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(voice)

—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. ]

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[ 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?

[ 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. ]

[ 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.

[ jayce's brows crease with some thought, then smooth out. he's trying his hardest to keep his eyes focused, and when he does manage, he's glad that he could still read the room emotionally. hadn't lost that. she's doubtful and worried, much like how he'd rub his leather cuff or his uniform sleeves. her arm, where the message sat, was hidden away. ]

I don't see a reason where that's, [ just a break; to breathe. those were a lot of words at once for him. ] relevant. No one else needs to know.

[ it does make him curious as to why. most of these messages were random puzzle pieces, unless . . . she felt like her's was a bit too personal. jayce had frequently been plagued by the worry of what others thought about him, when his face was clean cut and his hair sharply trimmed. ]

If . . . You'll confide in me.

[ Blake slumps in relief, feline ears drooping. She probably is being paranoid. It's probably not personal. But. She just can't shake that suspicion. ]

Thank you.

[ It comes out as a sigh. Blake pushes back the sleeve of her jacket to expose the writing on the underside of her forearm. It's still a stark black against her skin; she'd been hoping it would fade, but that doesn't seem to want to happen, at least not any time soon. She angles her arm so Jayce can read the message: Aspect of Entropy: The force of death, deterioration, and demise of all things, as well as rebirth and even breaking such patterns. Domain of the Undead. ]

I'm still not sure what undead means, in this context. [ Her admission is clearly reluctant ] Maybe the husk things we've seen along the road. Or some type of monster we haven't encountered yet?

[ jayce's eyes read over the message once, then . . . fixate gravely on deterioration. it's just what he's going through. there's no evidence to convey a connection in the slightest, and yet— his mind still lifts a flag, and places it right there to take note of. return to this. it could just be him, reaching. it also might not be.

first thing's first, jayce makes sure to write the message on paper and include a sketch of the symbol that came with it. he starts a hum after blake's question, and once he's halfway through notetaking, he . . . slows. eyes wander away aomewhere far despit staring ahead of him. after a few seconds, he flips back a few pages in a rush to show her a different symbol and message: Aspect of Order: The strength to keep all Aspects in check and balanced, to keep from falling to Stasis. Domain of the Celestials. ]

What is a "Celestial" to you?

That was the message Serph had, right?

[ Blake had been too late to stop him from plucking something off an alter close to hers, and as a result, he'd gotten a message burned into his arm just like she had. She had reluctantly shown him her own message -- it had only been fair, since he'd been open with his -- but neither of them had been sure what celestial meant in this specific context. ]

To me, it would mean gods. In my world, we have the Brother Gods, the God of Light and the God of Darkness. They left our world to venture beyond the stars. But I don't know what stasis means. And celestial could mean something totally different here.

[ If only they could find a mythology book or something.

Once Jayce has finished noting down her message, Blake pushes her sleeve back down, arms curling uncomfortably around her middle. ]

[ so she was there jayce is listening, bobbing his head but not looking at the girl. he needs to string his thoughts together. they're making an uproar. okay. that page, the celestial symbol and excerpt, jayce pushes some loose papers out of the way to make room, and skids that on top. ]

This, this could be a reach, but, but everything, might as well be a damn reach— [ as his words start to turn into mumbles, he takes out a few papers and piles them to his right; they are all sigils that brand some of the people here, including serph's, which he leaves under the celestial rune. jayce has to flip through some more papers and finally finds the one he's looking for, ripping it off and smacking it next to the sigil, to form a triangle with all three slips. it is a crude sketch of serph. ] t— tell me, what you see.

[ he's shivering. it's another wave of chills, but he's pushing his hair back from his face and rubbing the cold sweat beading at his brow into his bangs. more than feeling pain, he hates the cold— and he's getting agitated, so . . . he starts to pace. with limited mobility, his brace squeaking and clanking as he lumbers here and there. he's. he's starting to look a little . . . out of kilter. ]

Wings. They're the same-- six wings on the symbol, six wings on Serph.

[ Blake's brow furrows, staring down at the sketches. When she'd met Serph, he hadn't had six wings, but he's still easily recognizable from Jayce's sketch, so he must have manifested the wings after they met.

She pushes her sleeve up just enough to look again at the symbol on her wrist, next to the message. Unfortunately, she can't see anything immediately recognizable about it. The spiral with it's two wavy lines intersecting it doesn't immediately scream undead to her, nor does it seem to reflect any of her own changes. ]

Everybody's changes are different. [ She muses out loud, mostly in a murmur. ] Maybe there's different categories, and Serph's is celestial?

[ The squeaking and clanking finally draws her attention, and as Blake looks up, she's taken aback. Jayce looks horrible. He hadn't looked great when she'd arrived, and he looks even worse now. ]

Are you... okay? [ It comes out halfway between hesitant and concerned. ] Because you look like you're about to collapse.

[ so he's not losing it is a pretty good discovery for tonight— the questioning that follows is not. he only stops in his short pacing to hush his snap, catch it before it comes out too snarled. he does alright. ]

No— [ jayce locks his jaws and wraps his arms tightly around his torso, his answer teetering between irritable and exhasperated. it's not that cold, and he's already wearing a jacket. ] I'm just— cold. N-need to move. Need to think—

[ need to stay sharp and god he's fucking hungry but he just ate a half hour ago. god, damn it— he's hobbling over to the front seat to grab for his dwindling stash of stale deli junk food. he's starved once recently living off mutated lizards that turned him inside out, he didn't want to resort to eating another if he could help it.

he just snatches blindly for anything in the glove compartment. turns out to be some potato chips. it's a bag of potato chips he's wolfing through with no hands, popping it open and tipping it up like a drink. food provides momentary relief, so eventually he'll hobble back to the truck's cargo bed to sift through sheets for a mark. ]

This— This one's mine.

[ Jayce starts wolfing down chips like he's going to die if he doesn't eat, and--

Gods. It just makes Blake's own hunger worse. It's twisting inside of her like a living thing, and nothing she's eaten has managed to satiate it. She'd even tried the bland porridge from the kitchen car, and she hadn't been able to manage more than a spoonful before she'd nearly heaved. Whatever she's craving, it isn't food.

She's forced to look away, ears drooping. Jayce probably wouldn't want her staring anyway. If he's cold, she wishes she could offer her jacket or something-- it's too small for him, though.

Blake only looks back when a piece of paper is shown to her, and the awful skull on it makes her eyes widen. If Serph's mark had looked like wings, this one looks like death. ]

Where did you get that? Did you touch a shrine as well?

[ jayce slowls his chewing the moment he sees the look on her face, but doesn't seem to stop. for as long as he's eating, it— soothes. satisfies, momentarily. it makes the pit of his stomach feel like it isn't really there after all. just his mind playing tricks to get another meal in. ]

I found it after I arrived. [ in the shower. but her surprise only urges jayce to question, like sniffing out a lead to something by her reaction alone. it could mean plenty. ] Have you seen this anywhere else?

No. It just--

[ Blake's not sure how to explain it. She's not sure that she should explain it, or that she wants to.

How does she say: I have fangs, and a hunger that food doesn't satisfy, and I had an incident where blood smelled really really good to me, and I have a message about the Undead branded on my arm, so I have a horrible notion that I might be becoming a vampire, and this skull mark looks like exactly what I'm fearing? ]

--looks unpleasant.

[ What a lame way to end that. She'd boo herself if she could. ]

But if we're tentatively matching that wing symbol to the message about Celestials, I'd definitely say that symbol matches the Undead. [ Her jacket is rolled back down over her arm, but she rubs her forearm anyway, uncomfortable. ] If we go even further, we could say that those categories are... what we're turning into.

[ jayce doesn't like this. would anyone? no. and the fact that he had a mark that looked like death and possibly could align with what blake says—

he has to string down the other marks, but he's . . . not feeling good. his vision is swimming around, buzzing and fogging at the edges. jayce's silent could be read as deep thought. his face is strained and he staggers for the side of his truck. front seat. ]

We'll have to— see the others. Later . . .

[ Oh jeez, Jayce really doesn't look good. Blake watches him stagger to the front seat of his truck, face creased in sympathy. If her logic is right, and he is turning into something undead, then this sickness might be part of it.

She has no idea what she can do to help. But she has to do something. ]

Jayce-- I'll be right back.

[ The dining car isn't too far off. Blake's only gone for a couple of minutes, and when she returns, she stands in the doorway of the truck, worried, holding out a bottle of water and a chocolate bar. It's the last of the candy she foraged from the garage they all woke up in, but this is a worthy cause. ]

Here, you should drink something. Are you hungry at all? Even if you're not, you should try to eat at least a little.

[ by the time blake returns, jayce has his forehead resting against the steering wheel, frame slumped forward. a little shift of his head goes sideways, the chocolate bar—

god damn it, it gets his attention. he's too weak to his own hunger to say no, and after casting a couple of hesitating gazes, her way, he reaches out and takes both offerings. food goes first, wolfing it down in a matter of only a few sorry moments— he barely chews. he just wants it in. ]

I'm starving.

[ but from the look of things, that helped near instantly. like helping blood sugar up. jayce knows his alertness isn't going to last, but he does . . . nod. she could've just let him rest.

his guard doesn't fall completely, but he has his eyes on her. ]

You didn't have to do that. [ . . . ] Thank you.

Yes, I did.

[ Blake's tone is gentle, but brooks absolutely no bullshit. Last year she was in training to become a Huntress; a protector of humanity, and that never just meant fighting the Grimm that plagued their world. It meant evacuating towns, and helping people when they needed it, and giving her last chocolate bar to someone that looks like he's on his last legs. She couldn't not help.

She hesitates, and says: ]

I'm... starving too.

[ Blake hasn't told anybody this yet. Part of her just wants to ignore it and hope it goes away, but it hasn't. ]

But I haven't been able to eat at all. Everything just tastes-- wrong. I look at a stack of pancakes and my stomach reacts like I'm looking at a plate full of cardboard. Or poison.

Edited 2025-03-01 20:05 (UTC)

[ jayce's attention perks to her immediately, watching her expression contort and the words that follow. should he write that down, too? it's the first time someone has come forth about a similar hunger to his.

he swiftly grabs for a page and writes: blake: hungry. dietary interests changed? ]

When did this start—?

Right around when we stopped the first time. It... started pretty mild, and got worse. I can ignore it if I'm distracted, but...

[ Blake trails off, shoulders hunched uncomfortably, gaze cast off and to the side. She can't help but be embarrassed by this -- she's normally so in control -- but there's a little bit of relief in being able to tell someone. ]

I feel like it's getting worse a little bit at a time, but I don't know what to do about it. Food didn't help. It kind of just made me feel sick, actually.

[ Her gaze flickers to Jayce; curious, concerned. ]

When did yours start?

At . . . Around the same time.

[ that deserves some joyting down, for the both of them. correlations. ]

I could still eat. I do when I can. [ especially when it starts to mess with him, either his psyche or with his deteriorating health. ] A few minutes to an hour afterward, it's as if I'd never eaten.

So, you've got a different kind of hunger, I guess.

[ Blake just wishes they had answers. She's always been okay at figuring out mysteries, but this is on a whole new level, and not everything's laid out neatly like it is in her favourite novels. ]

Do you think... it would be too much of a leap to say we're turning into something undead? Between the message I got, and the skull symbol you got, and this hunger...

[ Blake trails off, ears drooping. She can't help but search inward for her own heartbeat for a moment; she can still feel it in her chest, thumping away. So, she's not dead. Yet? Is she really going to acknowledge her paranoia that she might be turning into a vampire? ]

[ the more you dig, the less answers you actually have. at least for a little while— jayce was used to it. most research end up failures. ]

It's as much of a leap as what I'm doing now, so, [ jayce shrugs through a final chunk of chocolate, ] yes.

[ they don't have proof, they don't have a good number of subjects for a favorable sample size, even. just two? it's hardly enough for data to look concrete at all. they're already very different from each other in terms of symptoms, even if . . . they seem to meet at the same end point. seem. ]

It's a hypothesis. The more data, the closer you are to proof, so— if anything else changes, Blake, be sure to come find me.

[ something occurs to him, though. ]

And if I'm not around, look for Viktor. Or Serph.

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