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

[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)

[It's quite a bit more complicated than that, Skulduggery concludes. Kratos can, if the simplicity of the language isn't clouding the explanation, turn his feelings on and off at will. The others can't. Possibly they should be able to, but Kratos's student, Mithos, interfered.

Maybe Kratos is only hoping time will bring their emotions back. Maybe he knows for sure, or he's seen it before. Maybe he's taking them into space to keep them away from Mithos, or maybe he didn't think anything on his planet would provide enough experience to help. Without the ability to express more complicated concepts, Skulduggery can't know.

That's all right. He can wait. Right now, Skulduggery knows all he needs to.

The vision, however -- Cassandra's vision of Darquesse, shown to Skulduggery and Valkyrie through the steam in the basement of her cottage. Cities levelled. Large-scale destruction. At the time, Skulduggery couldn't think of anyone remotely capable, but now he has to wonder. Kratos could probably destroy a city on his own. If one of the angels had only gotten some of their emotions back...]

Kratos, do you know someone named Darquesse?

['Named', 'Darquesse', and Skulduggery's tone of voice indicating a serious question should be enough.]

['Name' had been in the book, in one of the early pages. Kratos is beginning to recognise the '-ed' sound which follows so many verbs in this language. The tone of Skulduggery's voice as he says Darquesse is sobering. Kratos looks back, equally serious, and shakes his head.]

No. Who?

[A threat, if Kratos isn't mistaken. But before Skulduggery can answer, the angels Kratos had called to him come winging down. While one is fairly non-committal, as most angels still are, the other is far more animated. She sees Skulduggery and swoops down at him, her eyes gleaming.]

Oh! A specimen! So mana does exist to be moulded on this planet too.

Doctor. He isn't your ordinary skeleton.

[Kratos's tone is mildly long-suffering.]

No, indeed! His mana's quite complete, isn't it? Lord Kratos, may I --

No. I need a warp-pad to take back to the planet with me.

[The angel veritably droops with disappointment, her feet touching solid ground.]

Oh, is that all?

[Curiosity, some angels have regained; ethics, for some of them, is taking a bit longer.]

[Damn. Oh well. It's still a possibility to consider, and Kratos might be able to help once they've done something more permanent about the language barrier.

... And some of the angels, it seems, have regained their curiosity ahead of the curve.

Skulduggery can't understand anything being said, but he doesn't have to. The gist of the conversation's obvious. Skulduggery doesn't begrudge the angel the mistaken belief that he's an object that can be taken apart -- he is a skeleton, after all -- but that doesn't mean he has to like it. He'd take a step back if he didn't think that would only pique more of her interest.]

You might want to teach them a sense of right and wrong before you get much further.

[It's half amusement, half mock offence.

Hearing Kratos's native tongue has made Skulduggery realise something else. When Kratos speaks English, he has an Irish accent, unsullied by anything else he speaks. It's less like he's learning a second language, and more like he's a child learning to speak for the first time. Is that another angelic trait?

Come to think of it, how long have they been out here? Skulduggery's lost all track of time without being able to see how close the sun is to rising. He instinctively pulls out his mobile to check, but the phone doesn't turn on. Figures. Either the vacuum of space damaged it, or it's run out of battery trying hopelessly to find a signal.

He could ask Kratos, but Kratos's standard of time would be based on a planet Skulduggery's never seen.]

[Kratos tips his head at Skulduggery. He might not understand much of that sentence, but the tone is incredibly familiar, and it does make him smile. The doctor flits off, her air slightly grumpy despite the limitation on telepathy owing to the many, many open channels in response to the many, many radio signals.

The comms officer is still waiting patiently. Kratos holds out his hand.]

Graphite, please.

[The angel plucks it out of his pocket and hands it over. Kratos opens the book and scrawls the English alphabet, murmuring the sounds to himself as he goes. Then he hands both back to the comms officer.]

Run this through the core system and bring it back to me as soon as possible. What I just wrote is the alphabet, but the book should have all the context we need to start translating one of the primary languages of the planet.

[At least, judging by the bookstore, it is; even if not, the alphabet seemed extremely common. The angel flits off and Kratos turns back to Skulduggery. Without the book at hand, telepathy is going to be the easiest way; luckily, their close proximity means it won't interfere with any of the other open channels.

[The question Kratos sends is something akin to tour while we wait?]

[There's something vaguely discomfiting about watching a very powerful race Skulduggery knows next to nothing about use a small children's thesaurus to translate all of English. A part of Skulduggery is still suspicious about the possibility of an invasion, and believes simply watching this happen is a terrible idea. The rest of Skulduggery recognises that the first part is an instinct from a bygone era of war, and is best ignored.

Translating might help the emotionless angels. Experience, as Kratos said, of another world.

The infringement on Skulduggery's mind has him turning towards Kratos with an air of mild exasperation, though the exasperation doesn't make it into his voice.] That's very unnerving.

[Even Hopeless had never been able to read Skulduggery's mind. This isn't quite the same thing, but that doesn't make it feel any less of an impossible trespass.

It isn't words, either -- or rather, it is, but the meaning Skulduggery comprehends doesn't come from the words. That's an extra layer of unnerving.]

Yes. [He looks out over the raised daises.] Thank you.

['Thank you' is another one Kratos recognises from the start of the book, and if he recalls, there is an answer.]

Welcome.

[He motions toward the bridge they intend to use and then starts walking, leaving enough space for Skulduggery to walk beside him. Probably he can take Skulduggery higher up, for a better view of the stars and the planet -- planets. There should be some others in the solar system visible on other sides of the city. Perhaps also a console where Skulduggery can answer some questions about the number of radio transmissions.

[For now, however ... Kratos makes the broad, sweeping motion Skulduggery had in Dublin.]

Welgaia.

Ah. Like Dublin.

[Making Derris-Kharlan the name of the asteroid, and Welgaia the name of the city on top of the asteroid. That's simple enough.

The city, Skulduggery soon finds, is huge. It spreads out like any city on Earth, but it also spreads up. Every time he thinks they must be close to the pinnacle, there are dozens more raised walkways above them. Is the atmosphere only for his benefit, he wonders, or are some things simply easier to do in atmosphere no matter what? He would have thought lightning couldn't occur in a vacuum, but Kratos proved that wrong on the journey here.

And above them, nearly always visible, is the night sky. Space. Other planets in the solar system, Skulduggery discovers. He almost wishes he thought to bring a separate camera with him.

He doesn't speak very much throughout the tour, content to watch and listen and learn. Content to absorb, like a sponge. Every now and then they pass more angels with feathered wings, some talking, others just drifting. Skulduggery's watching a pair of them debate something he doesn't understand when Kratos stops, and Skulduggery takes a few extra steps to realise and follow suit.]

[Kratos does speak, though not as much as he could; mostly he points out landmarks, finds the names of the planets Skulduggery recognises. When he says more than simply names, he adds as much context in English as he has at hand.

[He walks without his wings, the only pair who actually need the path. Those angels who pass them, without fail, bow with a murmur; only a handful register any curiosity about his companion, or ask how his scouting is proceeding. When they reach the pinnacle Kratos directs them toward the banks of refreshers and stores, and consoles. He wants to ask Skulduggery something.

[With some amusement, Kratos watches Skulduggery continue walking before noticing that he'd stopped. He's gotten the impression it's difficult to distract Skulduggery from his surroundings.

[Once he has Skulduggery's attention, Kratos tips his head at the console and activates it, using his codes, to show the some of the radio signals they've been getting. Some appear to be plays, but on screen; some appear to be happening in real-time. He motions at them, shaking his head in bemusement.]

Many -- many, many. Why?

[Kratos is expecting rather a lot from him. Skulduggery's never seen these machines before -- that hardly equips him to answer questions. He takes a look anyway and watches unfamiliar videos scroll across the console's screen, one right after the other, overlapping and interspersing like some sort of terrible movie splice.

Skulduggery shakes his head.] I don't know.

[-- wait. Yes he does. That, right there, for about two seconds, was Grace Kelly. And the movie, if he's not mistaken, was Rear Window. Skulduggery leans closer, and when he speaks again, it's with a note of curiosity.] How are you picking these up? These are -- well, some of them are movies, at least. One of them was a classic. Is this -- ah-ha.

[There's a beat, and then Skulduggery chuckles.] It's a noisy little planet, isn't it? That's the internet. [He looks at Kratos and repeats the word.] Internet. I would try and explain, but I doubt I could do it even if you spoke perfect English.

[Kratos has known Skulduggery for a brief time, and yet long enough to recognise the sound of verbal thought process. He waits patiently, head tipped to listen to those words he does recognise.]

Internet? Hmh.

[He mouths the word again to himself, turning back to the console to pull up one of their databases. It's very obviously one of their own; the language and the directions in which is rolls are not at all like the languages from Skulduggery's world.]

Derris-Kharlan -- hmh. Books?

[It's a library, at least. 'Books' is something he'd picked up early on, at the store.]

Internet -- where Earth books are, like ...?

[He taps the screen. When electronic, is what he means; assuming that 'internet' is the word for 'online library'.]

[Ah, perfect. Derris-Kharlan has something similar. An electronic database of some kind, by the looks of it.]

Something like that, yes. [Skulduggery pauses to think about it.] A library. A repository of knowledge. Many, many books, and books-but-not-books, electronically stored just like this -- [He points at the console.] -- and sent all over the planet constantly. [To emphasise the point, Skulduggery draws a circle in the air with two fingers.] The whole planet.

[He'd been wondering how to explain the internet, and Kratos then explained the internet for him. Skulduggery suspects this won't be the last time it happens. Kratos is picking up English in leaps and bounds.]

You have computers, but you don't have streetlights? Your people were a bit eager, weren't they?

[Aha. So there is a similarity -- and encompasses the whole of the planet. Kratos can only shake his head; did they invent the library first and need to fill it, or have so much that they invented the library to contain it? And his original question still isn't exactly answered.]

But why?

[What possible reason is there to produce all of this -- to keep producing it? And that doesn't even begin to cover the daily communications. It's true, there are much more people on this planet than Aselia, but even so most of the communications have to be frivolous. How do they manage their communications lines without interruptions?]

Streetlights?

[Kratos lifts his eyebrows, shooting an amused look back at Skulduggery.]

Aselia has streetlights. But they're not --

[He lifts his hand, channels a bit of lightning to his palm; it crackles around him like a much larger thing than it ought to be, since he isn't trying to keep it contained as he had on the planet; but there's no reaction from the consoles or the lights around him.]

Not this.

Edited 2016-12-25 04:48 (UTC)

[Why? Hell if Skulduggery knows. Communication. Free and easy access to information. Collective creation. Achievement and discovery as ends unto themselves.]

Why not?

[It's about the easiest simplified summary he can come up with.

The first thing Skulduggery notices is that the lightning crackling in and around Kratos's hand doesn't arc to any of the other objects, like it did with the streetlight back in Dublin. Not this, Kratos said. Not lightning. Skulduggery tilts his head.]

Not electricity?

[That certainly explains Kratos's startled reaction from before.]

Then I assume only angels can manipulate it. [If everyone could do it, they would have invented a way to harness it, after all.] What do your streetlights run on? Not electricity, but...?

[Why not indeed? The look Kratos shoots Skulduggery is amused, exasperated and quelling all at once. 'Why not' is the reason the Great Tree was killed. 'Why not' was how angels were made. 'Why not' does not speak well of the restraint possessed by the residents of this planet.]

Mana.

[Kratos closes his fist, and then opens it again to show Skulduggery the mana dying in it.]

This is mana. Electricity? Electricity mana.

[He pulls out the lightning, pushes in the light, as a glow around his hand and shining through his being.]

And this is mana.

[Again; pulls out the lightning, pushes in fire, as a blazing fireball in his hand.]

And this.

[Snuffed out.]

Whole -- all? All mana.

[But different, and powering different things. Exspheres are a common catalyst of magitechnology, an alternative to risking the mana of the Tree, but mana is what powers it regardless of source. Derris-Kharlan's technology doesn't run on exspheres. Derris-Kharlan has greater mana stores than did the Tree; the self-contained fusion in its core is not unlike a sun, in some respects, at least in principle if not using the same components.]

Edited (clarifications) 2016-12-25 07:03 (UTC)

Mana.

[Skulduggery repeats the unfamiliar word out loud, but even that doesn't help him find any sort of translation in English. It's not magic, he's fairly sure, though to be fair he's only sure because there's no possible way to use magic to power technology on Earth. Energy, maybe? It would explain the variety of reactions -- light, lightning, fire. Maybe it exists on Aselia, but can only be controlled by angels. Maybe there is no English equivalent.

But if that's the case, why is there an English equivalent for 'angel'?

Skulduggery shakes his head.] I don't know what that is in English. Energy, or magical energy, or something completely different we don't have. Is it what your wings are made of? [He points to Kratos's back.] Mana?

Mine, yes. Theirs, yes and no.

[At this last, Kratos nods toward the other angels, none of which are paying them all that much mind, even those using the other consoles nearby. What were those words on the time page ...?]

Before now -- start? Started as mana. After time -- not mana.

[This is slow, while he's sifting through his limited vocabulary, trying to find the words to describe the transformation. He doesn't have enough vocabulary for change, for process, unfortunately.]

You have it. Your planet. Aselia has more, but you have it.

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

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