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--- campaign:carve:2023-06-11 [2023/08/29 21:26] – pinkgothic
+++ campaign:carve:2023-06-11 [2024/06/18 20:53] (current) – pinkgothic
@@ Line 255: / Line 255: @@
 **Nymphetamine**:
-He was giving her the option to stay, and that was something she was most definitely going to take. Looking up to his face away from the Pen and the Tincture, she gave him a little grin of encouragement. "Um. Not *that* squeamish," she said with some bravado in her voice. But she was far too interested to see what happened then to want to leave. "My stomach's strong." This was added as an afterthought as if she needed to make that known to him. The last thing she wanted was to just vomit all over his nice, neat apartment. "If you haven't been able to tell, I'm really curious about this..."
+He was giving her the option to stay, and that was something she was most definitely going to take. Looking up to his face away from the Pen and the Tincture, she gave him a little grin of encouragement. "Um. Not //that// squeamish," she said with some bravado in her voice. But she was far too interested to see what happened then to want to leave. "My stomach's strong." This was added as an afterthought as if she needed to make that known to him. The last thing she wanted was to just vomit all over his nice, neat apartment. "If you haven't been able to tell, I'm really curious about this..."
 **pinkgothic**:
@@ Line 335: / Line 335: @@
 **pinkgothic**:
-"It wasn't //pleasant//," Mateo quipped with some amusement. "But the drug cocktail helps. It's most nerve-blockers. I don't know how the old Mesoamericans did //any// spell-casting, though, without painkillers." Somewhere past the drained, washed-out light was a grimace. "Especially the higher-tier spells."
+"It wasn't //pleasant//," Mateo quipped with some amusement. "But the drug cocktail helps. It's mostly nerve-blockers. I don't know how the old Mesoamericans did //any// spell-casting, though, without painkillers." Somewhere past the drained, washed-out light was a grimace. "Especially the higher-tier spells."
-<!--
+**Nymphetamine**:
+He couldn't see that grin taking over her face at his kinda sarcastic remark. "I'm sorrrry! But I am really glad that you showed me, nonetheless. So thanks!" After thinking over it for a moment before saying, "There are certain types of plants that can help with pain... but probably nothing like what we have in the modern era, with synthetically crafted drugs."
+**pinkgothic**:
+"Anything strong enough to block out the pain of a piece of your flesh being carved out of your arm, though, that still leaves you lucid?" Mateo asked, half sceptical, half curious. It was good that his tone conveyed both states, given his face was still mostly vague outlines in the swirl of unnatural shadow.
 **Nymphetamine**:
+Her laughter answered him. "Nah, of course not... nothing would be like that... But who knows? They figured out sorcery, maybe they had concotions that we haven't discovered yet?" Leila did not sound convinced. "But I concede to your point on this one. At least so far as paleontology is concerned that is." While she might not have delved too far into mysterious ancient plants, she was willing to concede that maybe the Mesoamericans were just bloody insane to be carving up their flesh.
 **pinkgothic**:
--->
+The trick with the light was still ongoing. Mateo sighed. "Well, I guess I'm not painting today." For a moment, it was ambiguous whether he was referring to his likely still damaged arm or the situation with the light. Then he chuckled: "This is going to take something like another hour to wear off."
+Not that the nerve blockers were likely to have a better dispersion. Weren't they typically something that lasted a day or two with lingering after effects? But maybe whatever the sorcerers used metabolised more quickly. And maybe more intensely.
+**Nymphetamine**:
+Leila looked around the room for a moment, noting the dimmed lights that did not want to brighten. "What a strange side effect," she murmured, almost to herself, and certainly full of wonder. The botanist wasn't sure if the trade off price for the powers of sorcery were equitable to the literal carving into their arm, and spilt blood, were worth it, however. But still, there was a morbid fascination that would not go away no matter how logically she approached the situation. "I'm sorry your demo messed up the lights..." She felt a teensy bit guilty for that, for robbing him of his hobby today. "But thank you for showing me! It's... It's so weird and cool."
+**pinkgothic**:
+"If you're into self-mutilation," Mateo quipped, but his tone was good-natured, and nothing she could make out from his face suggested otherwise. That made it sound like the nerve-blockers were pretty good at their job, at least. "We've tried to use animal flesh, but that doesn't seem to work. Like many things in sorcery, we don't know why."
+**Nymphetamine**:
+She laughed a little at his quick wit and smiled, shaking her head. "I wouldn't say I'm *into* self-mutilation... I'm just definitely curious about how self-mutilation becomes the arcane. What quality is it about humanity that animals lack, that enables sorcery?" But that was probably a question that many before her and many after that would ask themselves the very same thing. "I know, I know, rhetorical question, but a fascinating one!"
+**pinkgothic**:
+"We don't know," Mateo repeated, but not sternly. "//My// theory is that the geometry of runes we know about - and the heuristics for finding new ones, to most part - are tied to human topology and chemistry. There's clearly some error-tolerance, but there's at least one tale of a sorcerer who couldn't spell-cast, which... did not end well for him. It's hard to get it confirmed, much less find enough data to speculate what caused it - could be as mundane as shaky handwriting. But my guess is something was off about his blood chemistry or skin composition, and would have needed other runes entirely."
+**Nymphetamine**:
+Leila was a botanist, not a biologist, so she had little to contribute to his theory. Instead, she just shrugged, still smiling as she watched him. Hands reached for her tea cup, or fumbled in the poor lighting for it, eventually reaching it and bringing its lukewarm contents to her lips. Once she had taken a sip, she set it on the edge of the table, her one hand cradling it so that she might easily find it. "To be the sorcerer that could answer that question!" Shaking her head ruefully, she sighed. "Well. Do you enjoy it at least?"
+**pinkgothic**:
+"Do I enjoy carving up my arm?" Mateo rephrased cheekily. Instead of answering the question, he touched on her previous comment. "'Being the sorcerer' - I notice the prospect of potentially bleeding to death if you mess up doesn't seem to bother you much. Why is that?"
+**Nymphetamine**:
+"If it's my time, it's my time," she said rather fatalistically. But she gave the question some serious thought, pursing her lips and furrowing her brow as her face scrunched up. "I don't know. It seems all so *controlled* and precise... Though, maybe that's just an outsider looking in with no experience whatsoever. Maybe I'm just naive? When was the last time someone bled out anyways?"
+**pinkgothic**:
+It was still hard to make out his face, but there was an unmistakable change in expression. The pause slightly overstayed its welcome, almost to the point of discomfort. Then he spoke: "Remember Nam-Trung?" About two months ago, they'd lost Nam-Trung. Leila hadn't been anywhere close to him and not in the loop of cause of death, and the rumour mill had sanitised it as 'a work accident'. It told her that the Martian rumour mill was far too polite.
+**Nymphetamine**:
+He couldn't see the fall of her blase expression, but it knit into concern. She nodded, then thought better of it and said, "Yeah, I had heard about that. Someone said he fell off from a loose railing or something?" It hadn't been in her department, and she knew no one in her personal circles who had known the man himself. Frowning then, he could hear the sigh. "I see your point. Definitely something to treat with more respect. Sorry. I didn't mean to be so flippant about it."
+**pinkgothic**:
+"No need to apologise, just don't romanticise it," Mateo chuckled softly. "Otherwise you'll just blunder into death if you ever try sorcery."
+**Nymphetamine**:
+"Fair enough, fair enough. Though, don't really know how I'll ever get to //try// sorcery." There was something a little wistful in her voice about that. Like maybe she was perhaps longing for the chance to try sorcery, even though it was so dangerous. She wasn't a thrill seeker or an adrenaline junky, but she definitely had romantic notions about sorcery in general that were quickly disspelling in this conversation with Mateo.
+**pinkgothic**:
+His shrug was visible even in the artificial twilight of the room. "Mars has the highest density of sorcerers anywhere, possibly with the exception of the ancient Mesoamericas. The laws that work for Earth might not apply to Mars forever."
+He meant it as encouragement - maybe she'd be allowed to be a sorcerer eventually, if she truly wanted it. But as it was, it instead served as a reminder that it was highly illegal to do anything with sorcery unless you had been trained.
+...and had a permit. If it were just a matter of training, maybe she could convince Mateo to train her, and be allowed sorcery on a technicality, but presumably someone had to vet her in some way before training was even formally allowed.
+Maybe she could talk to Arthur Biker, feel out where the seams of the law happened to be. At the very least, it might prove a fun past-time, even if it was fruitless - just make the bureaucrat's head spin a little, just for fun.
+Or maybe she could just ask Mateo directly. He'd been friendly so far. He didn't seem like the type that would report her for asking, making the worst outcome a 'no'.
+**Nymphetamine**:
+There were options for Leila. Depending on how bold she wanted to be, how much she might want to pursue sorcery. If she did at all. It didn't seem like something you would just casually try your hand at. Lips pressed into a thin line as she considered those possibilities. She had already asked him how he had gotten his training. Silent for far longer than was polite, she eventually spoke, a smile colouring her face. "I dunno... You ever thinking about taking an apprentice?" She was not sly enough to warrent the coy tone of her voice, but she was most definitely curious about this particular idea.
+**pinkgothic**:
+Mateo's glowing fingers smeared light across his forehead in a slow, somewhat pained gesture, made absurd for the surreal illumination. He was quiet, but from all she could tell not out of frustration or anger, but a kind of creeping resignation. She could hear him breathe, slow and deep, as though he were dragging the consideration of it through his entire body.
+Finally: "The strictly correct answer to your question is 'no, I did not'." It did not sound like it was a rebuff.
+**Nymphetamine**:
+Clearing her throat, she smiled sweetly, unseen in the faded light. "What's the incorrect answer?" she asked, prompting for candidness. "I won't tell anyone. I think this conversation has overstepped the boundaries of strictly legal concerns...  but for what it's worth, I won't speak or breathe a word of this to anyone..."
+**pinkgothic**:
+"That question doesn't make any sense," Mateo sighed tiredly.
+Apparently, that was the response she was getting - he wasn't saying anything else. Maybe it was a comment of semantics; she'd asked if he was ever thinking about taking on an apprentice, he hadn't previously considered it, and there was no additional information to be gained from its inverse. Whether he'd consider it //now// was a different question, and by appearances, he wasn't volunteering an answer to it unless she bothered to ask it.
+Or maybe she just had to wait a little, given how he still seemed to be massaging his forehead.
+**Nymphetamine**:
+Leila just sat there for a moment, looking at his shadowed features. She was sure that her own expression was partially occluded by the dim light, so he couldn't see the note of disappointment that lit up there. "I'm sorry." The apology was a little hollow, meant to smooth over any transgressions she might have made, because she was overstepping her bounds. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable..." If that's what happened. Not entirely clear because she didn't know Mateo that well. (This was their longest conversation to date!)
+**pinkgothic**:
+"I think you should go home," Mateo said, finally. There was a kind of sadness to his voice, a hint of some distraught emotion at the very edges. He didn't sound angry at all, but clearly he needed some space for now. Maybe Leila'd blown it - but it seemed even more sure that she was going to nail the coffin shut if she said much more this evening.
+**Nymphetamine**:
+Nodding in the faint light, she rose from her seat. That directive to go was very easy to read, no confusion there. She considered apologizing again, but that would make it sound it artifical. "Good night, Mateo," she said softly as she moved slowly towards the door, navigating the somewhat dark room by memory alone. Pausing at the door, she hesitated, as if she would say more, but she finally just opened the doorway, light from the hallway spilling in and a bit too bright for the dark adjusted eyes. She departed without much other fanfare, her sigh heard; or perhaps that was the sound of the door sliding closed.