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[inklongdry]

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"Arthur Inkwell here.
I've no earthly idea how this thing is supposed to work, but leave me a message if you're so inclined. I'll retrieve it at some point or another!"

voice • text • action

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[inklongdry]

[ He closes the space between them quickly, bringing a hand up to steady her. ]

I'm here, my sky.

[velluminous]

[ she's got that too-familiar alcohol flush in her cheeks ]

You look so... you look so stern. Did you run?

[inklongdry]

When you didn't respond right away, I thought something might be wrong.

[ His other hand cups her cheek. She's so, so warm. ]

[velluminous]

N... [ "no, nothing."

she can't. she can't make the lie happen this time. her voice simply quavers and fades into a thready exhale. Mammon, there's never more than a moment anymore that there's something "right".

without a word, Sprezzatura pulls the stoppered vial forward. it drags across the counter, glass on granite. there's a label tacked to one side: S.V. Oripathy, it reads. ]

[inklongdry]

[ Oh, Sprezzatura. He wants to pull her into an embrace. He nearly does, if not for the vial suddenly offered in his direction. He frowns. ]

What is this? "Oripathy"?

[velluminous]

[ this is a woman who does not deserve a hug, arthur. ]

Take it. Take it from me. [ and this is a tone which brooks no argument. in truth, her hand has started to shake there upon the countertop, so that her nails jitter against it, but she can't back away from this ledge now that she's peered over. gravity has her. ] This wretched blight that has broken down so much of me.

[inklongdry]

[ He doesn't care if she deserves it. She clearly needs it. ]

... Alright.

[ Take it he does, turning it over in his hand. He knows blood when he sees it, but what that possibly means, he cannot even begin to guess. ]

Now will you tell me what this is?

[velluminous]

[ there's a tension to her jaw when he takes it; her eyes are fixed on the vial. fixated. there—it is out of her hands, literally, and into another's. he doesn't appear to have any open wounds, and she's stoppered the bottle as well as she can.

still, her fingers twitch like they wish to snatch it back. ]

Cancerous particles, transmitted through bodily fluids.

[inklongdry]

[ Well, no he's not currently at risk of anything. But also: what the hell. ]

What?

[ He looks down at the vial again. ]

"S.V." Seven hells, is this your blood?

[velluminous]

[ is the heat in her face from the alcohol or the shame or the anger? she wobbles on her stool and grips at the smooth countertop with her claws. ]

Correct. [ even her voice is huskier than its usual fare; she's been at it a while before sending that message, it'd seem. ] My blood, from when oripathy was killing me. [ she steels herself, adding an edge to her voice. ] You must take it far from me.

Des... [ "Destroy it, if you must." that's what she wants to say, yet she can't force that past her lips any easier. is she a Scribe or not? does she truly live now only to destroy every speck of knowledge and opportunity she comes across?

lowers her temple into the support of one hand ] Mmhh.

[inklongdry]

[ He notes the "was" with some amount of relief, though logically he knows it must be a thing of the past, elsewise they both would have much bigger problems to deal with right now.

He tucks the vial away, letting it nestle alongside his soul crystal. ]

Sprezzatura, I need you to tell me what's going on. Is this blood a danger to you?

[ It's potentially a danger to anyone, just by virtue of what it is, but why does SPrezzatura want it out of her presence specifically? ]

[velluminous]

[ she watches the vial disappear with a strange tension in her features. her claws curl against the countertop.

why did she do that? why did she give it up? ]

It—it tempts me. What I could learn from it, if I only... kept it. You know how we scholars are.

[inklongdry]

[ Somehow, this feels less like removing a mere curiosity from her sight. The way she watches him, tensing, makes unease settle in his stomach. ]

I do know how we scholars are. And I know how curiosity bends so easily into obsession. You mislike that you've handed it over to me, don't you?

[velluminous]

It's mine.

[ she does. she does mislike it. ]

To study disease like that... I can think of nothing more compelling.

[inklongdry]

[ He understands that sentiment, but she would not have given it to him if it were so simple as that. ]

I understand, my sky. I truly do. But since you've entrusted it to me, I'll not be giving it back.

[velluminous]

It isn't safe. If it ever broke...

[inklongdry]

I know. I'll take care of it.

[velluminous]

You can't know. Arthur. What it does to your mind... let alone your body...

[inklongdry]

What happened? How did you come to be infected? And how were you cured of it?

[velluminous]

[ her gaze, weirdly haunted, sits on him where he tucked the vial away. she really, really should not have given him that. ]

From friend of mine. He had strange lesions on his elbow, like little stones... piercing up through his skin. I touched one. I had open cuts on my fingers.

[inklongdry]

And so you contracted the disease.

[ Her eyes are like a physical force. He spares a thought to sending Clover away with the vial, to remove it from this place. Maybe he will. ]

What happened, then?

[velluminous]

[ maybe! ]

I... I grew unwell. Infected my partner of that time. Basilisk had never earned token, so I do Echidna tasks to get them, but then I would... forget. Poof, gone. Lan Wangji, [ her voice immediately becomes thick and rough ] he was still on Phoenix then. He brought me card and saved me.

[inklongdry]

Thaliak preserve. I'm glad you were spared the worst, but even I think it best that you leave this business behind you.

[ So, to that end, he does reach back into his pocket for the vial. Clover shimmers into being just over his shoulder, and he passes the little container over to her. She takes it in her arms and at some unspoken command, flies for the door. ]

/2

[velluminous]

[ a cacophony in Sprezzatura's ears as Clover does: pulse and breath. a sluggish, underwater-feeling. she watches that tiny woman abscond with her blood, her specimen, her oripathy—and the coiled length of her tail lashes hard against the bar.

really hard. ]

Arthur—

[velluminous]

[ and that white-knuckle grip of her claws on granite tenses, smooths out. her entire demeanour changes; she leans forward and catches Arthur by the chin. ]

No, no. You bring her back.

[ but why wait? she'll send a thread of lightning to course through Clover's teeny, tiny, delicate figure in emphasis. how good's your reaction time, Arthur? ]