FADED PICTURES ON THE WALL ♠ private

“I never said I’d promise. I only said I could try,” Inglisse corrected, amber eyes sharp once more for a moment. He had assumed that her statement of trying had referred to a promise, but she only meant she would try for what he asked. In her mind, there was no such thing as “trying” to promise. One either made the promise or did not. Or broke it. There really was no trying to it.

She only nodded at the rest of his statements. She did find them sincere, but she simply had no clue on how to properly react to them, at least with reciprocated sincerity. She could certainly act, but this was not a situation that called for a mask, nor would he have appreciated it. As he pulled up a chair for himself and answered her questions, she turned to quickly finish stacking the remaining phoenix feathers in a neat little bundle. It took only a couple seconds, after which she reached back towards the Book of Baskerville, drawing it near to her again out of the need for security. Upon bringing it back, the book began to vanish slowly, evaporating back into a dimensional storage space in order to preserve it.

Inglisse turned her amber gaze back towards him as he finished speaking. The idea that his previous summoner had died peacefully was a comforting one. However, it forced the girl to consider the idea that he likely was not going away anytime soon. This was no walk in the park or casual experiment. He fully intended to stay with her up until her death. She, however, had never once planned on that. What would it mean for them both, and how long would she really be able to put up with him? She also had to consider the idea of him discovering more about her, including the secrets that a chunk of society and most people would find repulsive. What would he do then-- the thought was both intriguing and offputting. Just when she found someone who might have been sincere towards her, she had to stop and realize that he probably would only hate the real her.

“I see,” she answered softly, not having much to say on his statements. She could only quietly note them. “What was the promise, if you don’t mind sharing?” Inglisse asked, half expecting him not to answer. She did give him the option, after all, but he had also stated he would answer any questions she had.

Inglisse nodded at the apology and mild explanation. The explanation did not make for a good answer in her mind, but she accepted it regardless. She was no idiot to when he was serious or not, but she intentionally was dismissive regardless. She preferred not to go off of the obvious feel of the atmosphere, and instead force someone to tell her straightup. Reading hints was tiresome and left room for error, no matter how observant one was. At least hints and the usage of words was fairly straightforward. Thus, whenever he seemed serious, she still shook it off until he straightup told her what was on his mind. If only she could do the same.

Upon the next question, the weight behind his blue eyes seemed heavy. He mentioned that he wanted to tell her, but had already promised someone he would not. At least that reinforced the idea that he was not about to spill secrets if he had promised not to; she could respect that. Inglisse leaned against the countertop as he continued to speak. She noted that the promise sounded more like a task that needed to be fulfilled, but it was interesting that his previous summoner had requested he do it with his new one. It made her partially interested in the man that he seemed to respect so much. At the same time, as Oras mentioned he would prefer to complete the task with a friend, her eyes trailed back down to observe the sleeping Mister Peckings, in thought. She wondered if that promise would ever be fulfilled. She did not have any true “friends”. She had peers she saw regularly, and people she was polite to and they were polite to her. However, she had nobody she knew as someone close. Even though Oras now knew more about her than anyone else, and was mostly tolerable, did that really make him a friend, even though she had summoned him only for the sake of observation and to fulfill her own objectives.

“Your previous summoner was an interesting man. I do hope you find some means of keeping your promise. I just don’t know what I could really do to help,” she answered honestly, amber eyes still locked on the sleeping rosebud abomination.

As she moved her gaze back towards Oras, she could easily sense the humor and amusement bubbling within him. It was surprising and something she did not easily understand. What was so funny? Just as she was about to ask with a slightly annoyed and confused expression on her face, he began to talk instead. He then spoke, saying his amusement came from a memory, and proceeded to mimic a tone, quoting something that had been said to him. She could only guess that it was from his previous summoner.

It seemed he perceived her words in a different manner than she intended. Not that it was bad; it was probably better this way. Her words were almost a slight denial and rejection, that she would find herself unable to be a friend. Instead, he took it another possible way; that she was trying too hard. Perhaps she was. Previously, she only needed to be friendly and seemingly make friends when she needed something from someone, or was to lure them into a trap over time. That, or if she were simply psychologically picking them apart and uncovering all the ways they ticked. Of course, when she did that, none of it was sincere. People loved to talk about themselves, but Inglisse kept her own memories and feelings sealed tight.

The genuine laughter and amusement coming from Oras was something she had never expected to witness, at least not with her. While she did not share the humor, she at least found his own humor rather amusing in itself. Placing both hands on the counter as her back leaned against it, she pushed herself up to sit comfortably on it, crossing her legs as she did so. “At least you admit you’re an idiot~” she teasingly said back, copping a small smirk. Unfortunately, that was probably where she and Oras diverged. Judging from what he said, he used to try too hard. She, on the other hand, knew the ins and outs of relationships. She had vigorously studied the psychology behind it and acted it out as she needed. She did not need to try; she simply refused to allow anyone to truly know her. However, the blonde felt no need to share that with Oras of course. She would allow him to believe that she was like how he once was.

“So you’re saying I’m trying too hard? Or that I’m a retarded idiot? Or both?” she asked, amusement still in her amber eyes. She perhaps felt a slight twinge of guilt. For the first time, there was someone who was friendly with her and was someone she felt overall safe with, at least for the moment and with some things. This was not just someone she was grooming to lead into some experiment or trap. However, with the idea that he had only been summoned for her to use still in her mind, and he still knew barely anything about her, she doubted a friendship could truly take root. Nor would the feeling of security last. Not if he knew the full truth of her past… and the present.

He laughed again after calling her an idiot. Was her response really that funny? He was believing the assumption she had left him with. If it was really ‘all the above’ he found amusing, at least half of it was wrong. She really was not trying at all, least of all too hard. Yet he assumed that based on her earlier response. As to whether or not she was an idiot, well, she supposed that was a subjective matter. Regardless, she let him have his humor before he acknowledged the masks she wore. It was not too surprising; he was an observant individual who now knew she had a troubled past. It would be far more suspicious if she were not wearing masks, in all honesty.

She prepared to respond, but the atranoch suddenly formed a horned mask of ice in front of his face as he continued to speak. He implied it was better to let go of the masks and trust in people. Unfortunately, that was nearly impossible for her. She would not rest until she had completed her goal. Maybe then, she could indulge in friendships and the idea of trusting others. Until then, it was nothing she required, and probably would only make things worse. She looked him in his tired blue eyes as his mask broke, contemplating his words. He made friendship seem like a science but not a science, when in reality, she had it down to a science. She just had no practical use for it.

He then mentioned taking his leave, but his parting words were most curious. He offered his friendship. Judging by his earlier statements, that implied trust and fewer masks. The atranoch made mention of that name however-- Caroline. Her name from many years ago. Upon hearing the name, her soft amber eyes returned to a sharper glare. Gracefully, she hopped off the counter and back onto the floor. She was already an isolated individual; she did not need a lack of friendship to do that to her, or to show her that fact. She isolated herself for her own safety, and sometimes the safety of others. If he did not want that for her, he was going to prove it. “That name is dead. Don’t use it again,” she said in a low tone with a threatening edge to her voice. She did not care the gentle manner in which he used it, nor the sincerity behind his words. Inglisse already dealt with the past regularly, she did not need extra reminders to trigger the cries that resonated in her mind from many trapped souls. Surely he would understand it brought back bad memories, if nothing else.

“Before you go, I have something to show you. Surely you must wonder what I fill my time with when you’re not around,” she said, her voice less threatening and returned to a softer tone. The Book of Baskerville reappeared again, placed on the countertop next to the mulberry bonsai plant that Mister Peckings had taken a liking to. Turning, she went to fetch the small rosebud creature, gently pick it up off of the ice playground, and bring it back to the countertop. “As you know, I’m a scholar major, studying science, eldritch energies, magic, and much more. I’ve dedicated my life to discovering new things and how they mesh together,” she stated, a small smile on her face.

She held a hand gingerly to the side of the small mulberry plant in a pot. “Psyche evenio moraceae animula,” she said the incantation in a hushed voice. The mulberry plant began to glow, and out of its stem, roots, and leaves, a green energy flowed out and towards Inglisse’s extended hand. Finally, the energy pooled into a small glowing green ball, floating above her palm elegantly. “This is the soul of that mulberry plant,” she explained, before turning her attention to the Book of Baskerville. With her free hand, she picked the tiniest sample off of the soul, like a fingerprint, and let it fall on her prized possession. Upon absorbing the small sample, the book suddenly opened, the pages flipping rapidly until book stilled on the page of the mulberry plant. She understood that Oras would learn one of the book’s many secrets, but she only hoped he would not be able to replicate it. Besides, she planned to keep the book closer to her than ever before.

Finally, she drew a small circle in the air with her pointer finger of her free hand, which opened a small dimensional storage space. Out of it came a weird object, like a spiderweb or set of wires, but made of something a lot more fluid and alive. It was a small nervous system, something nobody saw on a regular basis. She had been saving it for a moment like this. With the tiny mulberry soul pooled into a ball in her hand, she brought it and the makeshift system of nerves together. The green energy began to weave itself into the set of nerves as she directed it, her amber eyes focused on keeping the channeling precise. Her book allowed her the magic to mix a soul with a physical object or body, as the two were of different components, or notes, as far as the book was concerned-- psyche and alchemy. Finally, the soul had been infused into the nervous system, which Inglisse then set down gently on the clean countertop.

Beckoning for Mister Peckings, the blonde gently held the small rosebud creature, which bounded its way into her arms. She then gingerly placed them down on the countertop, covering its thin rosebud vine-like body with four fingers and pinning a dove wing to the surface with a thumb so that it would not flap on her. In her free hand, out of a dark wisp of mysterious energy, a fine scalpel appeared in her hand. Precisely and carefully, she made a small incision over the ulna bone of the wing, cutting fairly deep and close to the bone. The cut needed to be deep in order to properly place the nerves. Fortunately, the rosebud abomination had no present pain receptors or way for the creature to be in agony. It felt nothing, for now.

Once the incision was made, the scalpel disappeared and Inglisse’s newly freed hand reached for the nervous system, freshly infused with mulberry soul. Holding one end of it, she brought it close to the lightly bleeding cut, but not too close. “Morus et nervi simul vas,” she used the bare minimum of the enchantment, but upon doing so, the nerves seemed to become more fluid, almost like liquid in the air while maintaining their shape. The closest end of the system began to glow into Mister Pecking’s body through the small cut. The rosebud creature remained still through the process as the system was magically directed in. It was no simple task for Inglisse-- the Book of Baskerville being open to the mulberry page allowed her to see the system inside the body of the creatures. However, she had to mentally direct the nerves to their proper place, and that required her to use her knowledge of the anatomy and physicality of the creature, including avians and felines in general.

The process was over after a few quick minutes. Once the nervous system was safely inserted inside Mister Peckings, the creature began to thrash about, the deep cut from the scalpel being its first ever sensation of pain, or anything really, in addition to Inglisse’s delicate hands. Holding a hand over the wound, Inglisse directed some Sacramentum in physical form, to sew and stitch the incision up. After she removed her hand, the bleeding had stopped and the wound was neatly lined with black stitches. Exhausted and unwilling to move anymore from the physical feelings, Mister Peckings remained still on the countertop, wanting to move, but now with the new realization that a sudden movement could reopen the wound or hurt even more.

Inglisse would turn back towards Oras, seemingly more tired than before, but with a satisfied expression on her face. “Mister Peckings has been needing a nervous system. Sometimes only a sensation of pain will keep a living being from injuring itself. The little guy kept ramming into stuff and damaging its body. Perhaps it’ll be a little more careful now,” she commented, amber eyes glancing back at the rosebud creature and the Book of Baskerville. “It has no brain, but Mister Peckings is animated by the soul of a mulberry plant. By infusing the nervous system with another mulberry soul and then merging both that mulberry soul and the nerves into Peckings' body, the nervous system will send messages directly to the soul, or consciousness, of Mister Peckings,” she continued, her voice fairly cheerful and happy to be explaining something she was passionate about. “This is a tiny sample of what I do quite often. What do you think~?”




















// they did surgery on a grape

Once her work came to an end, the questions began. Oras acted like what she had done was not kind, or that she had more kindness and mercy to give the creature. She knew that the creature, though animated and half sentient, still carried no emotions, feelings, nor much memory. It was tied to her because she cared for it and had warmed up to her. The memories it made, however, were fleeting and barely existent, if they existed at all. She was not about to coddle a barely sentient creature that was experiencing pain for the first time. Nor did she want that kind of attachment and emotional investment or devotion into beings she created.

“It won’t remember this procedure after a few minutes to an hour. There is no point. It’s healing and will be good as new very quickly,” she replied, watching Oras’ hand calm the creature with some of his cold powers. The snow seemed to have healing properties too, which was something she would have to write down later for the sake of her research.

It was then that he asked a series of questions regarding her intentions with her work. She expected this, seeing as he was a naturally suspicious individual. It tied greatly with her past, but there were details she would never admit to. “Remember that story I told you, and that fool who made things worse?” she said, turning to her Book and tracing her fingers along the edge of the open page. “I’m going to reverse the damage they did.”

He offered his assistance in her research and experimentation, or at least her goal. It made sense if he were trying to be friendly, but there was nothing she could think of that he could do to help her. Her study on atranochs was already all the passive help he could really offer, as some of their attributes did indeed aid her on furthering her goal. He then mentioned he had one last question

Inglisse gazed at him out the corner of her eyes, her head still facing the Book of Baskerville. When not a book for recording research or studying the five elements, it made for a good security blanket. Then the question came, and it hit hard. She made no visible reaction as she stared at him out the corner of her amber eyes. The answer to this question would potentially lead him to learn more about her than she really wanted, including detailed information on the accident if he ever did an ounce of research in Misterean records. He then told her not to lie to him. It was certainly tempting, but anyone with as much intelligent as the two of them would see through it. And the truth would come out quickly even if he did believe a lie. It was better to perhaps get it over with and hope he was too busy picking fights and sparring to do any research.

The next question ringing in her head, however, was how he knew of the organization. The fact that he knew of her family’s organization surprised her more than anything else. The organization had devoted its time to researching eldritch energies as they appeared, sacramentum, and how the mysteries of the world affected everything else. Unfortunately, their research was eventually their downfall. “It does,” she responded simply, turning her head towards him. She did not say anything past that. Hopefully using few words and being short on the subject would persuade him to leave the topic. However, much of her was curious as to why he would even ask. What history did he have with her family, if any?

Did she agree with or reject their goals? They had numerous goals, many taking place in various divisions within the organization. Their overarching goal, however, was to research and further what was known about eldritch energy and sacramentum. Whether or not oras knew that, however, was unknown to Inglisse. From how he spoke, he greatly disagreed with either their goal or their way about doing their work. She was so young at the time that she had only known bits and pieces of what the organization did. She only learned the full extent of the truth after the accident, and after she made everything worse.

“Their goal is to further research on eldritch energy,” she said, no emotion in her own voice. “Of course I agree with their goal- this academy has an entire degree dedicated to what they did.”
Their methods varied based on the project. It was too open ended of a question with her experience, thus she chose not to answer unless he explained what he meant.