at Kaden with a small "oh" of surprise, before turning it into a smile. She knows she likes to steady herself that way, too, and the small and wordless gesture is a comfort, almost an apology. He knows he's put her in a tricky situation, and he's trying to make up for it without causing a scene. She thanks him and takes a sip, letting the tension between them evaporate, at least for now. He may be a bit socially clueless sometimes, but Kaden's a decent guy at heart. She needs to keep that in mind, before getting mad.

To Roxis' words, she nods, though it's a distracted nod-- and not because of Kaden. She shouldn't have derailed this conversation with her past. It's not the important thing, now. The important thing is keeping him safe: keeping his mind safe, from what this place might do to it.

Holding his hand like this, feeling the many scars across his palm contrast with her now scant few, she wonders if that's the only misstep she's made. In this moment of shared loss, she wanted to reach out to him, to offer solidarity and strength. But what about her tainted mind? If he wants to survive in this place, preserve his integrity as long as possible, maybe he really is better off without her. And yet now she's here with him, it's so hard to imagine letting go, abandoning them to their own separate fates.

Her weaknesses, getting the better of her again. She's no good like this. She has to break away, before her thoughts start distorting his mind, too.

"...listen," she says, giving his hand a final squeeze before pulling away. "I did do all of those things. But I... I'm not the same as I was. This place has harmed me, and if you stay around me, you might end up getting hurt too." Or rather, sooner than you would on your own, she thinks. "You're a Rosenkrantz-- you know full well your lineage is every bit as noble as mine. You have the blood of the great alchemists in you, and... maybe you'll thrive in this place where I have failed. But don't rely on me. You don't need me. And you're probably better off without me."

She looks regretful at that last. Right now, she'd love nothing more than to cling to his support, say they'll get through this together. But that would be selfish of her. It might be what's best for her, but she'll only drag him down if she tries.

[strivingupward]

"My lineage?" He wonders what she's talking about. "I don't have a lineage." The statement nags him, but he pushes through because he knows it's true. "My father was a gambler. My mother painted things. They gave their life's savings to send me to school, and I was lucky to make it in. I was a poor nobody travelling from town to town. Going to Al-Revis was a dream come true. I'm not like you. I didn't know I would make it." But he'd always thought he would. Or should. Somehow, could. It's fuzzy and he can't quite remember why he did. That distracting fuzziness and the pieces that won't quite fit together are the cause of the slightly glazed look he gets whenever he thinks about his family and motivations.

"But for some reason, I'm here anyway. Isn't it the work of a higher power? I might need you. Maybe you're the answer to a wish." He sits back and looks at her. She doesn't look damaged. She looks healthy, strong, not even scarred from her work through some miracle; and she feels warm, gentle, and open to mystery. To him she seems whole, devotional, and ready to work. He's not sure what terrible, invisible taint she could be talking about. He hopes she won't leave him. "I might really need you. I'm not like you-- are you sure you're not thinking about someone else?"

[sophicsulphur]

She sighs, a little, though it's not entirely an ill-natured sigh. He's appealing to her better nature, to the part of her that values destiny, non-coincidences, meetings that are more than chance. He's got a point. It really could be fate. After all, why did the Rift bring any of them here, let alone groups of people from the same worlds-- often friends before the passage, or at least likeminded people with the ability to work together? She can't cast aside the possibility that there might be something in it.

"I guess... I could be," she admits, somewhat hesitantly. "And maybe you are too, for me. --I don't know." She shakes her head, quickly changing her tone. "Look, I... don't deny that I could probably help you practically. I've done a lot of synthesis in my time"-- her euphemism for made the Ruby Prism once, working on a second --"and two will always do better than one, at least." She remembers that much, from helping her parents at the cauldron. And she could almost certainly focus better with another mind in the mix. "I'm just saying... be careful. I don't want to ruin you. And if there's any chance at bringing alchemy to this place, you might be it."

She shoots him a puzzled frown. "--And what do you mean, you don't have a lineage? You're a Rosenkrantz," she repeats, as if that should say it all. But then she remembers his clothing, the way it looks some centuries old, by her history books' accounts. "Maybe you're... from before the family grew famous? In which case, you could be the first of your line to succeed."

The more she thinks on that theory, the more it seems likely. "One thing I've learnt about the Rifts: they don't bring the unimportant. Almost everyone who comes here has some special nature, was some kind of key figure in their own world. I do think we're here for a reason, and that might be why the Rift chose you." She turns her palms up in a bit of a shrug. "But I'm afraid I haven't been able to figure out what that reason is."

[strivingupward]

Roxis absolutely tingles with pleasure at the idea that he might be a famous historical figure someday. That his family line might become famous because of him. The Rift chose you. Chose you. Chose you. He doesn't conceal it well, either. His eyes sparkle. Somehow he isn't convinced that that's it, but wouldn't it be nice? And it would explain why he's always been so sure he should be the best at alchemy, the best everywhere. As if he could compete with the likes of Iris. Admittedly, he feels that he was meant to work on her level, even if he'd never say it out loud.

"Maybe that's why I need you," he suggests. "Maybe you're meant to help me, not ruin me." He wants to know what's ruined about her, but he's not sure if it's polite to ask right now. "If this is what happens to me and then I become famous in the future, maybe it's because of something I learn from you." He's pushing for it now. He doesn't want her to turn away. Partly because everything he's saying might really be true, partly because he desperately wants to be what she is and he feels like her legendary status could somehow rub off on him, and partly because he's tired of being alone and misunderstood and confused here.

"Maybe it's just making history come true. But as for what I have to do, if I turn away from what destiny hands me, how can I expect it to work through me?" He believes that wholeheartedly. No amount of warning is going to cut through that one.

[sophicsulphur]

She's still skeptical, but it's hard not to yield in the face of his wide-eyed hope. "I'm... not going to make you turn away," she says, and that much she also believes in. She won't force someone to turn from what they believe is their destiny. She won't. Even if they did just collectively come up with the theory five minutes ago.

"I'm just warning you." Not that he seems the slightest bit inclined to listen to that warning. ...She almost laughs, at that. Someone who brushes off any and all warnings, who's only interested in pursuing their starry-eyed dream of advancement. Alchemists really are all alike. Well, if he's going to insist on sticking around her, at least he'll be good company.

And then something strikes her. "Wait-- go back to one of the things you said before. Your family saved up to-- send you to school?" She stares at him. "School. I remember something about that. Many years before I was born"-- by which she means hundreds --"there were schools." There's a pause, then she does laugh, quite involuntarily. "Wow. You really are from the past! That's amazing."

And just like that, her demeanour shifts: from no-nonsense, world-weary, washed-up veteran to something much more natural for the sixteen-year-old girl she is-- exuberant joy. "I've seen a lot of things in Chicago, but living history isn't one of them! You'll have to--" She stops herself short. "--Oh. Sorry. That's probably actually a lot for you to take in. I-- you don't have to tell me anything, of course." Now it's her eyes' turn to sparkle. "I'd just be interested."

[strivingupward]

Alchemists really are all alike. It's a discipline that demands your every ounce of devotion, and it's all or nothing; it's either complete, or you get nowhere. And Roxis had nearly graduated. "School," he says wistfully. He loved school, even with all its challenges, its insecurities, the threat of other kids who might outdo you. Going to the best school in the world, there was always someone better than you, someone you could never quite reach. Vayne comes to mind, and Roxis feels a wave of actual nostalgia. He's not sure why he hated that kid so much for being better, and having the luxury to feel that way about other alchemists seems so far away now. Perhaps, in school, it was just something you do. When you're spoiled and never want for company in your trials.

"...competitive. It was competitive. But awesome. Have you heard of Al-Revis Academy?" Surely she has, if she's heard of any particular school; it's the most famous place in the whole world for alchemy, study or research. "I was about to graduate when I came here. I'm still--" Not upset, not if this is the beginning of a grand fate for him, but-- "kind of disappointed, no matter what else happens, that I won't be able to graduate." He was looking forward to it. To stand up with everyone else and receive what he'd worked so hard for. And to receive the seed of enlightenment that would be bestowed upon him at the ceremony; certainly he could work without it, but he'd been looking forward to it so much. "Everyone... We were friends." Be friendly with your friend there, a silvery voice echoes in his mind, now only an aching memory that he won't let himself think about right now. Perhaps they were true friends after all. As much as he held himself aloof and grudgingly tolerated his workshopmates, his memories are fond. Is it a sepia-tinted nostalgia, or has he always liked them so much? "I think I miss working with them."

[sophicsulphur]

Her brow furrows a little as she tries to recall. "I'm-- not sure," she admits. "The stuff I read about was ancient history, and the names... kinda blur together in my mind. Especially now." Her expression turns apologetic, though there's a smile in there too.

"It sounds like it was really amazing. I met one other girl here-- not an alchemist from our world, though her techniques were rather similar. She went to a school too, back in her world." She doesn't say magic school: she lets it be implied. It's not like she's read of any other kind. The history books back at her workshop were invariably alchemy-centric. "Just to hear about it-- the camaraderie, the being amongst others of your own kind. People who didn't shun you, or try to have you kicked out of town." Or burn down your house.

She reaches for his hand again, partly to distract herself and partly to comfort him. "I can-- imagine you'd miss it. You'll have to tell me about it sometime." A wry smile crosses her face. "I guess that's my way of saying I'll work with you. Or whatever it was you wanted of me." --To be friends, probably, from what he was just saying. She revises that statement, a bit hastily. "--Sorry. I didn't mean that to sound rude. I'm more than happy to be your friend. Just... I worry about you," she finishes, in a soft and trailing voice. "That's all."

[strivingupward]

Roxis gives her an awkward smile. "Yeah. People shunning you for being unusual..." He knows how that would feel. He just exactly knows it. "When I was a kid, I feel like we were-- we didn't stay in any town for long, and sometimes we left in a hurry. And school was so different." He wouldn't go so far as to say he felt utterly comfortable at school; it was like he'd never quite felt comfortable anywhere, always one part dissatisfied. But at school it was for entirely different reasons, and the person at fault wasn't the others; it was himself. For not being perfect already. "At school, everyone was nice. The things I treasured, everyone else treasured too." It had taken away some of his uniqueness. He felt unspecial. Bested. Stood upon. And yet, he can't figure out why he ever thought that was a bad thing.

He's about to say he wishes he could go back, but he remembers destiny, and fate, and he wants this new path too. He wants to go forward and become greater than his student self could ever reach. Plus, saying he wanted to leave wouldn't be a nice thing to say to Iris. His new friend. Unbidden, unforced, unmanipulated, except by that great hand that manipulates us all, he could like her. She felt just like him, even in the stretch for greatness, and he wanted that to be the truth. "We can be friends. Destiny will work it all out. After all, I'm going to be historically memorable according to you, right?"