simulsimul | another thing; w/ fafnirs and skeletonenigma; cw for suicide talk

Not human.

[It's very nearly an automatic repeat, if faintly puzzled only because Kratos is wondering at the reason behind a difference in a single consonant for two words which mean the same thing. He's still looking at Skulduggery, however, and realising just how difficult it is to read a skeleton. He'd been managing so far only by tone of voice, because he's so used to reading Yuan's mental bleed-through; it's not much different.

[So Kratos can't tell what Skulduggery actually thinks of the idea of interracial couples, which is frustrating. Skulduggery's tone is a positive one, at least, though Kratos can't understand most of the sentence. He can guess it's something to which he'd agree, however, and smiles back.]

Yes.

[He takes the locket back and looks at the pictures one last time before closing it; and the look on his face and in his eyes is the clearest it's been since he and Skulduggery have met. Wistfulness. A regretful kind of acceptance. Hope. Tenderness. Then he snaps the locket shut and looks up again, his expression falling to a considering sort of impassiveness. Skulduggery's family might be gone; but he had contacted someone, earlier.]

Who?

[The sixth from that page of questions, earlier. Kratos indicates the pocket where Skulduggery stowed his phone pocket as he asks.]

[Kratos's expression, as loaded as it is, doesn't tell Skulduggery as much as he'd like. That Kratos misses his family is obvious enough, of course, which makes his presence here without them interesting. Why leave? Why explore space on his own? Is he looking for something? Did circumstances force him apart from his son, or was it a mutual and conscious decision? Does his son even know where Kratos is?

All questions Skulduggery can't ask for some time yet.]

Who --? [Skulduggery has to put his hand in his pocket to realise what Kratos means.] Ah. Ghastly Bespoke. A friend. [Pause.] Brother, but not brother.

Brother but not brother, hm?

[There's a laugh in Kratos's voice. That sounds familiar, indeed. Kratos is assuming, judging by the book, that 'brother' is for blood relations; so this sounds extremely like a situation in which men have become brothers without being related by blood. Which is what he's also assuming.

[There just aren't many people who would accept being woken in the middle of the night by a skeleton.]

Yes. I --

[He taps his own chest.]

Yuan Ka-Fai. Brother but not brother.

[By all rights, he should also be in the locket.]

[Skulduggery sounds surprised again.] Yuan Ka-Fai? That's Chinese.

[Chinese, Greek -- French, if you count Colette. What sort of a world is Aselia?

But, again, not currently the point. Kratos has a close friend, but that friend isn't pictured in the locket. That, Skulduggery thinks, probably says a lot about their relationship.]

He's an angel too, then.

[It's barely a question.]

It occurs to me, Kratos, that I've been running under the assumption that everything you tell me is fact. I don't think you're lying, necessarily, but you might be mistaken. You might believe you're from another planet, and you might even be right, but that's not to say your planet and this planet exist in the same dimension.

[Hm. How to put this in as simple a form as possible.]

You. Your planet.

[Skulduggery takes three steps to the right.]

You. My planet. Earth.

[Then he points at the distance in between.]

How?

Angel, yes.

[By rights, their relationship probably goes beyond brotherhood at this point. There aren't many people who would attempt the impossible just to save someone else, let alone in the way Yuan had. Kratos still isn't sure what side-effects there might be from that.

[The ramble gets an amused head-tip, but Kratos stays where he is as his gaze follows Skulduggry's movement away. Then he smiles.]

Derris-Kharlan.

[He pauses for a moment. Even without knowing a great deal of the language, he's aware that this is going to sound mildly ridiculous.]

Car planet.

[He says it with all the deadpan at his disposal, which is great indeed.]

[Derris-Kharlan. A name, most likely. But is it a generalisation, like ship, or is it a proper noun, like Titanic? It answers Skulduggery's question, but --]

Car planet.

[Not even Skulduggery can match Kratos for deadpanness, but he isn't trying. Every ounce of his considerable bemused disbelief is evident in his tone.]

Car planet.

[Even accounting for the possibility of a spaceship, Kratos's use of the word 'planet' implies a great many things Skulduggery can't accept. He shakes his head.] I'm not sure I believe you.

Heh.

[Kratos's smile is very nearly a smirk, and he beckons Skulduggery as he steps toward the door. The book, the most useful so far, is tucked into the back of Kratos's belt so he can't lose it, in case he needs it later. Or possibly not -- in space, he'll need to use telepathy, most likely. Skulduggery may need it, then.

[He moves out the door, glancing over his shoulder to ensure that Skulduggery is following. Out the door, around the side of the house -- where they'll be hidden from the road, with only a flat spread of meadow beside them. Kratos walks a short distance further and then stops. Blue fragmented light blooms from his back and shoulders, tendrils of a gossamer flower which extends all around him, though not quite to touching the ground. They look fragile, but aren't; and they aren't his wings at their greatest, either. He still doesn't know what sort of detection technology they have here, and he shouldn't need anything more than his wings at their most passive to get out of the atmosphere.

[In vacuum he'll need to extend himself more -- but not yet.

[When Kratos turns, in the darkness and with the way the light works on this planet, he looks as though he is wearing a halo. It draws some of the colour from his hair so that it looks redder than it is. He holds out his hand.]

You. Derris-Kharlan.

[It's an offer.]

[... Well. If Skulduggery had ever been under the impression Kratos was mistaken about who he was -- and, to be honest, the thought had definitely occurred -- then he isn't anymore.

They're not feathered wings, though. Some part of Skulduggery is disappointed by that. They're no less impressive for being intangible sparkles in the air, and Skulduggery has no doubt they're not nearly as delicate as they look. But still. No feathers.

The offer, once again, is a surprise.]

Now?

[Skulduggery looks up into the night sky. If Kratos wasn't detected by anything coming down onto the planet, he probably wouldn't be detected leaving it either, so that's one concern resolved. Leaving the atmosphere -- well, Skulduggery's never done it before, but theoretically he can. He doesn't need to breathe. There's no air to manipulate in space, so he'd be dead in the water, but he'd still be alive. And Kratos, presumably, would take care of the rest.

How would vacuum affect his suit?]

How long will it take? Hm -- when. When will --

[Then Skulduggery stops, and decides he doesn't actually care. He raises a finger.]

Hold that thought.

[He pulls out his mobile and leaves Valkyrie a text saying he may not be around in the morning, and if she could please keep herself alive until he gets back, that would be grand, as they have something to talk about. Then he leaves Ghastly two texts: one saying he may not be around in the morning and to assume he's indisposed until he calls, then a second one belatedly apologising for the phone call in the middle of the night.

With that all taken care of, he puts the mobile away.] OK. Let's go.

[Rather than take Kratos's hand, though, Skulduggery simply lifts into the air himself.]

['When' is a good question. Kratos looks thoughtfully up at the sky. It isn't too far into the night, but the travel will take some time even if Kratos takes Skulduggery only as far as the moon, and even if Kratos can move as fast as he wishes with Skulduggery in hand. By that point, the scouting team may have already set up a warp pad back to Derris-Kharlan.

[If so, he can bring one back with him and install it in Skulduggery's yard. It would shorten travel time somewhat.

[Kratos looks back as Skulduggery rises into the air.]

Huh.

[That's interesting. Kratos can even sense the shift of mana in the wind, not unlike Sylph -- except more conscious effort is obviously expended. Kratos drops his hand and alights from the ground also, a short hop before the tendrils of mana comprising his wings push the air beneath him, making him rise with far less apparent effort than anything with feathers.

[He regards Skulduggery thoughtfully as he ascends with easy beats of those wings. How high can Skulduggery fly on his own? It's clear he needs his hands to do so.]

[Flying, among sorcerers, is unheard of. Skilled Elementals can manipulate the air into carrying things, but having the control and concentration necessary to lift yourself was thought impossible until Skulduggery managed it.

Because of that, his only frame of reference has been what he's figured out how to do on his own. He's had a lot of opportunity to practice, and so far he's been able to fly out to other cities, making the trip look effortless when it's anything but -- especially to Valkyrie, who he's usually carrying at the time.

He felt like something of an expert. Next to Kratos's easy ascent, suddenly the smooth manipulation of air currents feels exceptionally clumsy.

Still, height has never been an issue, and initially Skulduggery doesn't find it too difficult to keep up with the angel. He stays vertical, hands splayed down by his sides, saving the fancy footwork for another time. He can and has felt exhaustion as a skeleton, but one of the annoying things about being dead is that exhaustion doesn't creep up on you, warning of its existence, prodding at your energy until you start to feel your muscles ache. It hits all at once. Fancy footwork has no place in trying out something new.

It's higher than Skulduggery's gone before, higher than he's trusted his own strength before, and he can definitely tell when the air starts to get a little thinner.]

Kratos.

[Dublin -- most of Ireland, in fact -- is laid out below them in a glittering web of lights. There's no fear in Skulduggery's voice, but there's a touch of worry. His ascent has slowed.]

[Kratos has been keeping an eye on Skulduggery, but for the most part has also been examining the air, the land laid out below them, the general tenor of this world. He'd done it on the way in as well, but it was most likely going to take longer before he really understands it -- and he doesn't particularly want to make a mistake that would attract too much attention.

[Such as destroying the power of a city. For instance.

[So Kratos feels it when Skulduggery slows, when the wind has gotten thinner. Overhead, vacuum is so close it looks like a window they might be right up against.]

Yes.

[It's the last thing Kratos will say out loud; he exhales to rid himself of excess air, and turns off all other mortal necessities, for the movement into vaccuum. A twitch of those glowing, fragmented wings sends him drifting closer to Skulduggery, slightly above him. Kratos reaches down to take hold of the back of Skulduggery's neck-tie, taking the opportunity to tag him with a bit of mana so Kratos's spells negate on contact. He's never carried anyone in vacuum before; best not risk Skulduggery being caught in the mana-burn.

[The next beat of his wings is harder, and sends a current of lightning threading down over their clothes. The air's too thin to simply pull himself through it anymore; now with each beat, arcs of lightning form and push them ever upward, shaped more like the feathered wings customary to angels. His wings of fragmented light are still there, pressing the mana beneath them, but while they pass from upper atmosphere into orbit proper, it seems as though there's a large electric-winged cocoon around them.]

Thank you.

[It's not the most dignified way to travel, but fortunately there isn't anyone around to notice. Fairly soon, Skulduggery's forgotten all about it -- he feels a little like they're traveling inside of a storm cloud, and it's fascinating. Kratos, or someone Kratos knows, might well hold the key to limitless energy.

Skulduggery knows the moment they slip out of the atmosphere. It's a gradual process, much more gradual than he realised, but there's one identifiable moment when he can feel the air against his hands one second and nothing the next. He can still feel his magic like a coiled spring in the center of him, which is probably a good thing, but he can't feel the air. It's like he's been set adrift into nothingness.

If he could speak now, there would definitely be fear in his voice.

There's nothing visible below, and nothing but the inky blackness of the night sky above. Being unable to breathe suddenly, ridiculously, feels like a much bigger deal than it did before. Skulduggery's used to not needing to; he's not used to being unable to. It's a dizzying lack of a grounding rod.

His bones aren't falling apart, though, so. At least there's that.]

[They've angled gently on their way out, instead of straight ahead. Kratos isn't paying attention to the planet below, and minimum attention to Skulduggery. On the way in, there had been a significant debris field around the planet; now he's on the way out, Kratos aligns his trajectory to match some of the speed and orbit of that debris.

[This will become apparent to Skulduggery the first time there's an abrupt turn, lightning flaring outward not unlike a pair of feathered wings in the act of banking; through the static arcs, Skulduggery should see metal gleaming as it soars soundlessly past in its orbit. Kratos broadcasts an implication of calm apology, appended with the sense of exasperation at fools not cleaning up their litter. (There's words there, but the images and feeling is stronger than those; Skulduggery won't need words to understand the message.)

[That happens several more times on their way to the outer orbit, and twice that amount the green of Guardian flares, pinging with minuscule debris nevertheless moving fast enough to be a danger. Finally they're clear and Kratos turns them, letting the mana-burn fade, so they're floating out past the graveyard orbit and Skulduggery can see his planet in its entirety.]

[At the first sharp turn Skulduggery instinctively flings an arm out to rocket himself backwards through the air which doesn't exist, and it takes both the injection of calm in his mind and the sight of exactly what they turned so abruptly to avoid before he can begin to relax again.

More to the point, there was an injection of outside calm in his mind. Telepathy? A moment later Skulduggery's question is answered for him when he experiences a very keen exasperation over something he hadn't given a second thought to before right now. Telepathy accompanied with emotion. Interesting. Why didn't Kratos use this before?

Probably to be polite. He reminds Skulduggery a little of Hopeless.

Skulduggery tests whether the connection is two-way with a bit of verbal (mental?) affronted defense over the planet's cluttered orbit, but either he isn't doing it right or only angels can broadcast telepathic messages, because he doesn't receive any reply. That'll make things a little more inconvenient, but it suits Skulduggery just fine. With the constant flickering green shields, electricity serving almost as a second pair of wings for Kratos, and the vastness of space all around them, it feels like no time at all has passed before Kratos turns them back towards the planet, and for an instant Skulduggery's confused as to why.

But only for an instant.

It's funny, he reflects somewhere behind the dull turn of shock. Sorcerers live for nearly a thousand years. That kind of time affords the entire community the utmost assurance that they're the masters of fate, the keepers of all knowledge, the end-all-be-all of the experience of life. Skulduggery himself has done things worse than any mortal on Earth can possibly imagine, and the weight of those crimes has done a fair bit to convince him that disagreements between sorcerers can end the world.

But there's the world. Right there. Impossibly big. Impossibly beautiful. Impossibly solid. Completely unaware of what's on its surface, billions of years old, and laughably untouched by every single event Skulduggery's fought through, cared about, and given his life for.

It lends perspective.

No wonder Kratos wanted to land here.

After what feels like forever, Skulduggery reaches up and taps Kratos. If he stares at this much longer, he's half-worried he'll go insane. ... er.]

[There's something peaceful about drifting here, looking down on such a wondrous sight. Even having just come through the debris field, the presence of it doesn't change the beauty of the planet. When Kratos had been young, he'd been too focussed on the war, on the ground; it wasn't until he'd become an angel, until he'd needed to spend a century he should not have had, that he had begun to look toward the stars.

[Even after four thousand years and all that he'd done, looking up at the stars is one thing that hadn't changed. Sometimes he'd forgotten to look. Sometimes it had hurt too much to look. But always, always, he'd eventually looked up to the stars, and been comforted by the vastness of the universe beyond.

[Four thousand years isn't so long, when he thinks of it like that. When he thinks of it like that, he feels like he has the strength to live, as Lloyd had asked.

[Something in Skulduggery's mana shifts, and Kratos looks at him with a frown. It isn't a major shift, but he knows the sense of it; the beginnings of mana unravelling, just prior to a final strike which disperses it entire. But nothing has attacked them; what could be causing that?

[With Skulduggery's tap, Kratos sends him acknowledgement, and then sends out his active wings, spreading them in broadening arcs of electrical current. The mana of light is so very clear, out here; so very unobscured by atmosphere, pure in ways Kratos could never have explained to someone who couldn't feel in it a heartbeat. Someone who isn't another angel.

[Kratos reaches for that light and its speed, and borrows the trail blazed by a light-beam headed in the moon's direction. To Skulduggery they seem to simply shift in space, and the planet is abruptly quite some distance further; they, meanwhile, arc gently into the moon's orbit, and around its curvature, to its dark side.

[There, behind the bulk of the moon, is what is unmistakeably a comet -- a large one. Hidden from the sun's heat, its purple tail is short; but it's still present in the gaseous mana-burn maintaining its artificial orbit hidden behind the moon, keeping pace and gently deflecting the gravitational forces native to the solar system. If they had been closer, they might have been able to see the shine of Welgaia's outside boundaries across the comet's surface.

[This time, Kratos's broadcast has words. Derris-Kharlan.]

[Skulduggery barely has time to wonder how they'll make it to the moon flying at the speed they've been flying at before they... make it to the moon without flying. Which conveniently answers that.

And then he's looking at the car planet.

It's not a planet, at least -- more of a large asteroid. If there are any signs of life on its surface, Skulduggery can't tell from this distance and with this level of light. The sense of surrealism has snapped very neatly back into place.

He's in outer space. Being ferried along by an angel.

In his pocket is his mobile phone, probably searching hopelessly for a signal.]

[They hang there for a moment, drifting and giving Skulduggery a good view of Derris-Kharlan. Then Kratos shifts his wings and sends them gliding easily down into the cloud of moon-dust billowing across the moon's surface. He sends out a query, receives a startled location back, and adjusts his course.

[Inside of a minute the surface is lifting toward them, and the crackle of the manufactured gravity well comes into sight. The moment they pass through that arc of lightning, the artificial gravity takes hold. Kratos spreads his wings and they descend at a controlled fall until he can set Skulduggery down on the moon's surface, and land beside him. There's gravity, but no atmosphere -- yet.

[The feather-winged angels inside the field bow deeply toward Kratos, and he waves them back to their work -- halfway through establishing the scanner they'll leave behind them. It's the warp-pad he's after.

[Kratos beckons Skulduggery to follow and leads him toward the small mobile pad comprised of the base and the three rings, and control panel. Five pieces, easily carried, and just large enough for two. It takes but a moment to step on, and then the moon's environment blurs and shifts into the familiar polished, arcing lines of Welgaia's inner architecture. There is atmosphere, here.

[The angels guarding the warp startle at the sight of him, and bow hurriedly.]

Lord Kratos! You're back so soon?

[She speaks in angelic, a language like liquid sound which cuts through the distant hum of telepathic comms lines. The warp is on one of the many daises spread between arching bridges; high overhead can be seen more of them, spreading in webs like a snowflake's facets. Far, far beyond them is the edge of Derris-Kharlan's outer atmosphere, and the guardian bridges; and past them the glowing speck of Skulduggery's planet, peering around the bulk of its moon.

[More immediately around them, angels glide between the bridges without a care. Though the air is clear, even a dozen feet distant the atmosphere has a faintly purple tinge.]

Edited (adding descrip) 2016-12-20 09:34 (UTC)

[Skulduggery doesn't know very much about space. It's never been relevant to him. He's fairly sure artificial gravity like the dome of it they land in on the moon isn't supposed to exist outside of fiction, but who is he to ignore the evidence right in front of him?

Here, though, are the feathered wings Skulduggery was disappointed Kratos doesn't have. They seem to denote subservient angels. They're all working on something -- Skulduggery has no idea what, some sort of outpost -- and he pauses before following Kratos, feeling suddenly ill at ease. He'd assumed Kratos was alone, first as an accidental dimensional traveler and then as some type of intergalactic explorer. This, however, looks and feels much more like an invasion force.

In the end, Skulduggery follows Kratos for a couple of reasons. The first is that bringing someone right into your base of operations after having known them for a mere handful of hours isn't a step of any invasion plan Skulduggery's heard before. The second is that, for all his skill and experience, he suspects Kratos could have rendered him useless any time before now without going to all this trouble.

He's also standing on the moon. That, Skulduggery feels, is worthy of a little notice. Before they step on the warp pad, he takes the opportunity to glance back at Earth, hanging suspended in the sky.

And then they're in a city.

It is, at least on its surface, a well-designed and utilised city. But not one of the angels spare Skulduggery a glance. Even if living skeletons are a little more common on Kratos's planet, the curiosity of someone new should be evident. Instead, there's nothing. The more Skulduggery looks, the more it feels like the city is lacking some ingredient crucial for proper life. It feels emptier than its population would suggest.]

Hm.

[-- oh. They're back in atmosphere. Skulduggery flexes his fingers and sends out a little puff of air.]

You didn't say you had friends here.

[Many of the angels in the city are still on some scale of lifeless, it's true. But the guards, at least, upon seeing Kratos's companion, do finger their weapons with an uncertain air of consternation -- skeletons are not normally known for being rational. That Skulduggery's mana presents the way it does is more of a cause for unease than anything else.

[For his own part, Kratos sends out a tight broadcast to the team responsible for establishing outposts, and one of the comms officers, even while he answers the guard verbally.]

I'm establishing open relations with the mage community on the planet. Their humans can use mana.

[Kratos turns at Skulduggery's voice, and the puff of air makes the guards tense some more. Kratos shakes his head at them.]

I've no doubt he's dangerous if he wants to be, but he isn't a threat. Skulduggery?

[Hm. Kratos doesn't know that word Skulduggery just used. He pulls out the book and opens it up, head tipped quizzically.]

Friend?

[Hm. They're not curious, but they can respond to perceived threats. Skulduggery supposes he should count himself lucky that they seem to listen without question to Kratos.

It occurs to him, in that way his subconscious wonderings have a tendency to do, that the language being used here isn't the same as the one Kratos first used back in Dublin. Skulduggery isn't sure what the differences are, isn't sure how he knows, isn't even sure he's right -- but once he has the opportunity to ask Kratos properly, he will.

Regardless of what the language is, it's oddly beautiful.]

Friend. [Skulduggery moves over to look at the book, keeping on eye on the guards to make sure they're not about to try and spear him, and searches through it. 'Friend', when he finds it, is accompanied by pictures of people with their arms around each others' shoulders and laughing, along with more synonyms than is probably helpful at the moment.]

There. Friend. [Skulduggery indicates the nearest feathered angels.] You didn't say you had friends here.

[Far more synonyms than is helpful, but it's the pictures which hurt. Kratos frowns down at the book, and follows Skulduggery's gesture toward the other angels, and shows nothing of the pang in him. 'Friend' is the wrong word. 'Friend' is very, very far from being the right word.

[When he speaks, he deliberately doesn't shake his head, or otherwise make a move that would indicate to the angels what he might be saying. They may still be learning curiosity, but he doesn't want to give them something to think about and worry over later.]

Not friends. They're ...

[There was another page in there, about social relationships. Kratos turns a few more pages, looking for it. There's no single one image which suits his needs, how he feels about the angels under his protection; but there are two. One, of clear military officers, one superior and one subordinate; the other, of a woman crouching beside a beggar in the street.

[Silently Kratos points to to the subordinate and the beggar. Soldiers, yes -- but unfortunates without life, without family. His responsibility.]

[They're. A contraction. Kratos hasn't used one before. It's both a good sign, and an interesting detail to file away and examine for later.

A little more immediately worrying is how Kratos describes the other angels here. Military subordinates, which perhaps makes sense -- but then beggars as well. Poor. Even accounting for the simplicity necessary in a brand-new language, that particular combination is not a good one. It's how followers of the Faceless Ones see mortals.

It's also, Skulduggery's forced to admit, how most sorcerers see mortals.

Fair enough. Perhaps Skulduggery shouldn't be the one to judge. There are always cultural differences to consider, besides -- 'beggar' hasn't always been a demeaning word, even in Earth's history. There was a time when it prompted taking responsibility for someone's suffering. If that's what Kratos means, it probably explains why they're all here and not back on his own planet.]

So you're not here to invade, then.

[If Skulduggery can get that confirmed, he... probably won't feel much better, but it would be something. The problem is that the children's thesaurus probably doesn't have 'invade' in it, and that's not something he wants to try pantomiming in front of curiosity-less armed angels quick to respond to perceived threats. Maybe he can do it in words instead.]

Attack. [Hm.] Kill. Kill us.

[Over-simplistic, but it will probably get the point across.]

[Kratos is beginning to understand why Lloyd had gotten so frustrated with him, when they first began the Journey of Regeneration. It is extremely frustrating watching someone think and being unable to tell what they're thinking. In this case, the lack of a face really isn't helping matters, but it does make Kratos wonder whether Skulduggery had been equally difficult to read when he was alive.]

Kill you? No.

[Kratos shakes his head emphatically, flipping through the book back to the facial expressions.]

Angels -- them.

[He nods toward the other angels, still watching them. Part of him hopes one of them will try to join the discussion. Then Kratos taps the neutral-faced picture. He doesn't know what the word beside it is supposed to represent; the face is entirely blank of any emotion.]

This.

[Kratos pauses, filtering through the vocabulary he's already learned and imprinted on the cruxis crystal from when he was reading in the car. I, my, are, be, have, want ...]

My want for them --

[And he circles every other face on the page. He wants them to be able to feel. He wants them to be able to take command of their own future, for once, finally.]

Edited (clarify) 2016-12-20 23:19 (UTC)

[Neutral, the word says. An emotional baseline, a control. A standard of comparison for all the other expressive faces depicted around it.

That the angels all defer to Kratos without question suddenly takes on darker connotations.]

But you're not like them. That's interesting. If you're searching for a way to help them, then you must have been made differently -- or maybe something happened to them. [Head tilt.] Or, with enough time and experience, it happens automatically, and you're much older than I thought.

[Skulduggery looks out. Of the angels he can see from here, not one has wings like Kratos, or even no wings at all. An entire city's worth of emotionless beings, and Kratos is in charge of them all. Wants to be, if he's using the right word for it.]

Whichever it is, it's impressive, but I don't know if I can be of much help. Unless you know something I don't. Let's see -- can I help?

[The last three words are said slowly, clearly, and Skulduggery leafs through the thesaurus to see if he can find anything close. Help -- there it is. Pictures of people doing difficult tasks on their own, followed by those same tasks with other people. It's not the clearest depiction, but Kratos has been remarkably good at discerning meaning so far.]

['Like' isn't a word Kratos has, but the context is easy enough to define. It's about the only sentence Kratos understands, aside from words like 'time', 'you', and 'I' -- up until Skulduggery makes use of the book. Skulduggery's question receives a mouth-quirk, and he regards Skulduggery with an air of fond amusement, like a child who's just asked whether they can 'fix it'. This might take some explanation.]

No. I'm not -- like -- them.

[He flips back to expressions.]

When my want is this.

[He touches the neutral face.]

I am. When my want is this --

[His fingers sketch across the other faces.]

-- I am. But them ...

[Kratos sighs, a long, slow sigh full of emotion Skulduggery does not have the context to understand.]

Mithos wants. Mithos -- my student.

[He remembers that word from the relationships pages. He flips through the book to the pages on space, with the planet, and grazes his knuckles across the whole of the page.]

I help them -- experience?

[This last gets a questioning head-tip at Skulduggery. 'Time and experience' -- something used in conjunction with the other? It's a guess. Back to the pictures of emotions, and he circles all except the neutral face.]

They have this -- after. After time.

[It isn't something which can be magically fixed.]

Edited 2016-12-21 01:54 (UTC)

another thing; w/ fafnirs and skeletonenigma; cw for suicide talk

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