[ After Vash left him, Knives had turned over in his bed, uninterested in engaging with a world that has left him so weakened. Passing out may not be the answer, but the exhaustion and his own unwillingness to face reality compound into him sleeping through the rest of the day and into the night.
It's well after three in the morning when he suddenly awakens and realizes that he can't seem to fall back to sleep. This is how it works with humans, he knows, and yet he still doesn't feel much like existing at the moment.
Still, his stomach turns, that gnawing emptiness that he now knows as hunger. At least if he wanders out at this hour, it's unlikely that he'll come across anyone. Not his brother, not the Punisher, not that willful girl or any of the other people he's been forced to work with in the short time he's been here, filling in bingo squares and completing dungeons and quests.
He leaves the suite without incident and makes it all the way to the house's banquet hall without encountering another soul.
Or so he thinks. With the hood of his sweatshirt pulled up almost all the way around his face, his peripheral vision is suffering a bit. He also still feels like he's been run over by a sandsteamer despite the many hours of sleep, so he's not as alert as he might otherwise be. ]
[ Or so he thinks. As is the rule for eccentric inventor types, Declan keeps weird hours. He’s not so elven that he doesn’t need to sleep, like Juniper, but he has a bad habit of staying up until the wee hours anyway. And here in this world, with so many things to learn (or remember), it’s all too easy to get caught up in something and lose track of time.
While he had dinner at a somewhat normal time, his stomach had been telling him it's time for a snack, so down to the banquet hall he went. Not wanting to disturb anyone, he didn’t bother with the lights. The ambient light from the city outside and the soft glow from any appliances are more than enough for him to see by.
Still, he’s taken quite by surprise when someone else wanders in, and Declan turns sharp on his heel to find… Vash’s brother? ]
[ The sudden movement out of the corner of Knives' eye, not to mention the bright voice that slices through the silence like a particularly sharp blade, almost immediately sends him into fight or flight mode. His instinct is to unleash two knives from the back of his right hand, and yet he finds that he doesn't even have the energy for that in the moment.
The failed attempt makes him dizzy and he sways toward one of the tables to catch himself before something even more undignified takes place. He takes a moment or two to catch his breath as he ponders why this Declan always seems to come across him when he's at his most vulnerable.
He shouldn't be vulnerable at all, and having it perceived is even worse. ]
Why are you awake? [ The question is snapped out. As if he is not also awake???? But Knives sends Declan a glare as he reminds himself that he is very unlikely to be any sort of threat, then moves toward the large refrigerator unit. As he passes Declan, the dark bruises that are scattered all over the front of his throat might be noticeable. How is it possible for one person to get into so much trouble? ]
[ It's only because Knives was in such a bad way the last time Declan saw him that the artificer even looks close enough to notice how he's doing. And it seems he's not... doing very well. Is it all teething issues regarding his newfound semi-humanity, or something else? ]
I could ask you the same question.
[ Those dark marks around Knives' neck are enough to give him pause, harkening back to something too familiar and far too close to home for his comfort. A frown. ]
It's not as if Knives has any sort of decent explanation for why he's up at this hour, other than the fact that now that he has to have a sleep schedule, it's in shambles. He's not about to remark that this is his way of avoiding people in this world where he is so weak and vulnerable to attack.
And then, how to answer the next question? He doesn't particularly want to, but there's no getting around the fact that he's covered in bruises. ]
Something like that, yes. It's been handled.
[ There's still a chance that Wolfwood will come after him, but Knives will be ready and he assumes that stabbing him in the shoulder had been a decent deterrent. He opens the fridge, then stares inside, almost blankly. He has no idea what to eat. ]
[ Declan is blissfully ignorant to all that nasty animosity that sits between Knives and his brother and his brother’s friends. And though he’s not blissfully ignorant to the possibility that Knives might have deserved whatever caused those bruises, seeing him trying to muddle through, hurt and tired, doesn’t sit well with Declan.
He steps aside to let Knives open the fridge, the dark blotches on his skin standing out all the more in the harsh light from within. He leans back against a nearby counter to watch him. ]
You don’t strike me as the type to like getting help from a near-perfect stranger— [ or anyone at all, really ] —but I can heal you a bit, if you’d like. It might make resting a bit easier.
[ Declan has at least picked up on one thing almost immediately, which is that Knives is not comfortable simply accepting help. That's largely because he's never been in a position where he's had to, his abilities back home making him untouchable for the most part. ]
You've already helped me once. [ His deep yet hoarse voice rings out in the almost empty banquet hall as he shakes his head back and forth. ] I doubt that your magical abilities are without limit in this place, either.
[ The idea of having to owe someone something bothers him. Granted, he could simply take advantage of the resource offered, of this stranger's kindness. Perhaps he is like Vash, someone who gives and gives and expects little in return.
Knives reaches into the fridge and takes out a container of flavored, sugary yogurt. ]
It’s true that my magical ability is… lacking, but that doesn’t mean it’s completely useless. You can think of it helping me test my limits. I’d hate to be in a truly dire situation and not know what kind of healing is at my disposal.
[ So, like, if Knives is worried about “owing” him, he doesn’t need to be. Declan finds knowledge of any kind valuable, and that very much includes the knowledge of what he is and isn’t capable of in this new world. ]
[ It's almost as if Declan can gather where Knives' hesitancy comes from, as he reframes the offer as being helpful for his own edification as well. Knives is halfway through peeling the top off the yogurt cup as he turns back toward the half-elf. He tilts his head slowly to one side, assessing. ]
As long as you don't foresee collapsing after the attempt.
[ Mainly because he doesn't want to become responsible for dragging Declan back to his room. He's not unfamiliar with transactional relationships with others, even humans, but he's doing his best to avoid becoming too entwined with anyone here.
A difficult task, given that they're all sharing the same living space.
Oh, no, nothing that dramatic. At least I hope not!
[ If he can manage a Lesser Restoration without too much fuss, then a simple Cure Wounds should be much easier. At least that’s his theory. Well, if he falls over, it’s his own fault anyway. Juni can probably haul his stupid ass back to his room if it really comes down to it.
But, now that he seems to have been given some sort of permission, his expression lights up a bit. ]
I’ll need to touch you, if that’s alright. Just a hand on your shoulder should do.
[ Knives has a spoonful of yogurt in his mouth when Declan explains that touch will be necessary for this to work. It makes sense, given that it's required for resonating as well. Something that he and Vash explained to Declan already, though Knives had been in a haze through most of that.
He pulls out the spoon and sets the yogurt cup down on the counter, heaving out a sigh before he turns back to Declan and squares his shoulders. He even pulls his hood back, if that's necessary. It's as if he's preparing himself for something much worse than a simple hand on the shoulder. ]
Do it.
[ At least this time he'll be able to observe what Declan does to cast his magic, rather than only waking up after the fact. ]
[ My, Knives looks like he’s bracing for something awful. Declan gives his best reassuring smile, reaching over to rest a gentle hand on his shoulder. As with Lesser Restoration, those slender clockwork arms ease their way out of Declan’s sleeve.
It’s perhaps a little difficult to actually see what happens from there, unless Knives cares to watch what unfolds in his reflection on the microwave door or some such. The impossibly delicate-looking little hands spin strands of purple light flecked with motes of gold over the bruises mottling Knives’ neck, almost like a 3D printer does with filament. The light sinks into the dark spots, leaving behind a sensation of gentle warmth.
The whole thing takes only a few seconds, and though Declan hasn’t managed to banish all the bruising, the worst of it, and the associated discomfort, is mostly taken care of.
Declan frowns a little, pulling his hand away when his invention has finished its work and retracted. ]
Well, I tried to cast that at a higher level and it seems it didn’t work. Still, how do you feel?
[ While Knives doesn't flinch at Declan's hand at his shoulder, it's a close thing. He's not used to being touched. He can truly only think of moments with his brother from long, long ago and then more recently, when Conrad had needed to take samples to run tests on him to uncover the nature of Independents.
If he thinks of this healing spell as something as clinical at that, it's easier to shove down the buzzing anxiety that winds up inside him at having someone he doesn't truly know so close. Granted, Knives doesn't let onto any of this beyond some tension in his shoulders.
Catching the reflection in the chrome of the refrigerator, Knives does watch what he can, but it's all blurry enough that he can only see the glow of purple light and then it's over. The warm sensation of a pain chased away follows, and he heaves out a deep breath, one that had been caught somewhere without him quite realizing it.
It's not that he hasn't been in pain before. But he's never had it linger quite like this. ]
Better. What you did was more than enough. [ He understands that they've all been limited, so he wouldn't have expected a full recovery. ] Is this the primary purpose of your inventions? Healing others? [ It's not like he hasn't interacted with doctors back home, Conrad being chief among them.
He snatches up his yogurt again, finding the spoonfuls of it go down with much less pain now. ]
[ If Declan had noticed any tension in Knives’ frame, well, he doesn’t know the man well enough to say whether or not it’s normal, so it goes unremarked upon. ]
Not completely. I have a myriad of little devices that serve a number of functions. Some of them help boost my friends in combat, others are the conduit for more offensive magic. The range is quite wide!
Still, I try to keep a healing spell in my pocket at all times. One never knows when it’ll come in handy. Case in point— [ he motions toward Knives, smiling. The lack of a proper “thank you” doesn’t seem to bother him at all. He’s too busy chatting about his work to notice its absence. ]
[ The conversation therefore continues on with the socially expected "thank you" utterly forgotten. How does he keep getting away with this? (Everyone is too nice for their own good, that's how.)
Knives considers the information he's been given as if he's solving some sort of equation, staring down at his now almost empty yogurt cup in silent contemplation. Combat. Offensive magic. Not just a quirky inventor type, then. ]
And what sort of foes do you and your friends fight, exactly?
[ This will perhaps tell him more about Declan's nature than anything else. ]
Declan leans back against the counter to ponder over the very long list of foes he and his companions have come up against, and begins counting them off on his fingers. ]
Vampires, wolves, werewolves, the undead, cultists, corrupted druids, hags, just about any sort of creature you could imagine living in a swamp, a bird with a 500-foot wingspan, one celestial, and one flesh golem.
[ Knives doesn't quite know what answer he had been expecting, but the response he does get is certainly not it. He stares in stunned silence as Declan brightly lists off any number of monstrous creatures. The context for why he'd fought all of these monsters is pointedly missing, though before Knives gets to that, there's something else in the list that earns his attention.
His head slowly tilts to one side as he asks his question. ]
A celestial. You brought up that term before. Just what is it, exactly? Is that simply another term for angel?
[ It’s probably all the more hilarious because Declan is just a lanky nerd, and somehow looks even more nerdy here in the OFF world, with his patterned ties and penchant for wearing suit jackets with patches on the elbows. College professor chic. ]
In general, celestials are considered the antithesis to the beings from the infernal realms, and an angel is a type of celestial. Think of it like… in the same way a daffodil is a type of flower. They all come from the same wide family, but there are many different kinds.
I do believe the fellow we did battle with was an angel, though. He had wings and everything.
[ On the other hand, the Eye of Michael members are all put in suits, a uniform of sorts. They're not particularly menacing, but that's often the point. They're meant to both spread the word of the Eye of Michael's beliefs, as well as draw their weapons and spill blood when the situation calls for it.
So Knives isn't too thrown off by Declan's attire.
An angel is a type of celestial. Knives' brow twitches at that. Of course, there are different rankings of angels, all the way up to archangel, but Declan's world appears to have even more variety than that. ]
And why were you fighting all of these things? [ A type of angel included. Knives slowly raises the spoon with the last of the yogurt to his mouth, yet somehow still manages to fix Declan with one of his usual intense stares. ]
[ Look, you run into Strahd von Zarovich enough times that even the stare of Mister Too Much Cutlery pales in comparison. Intense as that look is, Declan just kind of quirks a brow and moves on to explain without issue. ]
My friends and I are stuck in a rather… hostile environment. A place under the control of a vampire lord who has more or less fashioned himself into a god. We stand opposed to him, so you can imagine he and his minions aren’t very fond of that.
[ A... vampire lord? And what is that, exactly? Knives can't quite picture what it is that Declan is attempting to describe, though he can perhaps relate to the "fashioned himself into a god" part. Maybe that's enough of a reference point on its own. Especially when "minions" come into it as well.
Not that feels particularly godlike right now, standing in this dark kitchen, having to eat food, with the reminder of his mortality still pressed into his neck in a ring of bruises. (Partially healed though they might be, now.) ]
An outlier. [ Aren't they always? His eyes narrow. ] And you plan to defeat this... vampire lord? Do you truly think it possible?
[ Yes, surely none of Strahd’s whole deal sounds familiar to Knives. That would just be absurd! Declan has no idea he’s lost the man – he’s just kind of used to everyone where he’s from at least having heart stories of the things that go bump in the night – and Knives doesn’t ask for clarification, so… ]
Yes, and yes. Though not without a lot of work. My companions and I have been trying to strip him of his power bit by bit for a while now. It’s only a matter of time before confrontation is inevitable, and it’s my hope that we can meet him on more… even footing than all others who have tried before.
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clockworksoul) wrote2023-04-30 08:50 pm
OFF / action
It's well after three in the morning when he suddenly awakens and realizes that he can't seem to fall back to sleep. This is how it works with humans, he knows, and yet he still doesn't feel much like existing at the moment.
Still, his stomach turns, that gnawing emptiness that he now knows as hunger. At least if he wanders out at this hour, it's unlikely that he'll come across anyone. Not his brother, not the Punisher, not that willful girl or any of the other people he's been forced to work with in the short time he's been here, filling in bingo squares and completing dungeons and quests.
He leaves the suite without incident and makes it all the way to the house's banquet hall without encountering another soul.
Or so he thinks. With the hood of his sweatshirt pulled up almost all the way around his face, his peripheral vision is suffering a bit. He also still feels like he's been run over by a sandsteamer despite the many hours of sleep, so he's not as alert as he might otherwise be. ]
no subject
While he had dinner at a somewhat normal time, his stomach had been telling him it's time for a snack, so down to the banquet hall he went. Not wanting to disturb anyone, he didn’t bother with the lights. The ambient light from the city outside and the soft glow from any appliances are more than enough for him to see by.
Still, he’s taken quite by surprise when someone else wanders in, and Declan turns sharp on his heel to find… Vash’s brother? ]
Oh! Hello! Fancy meeting you here!
no subject
The failed attempt makes him dizzy and he sways toward one of the tables to catch himself before something even more undignified takes place. He takes a moment or two to catch his breath as he ponders why this Declan always seems to come across him when he's at his most vulnerable.
He shouldn't be vulnerable at all, and having it perceived is even worse. ]
Why are you awake? [ The question is snapped out. As if he is not also awake???? But Knives sends Declan a glare as he reminds himself that he is very unlikely to be any sort of threat, then moves toward the large refrigerator unit. As he passes Declan, the dark bruises that are scattered all over the front of his throat might be noticeable. How is it possible for one person to get into so much trouble? ]
no subject
I could ask you the same question.
[ Those dark marks around Knives' neck are enough to give him pause, harkening back to something too familiar and far too close to home for his comfort. A frown. ]
Did someone attack you?
no subject
It's not as if Knives has any sort of decent explanation for why he's up at this hour, other than the fact that now that he has to have a sleep schedule, it's in shambles. He's not about to remark that this is his way of avoiding people in this world where he is so weak and vulnerable to attack.
And then, how to answer the next question? He doesn't particularly want to, but there's no getting around the fact that he's covered in bruises. ]
Something like that, yes. It's been handled.
[ There's still a chance that Wolfwood will come after him, but Knives will be ready and he assumes that stabbing him in the shoulder had been a decent deterrent. He opens the fridge, then stares inside, almost blankly. He has no idea what to eat. ]
no subject
He steps aside to let Knives open the fridge, the dark blotches on his skin standing out all the more in the harsh light from within. He leans back against a nearby counter to watch him. ]
You don’t strike me as the type to like getting help from a near-perfect stranger— [ or anyone at all, really ] —but I can heal you a bit, if you’d like. It might make resting a bit easier.
no subject
You've already helped me once. [ His deep yet hoarse voice rings out in the almost empty banquet hall as he shakes his head back and forth. ] I doubt that your magical abilities are without limit in this place, either.
[ The idea of having to owe someone something bothers him. Granted, he could simply take advantage of the resource offered, of this stranger's kindness. Perhaps he is like Vash, someone who gives and gives and expects little in return.
Knives reaches into the fridge and takes out a container of flavored, sugary yogurt. ]
no subject
[ So, like, if Knives is worried about “owing” him, he doesn’t need to be. Declan finds knowledge of any kind valuable, and that very much includes the knowledge of what he is and isn’t capable of in this new world. ]
no subject
As long as you don't foresee collapsing after the attempt.
[ Mainly because he doesn't want to become responsible for dragging Declan back to his room. He's not unfamiliar with transactional relationships with others, even humans, but he's doing his best to avoid becoming too entwined with anyone here.
A difficult task, given that they're all sharing the same living space.
Still, it appears he's given tacit permission. ]
no subject
[ If he can manage a Lesser Restoration without too much fuss, then a simple Cure Wounds should be much easier. At least that’s his theory. Well, if he falls over, it’s his own fault anyway. Juni can probably haul his stupid ass back to his room if it really comes down to it.
But, now that he seems to have been given some sort of permission, his expression lights up a bit. ]
I’ll need to touch you, if that’s alright. Just a hand on your shoulder should do.
[ Best to have permission all the way around. ]
no subject
He pulls out the spoon and sets the yogurt cup down on the counter, heaving out a sigh before he turns back to Declan and squares his shoulders. He even pulls his hood back, if that's necessary. It's as if he's preparing himself for something much worse than a simple hand on the shoulder. ]
Do it.
[ At least this time he'll be able to observe what Declan does to cast his magic, rather than only waking up after the fact. ]
no subject
It’s perhaps a little difficult to actually see what happens from there, unless Knives cares to watch what unfolds in his reflection on the microwave door or some such. The impossibly delicate-looking little hands spin strands of purple light flecked with motes of gold over the bruises mottling Knives’ neck, almost like a 3D printer does with filament. The light sinks into the dark spots, leaving behind a sensation of gentle warmth.
The whole thing takes only a few seconds, and though Declan hasn’t managed to banish all the bruising, the worst of it, and the associated discomfort, is mostly taken care of.
Declan frowns a little, pulling his hand away when his invention has finished its work and retracted. ]
Well, I tried to cast that at a higher level and it seems it didn’t work. Still, how do you feel?
no subject
If he thinks of this healing spell as something as clinical at that, it's easier to shove down the buzzing anxiety that winds up inside him at having someone he doesn't truly know so close. Granted, Knives doesn't let onto any of this beyond some tension in his shoulders.
Catching the reflection in the chrome of the refrigerator, Knives does watch what he can, but it's all blurry enough that he can only see the glow of purple light and then it's over. The warm sensation of a pain chased away follows, and he heaves out a deep breath, one that had been caught somewhere without him quite realizing it.
It's not that he hasn't been in pain before. But he's never had it linger quite like this. ]
Better. What you did was more than enough. [ He understands that they've all been limited, so he wouldn't have expected a full recovery. ] Is this the primary purpose of your inventions? Healing others? [ It's not like he hasn't interacted with doctors back home, Conrad being chief among them.
He snatches up his yogurt again, finding the spoonfuls of it go down with much less pain now. ]
no subject
Not completely. I have a myriad of little devices that serve a number of functions. Some of them help boost my friends in combat, others are the conduit for more offensive magic. The range is quite wide!
Still, I try to keep a healing spell in my pocket at all times. One never knows when it’ll come in handy. Case in point— [ he motions toward Knives, smiling. The lack of a proper “thank you” doesn’t seem to bother him at all. He’s too busy chatting about his work to notice its absence. ]
no subject
Knives considers the information he's been given as if he's solving some sort of equation, staring down at his now almost empty yogurt cup in silent contemplation. Combat. Offensive magic. Not just a quirky inventor type, then. ]
And what sort of foes do you and your friends fight, exactly?
[ This will perhaps tell him more about Declan's nature than anything else. ]
no subject
[ #justbaroviathings
Declan leans back against the counter to ponder over the very long list of foes he and his companions have come up against, and begins counting them off on his fingers. ]
Vampires, wolves, werewolves, the undead, cultists, corrupted druids, hags, just about any sort of creature you could imagine living in a swamp, a bird with a 500-foot wingspan, one celestial, and one flesh golem.
I think that covers it!
no subject
His head slowly tilts to one side as he asks his question. ]
A celestial. You brought up that term before. Just what is it, exactly? Is that simply another term for angel?
no subject
In general, celestials are considered the antithesis to the beings from the infernal realms, and an angel is a type of celestial. Think of it like… in the same way a daffodil is a type of flower. They all come from the same wide family, but there are many different kinds.
I do believe the fellow we did battle with was an angel, though. He had wings and everything.
no subject
So Knives isn't too thrown off by Declan's attire.
An angel is a type of celestial. Knives' brow twitches at that. Of course, there are different rankings of angels, all the way up to archangel, but Declan's world appears to have even more variety than that. ]
And why were you fighting all of these things? [ A type of angel included. Knives slowly raises the spoon with the last of the yogurt to his mouth, yet somehow still manages to fix Declan with one of his usual intense stares. ]
no subject
My friends and I are stuck in a rather… hostile environment. A place under the control of a vampire lord who has more or less fashioned himself into a god. We stand opposed to him, so you can imagine he and his minions aren’t very fond of that.
The angel was an outlier.
i'm dying at "mister too much cutlery"
Not that feels particularly godlike right now, standing in this dark kitchen, having to eat food, with the reminder of his mortality still pressed into his neck in a ring of bruises. (Partially healed though they might be, now.) ]
An outlier. [ Aren't they always? His eyes narrow. ] And you plan to defeat this... vampire lord? Do you truly think it possible?
no subject
Yes, and yes. Though not without a lot of work. My companions and I have been trying to strip him of his power bit by bit for a while now. It’s only a matter of time before confrontation is inevitable, and it’s my hope that we can meet him on more… even footing than all others who have tried before.