Hi. I realize the timing on this is staggering, but do you still have my soup thermos?
[Definitely not, as Palamedes is looking at it sitting on his kitchen counter, but it's not technically lying to ask a question he knows the answer to, and this is as sly a way as any to bother someone about whether or not they are still, ah, super sad about things.]
[The timing was staggering-- for Waver had gotten his hands on a nimble looking silver blade that he currently had on the floor of his apartment, his meager furniture and belongings roughly shoved out of the way for an elaborate chalk thaumaturgical circle around it.
Pay no mind to the chittering rats he had in a cage. They're safe.
For now.]
Palamedes.
I know I wasn't in my right mind, but I'd remember taking your thermos. It's not here.
It's been a very long time since someone has checked on me without an ulterior motive. It's part of the burden I took on to even keep my head and my ability to do any work.
[It may be, but he appreciated not being strung in the air upside down for interrogation by a maniacal 8 year old who was way too curious about his virginity again.]
Very well then.
I'm doing significantly better. There's no chrome, except for the sword that is currently a project of mine. A gift, for the Dread Pirate Amaranth to go along with the cards we made.
I'm trying to enchant it. Word is that Vileblood is excellent for enchanting weapons, and a seafaring warrior deserves something to put her closer to the level of the gods.
Would you rather I did it at the beach, or in the woods? The leylines here are horrible for my uses, but I'm rigging my apartment to at least work for what I need.
When we are under a little bit less Permanent Darkness, I'll do a better search around town. Honestly, I've been being careful about wandering too far from Cellar Door because of those butterflies. They're running amok and I can only do so much to avoid them.
That's fair. You know I'm obligated to tell you that there are people willing to help aplenty around here, of course. Most of them are even decent. This is an inescapable saccharine truth.
That will take some time to get used to. Mages aren't exactly well known for their benevolence where I'm from, and political games that put lives on the line aren't uncommon.
But seriously: our lives are already on the line, without the addition of petty squabbling and infighting amongst ourselves. Collectively, I think we can all eventually get over ourselves.
[hhhhimself included, no one perceive his grudge against god, that's different.]
[On instinct, Waver double checked their conversation to ensure it was private.]
We can, but old habits are hard to beat. Gray, my Omen, resembles a cat that was run over to put a curse on me by an enemy. Having the title of Lord put a target on my head for many reasons, even if I am just a Faker in the role.
Point is: even having pets is dangerous in the society I know.
But, you seem familiar enough with a similar kind of life... aren't you?
Not really. I'm Sixth; we keep to ourselves, more or less. I'm not being flippant, I never left my Library until fairly recently, and only the one time.
But half of everyone else is an asshole, depending on where you look, sure.
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