"S-...Si, I knew about the Atma." He looks away briefly, wiping a hand over his mouth. And he found out during that painfully awkward incident that still sits on his thoughts whenever he's speaking to or around Gale, or whenever Hippolyta's upset with him, worried that she still holds it against him. He remembers seeing that black tornado symbol on the woman's calf, and then confirming with her later that it was, in fact, what he thought it was.
"I doubt she'd ever blame you for it, though. Or hold it against you in any other way. I-...I don't know, of course, what all could have been happening between up until then, but I just can't see how her absence could in any way be your fault, Gale. She loved you. She loves you." He adds that quickly, his hands waving as though to erase that lapse into past tense regarding The Question.
"No, she always insisted that it was far from my fault. But some guilt is so irrationally difficult to shake, especially when it comes to something so dire as the Atma. No one should have to live with this curse." And for a split second, he wonders if Ramon still has that same sympathy for the Atma that he used to. Gale really wouldn't have much patience for it these days.
"Sorry, Ramon, to dump all of this on you. I know there is little to be done or said about this whole matter."
It's there still, that admiration of the Atma, though is a more quiet, subdued way. Perhaps just because he's remembering that the people who house them are, at the end of the day, more important than the demons themselves. Not to mention he's gained a bit of perspective on having powerful viruses you can't stand, ever since he found out he's a mutation of Wesker's own Tyrant strain.
"No, don't be sorry." And he reaches out and gently touches the Tuner's arm as they continuing walking slowly. "At the very least, I'd like to know what's been going on with you for the past few months. Contact's been scarce, and that's my own fault as well. I'd gotten a bit more reclusive again as of late.
"But, either way, say what you will about anything, really. I'm here to listen and to offer whatever I can, be it words or actions. And that includes whatever is happening with you now that you require our watching over you."
"Yes, well, Victoria's disappearance is one part of it. The change in the Atma is the other. I do not recall how far you have been updated, so forgive me if I repeat myself."
He adopts his best matter-of-fact strategist voice as he launches into the lowdown: "To summarize: the Vorapate is of little or no use, keeping Vayu satisfied is nearly a full-time job in and of itself, with multiple hunting trips over the course of a day. Sleep and unconscious states are highly dangerous. Occasionally, remnants of my Atma will not revert back to a human state at all; my arms, for instance, on your wedding day . . .
"Perhaps most importantly, I have little . . . no, I will not lie. I have no control over Vayu while transformed. Argilla and I recently discovered our Atma cannot even be trusted to recognize any loyalty to each other."
He shrugs, "There you have it. The concise version, at least."
Ramon actually stops walking when Gale goes into his explanation. He's looking properly shocked by the end of it.
"...Dios. I was aware that there were increasing control issues with Vayu, but not nearly this badly. What about-...Well, what about right now? Right this very second? Are you currently struggling for control in the regular day-to-day? What happens when you sleep?"
Part of this is morbid curiosity; another part is mental preparation for what they could be facing shortly with Gale as their guest.
"It takes a great amount of energy, both of body and mind, to keep Vayu completely separate and under control." He takes a few more steps, then stops and turns half-way to look at Ramon.
"I have gotten into the habit of avoiding deep sleep altogether. I set an alarm clock for fifteen . . . twenty minutes at most, let it wake me, then repeat the process. Not entirely restful, but better than the more risky alternative of falling asleep completely."
A humorless smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. "That was why I was asking if the castle had a secure room I could sleep in so as to forgo the alarm clock precaution. I would very much like to be able to sleep again."
"S-Si. Of course. The room we're having you set up in either way can be secured. Locked and barricaded and whatever else you think we'd require. And if that's not enough...Well, my castle's well-equipped with more fortified rooms." Like dungeons. Gads. He's thinking about locking up one of his best friends and faux father figure in a dungeon.
"And Hippolyta was saying she had other measures against the Atma. But...we don't know it'll reach that point, si? You could go to sleep and things could be perfectly fine..." There's a pointed note of hope in his voice.
"Yes, it may be perfectly safe, but in light of recent events, I am not going to take any chances." He catches that note of discomfort in Ramon's voice. "I took Hippolyta's offer to come here mostly because of the relative seclusion and the possibility of confinement, so do not feel as if you are doing me a disservice if it comes to fortified rooms, dungeons, etc. . .
"We need not discuss it right this moment, but if the situation becomes irreversible and I completely lose my humanity, I would like to have certain measures taken. I will not disappear, only to allow him to go on in my stead." He has a feeling they wouldn't comply, though. If needs be, he'll take this up with the Embryon, even though they might not be around to see it through
( ... )
Ramon goes tight-jawed, and even a little more pale, which is quite a feat, considering his usual complexion.
"...We won't lose you to Vayu, Gale." It's an assurance and a promise. He won't allow Vayu to devour his own host like that. Besides, Ramon knows, in his heart of hearts, that he'd never be able to bring himself to put Vayu down, as it were, even if there was no hope that Gale was ever coming back.
"Who? Who won't help you with this?" The castellan almost sounds offended, maybe even combative, over this, like he'll find this person and make them help, and he can't imagine why they wouldn't. "Because if their input is the only hope you have left in overcoming this all..."
"I will continue to do everything in my power to resist that outcome; I have not given up, either, but as a strategist, it is my way to make preparations in anticipation of any result." Talking about this isn't easy for him, either, but doing so in a businesslike fashion helps him get through it without so much as a waver in his voice.
"The director of the Karma Society. I would not be surprised if I have mentioned her before in passing. She still believes the Atma and Tunership is a superior state, even as that world seems to be in the midst of its death throes." His eyes flash something best described as cool anger.
"The Embryon has caused her more than a little grief, and she would rather forget we exist. She is host to a powerful Atma herself, one she would probably not be averse to using on any one of us if we provoked her any further."
"Ah, si. I remember you mentioning her in the past. Angel, or something like that, wasn't it?" The irony of such an innocent name isn't lost on Ramon; an angel that manufactures demons. Quite comedic.
"Have you directly asked her? Attempted to bargain?" Of course, that may or may not seem reproachable to the strategist. Or even the implication that he hasn't already exhausted any attempts at such, which Ramon finds he should apologize for right now. "I'm sorry, you probably have. After you said that she's only met your approaching with animosity.
"We can probably figure something out without her." Ramon concludes in an almost childishly naive, reassured tone. "I'd not want someone who sounds so dangerous around you anyhow. God knows what she'd do to you if given the chance." He will never trust those science types; not ever.
"Yes, Angel. She is not one to negotiate. She has a very special breed of stubborn, independent resolve. Even when I offered her assistance with her own problems in Karma City, she declined. Unfortunate that I cannot count her as an ally; she possesses not only all of the accumulated records on the Demon Virus, but certainly the equipment to assess the state of the strain within a host. I envision even that would be of great help in pinpointing any changes or degradation in the virus' code
( ... )
He'd had his eyes averted only briefly, looking back just in time as those marks get covered again. There was the barest of glimpses that made Ramon look twice, and he's about to dismiss it as a trick of shadows...but then he sees those sinister, black marks unfurling on Gale's neck and jaw.
For one mad moment, Ramon is instantly reminded of what it looks like when one's first infected by las Plagas; those dark veins creeping everywhere, closing in on the eyes and brain...
"I know, it's . . ." He fastens the clasps on the neck of his hood for extra coverage, as much as the touch of the heavy synthetic is bound to irritate his skin more.
He manages a half-stammered explanation. ". . . I think it's the sun . . . but I do not understand. Why should it . . . ?"
Gale bends with a wince and presses a hand to his calf. Over his pant leg first, then lifts the fabric long enough to check his mark. Hot, but still black and soon to be swallowed along with his pale skin.
"I need to get out of the sun," he finally breathes with more insistency. He's trying to keep calm, telling himself it could be worse.
He just gives a single, urgent nod, and is already turning and walking swiftly back towards the castle. But he stops when he's only a few steps past the ailing Tuner.
"C-Can you walk?" He's not going to outright offer to carry Gale, or drag him, but he's already thinking it. He's not going to leave his friend out in this sunlight any longer than he absolutely has to, and if Gale's progress is either non-existent or slow and plodding...
"I can walk, yes." But it's immediately obvious that his progress is definitely going to be of the slow and plodding variety.
Gale takes a few steps to follow the castellan, and the sensation of muscles moving under his feverish, irritated skin is nauseating. The blackness is already creeping up to his eyeballs, the whites of which are slowly turning a molten yellow around his green irises. The darkness is curious in that it seems like an eerily flat inky black; it sucks in light rather than reflect it to show, say, the form of Gale's face. He's beginning to look like something that would be very much at home in the castle back when it was still haunted by Los Illuminados.
He keeps walking, though, arms held just slightly away from his body so as not to brush against him.
"I doubt she'd ever blame you for it, though. Or hold it against you in any other way. I-...I don't know, of course, what all could have been happening between up until then, but I just can't see how her absence could in any way be your fault, Gale. She loved you. She loves you." He adds that quickly, his hands waving as though to erase that lapse into past tense regarding The Question.
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"Sorry, Ramon, to dump all of this on you. I know there is little to be done or said about this whole matter."
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"No, don't be sorry." And he reaches out and gently touches the Tuner's arm as they continuing walking slowly. "At the very least, I'd like to know what's been going on with you for the past few months. Contact's been scarce, and that's my own fault as well. I'd gotten a bit more reclusive again as of late.
"But, either way, say what you will about anything, really. I'm here to listen and to offer whatever I can, be it words or actions. And that includes whatever is happening with you now that you require our watching over you."
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He adopts his best matter-of-fact strategist voice as he launches into the lowdown: "To summarize: the Vorapate is of little or no use, keeping Vayu satisfied is nearly a full-time job in and of itself, with multiple hunting trips over the course of a day. Sleep and unconscious states are highly dangerous. Occasionally, remnants of my Atma will not revert back to a human state at all; my arms, for instance, on your wedding day . . .
"Perhaps most importantly, I have little . . . no, I will not lie. I have no control over Vayu while transformed. Argilla and I recently discovered our Atma cannot even be trusted to recognize any loyalty to each other."
He shrugs, "There you have it. The concise version, at least."
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"...Dios. I was aware that there were increasing control issues with Vayu, but not nearly this badly. What about-...Well, what about right now? Right this very second? Are you currently struggling for control in the regular day-to-day? What happens when you sleep?"
Part of this is morbid curiosity; another part is mental preparation for what they could be facing shortly with Gale as their guest.
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"I have gotten into the habit of avoiding deep sleep altogether. I set an alarm clock for fifteen . . . twenty minutes at most, let it wake me, then repeat the process. Not entirely restful, but better than the more risky alternative of falling asleep completely."
A humorless smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. "That was why I was asking if the castle had a secure room I could sleep in so as to forgo the alarm clock precaution. I would very much like to be able to sleep again."
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"And Hippolyta was saying she had other measures against the Atma. But...we don't know it'll reach that point, si? You could go to sleep and things could be perfectly fine..." There's a pointed note of hope in his voice.
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"We need not discuss it right this moment, but if the situation becomes irreversible and I completely lose my humanity, I would like to have certain measures taken. I will not disappear, only to allow him to go on in my stead." He has a feeling they wouldn't comply, though. If needs be, he'll take this up with the Embryon, even though they might not be around to see it through ( ... )
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"...We won't lose you to Vayu, Gale." It's an assurance and a promise. He won't allow Vayu to devour his own host like that. Besides, Ramon knows, in his heart of hearts, that he'd never be able to bring himself to put Vayu down, as it were, even if there was no hope that Gale was ever coming back.
"Who? Who won't help you with this?" The castellan almost sounds offended, maybe even combative, over this, like he'll find this person and make them help, and he can't imagine why they wouldn't. "Because if their input is the only hope you have left in overcoming this all..."
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"The director of the Karma Society. I would not be surprised if I have mentioned her before in passing. She still believes the Atma and Tunership is a superior state, even as that world seems to be in the midst of its death throes." His eyes flash something best described as cool anger.
"The Embryon has caused her more than a little grief, and she would rather forget we exist. She is host to a powerful Atma herself, one she would probably not be averse to using on any one of us if we provoked her any further."
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"Have you directly asked her? Attempted to bargain?" Of course, that may or may not seem reproachable to the strategist. Or even the implication that he hasn't already exhausted any attempts at such, which Ramon finds he should apologize for right now. "I'm sorry, you probably have. After you said that she's only met your approaching with animosity.
"We can probably figure something out without her." Ramon concludes in an almost childishly naive, reassured tone. "I'd not want someone who sounds so dangerous around you anyhow. God knows what she'd do to you if given the chance." He will never trust those science types; not ever.
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For one mad moment, Ramon is instantly reminded of what it looks like when one's first infected by las Plagas; those dark veins creeping everywhere, closing in on the eyes and brain...
"Gale! Your skin...!"
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He manages a half-stammered explanation. ". . . I think it's the sun . . . but I do not understand. Why should it . . . ?"
Gale bends with a wince and presses a hand to his calf. Over his pant leg first, then lifts the fabric long enough to check his mark. Hot, but still black and soon to be swallowed along with his pale skin.
"I need to get out of the sun," he finally breathes with more insistency. He's trying to keep calm, telling himself it could be worse.
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"C-Can you walk?" He's not going to outright offer to carry Gale, or drag him, but he's already thinking it. He's not going to leave his friend out in this sunlight any longer than he absolutely has to, and if Gale's progress is either non-existent or slow and plodding...
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Gale takes a few steps to follow the castellan, and the sensation of muscles moving under his feverish, irritated skin is nauseating. The blackness is already creeping up to his eyeballs, the whites of which are slowly turning a molten yellow around his green irises. The darkness is curious in that it seems like an eerily flat inky black; it sucks in light rather than reflect it to show, say, the form of Gale's face. He's beginning to look like something that would be very much at home in the castle back when it was still haunted by Los Illuminados.
He keeps walking, though, arms held just slightly away from his body so as not to brush against him.
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