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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[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?"

[sophicsulphur]

She hasn't the heart to say that all that happened in a different world, and that the Rosenkrantz family's travel to Chicago was never mentioned in her books. But then, as soon as the thought comes to mind, she doesn't even know how she'd explain it anyway. Or how it makes sense. Is this one of those strange timeline things, like how Hermione came here from different points in time? She still hasn't quite wrapped her head around that one.

It's not something to dwell on right this moment, anyway. He'll read it in her face, and she doesn't want him to ask what she's thinking. "Yeah," she says instead, pressing his hand once more. "Though that doesn't mean you should be reckless about things. We're part of fate's work, after all, so we should.... Oh, who am I kidding?" She cuts herself off with a laugh. "You're just like me. You don't care about the risks. Well, I'm not going to say I didn't warn you. Just... stay in touch with yourself, who you are. Promise me that at least, okay?"

She leans back over the table towards him. "It really sounds fantastic, by the way. --School, I mean. I imagine it would be like that, with everyone working towards the same goal...." Her gaze turns dreamy, her focus drifting off into the middle distance. "We never had schools where I was from. Or maybe I should say when. I grew up learning from my parents-- a passed-down thing. It was a good education, but I bet I'd miss it too, if I'd been where you'd been."

A sudden though strikes her, and her attention snaps back to him. "Hey, did you manage to bring through any books from school? Or Mana?" Oh, how she'd love to see a real, live Mana again! "None of mine came through with me-- the books or the Mana, I mean. Stuff's just not the same without them." And by the extra-wistful note in her voice, he'll know she probably meant the latter, that time.

[strivingupward]

Roxis's grasp of where they are is pretty shaky, having had it explained by Kat, who doesn't explain anything well even when there isn't a paradigm barrier. He knows that Chicago is a magical bubble from which individuals may not be able to voluntarily descend, but its otherworldliness and distance, to him, is a matter of quantity, not quality. He doesn't see why his travel to the faraway land of Chicago wouldn't be just part of a typical grand adventure. After all, it has legendary alchemists like Iris, and that's how these things happen.

"Nothing," he said sadly, "except the ingredients that were in my pockets." And a now-defunct magic pendant and a couple lines of classic text he was committing to memory. "I wish I had my books and my Mana. I miss her, too... Who was yours?" He hasn't quite caught the plural in her mention of Mana; he's ascribed it to the books, not expecting it to cover both. "Is yours, I mean." He'd like to think they're still their Mana even if they're separated right now.

[sophicsulphur]

"Ah," she says, with a look of disappointment that's as much for him as it is for her. "Yeah, I-- didn't have anything either. Not even ingredients, though I guess that's because I was dead." In retrospect, she's kind of lucky she was dressed. Not that she'll be saying that to a boy her age. She knows how they can get.

He may not have noticed her plural, but she has noticed his singular, and cocks her head. "Who was-- oh. Right." Her voice turns a touch thoughtful. "Your time... it had schools. So there were many more alchemists, and so Mana were harder to pact with, because there were only so many bonds to go around. Am I right? --For all I'd have missed having all those bonds, I'd have loved it even more, I think, living in a time like that. Where I grew up, we were the only ones. My family and I."

She shakes her head a little sadly. "--But that wasn't your question. I had bonds with-- have bonds with-- eight Mana, and they're all very precious to me. I can tell you more about them all sometime, if you want. But I guess the one I feel the closest to of all is Thanatos." She doesn't add the title after that: the Mana of Death. She assumes he'll know, from his studies, without having to ask. "What about you? Who's yours?"

[strivingupward]

"Most of my ingredients didn't survive the trip anyway. It was raining when I woke up here," he admits. "I don't think I died-- I think my Wings of Icarus pendant malfunctioned. Or perhaps it was tweaked by a higher power-- I don't know." He's not admitting the tiger wounds, the blood loss, and the passing out, all of which was distinctly unheroic and weak of him. But he'd have been fine if he'd just gone back to the infirmary the way he'd meant to do.

When she says she has eight Mana, however, his expression passes through shock and mild frustration before settling on awe. She is really something. "You had eight? We had to compete for ours! Not everyone could have one." He can't believe it. The trials and humiliation he had to crawl through to secure his pact! And Iris had eight. He's not sure whether to be delighted or offended. He settles on delighted, because (not that he wants to admit it) he needs a friend.

"Eital," he says. The Mana of Light. "Of course I miss her and all, but she put me through an unbelievable amount just to keep my pact..." Most of which had been for her sadistic amusement. "Still, it's lonely without her here."

[sophicsulphur]

It's probably for the best that he doesn't mention the injuries he sustained. She'd be wanting to check him out immediately, even if they were weeks old. And she hates to admit it, but she doesn't have that many potions left on hand any more. Not that she's not certain he doesn't have his own supply, but she'd have to insist on treating him anyway. If he's anything like she is, he's the kind who'll jump to treat another's injuries, but is incredibly blasé about his own.

Instead, she just rubs the back of her neck in slight embarrassment at her admission. She can see the brief envy that flashes in his eyes, and she feels a little bad: it wasn't her intent to humiliate him.

"Yeah, I can imagine. In my time, I was probably the only hope they had of ever seeing an alchemist, so stuff was a bit different. So it's not like it was a big feat on my part or anything," she hastens to add. "I'm sure it would have been the same for you."

She nods and hmms when he mentions Eital. "--The Mana of Light. Right.... I never encountered her myself," she says, using the pronoun he's chosen to use for the Mana's manifestation. She doesn't really believe any Mana has a gender, since she's read enough to know that they've presented themselves differently to various alchemists at different times-- but one also gets to know them personally as gendered beings, and since she's never met Eital, she sees no reason not to honour the Eital he knew.

"Though I doubt she'd have come to me anyway," she adds with a laugh. It's not a self-deprecating laugh; it's a simple acknowledgment of fact. She doesn't see anything particularly wrong with being on the opposite end of the spectrum from him. "If I had to name the Mana I feel second closest to, I'd say Plua. And-- well, it's not that dark and light can't cooperate, but... well. You're beginning to see a pattern, I imagine, especially if I tell you I've a bond with Jiptus as well." She laughs again, then finally takes another drink of her water. Now that things feel less ominous-- or at least, now that Roxis has resigned himself to his fate-- she's starting to realise she really is thirsty. "Interesting. The more I think about it, the more it really does seem like fate, I guess."

[strivingupward]

Having a Mana had been Roxis's dream for so long before he ever obtained a pact, and he'd had to work every day to keep her. Not that she hadn't loved him in her way, as all Mana do; but she could have loved any alchemist, and she chose one who would suitably entertain her this time around. Roxis was no masochist, and she wouldn't have found him nearly as fun if he had been. Life is refreshingly easy, now that he considers it, without her demands; but she's left an aching hole inside him. Alchemists aren't meant to be apart from their Mana this way. He wonders if dissolved pacts hurt like this-- but he won't let himself believe it's the same thing, not ever. Pacts are meant to be forever. And the world wouldn't force them apart without a reason.

He watches Iris sip from her waterglass immediately after mentioning Jiptus, the Mana of Poison. Oh, what familiarity does to a person. "Plua, hm? What was she like?" He's never met such personalities. Most of the Mana he's had a chance to observe were elemental. "What were they all like? The-- shadowy ones."

[sophicsulphur]

Iris knows how he feels, when it comes to the ache. She's tried filling it with any number of things, but nothing in Chicago seems to quite fit. Ultimately, there's no substitute for that bond, and having had it torn from her-- or at the very least, so much distance put between them that she can no longer feel, even if the pact still stands-- is something she still struggles with. It's part of why she's so clingy. She knows that mortal relationships can't fix her pain, but they at least help a little.

"Hm. Well," she says, setting her glass down. "All different, really, though I guess you could say they had a feeling in common. Sort of like-- have you ever been into an ancient library, the kind of place you thought might be haunted? Somewhere where the books are so old, and have been so well-loved over so many centuries, that you can sense the lingering essences of spirit, caught between the pages-- or maybe you'd even see a real ghost?" Her voice has taken on a low tone, as if she's actually trying to spook him. She wouldn't look amiss with a flashlight under her chin, right now. She's just trying to create atmosphere, though. The narration swears it.

...After all, alchemists aren't scared of ghosts, right?

"That edge you'd feel, that sense of something prickling at your nerves, almost tempting-- that's the feeling. They all shared it. But in personality they're all different," she says, her voice rising back to a more normal tone. "Plua's-- surprisingly gentle, though maybe that was just to me. Often when I'd sleep, it'd be like she was draping a blanket over me, woven out of the night... so soothing, so comforting."

Her face takes on a slightly wistful expression. "I kinda miss that. She was almost like my mother, for a while, after I lost my real one. --Jiptus is... more distant, I guess. Kind of spiky. Nice, but not really a people sort of being, you know? And Thanatos... I guess I feel like she's the most difficult of all to describe. Harsh, and yet very loving at the same time. Like a... strict mentor, I guess. Someone who doesn't go easy on your mistakes, and the tasks they set you are hard, but... in the end, you're strengthened by it." She smiles a little. "I think because of that, I learnt more from her than any of the others. I guess that's why we got closest."

[strivingupward]

Roxis considers her description of the library. So they feel like being in his school's resource centre. Well. He can rather see why he didn't pact with any of them. A slightly nervous smile at the thought of it-- "Oh yes. We had a library like that at school. I've seen lots of ghosts down there-- actually, I had one as a classmate. Pamela was hundreds of years old and never graduated, because after she died she couldn't remember things very well. But she was very nice-- rather flaky, but that wasn't her fault."

He's not going to admit that sometimes, alchemists are scared by ghosts-- more often when said ghosts have a propensity for coming up behind you and startling the daylights out of you on purpose. Pamela is sweet when she's not deliberately trying to sneak up on people, which she's disturbingly good at. Still, he sometimes feels a little nervous down in the resource centre from that chilly sensation crawling across his skin and burrowing into his veins. Not afraid, per se-- only jumpy. Alert. As if something might really possess him without his permission, even without any warning. He cups his warm coffee between his hands, shrugging off the prickly memory. "It's so strange. I don't associate that with Mana at all. But I suppose I could see it. After all, even the ghosts and other creatures down there are spirits of a sort."

This is the closest icon I have to a "blue lines" face.

[sophicsulphur]

At the mention of that name, Iris' eyebrows raise. And as he continues to describe the ghost, her expression shifts from surprise to a sort of knowing grimace, and then, finally, a resigned exasperation.

"...Pamela," she says, eventually, in a flat tone that conveys every mote of that exasperation. "Not Pamela Ibis, by any chance. The girl whose quest to the Guild was for us to bring flowers for her library-- but then she forgot to tell us to bring the vases-- and then the water-- and then she decided she wanted flowers everywhere...."

She sighs a little at the memory, then smiles. "Really. Pamela. Well, I regret to inform you that by all accounts, she lived several hundred years more, and never changed. But I guess that's to be expected of ghosts." There's a slightly sad edge to her voice as she adds, "I wonder if she ever will move on." She's of the opinion she'd be better off if she did. The afterlife's a good place. Better than lingering for centuries as an absent-minded spirit, never retaining anything you learn.

[strivingupward]

"Wait, wait." Roxis pushes his glasses up on his nose. "Her library? Pamela couldn't leave the school campus. Were you really at Al-Revis after all?" Unless she'd finally found a way out-- but the description fit all too well. And he doubts she's left it. Students aren't allowed to leave Al-Revis even for breaks, which was, he'd always thought, why Pamela was bound to campus; and she'd never graduate. Not if she hadn't changed. "I bet you were. And just didn't know it..."

He can just see the Resource Centre decked out with dying, half-dried flowers. To make the place "cuter". Oh, Pamela.

[sophicsulphur]

Iris tugs at her hair, a confused expression coming over her face. "I think I'd know it if I had been," she says. "Maybe we're not talking about the same person after all? Long, purple hair, ribbons and bows, carried a teddy bear all the time? Like I said, I didn't know any schools... I met her in Grimoire Castle. It was a really old building, very run-down.... There wasn't much left to the library, either. It still managed to feel like someplace important, though."

Though it honestly didn't look that much better by the time Pamela was done with it, either.