On the Meaning of Scars, Part Three - RPLOG
Participants
Date
29/9/2016
Log
"Umm.... no, surprise me, I'm not picky." Galve said, looking around.
The storm dragon nods. He stretches his arms over his head, yawning again. "Damn. What's with you sheep types? Hard to wake up with your sleepy vibes all around. One thing I'll definitely make is coffee." Swishing his tail, Acetyl went downstairs again. Sounds of rummaging and the occasional crash or expletive filtered up through the thin walls and flooring of the semi-restored old structure. After several minutes, the storm dragon returns, carrying a plastic bin full of stuff. Sitting down on his side of the couch, Acetyl places the bin on the ground beside the battered coffee table and begins fishing things out. A bottle of water and two coffee mugs. Two plates. Silverware. All of the dishes appear to be clean, but all are chipped, bent, or tarnished - obviously salvaged at one point and indifferently restored to some minimal level of function.
With the table set, such as it were, Acetyl proceeded to 'code breakfast', as he'd said he would earlier. Frowning, muzzle and brow crinkled with concentration, the storm dragon activated his NICE unit. First, he mentally selected the Biochemistry 'menu', then the Edible 'submenu', finally activating the Culinary functions. It was not a particularly fun thing to watch, involving as it did the conversion of non-food objects fished out of the box, and a couple of things exuded from Acetyl's own body (he converted his saliva into barbecue sauce and spat it onto his own plate). It was also a bit of a time-consuming process, given everything Acetyl was making. He seemed to be the type of person who liked to have a very large breakfast.
After some time, the nanomagician managed to produce two cups of coffee, some fruit (a bunch of grapes, two bananas, and a bowl full of blueberries, blackberries, and strawberries), and a pile of random vegetables, apparently meant as a concession to Galve, who Acetyl seemed to think might be more inclined to plant-based foods, given his form. For himself, Acetyl made a chunk of meat, produced in a visually unsettling manner using the Edible options. Then he switched back to Culinary to create sugar, spices, and herbs, which he used to season the meat. By this point, the bin was nearly emptied, its contents nanomagically converted into the edibles now piling on the coffee table. "This is nice, I just got this a few days ago from a Promethean friend," Acetyl said, withdrawing half a loaf of more or less fresh bread from the bin. Cutting two slices off with a knife, he fished out another bit of broken salvage from the bin and, placing it on a butter dish, turned it into butter.
"OK! Now just let me cook all this, and we can eat." Acetyl activated the Thermal program and began applying it to the various foodstuffs. The coffee was heated. The meat was roasted right there on the table, juices running onto the plate Acetyl had set it on. The fruit and vegetables were chilled gently, as if they'd been in a refrigerator. The butter was melted just enough to soften it, while the bread was turned into toast. It was an imperfect way to cook, but it seemed to get the job done, more or less. It was at least as good as any of the similarly nanite-made food from the Zephyr cafeteria might have been. By the time Acetyl was done, though, he looked very tired, as if it had taken a lot of work. He added a bit of cream and suger to his own coffee, offered the same to Galve, then leaned back on the couch with a tired sigh. "Whew! I forgot how much more work it is making a real meal, for more than just me. I don't usually go to this kind of effort. Looks worth it, though!" He sniffed at the meat with appreciation. It was a large chunk, weighing at least a pound. "Want some? Or you gonna stick to the plant stuff? I wasn't sure what you'd favor, being a sheep and all."
Galve shrugs, taking a plate and taking a little bit of everything from the smorgasbord of food before him, including -Nudgeo Acetyl's suprise- some of the meat. "
Galve shrugs, taking a plate and taking a little bit of everything from the smorgasbord of food before him, including -probably to Acetyl's suprise- some of the meat. "I'm fine with meat. It adds a little variety to the menu, and nothing but greens gets bland after a while." He says, before remembering his manners. "Thank you for the food, by the way."
Acetyl chuckles in agreement. "Good man! Always felt bad for the people who can't or won't eat some things. Life is a feast!" True to his own word, although the meat was clearly his main focus, Acetyl ate plenty of fruit and even some of the vegetables as well, and ended up making himself another couple of slices of toast. He flicked his fingers when Galve thanked him, shrugging. "Null perspiration. Least I could do, all things considered." Glancing at the sheep-kemo with his flicker-glowing gaze, the storm dragon took a long drink of his coffee, then set his jaw as if steeling himself to venture back into less comfortable conversational terrain.
"So... how's your back?" The question came out awkwardly. "I mean... is it fully healed, do you think? Have the scars set? Your nanites won't be able to erase them, because they've been contaminated with extraplanar energies. They are now subject to... different rules. It's not magic, exactly, but it's close enough for our purposes. But I've never done anything like this before, so I don't know what's going to happen beyond some educated guesses. Anything you can tell me about your current state as compared to how you were before your capture - since I guess you can't remember much about the capture time itself before I came?" He ended on an upward note, as if hoping Galve might correct him.
Galve
"Well... it's not sore anymore. I can still feel the scars though...." Galve said, drinking his own coffee. Setting the mug down, he furrowed his brow as he tried to remember. "Well.... most of it was a lusty haze.... But I remember when I was captured, and what happened just before she collared me." He said, his face sour as he recalled the rank gatoress, and her twisted perspective on living. "I'd... Ummm... you can guess what happened after."
Gnawing at a bite of the meat, Acetyl gestures with his fork hand in a reassuring way. "No need to go into that. It's not relevant to the current problem. What I'm asking, though, is..." Acetyl paused, frowned, and bit his lower lip. He sighed through his slit nostrils. After a moment of thought, the storm dragon grunted, "It's kind of hard to articulate. How do you feel... personally? Like, do you feel any different now than you did before?"
"Not really. There is.... something nagging at the back of my mind, but it's probably just my own doubts." Galve said, using a knife to cut a slice out of an apple.
Acetyl fixes Galve with a sharp look. "Out with it. You may be right, but it may also be psychological contamination from the same necromantic energy that prevents the scars from being healed by your nanites." Acetyl didn't explicitly state that Galve was possibly at risk of going insane or even suffering a change in personality, but the implication was pretty clear.
Acetyl rainily rataplans, "Tell me what the change is. I'm sorry to have to pry, but it's the only way I can analyze whether or not you might be suffering from necromantic energy bleed."
Galve shrugs, spinning the knife in his fingers. " I'm pretty sure it's just residual suggestions from that collar. it's hard to tell. could be something bad, or it could just be my heat threatening to come back... damn gator left me a herm."
Watching Galve closely, the storm dragon seems dubious. But after a minute he blows air out his nostrils in a sigh, resting his chin in one hand as he considers the other. "That damn collar. Its influence is tangled up in there, too. But its residue should fade quickly once removed. Your own nanite strain should have rewritten you to your 'correct' configuration, the way it does when you're -- " A look of unpleasant surprise crosses Acetyl's face and he cuts himself off mid-sentence. "Injured..." He finishes, but trails off, frowning deeply. Whatever is on his mind, though, he doesn't share it, continuing with a reply to Galve's comment. "I can't help put you to right in that sense, sorry to say. There may be someone else who can, though." He pauses, flicking one ear. "You're not a prisoner, you know," the storm dragon sighs after a minute. "If you leave, I won't stop you. You can go take care of whatever business you may have. In fact, you might want to do that in the next day or two when I'm not trying to interpret the scars. There's a chance - I hope we don't have to, but there's a chance - we may have to go to Woodfield. So it's probably good if you get things tied down beforehand. I have no idea how long we'd have to be gone."
Galve shrugs. "Everything I have is here with me, and I dont have any other obligations. Wherever you need to go to figure..
... me... out, is your call." He finished, cutting more apple off and putting it in his mouth with the tip of the knife.
Shrugging, Acetyl reaches out with his free hand to drain his coffee cup. "So be it." After setting the coffee mug back down, he seizes a fork and spears a big chunk of the remaining meat. After chewing for a while with a philosophical expression, the storm dragon swallows, drinks some of the remaining water in the bottle to clear his throat, and grunts, "Well. I'm going to collect my books. I might have to head over to my apartment at Zephyr if the ones I have here at the office aren't sufficient. But I'll start with the material I've been using in my research recently for now." With that, he rises and heads for the stairway again. "Feel free to eat whatever's left. I'm done for now. I'll be back in a few minutes."
Galve nods. "Alright that sounds fine." He says, munching on some broccoli.
