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]

"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.

[strivingupward]

Roxis shakes his head. "That's exactly Pamela Ibis. Where was this castle? Was it floating in the sky with some other buildings and things? The resource centre was a pretty tall building... I don't know." Iris probably didn't go to a random castle in the sky, he thinks. "Maybe she got out after all." And decided to settle in a library again. Well, that was Pamela. Drawn to the spooky and monster-infested. He wishes Iris could have asked her about school, but Pamela probably wouldn't have remembered anything anyway. "It really sounds like her. Even her ideas about decorating by strewing a few things around."

He's curious, though, now that she mentions it. Was Al-Revis fated to become a run-down pseudocastle someday? It was a sad thought, a hallmark of the idea that the academy might not last forever. Which was already going to be the case, according to Iris, but it was harder to think about the concrete image of its decay. Not so long ago he'd thought school would be there for him forever, and he'd never thought how he'd feel about having to leave.

[sophicsulphur]

"No, not floating," she says, though her reaction to the concept is casual, as if floating landmasses are nothing new to her. Which they aren't, really. "Though it did look sort of... precarious. But anyway, it doesn't make sense for that to have been your school. It was in an Alterworld-- a completely different place from the world I came from. And yet we know each other's families, so it's infeasible that we didn't live in the same world."

She frowns into her hands. Unless... unless. Maybe the Alterworlds were never different worlds to begin with. Maybe they were fragments of their world, that got scattered when Uroboros started tearing it apart: the pieces cast off into their own dimensions, leaving great gaping holes in the very fabric of existence. The more she thinks about it, the more likely that theory seems. The Alterworlds all had the same feel to them, like they were connected somehow: she'd never noticed it before, because she'd taken it for granted that was how all worlds felt, but after arriving in Chicago and noticing how different it was....

"--But anyway. I guess that's not much of our concern any more," she says, trying to project sympathy into her voice. She knows he must miss the place, and all his old friends. Alchemist friends. Why, any alchemist would miss the chance to live and work amongst peers, surrounding oneself in a culture of mysticism, never having to be confronted by the disbelief and hostility of those who had no love for the art. "I hope she's happy, wherever she is. But... this is where we live now."

A slight awkwardness crosses her features. "I'm-- sorry, about what I said before. About not wanting to see you. It was true; I didn't want to bring you down. But... like I said, if you've decided to take the risk with me, then I won't push you away. We can work together, if that's what you'd like." She looks apologetic. "I just can't promise that I'll be a terribly good partner any more. At least with the practical stuff, though I can certainly help with the theory."

[strivingupward]

"Alterworlds... Like Chicago?" Roxis is impressed. "We didn't have the ability in my time to go to other worlds like that. So... wait, you could go to other worlds, but after you died, you got stuck in this one?" Because that seems to be what she's saying. We're here now. She's given up on going back, and he probably isn't going to get back either. It's a disappointing thought-- not that Iris isn't great; she is; but Al-Revis was... was... home. It's true. All that time at school, he'd thought that home was with his parents, but it turns out, after all, that school was really his home.

He misses it. He misses alchemists. "Don't apologise," he tells Iris. "Theory would be a great help. I'd love to work with you, even if you're not at your best." He's worked with dubiously-matched partners before, under duress. He's worked with Pamela. No matter how sick Iris might be, she's going to be a much better lab partner than Pamela. Or that perfect kid he'd hated so much. Roxis thinks he might even miss Vayne, just a tiny bit, and that smug cat Mana. "I don't have my Mana here, either, so I'm obviously not at my best. And I haven't graduated..." He's still mentally adding yet. He can't bear not to. "I'm not even licensed to practice alchemy yet. But they don't seem to check for licenses around here anyway."

[sophicsulphur]

She shakes her head. "No-- no, not like Chicago. The Alterworlds... from what you've said, I'm starting to think maybe they were really splinters of our world, after Uroboros attacked it. They were... they all felt similar, magic worked the same... some of them looked odd, at least to someone like me, but they weren't really different. Not at heart. Not in soul. And they'd kick you out if you stayed too long... like a dream."

Like Uroboros' dreams, crazed half-remembered visions of world-fragments that had been. If that castle had indeed been Roxis' cherished academy, perhaps it was now no more than a reverie in the mind of a dreaming serpent. --An ex-dreaming, dead serpent. And thus maybe the Alterworlds altogether are no more, she thinks. But it's all speculation. It can't help them now, and there's no point in dwelling on it. What's passed has passed, and she can only hope her efforts paved the way for a new, better world to arise in its place. One with alchemy, and wonder, and all the good things a world should have.

"Chicago is... it's different. I don't think we can leave here, not until we die. So you're stuck with-- well, not necessarily with me, but with the city, I'm afraid. Well, and the rest of this world." Though yes, she would quite agree that even in her diminished state, she's a better alchemist than Pamela could ever be. The idea that Pamela was an alchemist, in fact, still has not quite penetrated her brain.

"But no," she adds with a laugh, "no licences here. Actually, not in my time either. --What did you need a licence for, anyway? You mean people couldn't just practice if they wanted to?"

The idea of some kind of board to check people's alchemical credentials is a far more formalised scenario than she's used to. And a somewhat restrictive one, in her eyes. Alchemy is an art for everyone, and she doesn't like the thought that any organisation can have a say in who should and shouldn't practice it. And besides, if one has to be formally accredited to be an alchemist, that might severely cut down on the number of people doing good work in the best of intents, and she'll always find that sad.

Still, she'll hear out what he has to say on the topic. It was, she has to keep reminding herself, a very different time. That she's speaking with a figure right out of the history books is yet another thing that hasn't fully sunk in.