comin' on to the overload
[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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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."
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"...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.
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He can just see the Resource Centre decked out with dying, half-dried flowers. To make the place "cuter". Oh, Pamela.
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Though it honestly didn't look that much better by the time Pamela was done with it, either.
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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.
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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."
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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."
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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.
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