ticktopis_observatorium | A Morbid Appointment

"You're correct at both! Current state of the art considers electricity, magnetism, radiation and light different forms of the same energy. An energy composed of waves the frequency of which determines its effects on the surrounding world! Ranging from simple harmless communication to utterly destructive chemical reactions! It's just so fascinating... Doubly so when you consider the natural channel of communicating the Correspondence is light, don't you think? If the language was born of light, could it change on such a fundamental level depending on which wavelength is used to convey it? That's my question, and my project intends to answer it."

They're also so excited talking about this. Not just proud of their idea, but also fascinated at the endless wonders that can be found all over the world, natural or supernatural.

The Socialite hummed with a smile. "A noble pursuit indeed. There's no doubt in my mind you can come up with something spectacular. I'm going into poetry, myself. I'm afraid I attended this class for mere curiosity and expansion of knowledge, so my goals are not nearly as high as yours. But I believe practicing with the language will prove fruitful to my own learning, and thus becomes my project."

The Morbid Socialite took a sip of tea. "Communication via light... I believe zailors use something of a language with light, a sort of code conveyed via spotlight lamps. As well, light plays an integral role in the natural behaviors of man and animal, aiding in sleep, energy, focus. I hear some men working under one of the Masters say the lights in their warehouses keeps the men awake for longer and forbids the second sleep of night. There are plenty of avenues to traverse with the idea of light and the Correspondence."

The Professor seemed a bit perplexed, leaving their empty cup in the platter. "Ah, you changed your mind? I thought I heard something along the lines of a... 'Medical miracle'? I truly hope that's not the case. Ambition in pursuit of knowledge, and of course its application, is fundamental if someone is aiming to the stars quite as literally as we are."

The Socialite had been taking a sip of tea as the Professor spoke, nearly choking. "A 'medical miracle', dear Professor? I'm afraid I haven't the foggiest clue what you're talking about. My form of operation has a net zero survival rate, I couldn't possibly- I'm a mortician, not a medical doctor."

Another stir of the tea. "A medical miracle... It does sound intriguing. One does wonder whose project that was, if not mistakenly mine. Perhaps the Maven's? She's a medical doctor and I would believe a quite skilled one."

"Perhaps there's the miracle, don't you think?" The Professor chuckled in good humor, serving themself a bit more of tea and offering Mori the same with a gesture. They'd serve if affirmative.

"But I believe you are right, I don't quite remember who said that exactly. I was just interested, batbiorangilogical studies were a fixation of mine for quite a while, even before I knew what it meant at all. Life had another plans and got deviated towards a, in my humble opinion, better outcome, but curiosity always lingers, so I was hoping you could introduce me as well. Oh, not that your current focus is disappointing at all! Writing poetry in nature's own language sounds exactly like science should be, and to move people's hearts and minds is one of the noblest goals one could aspire to. I know you would do impressively, given your already exceptional way with words and feelings."

The Socialite chuckled. "Good Professor, you flatter me! I am no better with words than any other well-learned man. But, perhaps, the direct communication of ideas would aid in the art form, imbuing a stronger connection between creator and audience. To speak directly with one's mind and soul rather than force the thoughts into words. It will be a challenge, but a welcome one."

Somehow, someway, what he said was not dishonest.

"I am curious, however, if there is still room for us to work together on our respective projects. I'm afraid I have no resources to share with you and I would be remiss, if our meetings were to only ever be one sided in advantage."

"Oh, not at all! I am thinking on testing my hypotheses in a wide variety of environments. And an idea correctly formulated by one specializing himself in such endeavour could make a perfect field test of how its meaning or effects on others change depending on the way it was written, or the dye, or the environmental factors... Don't you think?" Grabbing one of the chocolates and eating it pleasantly. They seem to be filled of some cream, perhaps? The petit-four is yet untouched. Maybe leaving the lovely treat for the end?

The Socialite took one of the chocolates and considered it. "You have a way with words yourself, Professor. However, if there were any way I could aid your project directly, help you to solve the riddle of light and language, I would do so in a heartbeat." His voice was soft, gentle, patient, a breathy quality that spoke to an empty and wanting chest without the strength to support the structure. He ate the chocolate, savoring the creamy sweet on his tongue, as if that might fill the hole behind his ribs. What else had they done to try and fill such an ache?

"Thank you, much appreciated." The Professor said as they observed Mori eat the chocolate, hoping it was of his liking.

"Ah, by the way... How are your nights these days? Do you have any recurring nightmare?"

The Socialite hid his mouth behind a hand as he swallowed. "Oh, no more than usual. You, I'm sure, are aware of what life in the Neath is like. Nightmares are, of course, inevitable. What if you? Are you still plagued by terrible night visions?"

"Of course, inevitable... But the Emissary said a big truth actually. Recurring dreams, inspired by what we are learning, hold meaning... I would like to hear yours, but I believe I need to share mine as well. Not every night, but recently I dream I embody one of the many dreadful arthropods of the Neath. Sorrow-spiders, gallblighter wasps, huzzites, frost-moths..." The Professor shakes their head. "And you are there as well, the whole class. Being my victims. It is your eyes what I claim, and your bodies upon which I feed my progeny. And such dreadful acts provide me such insights... All fantasies of the mind, I'm certain. But it's like by preying on you, I adopted part of your knowledges, memories, ambitions... And made them my own. Just like a Spider-Council, but more of a Spider-Classroom."

They noticed they haven't even been looking at Mori while they explained... Sighing and preventing their mind from going further astray. "I'm sorry, I got carried out. So far I only talked about it with one other person, and he helped, a lot. And yet when he's not around and my mind isn't kept busy enough, the memories come again, and I feel like... Heh. A monster." The Professor gestures at their shaped, reptilian face. "Isn't that funny?"

A hand reached across, taking the Professor's own. The eyes that looked up at him were sincere, genuine. "I don't find it funny to call any uncruel person a monster. Regardless of your appearance, or perhaps because of, you are perhaps a person most genuine, most giving, most accepting. To call yourself a monster, even as these dreams prevail, is a cruelty you should not do unto yourself. Dreams and thoughts do not make a man. One's actions are the only defining feature of good or evil, man or monster."

Mori pulled back, holding his hands before him. "Dreams are haunting things I find no value in myself. I know what mine communicate and I want no part in their judgement. I am a good man, I am certain, and I will not have my dreams convince me otherwise. You, Professor, are a good person. I should hope you do the same."

The Professor accepted the Socialite's hand, softly squeezing it as they listened, a smile growing warmer on their face, the facade returning to place, reinforced this time. They nod finally, thankful.

"Thank you, Mori... I trust your word, from a good person to another." They kept silent for a few moments, before an amused smile comes to their face by the hand of the Socialite's 'stunning cadaver' situation. "Even though I'm certain your eyes would be delicious."

The Socialite flushed bright red in the matter of seconds, a breath in steadying their heart. He straightened and coughed, adjusting his collar. "Well, as delicious as they may be, I would ask that you take me to dinner first. ... In your dreams, I mean. I-I'm certain you wouldn't eat my eyes after an evening out, surely." He muttered something that sounded very much like, "But I would not be opposed..."

The Chimeric Professor couldn't help but explode in laughter at the response, easy to good humor as they are. There's no hint of malicious intent in that laughter, however. Just unleashed tension and fun.

"I'll make sure to try and inform my dream-self..." And to the last part, a raised absence of eyebrow. "You are quite the unique man, Mementomori Malodrema. Please don't ever lose that. But I'm afraid we should be more than friends before I feel comfortable enough to do that."

A final teasing smile, ended in drinking from an already empty cup of tea, followed by the logical confused frown.

"Yes, of- of course. I have experience with being patient, so should the prospect ever turn from humor to reality... More tea?" The Socialite held up the teapot, offering to pour it for them. "Of course, there are things a pair of friends may do beyond what is required of romance or partnership. But you would perhaps wish to save that discussion for another day."

The Professor contemplated the empty cup for a short while, before offering it to the Socialite, almost mindlessly. "Yes please. To both, I mean. The tea and the time to think. Lately I find quite difficult figuring out what my own heart and mind want, and how not get them mixed..."

They seem to have an idea, looking at Mori with almost apologetic interest. "You are married to two people, if I recall correctly. And you made quite the interesting proposals. I know the Neath parted with many of the more restrictive laws and rules regarding relationships, but I'm still thinking... I know how to desire more than one person, that comes naturally. But how do you love more than one?"

The Socialite considered the question as he poured out the tea and handed over the cream fungus, moving to also pour himself a new cup. "That is a complicated question to answer, good Professor. It does, of course, start with desiring more than one person, but it takes practice to find a good balance, a steady relationship built on love and trust. Though, I suppose such could be said for any relationship, singular or otherwise. And there will be faults, that of which I'm certain; failures and mistakes and regrets. My open status in love started when I was quite young and not only have I broken many hearts, but many have broken my heart in turn. And one such case of spurned love resulted in the best thing that ever happened to me..."

The Socialite paused, a strained expression crossing his features for just a moment. Then, it was gone. "I will admit, I am quite fortunate to have two partners that love each other as well as I. We are our own people with our own lives and work and goals, but we always come home to each other. If one is gone, then the other two may feel just as loved with each other. If two are gone, then the sole inhabitant of the flat has their own life to attend to and need not feel unloved, even in absence. It most certainly helps that all three of us are establish adults. We've had our most reckless years, our most emotional, foundation forming years, and they've built us into the people that can love each other well, but the other partners are not burdened by the turmoil of the average teenage or young adult romance."

The Socialite did chuckle, stirring their tea. "It does also help that our relationship is kept tentatively open. We may seduce and bed and even briefly romance whoever we so choose, but our only commitment will be to each other. Our marriage is closed, but our love is open, you see?"

"I do hope that helps."

The Professor paid close attention, at one point smiling with such sweetness when listening to him speak about the way his relationship worked. And although that show of pain didn't go unnoticed, they let it slip. One's past is their own until they want to share it, prying isn't to be done between friends.

"It helps, but leaves many doubts as well. I... So far, I've only fallen in love with one wonderful man, one who shaped my life as I did with his, back when the Sun watched above us. At this moment, we've been together longer than without each other in our whole lifes... We thought that would be our whole world, back then, and we were happy with that. And then the Neath became a necessity. Not a week since we traversed the Cumean Canal, I was already locked here, forbidden from the Sun. But he... He had too much to lose in the Surface. So he returned, and most of his life is now there, without me, as mine is without him..."

"We keep almost constant communication, as much as it can be. And he comes as often as the possibilities allow, but never enough... Always fearing to be forced to stay. It broke both our hearts, and yet our remaining halves still beat in each other's chest. Understanding the difficult situation, we made agreements. And at first, out of despair, took too much advantage of them. Not a single bit of love in those situations, not in that way. It was... Easy, felt good, was enough. But now... What do you do when you know a person holds all your heart, and yet you feel a second one starting to grow with another one held dearly within? Am I feeling less for my first? Am I betraying my second, unable to give them what I already gave? Is it fair, for any of us involved? And even if I chose to act purely based on feelings, which should I pay heed to? The bliss and gleam? The doubt and sorrow?"

The Professor is really allowing themselves be opened in front of the Morbid Socialite. Just... Why? Does his older age inspire a search for wisdom? Is perhaps his experience right what they were looking for? Maybe it's just too much for their heart and it's just overflowing now as it could have done with anyone else? They don't know. They won't be surprised if Mori didn't ever accept another invitation, no matter how much of a stunning corpse they'd make.

The Socialite's gaze was laced with sympathy and understanding. "That is a complex issue. My hope is to be able to say that there's room for as many as possible in your heart, but it does get complicated. I think... the first thing you should do is tell the others involved about these feelings, both the first and the second. Your heart is your own to heed or disavow, but your relationship is a team effort, a complex back and forth between multiple parties. To truly know how this relationship should go, you need to understand what you're feeling. Is it love? Lust? Homesickness? Is your love fading for your first or are you simply settling into comfortable routine? Does your heart beat for your second or are you craving novelty? I cannot tell you what you are feeling, only you can do that. All I can do is supply you the tools to act on those feelings."

"One can always hope for an easier solution..." The Professor almost mutters, but then smiles. "Although what was I asking from you but wisdom? And wisdom I received, thank you. You are a great help."

A while of silence ensues, to allow emptying a tea cup, before an idea arrives.

"I wouldn't like you to depart Correspondently empty-handed, so let me give you something..." The Professor stands up and aims to the stairs again, stopping at the first step. "Would you like to come see my libraty with me as I look for it?" They offer, clawed hand held in invitation.

The Socialite smiled and accepted the hand, standing. "Of course. Although, as we walk, I ask a personal curiosity that you may be able to clarify for me. If you would be so kind." They would follow the Professor as far as they would take him.

In the meantime, Tularemia was having the time of her tiny life, being the hunted prey for once. Highly trained predator, stalked by a miniature apex predator. What a novel treat!

The two pets found themselves matched in the excitement, as Noa rarely found someone to play gifted with enough energy and speed to be a match to her. The house's contents may be at risk of being considered collateral damages in the tiny war, but isn't that a small price to pay for the two dears' happiness?

"Of course, my friend. Ask away." The Professor answers, guiding the Socialite upstairs where too short a corridor for the perceived size of the second floor awaited. Four doors at sight: One on the right, from which a noticeable citric scent flowed; two on the left, probably the Professor's bedroom and a convenient bathroom; and a fourth at front, towards which they are directed.

Tularemia would often find herself having climbed a surface unreachable simply to taunt Noa and jump down, keeping the game of hound and prey going. Ducking, weaving, doing her best to evade capture without being uncatchable.

The Socialite took a moment to look around at the hallway before responding. "I've heard the phrase some few times before, but resources on the subject are as few as nil. What precisely is the Red Science and how does one go about researching it?"

And yet Noa, given her otherworldly nature, would have been perfectly capable of bending space or adherence to easily reach, but oh wasn't it funnier to find a way both creatures knew didn't exist and test Tularemia's both patience and commitment to the game? Yes indeed.

The Professor tilted their head. A difficult question that was. "I'm afraid there is no precise way to say what the Red Science is. It is a catchall term for everything related to bending the natural law using its very foundations against it. Writing Correspondence is a basic act of Red Science, capable of generating heat, energy and flame without the usual needs for fuel or oxidizers. Building a box with a different space inside than inside, making an airship both heavier than air and lacking any aerodynamics which stays above ground just by mocking gravity, or a brass alloy that never loses temperature no matter how much heat it shares with the environment, are some examples."

"Less physical examples exist as well, like the very streets of London: If you walk with your back turned towards an alley you may find a very different alley than what would be there had you walked up front. An idea that can't leave your mind even if it wasn't directly conveyed in what you read or heard. Or the very Neathbow and its diverse effects. Almost all of the Neath isn't but a huge, proportionately complex Red Science project if you look at it in that way. So, to ask the question... Red Science is to make possible the literally impossible, just because you learned what forbid it, and decided to not care."

"And how does one research it? There's no easy answer either. I impart some classes about it, as much as the University and Ministry of Public Decency allow. The most usual way to become familiar with it is to choose one such incoherence and become familiar with it. The more you understand its new logic, which is still logic no matter how alien, the closer you are to reaching its root, and how it carved its way through conventional science to grow into what you're witnessing. Upon understanding how other did it, you can start thinking on how will you. Starting with little things, like resorting to writing on a flame's ashes instead of stoking them, you can end with greater things, like reescaling an object via, for instance, a clever mirror trick that suddenly reflects reality."

The explanation had the Professor stopping in front of the door to better look at Mori and his reactions to such a, most likely, disappointing explanation. Alas, mysteries are what they are, at the time being. Once finished, they turned to open the door to the house's library (the one that becomes apparent has taken over more than half of the whole floor), which not only contains shelves packed with volumes, novels, assays, papers, scrolls and even trablets, but also different strange curios and samples of many corners of the Neath, from once-living beings beautifully (or dissectedly) preserved to man-made (or other-made) wonders. It is far from organized, but upon closer inspection and some familiarity with the Professor's thought processes one would find quite a careful disposition of the several subjects, authors and dates.

Re: A Morbid Appointment

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Re: A Morbid Appointment

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Re: A Morbid Appointment

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Re: A Morbid Appointment

Re: A Morbid Appointment

Re: A Morbid Appointment

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