(voice)

[hexrot]

—This is Jayce Talis. [ that's not going to mean anything, to anyone. this man's voice is rasping, dragging, in between sounded exhausted, heavy and ill. ] I'm a scientist. I researched . . . The Arcane, with my . . . With my partner, Viktor— most of my life.

[ frequent pauses are a must. he almost feels out of breath if he doesn't, and that puffs through the radio, ragged and sluggish. ]

All of us— seem to have a symbol. A rune, on our bodies. If you've been to the Shrine, then I'm sure . . . You have something else, now. Maybe a message. Please, if you could show it to me. I'll be . . . [ another hushed pause, ] Outside the Common Room. There's a truck, with . . . Butterflies, [ the irony in his voice is dry. ] That's— Where I'll be.

If it helps get us anywhere, I . . . Need, to crack it, I . . . [ i promised, he mutters, before swiftly adding, through a strain that's tight in his throat: ] That's all.

(action/flavor)

[ jayce is rebounding hard on his magic sepsis as his first symptom to becoming undead! so he is not visibly well for anyone who wants to come see him, but he is trying deathly hard with the symbols and trying to fight the clock with obsession. the iridescent pick up near one of the camp lights is a mess of papers in the front seats as much as the flatbed behind it, spread out and held in place with pebbles or stones, littered with those very symbols as well as formulas he's trying to link and complete like a map.

it's what keeps him from giving into sleep. ]

Comments

voice

[serialmurderbot]

You still need those images from the garage. Does your vehicle have a display surface?

[No callsign, no introduction - hopefully Jayce remembers "Eden"'s voice, because the reference to that conversation is the first and only hint that Murderbot bothers giving. Especially since it's already compiling the images, plucking up its clunky phone to go searching for the vehicle in question once it's done. No point sending them over a radio when there's no proper data network, they'll end up lossy as fuck.]

voice > action

[hexrot]

—Yes.

[ he remembers, and he remembers the only one he specifically spoke to it about. it's about the only thing jayce says, there's not much when location has already been spoken.

a rugged man sits on the cargo bed of the only rainbow pick up, here, scrawling and talking to himself as he switches variables and redoes equations. the vehicle itself is switched on, spreading its headlights and becoming a beacon to find. ]

[serialmurderbot]

[It doesn't take long at all to find the truck, thanks to Jayce's instructions - even from the edge of the Convoy where the SecUnit had parked its ATV, it's not a long walk back towards the main trailers, and Jayce is right that his truck is an obvious landmark, one that SecUnit stares at for just a moment before approaching.

It's acquired an accessory or two since it last saw Jayce, in the form of a motorcycle helmet and gloves, but as it approaches it takes off the helmet so that its face is momentarily visible, remembering just how jumpy Jayce had been on first approach.

Of course, it ruins any attempt at a unstartling entrance by just popping up out of the surroundings with no preamble or greeting.]

Where is it?

action

[undyingcrow]

[Akechi could have replied over the radio, but it seems more pertinent to make an in person appearance, and a truck with butterflies should be easy enough to identify.

Though Akechi's a bit disheveled from the fighting, he's tried his best to appear presentable, despite the wear and tear on his clothing mended only by haphazard stitching.

The crow talons jutting from tattered fingertips of leather gloves are already telling, though he sees little point in drawing attention to them, instead clearing his throat.]

I heard your message over the radio. You were interested in the 'souvenirs' from the shrines, correct?

[hexrot]

[ jayce, if anything, is highly observant without necessarily accentuating one thing or another. one of the many perks of being a man of research. maybe plenty of moons ago he would've been more openly curious. he would've probed and questioned and studied himself on top of everything and everyone else, with excited wonder no less. now, jayce's approach is somber and cold, he fights against a mortal clock, with edged focus that battled with his infection.

he watches this boy as he comes over through the splits of his shaggy hair and sweat plastered face, a little weighty in considering the teen's age. and many others. ]

. . . Yes, [ he croaks, continuing to scribble the new symbols they've come across on the road. it means something. he's bounced ideas off the walls of his own skull and has come down to a good few possibilities. he just has to fit a few equations in and seeing if they make plausible sense. ] is it on you?

[undyingcrow]

Correct.

[To prove his point, he pulls up his left sleeve, unveiling the following message:

The First Tenant: Faithful to the Blessing
“I shall never falter from any blessing the moon bestows on me or my kin. I shall embrace my gifts, no matter what strife may stem from them.”]

Given the recent "Moon Warp," I have suspicions regarding these so-called blessings.

[andnevermore]

[ The man on the radio sounds really unhealthy, but Blake is able to put two and two together: this must be the guy that Yang had mentioned looking for runes with. There's probably not many scientists that have studied the arcane and are looking for runes, right?

The truck with the butterflies isn't too hard to find. They're pretty noticeable, and it almost makes Blake start to feel grateful for her own lumbering campervan. At least it doesn't have glittery butterflies all over it. But the man she finds is not even remotely the kind of man she'd expected to have a glittery butterfly truck. He looks just as ill as he sounds, and Blake can't help but wonder if he's picked up some kind of... monster plague? Husk virus? ]

Hi. I got your message about the runes? I'm Blake, I'm a friend of Yang's.

[ Tentatively, Blake comes to a stop a short distance away from the flatbed, far enough away that she can't quite see what Jayce is working on. Even the bits she can see look like complete gibberish to her, though.

She rubs over her arm where the shrine message is hidden by her jacket, feline ears flat with wariness. ]

If you write down the messages everybody got, will you be sharing them with everyone?

[hexrot]

[ jayce nods in acknowledgement. a friend of yang's, oh. a nice young lady. if it takes a bit for the man to look up, it's only because he's in the middle of a thought, and doesn't want to lose it. numbers and arrows, division and looping equations that seem to be going somewhere— until they don't add up, and jayce frustratingly crumbles the paper on the top of the pad and throws it like he'd hit something. he's so fucking hungry again that he could snap.

even the joints of his knuckles and fingers ache. curling into himself in an attempt to calm his breathing, heavy through his nose and resting his side against the cargo bed's confines, he inhales at one point. sharp, slowly, and tries, truly, not to vent any frustrations on a passing stranger. ]

We're all in this. There's no point in studying, if . . . [ the words, so simple, briefly escape him. he's not used to being so gradually disoriented. ] If it's . . . Just for me.

[ evening if the sole reason for his investigation is, perhaps, a little selfish. ]

[andnevermore]

[ Right. Blake probably could have assumed that. He's behaving like a scientist trying to study these runes, and no real scientist would gather data just for themselves. ]

Okay. Do you have to publicly identify who had specific messages from the shrine?

[ Blake keeps her arm tucked in against her middle, gaze low and to the side. She's talked with a couple of other people about these messages, and theirs didn't seem to be really personal. Hers does. And she knows she's probably being paranoid and seeing a pattern when it's just coincidence, but she can't shake the feeling that she was meant to get this specific message.

But it means that she doesn't want Jayce to announce his research by saying hey guys guess who's associated with death and the breaking of patterns, that's right, the emo girl. ]

Mine's... [ Blake sighs. ] I just don't feel comfortable sharing it with everyone.

not here

[thetatters]

[ John is eavesdropping on this entire conversation, sulking in the safety of his stupid truck, and judging everyone. He's spent enough time with tomes of forbidden knowledge to see where it gets you. It starts as well-intentioned gathering of evidence, but then you find yourself huddled in a cave full of viscera, or chanting Iä! Shub-Niggurath! while the world's fucking ending. Idiots. ]

[hexrot]

voice

[killjoyprince]

I managed to take a few photos, though the quality could be better. [2011 phone quality. ] I've also copied what I've been able to.

[But anyway, she knows that name. Though the voice was...worse than it was last time.]

I thought you said you were fine.

[hexrot]

[ oh. it's squirt. jayce's fondness for the youth of the camp ripples, but he's much too worn to react as brightly as he used to. all he can do is do so quietly, to himself, his sigh a defeat. ]

I was.

[ his voice cracks a bit at the last part. he was . . . supposed to be alright. he was supposed to be alright for much longer than anticipated.

he doesn't even have photos, save for eden's recording, all of which are much more advanced, in a way, than the magic focused technology of piltover. ]

I'll take a look, if . . . You don't mind, bringing it over.

action (post-Moon Warp)

[bufudine]

[Serph remembers Jayce. The one who had a promise to keep.

He'd sounded... not good. He'd already looked incredibly weary before, but. Well, delivering his message would let Serph check up on him anyway. Especially when Serph himself isn't in much condition to slip out into the night and hunt. Serph doesn't know what the hell butterflies are but he figures it shouldn't be that hard to find the man.

When Serph shows up, he is sporting 6 new wings in light blue feathers, each of them having 6 of their primary feathers tipped in the same bright orange streak that had been splashed across the front of his jacket. Said jacket is nowhere to be seen. In fact, he isn't wearing anything over his torso; the 6 wings makes that rather difficult. But it means it's easier to see the new mark and message burned into his right arm, as well as his semi-healed but very mangled left. It has the look of old wounds scarred over (even though they're recent), as well as stitches holding shut a gouge.

The other man looks intent on his work, so...]

Jayce. You wanted to see new marks and messages.

[hexrot]

[ the voice is more familar than most; jayce remembers it quickly enough, and is not too bound to deep thoughts to not acknowledge his arrival. he lifts his head and . . . stares, through the fissures of space left from the messy web of plastered hair to sweaty, pale skin. ]

Serph, [ if the energy wasn't being actively sucked out of him, there would be more kick to his use of distracting humor. instead, he does the best he could with gestures and a drawl of words. ] that's new.

[ everyone seems to be . . . undergoing something. some of the symptoms that didn't match severe infection still perplexed jayce: his hunger, his hypothermia. his body acts as if he's feverish, but he is nowhere near burning. he's ice cold—

but that could just be hexcorization. ]

voice

[electrifyking]

"Yeah I... Guess we should start logging whatever we find. I think I saw some sort of database in the trucks that we can record in as well."

[He's trying not to sound too suspicious or begrudging. Not every scientist is under the Kirijo payroll and interested in destroying the world, after all. And to the best of his knowledge, all the ones that did are already dead.

Besides, the voice raises a bunch of valid points.]

"My symbol is still on the blurry side. Woke up to it on my left hand, still no idea what it's supposed to be. Maybe... Something with teeth?

I can help you out a lot more with the shrine stuff, though. I ended up getting burned, and the message said..."

[There's the sound of rummaging, as someone tries to get a good look at his arm.]

"The Second Tenant.. Shun Stasis???

Erm... 'Stasis is the ultimate punishment, reserved for the most unworthy. I shall resist it with all my strength, and mourn when even my enemies succumb to it.'

Whatever that's supposed to mean."

[hexrot]

[ oh, the module in front of the seats. he's fiddled with that a few times and gets the gist of it. technology would be . . . more exciting, if that were his only interest. putting the findingd into the collective database was a good idea, and jayce grunts to it as an attestment to a future endeavor. everything on paper, first. palpable records. then, a virtual library. how does that even work . . .

well, he doesn't have much free time to sit around and wonder about it, or pick it apart. only enough time to understand and use it. that, if he even has enough time. when jayce hears the message, he scrambles for clear, untouched paper, and writes down what he could remember. ]

Could— Could you . . . Repeat that? [ his body protests, and his mind feels clouded. fuck— ] Slowly. [ and a huff: ] Please.

Action

[fists_of_funny]

If Jayce hadn't mentioned researching the Arcane, Yang would have had a harder time identifying him. He sounds like hell, much worse than he did during their fireside chat. Yang elects to go check on him once they reach their next stop. She finds the butterfly truck, but has to stop. Sure, the first night Jayce looked rough, but now...

Now he looks like death warmed over.

"Hey, Jayce? It's me." She holds her hand up in greeting. "Got the info you were asking about on the radio. You got a second to talk?" He does not look well. Did he catch something from the husks?

[hexrot]

[ ah . . . yang. the bags under jayce's eyes are deep, pronouncing the wrinkles of stress on his face. it's clammy and glistening with cold sweat, his lips only a touch apart to breathe with the inhale through his nose. even as he labors to fixate his misty gaze on her, his lips twitch up, but don't seem to have the energy to split apart.

in his lap is a filled notepad, and he's taken a moment off his work to keep his hand on his aching braced leg, the twinge of dolor there on his worn features. ]

Got enough for you, sprout.

[ there are so many young people, here. it makes him feel old in the ripest way. ]

( voice )

[airskate]

The Arcane that you researched. What is it?

[ His tone is best described as 'extremely wary'. ]

[hexrot]

[ oh, it's been long . . . since someone questioned him. the kind that would send him into an academic ramble, or diluted explanations. it brings a sort of melancholic memory, but stirs a faraway fondness still in him, somewhere. he'd probably make a good teacher. ]

Essentially . . . Magic. They're runes— words, commands, that invoke an action.

voice

[thelastb1]

Uh-huh... [A robot voice responds, drenched in skepticism.]

And how do I know I can trust you, "Jayce"?

[hexrot]

[ jayce has spent most of his life trying to cater to others, looking for approval, desperately . . . trying to show that he has potential, that he was a good person. that he was trustworthy. anything that the greater masses wanted of him.

that got jayce nowhere but farther away from his own principles. he could no longer bring himself to care if he was not trusted— if he even could be, really. it would certainly be a bit more difficult without cooperation, but, time wallowing about it is time he could be burning neurons piecing anything he could together before he kicked it. ]

That's . . . Your decision.

voice;

[justiceobjects]

Apollo Justice here. I'm glad someone's interested in keeping track of all this info, but... are you sure you're doing okay? You sound like you need a doctor more than a research project.

[hexrot]

[ what a proficient last name. while jayce appreciates the sentiment if it's real (sometimes he still gets the itch at the back of his mind that he shouldn't trust so blindly again, so he keeps it a length from his heart), he murmurs, his voice a scratchy drawl: ]

A doctor won't fix me.