ticktopis_observatorium | A Morbid Appointment

"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.

The Socialite stared straight ahead, listening intently. The explanation was not disappointing at all, but rather thought provoking. The answer held limitless potential, an endless array of possibilities to consider and put together. If one could find the right direction, one could find a vast stretch of resources just by studying the Neath itself. The very foundation of this place was built on the Red Science and that meant a boundless expanse of Science to study. Mori didn't need prewritten research into the books of old, Mori needed experience! A venture into the wild of the Neath and its natural inhabitants!

As the Socialite's eyes lit up at the realization, they only turned brighter with the reveal of the vast library. He gasped, looking up and around at the array of books and curios. "Good lord..." he whispered, hand to his mouth.

The Professor couldn't help but smile proud of the Socialite's reaction.

"Glad you like it. It took too much time and resources, not to speak of the heavy duty of moving all this, keeping it ordered enough and somewhat clean, so appreciation is always welcome."

They get interrupted by a frost-moth, lazily flitting around and getting lost among the tomes. Its wings seem to bear writings, in a very small scale, but the patterns are almost discernible at plain sight- If it just stopped fluttering the wings.

"Ah, it's also her merit. A huge part of this library was obtained thanks to her, thus why she lives here. But what I was looking for has to be around..." perusing some shelves, they finally reach for a leather binder, with no title. "Ah! Here it is."

"Some time ago I found a very forbidden copy of the magnum opus of a tormented genius, one of those who reached deeper understanding about the Correspondence than almost anyone. They used it to compose an opera, one meant to be performed with glass instruments, very concrete dancing and songs, all of them summoning emotions and thoughts of extraterrestrial nature directly into the witnesses' minds. Its name is 'The Bell and the Candle'. I have started writing a manuscript copy of my copy as practice for the classes, as no printing press would endure the task. So far I only finished a couple acts, but as I keep working on it, I can bestow the finished scripts to you."

The Socialite took the manuscript with the utmost care, as if it was made of glass itself, wonder beaming in their eyes and expression in a state of awe and- wait. Mori froze, awe falling away to anti-climactic confusion.

"Do... Are you speaking of the Topsy King?"

The Professor raises their absence of eyebrows, surprised. "You know-?"

The revelation gets suddenly interrupted by a blaze of Cosmogone followed by a rather big sorrow-spider suddenly appearing through one small mirror connected to a previously empty terrarium, idly climbing the provided miniature tree.

"Ah, hello, don't mind us." They say turning completely towards the terrarium. There are some more sounds involved but how the Professor was capable of making them is unseen. The spider moves its palps in a curious way, then goes back to chilling.

Returning to the Socialite and shocked surprise. "Do you know his prior work then?"

The Socialite's reaction to the entire interaction could best be summed up with spare few words: 'This might as well happen.' The Professor talking with a sorrow spider was not the strangest thing he's seen all week, let alone ever.

When the Professor returned, it was like they never left. "Know his prior- Tristram and I have Devonshire tea every Thursday! We're quite good friends! Do you- How do you know him? Just through his work?"

"One could... Say that..." They speak slowly, assimilating, then smiling widely. "It seems our social engagements overlap more than expected. That's great! Then I assume you're already in the know of his methods, then?"

There's delight in that question. Keeping that special friend in secret hurts their soul, being such a brilliant conversationalist and unable to share the experience with anyone else! Besides Cora, but they don't meet as often, since...

Shaking their head to bid farewell to those thoughts, they return to the Socialite. "Won't this have something to do with gambling...?"

The realization dawned on the Socialite's face slowly, shoulders dropping and eyes searching. "You play... Did you win? What was it like? Will you be playing again? Did you get your...?" The Socialite drew back. "I do apologize. That was far too forward of me. Pay no attention to my impropriety, ignore my misspeaking. I wish not to know. But I must know."

The Professor raised both hands, calling for a bit of calm, and then silently pointed at a nearby set of armchairs, probably to be more comfortable when reading. Once both were seated, the Professor started speaking, in a careful tone. It is a delicate subject after all.

"I played, yes, and I lost. Made it to the last round, with all the costs and rewards it entailed, but my rival... It is complicated. All the other competitors had such haughty desires, and I wanted something great as well... But the final winner had, painful as it is to admit, the best desire of us all. Once I saw him claim it I knew I couldn't have won, not with that will within my rival's chest. And in time I learned I didn't even need my desire fulfilled. I also learned quite a lot while it lasted, so I can't really say I lost, not entirely..."

"Never thought on playing again. Too high stakes, too powerful an obsession, encompassing all aspects or life. It served its function, I am done with it. But I may yet be of help to someone willing to learn... If you are ready to take the risk of exchanging your very own heart for something that can be given with too malicious an intent."

"Please, don't misunderstand me. I'm not trying to deter you. Just a friendly warning before playing with Destiny's Valet."

The Socialite thought, a thousand fates cycling in his mind's eye as he considered his chances. His hands clutched the ends of the arms of the chair, trembling somewhat. "There is no end to what I would give. I came here, of all places, after years of believing this city a living Hell! I've gone to prison, I've suffered losses of sanity, dignity, self, life, all for the chance! I... I am now caught at an impasse."

The Professor suspected as much. This wasn't for greed nor grandeur and even less for his own survival. This was one of those causes, the ones that can certainly win.

"In that case I won't let you leave my home empty-handed, as I already said. What prevents you from continuing?"

Re: A Morbid Appointment

themorbidsocialite - 2025-07-09 23:58 (UTC) - Expand

Re: A Morbid Appointment

ticktopis_observatorium - 2025-07-10 08:14 (UTC) - Expand