maskormenacelogs | There's nothing nice in my head

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There's nothing nice in my head

WHO: Hemali and Victor
WHERE: The ninth house in Maurtia Falls
WHEN: Late afternoon, shortly after this thread
WHAT: Victor discusses his work after some external prompting
WARNINGS: Did you know Hemali is in this log?

[Once his absence had been sorted, Victor wound up what he was doing. Gathered up his files and spent many a minute wondering what she would think - if she would call him mad. It wouldn't at be helpful to discuss the idea of creating life without the involvement of a woman. Not if it broke whatever relationship existed between them. But that work could easily be concealed by presenting her with his work on resurrection - albeit with the caveat it was at a theoretical stage.

He was hesitant to begin something for obvious reasons. He had met many willing to push themselves to further progress. He had met few willing to die. He couldn't imagine that too many would be happy about it. He isn't as interested in talking about it as he feels, as he sits in a given place in her room. Looks around and shrugs his shoulders in dull curiosity.]

You deserve a larger place. One more suited to yourself. This room hardly affords you the dignity you deserve.

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Ugh, I know.

[ Hemali is fixing her hair in her mirror, brushing through it slowly and gently as to not damage her fine ends. Her hair drapes across her back and the section she works through across her shoulder, but as she sections off another part of her hair Victor will, if he didn't the last time, spot a kind of tattoo on the back of her neck. ]

The walls are so drab and there's barely any closet space.

[He does see it, and curiosity grows at its meaning; but the fact its located on the back of her neck is a cruel detail. He sits more rigidly, in a position that becomes irksome and almost intolerable. His firmness is matched by a lack of life behind his eyes. He feels a buzz and rubs out a needling sting at the back of his neck.]

If you are this dissatisfied, the people who run this place afford us individual housing. I could make a request for you to move, if you like?

[ There's a soft chuckle in the back of her throat, as if she's about to start laughing at him, like his offer is some sort of big joke to her. It isn't, but she finds it highly amusing they've known each other a month and he's willing to do that for her. It helps to stroke that ego of hers.

She turns around to look at him, leaning against the wardrobe. ]

Aren't you a generous man?

[In response, his hands move behind his back and clasp together. He wonders if she means to be condescending, but, hearing no verbal putdowns or nothing else that makes him flinch, decides she isn't. And he is generous; to the right people. He leans forward as if to move, but stops himself.]

Never did I think so. I would have called it good manners.

What else would you do for me, Victor?

[ Hemali moves away from the wardrobe after a few seconds, slowly stepping toward him, light on her feet. Bangles on her wrists reflect specks of light from the window onto the wall, softly chiming when she lifts both arms, hands reaching for Victor's shoulders. ]

You know I can easily make my own request.

[He doesn't say anything.

His gaze falls on her face, and in the few uncomfortable seconds he makes eye contact, he looks torn between embarrassment and worry; like he doesn't see the intimacy. He's a little more nervous at the intrusion into his space, and something inside him murmurs his discontent. His hands work behind him like he's going to push back and move, but he doesn't. She would probably find his coat is like cotton; heavy and fluid, and soft to touch.

And now that he can feel her weight on it, he hides his nervousness by speaking.]

I would give you a present - the files you requested.

[Which he had earlier dropped on her bed. Go. Get them. Read about his hypothesis about imPort resurrection, the continuum mineral and applying it to the natives. Leave him alone.]

Edited 2016-10-03 07:39 (UTC)

[ Her hands pull away from him immediately, although she purposely remains as close as possible just to watch his reaction. Then she's dipping forward, turning past him at the last moment to reach for the file and pull it into her hands.

As soon as she's done that she's moved away, fingering the paper idly. ]

I wonder what you've learned.

[He hesitates again; looks pensive for a second. Adjusts as well as he can to Hemali's question by stroking his chin, a calming ritual, before shrugging casually. His right hand strokes back his hair and then gestures absentmindedly; his left rests on his hip.]

It is with a weary heart I struggle to admit that I've learned anything. I have been informed that mineral is responsible for our resurrection, but I am unable to believe that I can convince people to conceive of the benefits to science.

[He fingers his chin again.]

You, like me, probably see the reason why.

[Because, in this case, test subjects need to be dead.]

[ A derisive snort escapes Hemali, her eyes narrowing as she stares down her nose at Victor. Her expression is almost bored.

She lifts a hand again, fingers reaching to brush Victor's neck before they rapidly change direction and she shoves his chest, rolling her eyes. ]

You're not special.

[ Her voice is flat, uninterested. Victor's been an interesting fellow so far, but that's all he is to her, nothing more and nothing less. ]

Are you getting attached already?

[Upon seeing her eyes narrow, something stiffens his spine; he's seen this behavior before and knows that sudden switch in mood to disinterest, anger or a combination of the two. It isn't a beautiful thing to see, but it's not unfamiliar either.

He looks bewildered when he's shoved. Hears his footsteps like they're someone else's as he straightens himself. There's no relationship implications in his mind. He's done something wrong and he has to fix it, that's all.]

I do not know what you mean. Why do you reproach me? I only remark to the nature of my work here.

[Except he does know what she means and it makes his body coil.]

Just because we slept together doesn't mean you've got me wrapped around your little fingers.

[ She sighs aloud and then focuses her attention on the files Victor brought, opening them up so she can see whatever it is he's been working on. Most if it is likely to be gibberish to her, but their discussion about souls a while back and now the humans here who had gained powers thanks to Tony Stark have her feeling nosy. ]

This is all your work so far?

[As she fixes her eyes on his work, he recuses himself against the wall, folds his arms over his stomach and turns his head. Most of his work is gibberish, but he understands it, and how it applies to her, him, Tony Stark, every imPort. Every single native.]

Every word of it. My solitary ramblings. I do require a piece of continuum to give it a direction; but there is the question of how I acquire it...

[ Hemali's gaze shifts away from the papers, staring at nothing in particular. She's intently focused in that moment, pondering the answer to Victor's question. ]

Continuum is what brings imPorts back to life, yes?

[He remains motionless; and he thinks about the goal of this work with affection and reverence. He considers how to escape with a chunk of the mineral in question and loses himself in his own judgment and feelings.]

Indeed so; but it's extraordinarily rare. If we can make a synthetic version of it, I believe it would give us self-sustenance, for a start...

[ She tosses aside the file onto her wardrobe where it lands neatly, then moves toward her bed and pulls her legs close. ]

And how would you even manage that?

[ She sits with her legs crossed, hands against her ankles and posture straight, staring directly at Victor. What is his goal in all this anyway? To play God with the lives of imPorts? ]

Humans aren't supposed to come back.

[He assumes an air of superiority; and sends his gaze inward rather than meet hers. This questioning isn't a dire blow. He'd expected this reaction. Colleagues had uttered some words in quiet voices; that his work was foolish, dangerous, insane.

As he thinks this, he slides his fingers together; parts them and folds his arms. He is of a wilder and agitated disposition, and that pressure comes out in his speech.]

And do you also believe that we are meant to live in darkness? To struggle with life without access to medicines? What is the blasphemy in treatment that saves our lives? What is the alternative? Do we really deserve pain? Your words are the moral lessons of elders who know the price of everything and the value of nothing. Were humanity not meant to return, then it would never be physically possible. My idea of serving people does not include the idea of ignorance and forgetting what it means to be a human being.

I will contact a man who allows me some prospect of progress and take it from there.

[ So Victor isn't completely spineless; there's some fight in him after all, though it stems from the belief his work is far too important to let go of. Naturally, Hemali doesn't understand it, but there's a brief moment where she considers looking at it from Victor's point of view — very brief.

She wonders if he's one of those altruistic types. The kind of man who feels the need to save others. They're rare in a world full of petty, selfish people, but they do exist.

Hemali's composure remains relaxed, though her attention seems elsewhere while Victor talks before her eyes settle back on him, narrowing. ]

Talk down to me again and I'll pluck that tongue from your mouth.

[Victor, who had been watching her face as her attitude changed, stands up straight - very straight. He is resigned, hopeless and despairing, to that rapid change in behavior; he's seen it before. The difference is she is not her. So he is not terribly wound.]

I did not conceive to insult you; I was simply relating the circumstances of experience. Although the words chosen may been inconsiderate and I shall apologize for that.

[ Hemali's lingering gaze is sharp for another few seconds before she dials it back a bit, though it doesn't quite soften either. She still casts him a scrutinizing look, staring him down somehow despite her sitting on the bed and Victor towering above her. ]

You assume all of us are human.

[ Whether she accepts that apology or not she purposely leaves in the air. ]

If I had not spoken to a lady made from crystal, then I would assume as you say. I indeed know that where some see a generous and thoughtful friend, others behold only a detestable monster. It is that kind of prejudice I hope to ignore.

[He hasn't quite connected the dots, however. But he tenderly loves his own little monster.]

[ "Monster"... not a word she's unaccustomed to. A word thrown at her a good many times back home when people realized she wasn't some deity sent to bless them and their families. Repeatedly thrown at her when they realized who it was responsible for the deaths of their husbands and sons.

Hemali's figure slowly rises from the bed, inching toward Victor in predatory fashion. When she blinks, her brown eyes are enveloped in a shade of yellow suddenly, black slits for pupils. Around the sides of her neck the skin seems to darken and shift on its own, scales emerging in place and trailing down to her shoulders.

She opens her mouth to speak; long, sharp fangs appear and a thin, forked tongue darts out for a few seconds. In a low, amused voice: ]

Would you call me a monster?

[ She practically dares him to. ]

[It was with a cautious eye that he observed the change; but then an urge of fear and terror came over him suddenly. An anxiety that amounted to agony made him struggle not to breathe hard, nor, when he saw her black slitted eyes open, shudder in convulsive motion. His eyes skim over her shoulders, and he is forced to stare at the neckline of her dress for several moments.

For there is a luxury of intimacy spent in her company that he cannot endure. He had always avoided human contact with the best of judgment. And it had made him wretched. Yet, she could let him live with the sympathy that's necessary for his being - miserable and threatening - without forming those bonds that extort energy and passion.

Finally, he looks at her face, and he finds himself moved by the whirlwind of her rage.]

I would not call you anything you aren't. Your crimes are sourced in your soul - not your skin.

What crimes are those?

[ She doesn't stop moving forward until she's left virtually no space between herself and Victor, her body almost pressing against his. Her fingers curl into his shirt, half-playful, and the other half with ominous intent behind it. ]

[He arches his back against the wall, as far as he can move before she pins him there. But feeling her fingers curl his cotton shirt, clutching it across his skin, makes him struggle to talk. Now his tongue's swelling inside his mouth. He doesn't enjoy the closeness. Not that he'd been good at it anyway.]

Heaven knows; but I am hardly disturbed by the wildest things. The prospect of uncovering your nature does not particularly move me.

[Whether he's using that word to describe her personality or her body he's not quite sure. There is the briefest expression of annoyance, though he submerges it beneath his calm. It seems he might have a little idea of it, but it's not quite clicked, and he holds her hand in his own and attempts to remove it softly.]

[ Such gentleness bores her; her grip is unusually (or maybe not so) strong, tugging him forward so she can push him onto the bed. She doesn't climb above though, leaving Victor alone on the bed as she peers back into her mirror to observe her own reflection. She examines her angles, the dark serpentine scales, the eerie yellow colour of her eyes...

Her fangs fold back when she closes her mouth, though they reappear when she opens it to speak: ]

Most would fear me.

[He goes face first into the cushions, the pillows, and the throws she keeps there. There's a hint of their coldness against his skin. He can feel their embellishments leaving their marks. It makes him move involuntarily; he rolls over onto his shoulder and fixes his glasses with his fingers. Stops watching her closely and listens. There is so much hidden under the surface with his anger that he doesn't particularly want to share.]

One fears when they have something to lose. I am going to lose everything; so I don't particularly find myself concerned.

[ She turns to look back at Victor, his response piquing her curiosity just enough for her to seek details from him now. The scales on her neck fade away, fangs retreating and her eyes darkening back to their usual shade of brown. ]

What are you losing?

[Who not what.

It isn't a conversation he wants. He remains normal for a second - till his eyes go cold. There's a hint of the temper she's seen. He swings his legs over the side of the bed and pulls himself to a nice, upright position.]

I'd prefer not to discuss it.

[ She's instantly closing the space between them, unwilling to let him go so easily. Her hand reaches for his shoulder, firm but gentle at once, trying to coax him back onto the bed. Just relax. ]

There doesn't need to be secrets here.

[ She showed him what she truly was, he's brought his work over.

Hemali levels her gaze so she can meet his directly with intent focus. Victor isn't going to leave her to guess whatever it was he meant before. ]

You can tell me.

[He doesn't tell anything.

He lies down without so much as a struggle; draws down the corners of his mouth tightly and resists the urge to bite his tongue. It's because of her that he holds out. The tenseness of his body, the feeling of floating outside it. Not a pretty sight. His frustration bleeds out into the bed linen and not through his clothes.]

Have I that right? My pride and delight - mine to protect, love and cherish - was abandoned in the name of petty political squabbles about religion. Made to walk adrift, alone and penniless. I hesitated not when she was brought to me for treatment: I adopted her. Like you, she was called a monster. Consider yourself fortunate that you are not terminally ill.

[ She listens to him, trying to envision this so-called monster Victor sheltered under his wing. Someone who means dear enough for him to keep his mouth shut on her.

Hemali takes a seat on the edge of the bed, tearing her eyes from Victor. She doesn't need to continue compelling him into speaking; he's said enough. ]

Is she dead?

[He shakes his head, and then adjusts his tie.]

No; and more than all, I will never permit it. I shall only wish that maternal nature bids me weep no more.

[Except said he's lost everything. His delusions, by this time, have become very real.]

[ Her eyes flick back over to the file, the nature of his work...

A sidelong glance as it dawns on her what Victor is attempting to accomplish in this world. ]

That's why you're tampering with life and death.

How else am I to direct myself? Every minute that I spend, every minute that I waste on other nonsense, is a minute lost. Others have sickened at the prospect, and tried to turn me to another science; you, I hope, do not believe me mad?

[If she did it wouldn't matter. He would think her a fool.]

[ Yes and no. He's slaving away on work that he may not be able to bring with him back to his world whenever the Porter decides to return him — if it does. That kind of devotion to someone she can't comprehend; Hemali's never felt strongly about anyone or anything other than her mother, but she had lost her so many years ago that she's almost forgotten what heartache feels like.

It's better this way. She doesn't like to open herself up to vulnerabilities.

But Victor's desperation, however... ]

I don't particularly care.

If you can't get continuum, how do you plan to find a [ what word should she be using here? ] cure for your friend?

[I don't particularly care.

That is precisely what Victoria says; and he is unable to contain himself. A strange combination of senses and emotions confuse him, that make him tremble, and he claps his hands and laughs aloud.]

I don't intend to pursue a second cure. You question whether I can unearth such a mineral. Do you consider it impossible that I can simply try to make it?

[ Would he be able to replicate it? She wonders. ]

I don't know much about science.

[ Or care for it.

Something else comes to mind then. ]

What of those people who were given abilities recently? Are they like imPorts now?

I wouldn't think so.

[He launches into explaining what's publicly available; how the natives got their powers and where those powers differ from their own. If only he could get one to study, but alas! He then collects his thoughts and shrugs.]

Their gifts may last month after month, or year after year for a start. I abhor the lack of variety in their abilities, and would rather unveil whether they are capable of resurrection. But the consequences if my theory proves true... and I can hardly persuade any one of them to consent to me.

[For obvious reasons.]

[ The corner of her lips turn upwards into a mischievous smile. ]

I'm sure I can work my charm on one.

[ For she wants to see what exactly these people with new-found abilities are capable of, too. ]

[Her idea settles in the back of his mind. It prevents him from resting; forces him to rise from the bed and retrieve his files. Nothing would be more wrong, and yet... Well, it's because of her he is having these tense, horrible thoughts. It wouldn't be his fault.

He knows if something went wrong he can fix it. And how, exactly, can he ignore this unsettling sympathy for her plight?]

I thank you, but it all means nothing if I cannot get them to agree with me on everything: and to see everything they would be contributing.

[If he doesn't ask her outright how she'll do it, he's not responsible, right? That's how this works?]

[ Hemali follows Victor, her arm extending so she can reach his shoulder and pull him back towards the bed. Her finger curl around his shoulder again and she leans close, her voice just barely above a whisper: ]

Like I said, let me talk to one. If they say yes, I will tell them to go and see you.

[ They will agree, though. ]

[He turns and heads back, and sits down in a manner more refined and moral. He had intended to reason. But it's so easy to do what she says; a pleasant process that infuses him with a light behind his dull, blue eyes.]

Thank you. I am happy to receive your support.

[Nobody can accuse him of manners, though they might doubt his morals. He wrinkles his nose.]

Most people would be greatly outraged by my work. Why doesn't it bother you?

Call me curious.

[ Which she is; whether Victor accomplishes what he's out to do is something she wouldn't mind seeing herself. ]

Even if I believe dead humans should remain that way.

[ Though she isn't immortal herself, so something like this could benefit her if all of this isn't in vain.

Her fingers tiptoe down Victor's collar, reaching for one of the buttons. ]

[His fingers reach for his buttons immediately; and when they find hers they attempt to guide them away in gentle fashion. He enjoys her company, her intimate sympathy. But he rewards those with his disregard and a muttering of low noise.]

I think too much of the occurances of the day. You must pardon me if I say I cannot sleep in comfort.

[It's with extreme difficulty that he alludes to sleeping together. He dares not reference it directly - and that explains his choice of words.]

[ Her hand instantly withdraws, all interest lost in that moment as well. She stares him down with a bored expression, wrinkling her nose. ]

Then it's time for you to go.

[The hint is clear; he needs no excuse to excuse himself. With an anxiety that he feels in his thighs and knees, he catapults himself from the bed. His nose wrinkles as he collects the pages of his work that are lying around. He rubs his eyes sore as he shrugs himself back into his coat. Her unhappiness has filled him with unease; he might be scared about what will happen.]

Understood.

[And he'll take his leave. She might know where he is when she gets bored again; at work, certainly. He won't complain if he's pestered down the line.]

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There's nothing nice in my head

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