[Beneath the bench he's sitting on, Fugo restlessly taps the toe of his shoe on the ground. The unspoken "but" hangs heavily in the air between them. But since Akira doesn't say it, let alone elaborate, there's no simple way to pursue that line of conversation. So the conversation moves on.]
I'm impressed, [he has to admit,] about the amount and quality of housing available. [To all appearances, the Coven simply emptied out a wealthier neighborhood to house the influx of newcomers. Given the era, he would have expected something more like a slum. But as impressed as he is, he also can't help but be wary.] They seem to be very dedicated to helping us settle in.
[He looks back down at the lantern again, pensive. Even today, right now-- these sailors, they seemed generally eager to include them.]
[ And even now, it doesn't sit well with him. A bunch of strangers from other worlds stumble into theirs, and they set them up in the most lavish housing available, all while people are suffering in slums outside the city walls. Even the refugees from Dorchact weren't shown the same kindness, as far as he's heard. ]
And hard to believe there wouldn't be strings attached.
[ There's that silent "but," only because Fugo seems to have that same subtle wariness to him that Akira feels about the whole thing. Maybe he's just been conditioned by past experiences, but it seems strange. ]
[Ah, there it is. The "but". The Coven has been very kind... but what is it they want? One doesn't displace an entire nobility of the upperclass without a lot of whining and moaning. There has been a very real expense for the city attached to their arrival. So what does the Coven get out of it? Why invest so much in strangers from another world and not the people of their own city.]
The Cwyld. By courting a population of new Witches and Monsters uninterested in long-term city life, they can fill out their ranks with people willing to take the risk in investigating and researching it.
[On top of that-- ... really, all of this is just extended assimilation tactics. The Coven wants the Mirrorbound to feel as if they have a place in Aefenglom. Or, at the very least, a debt to the city that has taken care of them upon stumbling into a new world.]
[ Something about it still doesn't sit right with him. It's true that it's a big benefit for them—Akira himself has been helping with investigating the Wilde when he can—but there's got to be more to it than that, right?
Pushing out a soft breath, Akira turns his focus to adding a few finishing touches to his lantern. ]
That's got to be part of it. It's impressive they've stood against it for this long.
[There just isn't enough information. Or, maybe-- there's almost too much information. Just thinking about the details of his new day-to-day life gives him a headache. There are bound to be patterns in there somewhere, but he just hasn't been here long enough to try and suss them out.]
It's spread all over this continent, right? And it's what makes the land outside of the walls so dangerous. [Fugo frowns, grip tightening on his brush. Just where did it come from? Why are there such large parts of this city that haven't been protected from its encroaching infection? Why is the Coven spending so much on them, rather than striving to protect its own people? It just doesn't add up.]
[Fugo falls quiet for a few steps. It's not that he's unable to recite the information Giorno has requested-- it's just uncomfortable, he thinks. He bites the inside of his cheek, troubled, before just... plowing through it.]
They mostly talked about what sort of changes one could expect. Elongated teeth and ears, sensitivity to sunlight, a craving for blood. They mentioned a transformation into a bat, but I was under the impression that it was bigger than what you described.
[He might be using the excuse of Giorno's tiny bat form to avoid talking about the whole ... undead part of being a vampire.]
[It is uncomfortable. He doesn't particularly want to talk about this, but . . . he owes it to Fugo, he thinks, to be as open as possible. At least for now, he plans to stick to that. For now, he feels strongly that he needs to push past the discomfort to at least get to that one big awful point.]
[Fugo needs to know.]
There are two bat forms, I think. The full moon form is the big one. I haven't experienced that yet. It's probably coming soon.
[Maybe this month, even. What could be better than Fugo seeing him as an awful monster bat his first month here? Incredible.]
. . . The cravings have been a problem for a while. ["A problem." Pretty indicative of how he's coping: by not coping.] I'm still not entirely satisfied with my resources for dealing with them, but that's — not relevant, really.
[He looks out into the dark, fingers curling in Fugo's sleeve.]
Are those all the changes they mentioned? [How . . . sanitized.]
[Fugo frowns. He doesn't... agree. It is relevant that Giorno doesn't have many sources of blood. It matters in the same way that it matters that Giorno is always cold, since coming to Aefenglom. It matters.]
[Distantly:] They rushed through their programming. [Given... that it started at 3:30 in the morning.] But there was one other thing.
[Some of you may feel tired, or physically weak in the coming weeks. Don't be alarmed, this is just your bodies beginning to--]
They said that vampires are undead. [Not quite dead. But not entirely alive, either. Something caught between the two.]
[And he's sure they watered it down, too. What Fugo says next actually surprises him. He can tell what Fugo is tiptoeing around: that they at least implied, if not stated explicitly, that before their transformation is complete, all vampires must die.]
[He's almost impressed with Miss Nessie, although he'd honestly rather die twice than say it in his out loud voice. Instead, cold fingers tighten reflexively on Fugo's sleeve, as though burying them in fabric will warm them somehow. Even though he knows better.]
That's true. Vampires are undead. [He wants to stick his hands up Fugo's sleeves. He wants to be home already. He wants to lie down. He wants to go home.] I'm not undead yet. I . . .
[Someone else's blood feels like it's curdling in his stomach. He keeps his eyes forward, gaze even and cool. He is not afraid, just like he hasn't been afraid, to verbalize this fact.]
[That... is somewhat of a surprise. Really? These people find regular reasons to celebrate, despite the crisis lurking outside of the city gates? He's not sure if that speaks to the resilience of the city, or regular mismanagement of its resources.]
That's... honestly impressive. Given the tensions within the city walls and how dangerous it is outside of them. [He idly fidgets with his suitcuffs, before posing, a touch too casually to truly be all that casual, his next question.] Have there been any festivals that you enjoyed in particular? In your time here.
[Six months. Half a year. To be honest, it's difficult for him to imagine. Half a year, caught up in the troubles of a world that is not your own.]
I would suppose the populace would go rather insane without them, because of those same reasons.
[When the apocalypse is breathing down your neck, what is the average person meant to do? The Wilders do what they can, as far as she can tell, but their number does not suggest they have a surplus of trainees eager to throw themselves at the problem.]
But, festivals I have enjoyed in particular. Hmm... [She has to think about that one a bit, fingers tapping upon her knee as she casts her gaze up to the starry sky once more.] The whole theme of Litha was a bit too much for me, though the flowers that covered the city during that time were quite beautiful. And I was not able to participate much in Lunasa, for personal reasons.
[Hey, Fugo? Do not wait to figure out bond stuff until the stars align that a no-magic festival lines up with the new moon, okay. It's not fun.]
... I came to this place on the first night of Boatlinn, their holiday to herald the coming summer. It was all very confusing, and I can hardly say I was in a festive mood, but... I enjoyed the games they had set up at the time.
[Fugo quietly listens to Zelda's musings, his expression thoughtful. Truthfully, he doesn't entirely understand it. Given the crisis, aren't a series of monthly festivals an impractical use of the city's resources? The one thing he can wrap his mind around is the sheer inertia of tradition. Customs might change or fade but, once people are in the habit of a tradition, they rarely disappear completely.]
It probably gave you a good reason to go out and explore the city, at least. [Games, though. That's interesting. Zelda is such a somber and serious person-- the opportunity to play games isn't what he expected to hear.] I... enjoyed painting lanterns for Samuin.
[Her brow lifts, mirroring the quiet surprise in his tone. Giorno had painted a picture of a very studious, practical boy when he first described Fugo to her, and nothing she's seen thus far has necessarily run counter to that assessment, until now.
She really shouldn't be surprised, though, given how well she's buried that girl that snuck out for adventures in the marketplace and ran circles around the guards trying to corral her back to the castle so long ago.]
They did look quite lovely, when they were all lit up towards the end. I fear I have never much had the patience for that sort of artistry, however. Music comes much more easily to me.
It just seems like a waste of time. [Es...pecially since he's actually hungry. Fugo arches his eyebrows, as if to say really?] What's the big deal? Are you broke, or something?
["I don't have anything better to do" sounds incredibly pathetic. and "Yeah of course I'm broke, I literally just got here" isn't much better.
So instead of actually saying anything like a reasonable person, his gaze slides away as he looks disgruntled at his circumstances. If Fugo doesn't immediately walk away after that, Just nods his head slightly at "are you broke."]
[Well, that would do it. It's hard to justify buying street vendor food if you're short on cash. Fugo sighs, a little more put on than he actually feels, and then makes a beckoning gesture towards the vendor.]
Well, come on. [If Juza expresses any sort of confusion:] I'm not treating you. I'm hiring you. Tomorrow morning, you're going to help me carry some groceries and supplies back to where I'm staying.
Oh, probably not the spell. I don't know enough about illusion spells to modify the enchantment. [He can feel the warmth of the spell underneath his fingers; it's neat and tidy spellwork. Fugo gets the feeling that, if he tried to mess around with it, it would come apart on purpose.] But I think you can get different effects based on what sort of gesture you use, or how the wand has been decorated. It's not as random as it looks.
(well, isn't that something? this guy seems to know leagues more about it than he does.
jonas, who's never been the prideful type, backs down out of the challenge to heed his advice with a flash of a smile.) I can't believe they put that much thought into these. But I guess the whole "different gestures do different things" is kinda' like a smartphone– (technology that's rarely understood when brought up in conversation.)
... uh, have you heard of those? I can never tell. It's like a Watch, but more advanced? (tries to lower his wand but is a bit too hasty with the movement, causing a burst of harmless sparks to fly from the end of it like a colourful roman candle.
[Honestly, what happens next is probably for the best. It will at least distract Jonas from the words that are coming out of Fugo's mouth, which out him from being a part of a truly terrible point in history.]
Smartphones? [The exact term is clearly lost on him, but he's not totally without reference.] Are you talking about PDAs? I didn't know that the PalmPilot could--
[At which point the sparks fly. Fugo flinches and then goes rigid in his seat, freezing up; as much as he knows in his head that the spell isn't dangerous, it's another to convince his worn-thin nerves that everything is alright.]
Jesus. Would it kill you to be careful? If you don't know what you're doing, quit screwing around!
Ah– god, sorry, sorry! (waving at the sparks before realizing it's a problem with the wand, overcompensating by pitching it straight into the bonfire.
it crackles, lets off a surprisingly quiet boom, then curls into a rainbow mushroom cloud. the scene has the few children celebrating in awe, offering best "ooo's" and "ahhh's".
jonas can't look, too busy fussing.)
That's totally my bad, are you okay? I didn't get you in the eye or anything, did I?
I just happen to have an interest in naturally occurring toxic substances. [Fugo shrugs. The gesture is casual, but odd when paired with his statement.] And alchemy uses a wide variety of ingredients, some of them potentially poisonous. Said poisonous ingredients were the first I learned to identify.
[You know. To avoid accidental poisonings and all. Making poisoned potions doesn't earn you much of a reputation.]
Do you usually work in a forensics laboratory? Outside of all this-- [here he waves his hand about, indicating Literally All Of Aefenglom,] --magical interdimensional nonsense.
Well, sometimes! A lot of my work happens to be out in the field. I'm not so much a forensic scientist as I am a forensic investigator, you see...
[ But she does chuckle a bit at the way he expresses himself. She'd be a little less charmed by the sass if it weren't so clear that he's got a good head on his shoulders; the kid knows what he's talking about, that much is obvious.
Or maybe it's just a bias she has... ]
But the lab's where a lot of the magic happens, so to speak. If you have an interest in poisons, I think you might get a kick out of poking around in there, if you ever got a chance to see it. I'm a little more keen on fingerprint analysis myself, though. Of course, that's just one part of the job...
Oh. [For someone so crabby just a moment ago, Fugo... well, he doesn't relax. He's never relaxed. But he does seem to brighten, sort of.] That's what this is about.
[It's about his clothes. Which are, without a doubt, absolutely terrible. He takes a look to the left and the right, making sure they're out of the way of the line and any incoming foot traffic.]
Okay, go ahead. I'm ready to hear your complaints. When you're done, I'll let you know if you've told me something I haven't heard before.
[Out of her wheelhouse, huh. Fugo doesn't quite smile himself, but his eyes crinkle around the corners. If this knowledge is just a passing interest-- well. Whatever her actual hobbies and interests are, she must know a lot about them.]
It has a lot to do with instinct, right? The article I remember reading about compared the collective unconscious to various animal instincts. Complex behaviors that are passed down, but aren't taught from parent to offspring.
[Sea turtles hatchlings somehow know they must move, as quickly as possible, from shore to sea. No single Monarch butterfly makes the species' annual 3,000 mile migration: sometimes, it takes up to five generations to complete the journey. How do they know what to do and where to go?]
It's an interesting theory, but you can't exactly prove it-- correlation is not causation. [He pauses, making a thoughtful noise.] But I suppose you can't disprove the collective unconscious either. Probatio diabolica.
[Not that this is a legal case. But the Devil's Proof argument seems fitting nonetheless.]
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intro log - akira
[Beneath the bench he's sitting on, Fugo restlessly taps the toe of his shoe on the ground. The unspoken "but" hangs heavily in the air between them. But since Akira doesn't say it, let alone elaborate, there's no simple way to pursue that line of conversation. So the conversation moves on.]
I'm impressed, [he has to admit,] about the amount and quality of housing available. [To all appearances, the Coven simply emptied out a wealthier neighborhood to house the influx of newcomers. Given the era, he would have expected something more like a slum. But as impressed as he is, he also can't help but be wary.] They seem to be very dedicated to helping us settle in.
[He looks back down at the lantern again, pensive. Even today, right now-- these sailors, they seemed generally eager to include them.]
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[ And even now, it doesn't sit well with him. A bunch of strangers from other worlds stumble into theirs, and they set them up in the most lavish housing available, all while people are suffering in slums outside the city walls. Even the refugees from Dorchact weren't shown the same kindness, as far as he's heard. ]
And hard to believe there wouldn't be strings attached.
[ There's that silent "but," only because Fugo seems to have that same subtle wariness to him that Akira feels about the whole thing. Maybe he's just been conditioned by past experiences, but it seems strange. ]
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The Cwyld. By courting a population of new Witches and Monsters uninterested in long-term city life, they can fill out their ranks with people willing to take the risk in investigating and researching it.
[On top of that-- ... really, all of this is just extended assimilation tactics. The Coven wants the Mirrorbound to feel as if they have a place in Aefenglom. Or, at the very least, a debt to the city that has taken care of them upon stumbling into a new world.]
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[ Something about it still doesn't sit right with him. It's true that it's a big benefit for them—Akira himself has been helping with investigating the Wilde when he can—but there's got to be more to it than that, right?
Pushing out a soft breath, Akira turns his focus to adding a few finishing touches to his lantern. ]
That's got to be part of it. It's impressive they've stood against it for this long.
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It's spread all over this continent, right? And it's what makes the land outside of the walls so dangerous. [Fugo frowns, grip tightening on his brush. Just where did it come from? Why are there such large parts of this city that haven't been protected from its encroaching infection? Why is the Coven spending so much on them, rather than striving to protect its own people? It just doesn't add up.]
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intro log - giorno
[Fugo falls quiet for a few steps. It's not that he's unable to recite the information Giorno has requested-- it's just uncomfortable, he thinks. He bites the inside of his cheek, troubled, before just... plowing through it.]
They mostly talked about what sort of changes one could expect. Elongated teeth and ears, sensitivity to sunlight, a craving for blood. They mentioned a transformation into a bat, but I was under the impression that it was bigger than what you described.
[He might be using the excuse of Giorno's tiny bat form to avoid talking about the whole ... undead part of being a vampire.]
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[Fugo needs to know.]
There are two bat forms, I think. The full moon form is the big one. I haven't experienced that yet. It's probably coming soon.
[Maybe this month, even. What could be better than Fugo seeing him as an awful monster bat his first month here? Incredible.]
. . . The cravings have been a problem for a while. ["A problem." Pretty indicative of how he's coping: by not coping.] I'm still not entirely satisfied with my resources for dealing with them, but that's — not relevant, really.
[He looks out into the dark, fingers curling in Fugo's sleeve.]
Are those all the changes they mentioned? [How . . . sanitized.]
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[Distantly:] They rushed through their programming. [Given... that it started at 3:30 in the morning.] But there was one other thing.
[Some of you may feel tired, or physically weak in the coming weeks. Don't be alarmed, this is just your bodies beginning to--]
They said that vampires are undead. [Not quite dead. But not entirely alive, either. Something caught between the two.]
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I'm sure they did.
[And he's sure they watered it down, too. What Fugo says next actually surprises him. He can tell what Fugo is tiptoeing around: that they at least implied, if not stated explicitly, that before their transformation is complete, all vampires must die.]
[He's almost impressed with Miss Nessie, although he'd honestly rather die twice than say it in his out loud voice. Instead, cold fingers tighten reflexively on Fugo's sleeve, as though burying them in fabric will warm them somehow. Even though he knows better.]
That's true. Vampires are undead. [He wants to stick his hands up Fugo's sleeves. He wants to be home already. He wants to lie down. He wants to go home.] I'm not undead yet. I . . .
[Someone else's blood feels like it's curdling in his stomach. He keeps his eyes forward, gaze even and cool. He is not afraid, just like he hasn't been afraid, to verbalize this fact.]
I imagine I'll die soon. And then I'll come back.
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masquerade - zelda
[That... is somewhat of a surprise. Really? These people find regular reasons to celebrate, despite the crisis lurking outside of the city gates? He's not sure if that speaks to the resilience of the city, or regular mismanagement of its resources.]
That's... honestly impressive. Given the tensions within the city walls and how dangerous it is outside of them. [He idly fidgets with his suitcuffs, before posing, a touch too casually to truly be all that casual, his next question.] Have there been any festivals that you enjoyed in particular? In your time here.
[Six months. Half a year. To be honest, it's difficult for him to imagine. Half a year, caught up in the troubles of a world that is not your own.]
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[When the apocalypse is breathing down your neck, what is the average person meant to do? The Wilders do what they can, as far as she can tell, but their number does not suggest they have a surplus of trainees eager to throw themselves at the problem.]
But, festivals I have enjoyed in particular. Hmm... [She has to think about that one a bit, fingers tapping upon her knee as she casts her gaze up to the starry sky once more.] The whole theme of Litha was a bit too much for me, though the flowers that covered the city during that time were quite beautiful. And I was not able to participate much in Lunasa, for personal reasons.
[Hey, Fugo? Do not wait to figure out bond stuff until the stars align that a no-magic festival lines up with the new moon, okay. It's not fun.]
... I came to this place on the first night of Boatlinn, their holiday to herald the coming summer. It was all very confusing, and I can hardly say I was in a festive mood, but... I enjoyed the games they had set up at the time.
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It probably gave you a good reason to go out and explore the city, at least. [Games, though. That's interesting. Zelda is such a somber and serious person-- the opportunity to play games isn't what he expected to hear.] I... enjoyed painting lanterns for Samuin.
[From his tone of voice, he wasn't expecting to.]
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She really shouldn't be surprised, though, given how well she's buried that girl that snuck out for adventures in the marketplace and ran circles around the guards trying to corral her back to the castle so long ago.]
They did look quite lovely, when they were all lit up towards the end. I fear I have never much had the patience for that sort of artistry, however. Music comes much more easily to me.
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wrap this here?
february intro log - juza
It just seems like a waste of time. [Es...pecially since he's actually hungry. Fugo arches his eyebrows, as if to say really?] What's the big deal? Are you broke, or something?
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So instead of actually saying anything like a reasonable person, his gaze slides away as he looks disgruntled at his circumstances. If Fugo doesn't immediately walk away after that, Just nods his head slightly at "are you broke."]
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Well, come on. [If Juza expresses any sort of confusion:] I'm not treating you. I'm hiring you. Tomorrow morning, you're going to help me carry some groceries and supplies back to where I'm staying.
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Got it. Where should I meet you?
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february intro log - jonas
Oh, probably not the spell. I don't know enough about illusion spells to modify the enchantment. [He can feel the warmth of the spell underneath his fingers; it's neat and tidy spellwork. Fugo gets the feeling that, if he tried to mess around with it, it would come apart on purpose.] But I think you can get different effects based on what sort of gesture you use, or how the wand has been decorated. It's not as random as it looks.
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jonas, who's never been the prideful type, backs down out of the challenge to heed his advice with a flash of a smile.) I can't believe they put that much thought into these. But I guess the whole "different gestures do different things" is kinda' like a smartphone– (technology that's rarely understood when brought up in conversation.)
... uh, have you heard of those? I can never tell. It's like a Watch, but more advanced? (tries to lower his wand but is a bit too hasty with the movement, causing a burst of harmless sparks to fly from the end of it like a colourful roman candle.
aimed directly at fugo.)
Oh, damn!
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Smartphones? [The exact term is clearly lost on him, but he's not totally without reference.] Are you talking about PDAs? I didn't know that the PalmPilot could--
[At which point the sparks fly. Fugo flinches and then goes rigid in his seat, freezing up; as much as he knows in his head that the spell isn't dangerous, it's another to convince his worn-thin nerves that everything is alright.]
Jesus. Would it kill you to be careful? If you don't know what you're doing, quit screwing around!
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it crackles, lets off a surprisingly quiet boom, then curls into a rainbow mushroom cloud. the scene has the few children celebrating in awe, offering best "ooo's" and "ahhh's".
jonas can't look, too busy fussing.)
That's totally my bad, are you okay? I didn't get you in the eye or anything, did I?
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july intro log - emma
I just happen to have an interest in naturally occurring toxic substances. [Fugo shrugs. The gesture is casual, but odd when paired with his statement.] And alchemy uses a wide variety of ingredients, some of them potentially poisonous. Said poisonous ingredients were the first I learned to identify.
[You know. To avoid accidental poisonings and all. Making poisoned potions doesn't earn you much of a reputation.]
Do you usually work in a forensics laboratory? Outside of all this-- [here he waves his hand about, indicating Literally All Of Aefenglom,] --magical interdimensional nonsense.
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[ But she does chuckle a bit at the way he expresses himself. She'd be a little less charmed by the sass if it weren't so clear that he's got a good head on his shoulders; the kid knows what he's talking about, that much is obvious.
Or maybe it's just a bias she has... ]
But the lab's where a lot of the magic happens, so to speak. If you have an interest in poisons, I think you might get a kick out of poking around in there, if you ever got a chance to see it. I'm a little more keen on fingerprint analysis myself, though. Of course, that's just one part of the job...
july intro log - franziska
Oh. [For someone so crabby just a moment ago, Fugo... well, he doesn't relax. He's never relaxed. But he does seem to brighten, sort of.] That's what this is about.
[It's about his clothes. Which are, without a doubt, absolutely terrible. He takes a look to the left and the right, making sure they're out of the way of the line and any incoming foot traffic.]
Okay, go ahead. I'm ready to hear your complaints. When you're done, I'll let you know if you've told me something I haven't heard before.
july intro log - annabeth
[Out of her wheelhouse, huh. Fugo doesn't quite smile himself, but his eyes crinkle around the corners. If this knowledge is just a passing interest-- well. Whatever her actual hobbies and interests are, she must know a lot about them.]
It has a lot to do with instinct, right? The article I remember reading about compared the collective unconscious to various animal instincts. Complex behaviors that are passed down, but aren't taught from parent to offspring.
[Sea turtles hatchlings somehow know they must move, as quickly as possible, from shore to sea. No single Monarch butterfly makes the species' annual 3,000 mile migration: sometimes, it takes up to five generations to complete the journey. How do they know what to do and where to go?]
It's an interesting theory, but you can't exactly prove it-- correlation is not causation. [He pauses, making a thoughtful noise.] But I suppose you can't disprove the collective unconscious either. Probatio diabolica.
[Not that this is a legal case. But the Devil's Proof argument seems fitting nonetheless.]