[video]

[masterbaiting]

[Directly after the video starts, the NV it's broadcasting from is slammed down atop something- the camera only points up at the ceiling, right now, but there's a vaguely metallic bout of clattering, and the humming sound close by is definitely from a refrigerator.]

This is such bullshit, [someone says, and it's an angry voice, but it's also...

Comments

action.

[stabilimentum]

[Claude has been watching Alois' honestly pathetic attempts to acquire more food without help. Every so often, between bursts of profanity, Claude turns his attention to the yellow notepad and #2 pencil in his hands. He is sketching out something on the paper--these notations look mindless, even disoriented, but they're simply not in English. Whatever the language is, it's creepy and spindly by his handwriting. He slowly shades in a doodle of a pyramid with a closed eye at the center.

The age regressing transformation isn't news to him; he was more than aware when it happened, since their contract is strong enough to tell him such. Still, he did recently get back from the Black Market, where he was doing some preliminary digging for information. There isn't a lot to go on, unfortunately, so right now he's trying to figure out what sort of magic is at work based on his own observations. Is there anything he can do to undo it, as his master demands? If it's even feasible or safe to meddle with--but maybe mild discomfort would be acceptable in the name of discovery--

That is to say: Alois has just become a sort of science project for him. It's kind of exciting, but Claude tries not to smile too much. At least their contract wasn't disrupted by the changes.]

action.

[pitchfits]

[After a graham cracker and a half, Alois is tired of those. The crunch is nice, but they make him feel all gummy. The box is cast aside like it doesn't matter an inch, because it doesn't, because Alois has all the food his tiny self could ever want and his stomach is FLIPPING OUT. Even if his mind isn't from 'back then,' the state of his body is. This also makes his eyes far bigger than his stomach, though. He'll get full way too quickly- especially if he tries to eat the entire box of rice cakes he's just pulled out of the cupboard.]

Are you making a shopping list? [he demands, with his hands fumbling and his back to Claude. If Claude's writing, it had better be something useful about snacks.]

action.

[stabilimentum]

[With a tilt of his head, Claude notices and acknowledges the faint hum of technology that Hannah is using. Wherever she is, she's being stealthy enough that not even Claude can pin down her location exactly. No matter about that right now, though. As long as she doesn't try anything too strange, he'll leave her alone.]

What cravings might have struck His Highness? [he asks, slowly stepping forward. The pencil rotates in his grip before hitting the page again, drawing a spiral with thorns on the outside.] If I'm recalling correctly...

[Alois' personality hasn't regressed, but there's a lot to be said for genetic memory. There were numerous foods that his master seemed to enjoy more when he was younger, and Claude remembers the passion behind one particular want. Lord Trancy's body hadn't even gone cold from death and yet Jim wanted--]

Venison jerky?

[His glasses twinkle.]

action.

[pitchfits]

[Oh, the nerve. The audacity Claude must have to make assumptions just like tha-

Venison jerky?

His little feet tap against the counter as he wiggles his toes inside of his shoes.]

Do you have any?

[Oh. Oh, venison jerky. It's chewy and the sides are great to gnaw on and you can walk around with it in your mouth and tearing into it with your teeth is really exhilarating and black pepper on top is best-

Venison jerky was a fantastic meal for a boy who was too stubborn to show his wrath in the manner of Lord Trancy's death. Chew, chew, chew.

He's imagining the scent and now he really wants it.]

action.

[stabilimentum]

[Claude takes down a few more notes in sprawling script. Evidently, the (neuro?-)physiology has been affected enough to influence everything else. What he wouldn't give to be able to open Alois up under a certain anesthetic venom, and figure out the goings-on going on in that smaller, younger brain. This is simply too intriguing.

Well, the best he can hope for is intercepting Alois' dreams tonight. He wants to explore the subconscious mind.]

Perhaps.

[Manifesting food is easiest to do in small quantities, but it still takes energy and concentration. He sets down the notepad and pencil on the counter, steps in front of Alois, and leans in slightly while staring at him. In a way, this is nostalgic--even if Alois is younger now than when they officially met.

The stare lasts long enough for Claude to produce a few strips of venison jerky, wrapped together in pale butcher paper. It smells very strong, but very delicious, and when he pulls back the paper, there's fresh black pepper crushed into one side of each strip. Hungry into satiated, is it?]

action.

[pitchfits]

[Even the scent sets his mouth watering, and the sight only exacerbates that. Claude's proximity and how intense his eyes always are had made Alois duck back a little bit, but the jerky has him pitching forward again. He snatches one strip with his right hand, and two more with his left, and he's habitually - old habit, at least - staring at Claude's polished black shoes as he tears into one of the jerky strips.

When he's finally gotten a mouthful, he remembers to look up. It's such a long way to crane his neck. The pepper on the jerky makes him take one deep sniff.

It's strange, even to him, how his brain takes his body by the hand and leads it into certain actions, while his mind stands on the sidelines and tries to butt in wherever it can.]

'S good, [he says slowly while he chews. There's a very slight air of suspiciousness about him.]

action.

[stabilimentum]

[Of course it's good. As if it wouldn't be good. Claude used his master's own conscious and subconscious yearnings to create this food from thin air. Consequently, manifested food tastes like almost nothing to Claude, which is why he can't just hide in his room and stuff his face all day. No satisfaction in that for him. It even makes him hungrier, if anything.

His scraping gold stare breaks off when he retrieves the notepad and pencil.]

Are you experiencing any discomfort, master? [he asks gently, and takes a moment to brush a speck of pepper from Alois' softer, chubbier cheek. Yes, this is very nostalgic.] Due to the transformation.

[If the spell simply wears off after a certain amount of time, what might the mechanics of that process be? Could it resemble basic molting--like a bird, or a snake? Will Alois discard tighter layers of skin as he grows up, and is it going to be painful? In an extreme scenario, Alois will need to enter into an intermediate chrysalis phase--Claude has seen such things before--but he'll emerge from it reinvigorated and the correct age.

My little one, Claude thinks, and the thought hangs.]

action.

[pitchfits]

[There's something about the constant presence of that notepad that's really starting to bother Alois. It's probably jealousy, which is ridiculous, so he'd rather not think about that- but then Claude's thumb is over his skin, and Alois blinks wide eyes and quietly pulls the jerky away from his teeth.

Alois: 1. Notepad: 0.

He says, a little too loudly,] My legs really hurt. [This isn't true, and it might be that if they did ache like that, he'd want to march around anyway at this size if only for the sake of his tiny dignities. As it is, Alois wants the attention that comes with affliction. It'd be nice to be toted around, and he swallows a mouthful of venison and grinds the toe of one shoe against the floor.]

action.

[stabilimentum]

[Claude doesn't respond immediately. He stares, and sees through the lie, and then says,]

Indeed? [No disbelief in his voice. No explicit concern, either, but there's an edge of surprise that helps with perpetuating the lie.] My master, the sooner I'm aware of your pain, the sooner I will provide you with relief from it.

[Because of who and what he is, Claude Faustus is capable of inspiring the most painful emotional outpourings--and then staunching them with little more than a touch and few words. If he wanted to, he could provoke a tantrum simply by paying too much attention to the yellow notepad and his doodles. --At least, he could have with the Alois he once knew. This one is appreciably more resistant and resilient, and Claude resents him for it while also finding that strength fascinating.

A reward is in order, though, since Alois told a lie to gain more attention. Claude likes that a lot, and he also likes how they're both comfortable in their lies--it's impossible to deny that their entire relationship revolves around lying. At any given moment, they're telling a dozen lies to themselves and each other, as well as anyone else they happen to meet.

Still, there are a few irrefutable truths.

Claude abruptly claps his hands together, causing the notepad and pencil to disappear between his gloved palms. (Alois Trancy loves Claude Faustus...) With a murmur of "If you'll permit me," he kneels down so he can enclose Alois' tiny body in an embrace. (...and Claude Faustus loves Alois Trancy.) Slowly and carefully, he stands back up with Alois resting against his chest, held in place by only one arm looped around and beneath him. Claude uses his free hand to smooth over shorter, scrawnier legs, in search of the imaginary pain.]

Is there anything else amiss?

[By the way, the combined scent of Alois Trancy and venison jerky is a heady mixture. Claude feels himself salivate, his insides growling with hunger, when he curls all ten fingers--disproportionately large, now--against his master.]