tushanshu | oo1 / radio;

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oo1 / radio;

[ The line opens to dead air for a good ten seconds or so before there's a sigh, more amused than anything, and the soft sound of civilization around. Cain has made his way to the Welcome Center after being tossed down in an unfamiliar area of the Turtle and is just letting it all sink in for now. ]

So, what have I missed?

By which I mean: hello, Keeliai. This is Jacob Kane speaking. I was here once before, but apparently that was a while back. Can anyone fill me in or otherwise point me in the direction of someone who can? Losing so much time out of the blue like this isn't exactly the best way to get a welcome home, but somehow I doubt anyone's established a complaints department in my absence.

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[The moment Cain's hand is free, Skulduggery buttons back up and straightens his tie. He hasn't let being alive impinge upon his fashion sense. If anything, without needing a collapsible frame to give the suit some shape, being alive has only enhanced Skulduggery's fashion sense.]

What isn't the same?

[ Sure, if that's what it is. He quirks a brow to the quick fix, but doesn't comment on it. There's a few points in the positive for not swatting Cain away or not reacting poorly in the first place, too. ]

Your clock. It's wrong. [ His head tilts, a quick bob to the side. ] It has been, but it's different now. Remember what I told you?

About deathsight? Yes. You didn't explain very much then, though. Nothing about a clock.

[Although, in retrospect, a clock makes sense.]

What does it say now?

That you've run out of time.

[ Cain doesn't shift, doesn't give it away, but it's not a good thing for it to say that. He isn't happy about it, but he won't give off any hostility, discomfort or dislike at the thought. Just a fact. ]

And you've probably been out of time for a very long time.

[He nods.] Probably in the neighbourhood of three hundred years.

[Skulduggery won't put an exact date on it. He stopped doing that even when he was dead; he's hardly going to start now that he's apparently alive. Most sorcerers stopped keeping track somewhere around the 250 mark anyway.]

What would someone with deathsight see if they looked at your neck?

Right. That's what I usually see.

[ His brow raises, almost in challenge. Then he pauses, tilts his head and shakes it after a moment of thought. ]

Generally speaking, you never tell someone their own time. Once it was described to me as... as many days as there are grains of sand in the world.

Edited (what are tenses, whoa) 2015-08-17 21:29 (UTC)

So you're slated to live forever. You have my sympathies.

[Really. Skulduggery may not be three thousand years old, but he knows what it feels like to stare down the centuries and realise you'll probably live long past everyone you know.

... Or, well. He used to know what it feels like. Now, he'll probably age at the same rate as other sorcerers. Does that mean he's physically less than two hundred years old?]

You can't tell if this is permanent, can you?

More or less. It's pretty easy to live in the moment even knowing that, so it isn't so bad.

[ Which is the truth. However, that doesn't make it inescapable and the gigantic chasm of time stretching in front of him is enough to force anyone into a mental breakdown every now and then. ]

Not by your numbers. If this were anything like my world, someone would be on their way to kill you and enforce the balance. Since you're not used to being alive, you'll want to take extra care in daily activities if you want to keep surviving. It's easier than you'd think to get complacent.

I've already gotten complacent. I didn't realise I was thirsty until a friend of mine pointed out I wasn't drinking anything. If it wasn't for constant reminders, I'd already be dead.

[And showers. Showers. Showers didn't exist before Skulduggery died. He's at once repulsed and fascinated by them.]

I have to say, I'm glad I don't live in your world.

Have you forgotten to breathe or blink yet?

[ By the tone of his voice, it's something Cain has done and finds particularly amusing. Oh, those silly bodies recovering from major violent trauma. ]

So am I: people would freak out at the skeleton thing.

[ Among other problems a sorcerer's existence would cause. Even if Skulduggery wasn't magic in Cain's world... his personality was probably enough, really. ]

Yes.

[At least breathing is fairly automatic, and Skulduggery's body jumpstarts it if Skulduggery forgets. But blinking is a different beast, and more than once Skulduggery has been driven to the point of tears before he realises his eyes are much too dry.]

People always freak out at the skeleton thing. Most people get over it. Everyone else...

[... well, either dies, or stops being a problem. Never through any fault of Skulduggery's.]

... most people get over it.

Good. Then you're aware to keep from forgetting in the future.

[ Cain shifts, makes himself more comfortable in the Hotel. They're just having a casual conversation here, after all. ]

Suppose it's not much different from deathsight where the public's concerned. Well, the getting over it thing. Did you ever have any of those "I'm a skeleton but if I weren't, I'd really love to—" moments? I'd probably have those.

[Skulduggery follows suit. It's strange, all these little things; he's never benefited from making himself comfortable before.]

Not really. Every now and then a new type of food comes along people go out of their way to recommend, or something new gets invented - like showers. But otherwise, no. I can still drive a car. I can still talk. I can still go to the cinema. I can still wear fine clothes.

[He pauses.]

I could, I mean. I could still do all of those things.

[ Which is all well and good for a skeleton, but trying to stay standing however you want in the same position when you have skin just looks awkward. ]

Mm, showers. [ He grins indulgently. That was a good invention. He appreciates that one. ]

So... what, being a skeleton didn't inhibit your daily life at all? Or you were just so used to it by the time any new curiosities came around?

We were in the middle of a war. At the time, we were lucky I was conscious at all, and not needing to sleep or eat weren't really considered inhibitions with time and supplies running out. By the time the war was over, I barely remembered being alive.

[So much of being a skeleton came down to convenience. Magic was easier to use. Thoughts and conclusions came faster. Fighting was unimpaired. The only problem Skulduggery had was disguising himself from the general public, and even that was easier than it sounded. No one questioned the quirks of strangers.]

Right, a war. How long was that war?

[ Not that it was impossible for a human-length war to drive some men to such extremes, but somehow Cain imagined men with longer lifespans had longer to fight and longer lives to look forward to once they had their way. It changed a lot of things that he was no longer quite so ready to take for granted. Damn these alternate universes, forcing him to be flexible at nearly twenty-eight hundred. ]

Or... I remember something about a war. When we were dreaming?

Nearly three hundred years.

[No one kept track. And even if someone had, they would have argued over what precisely started the war (which Skulduggery could have told them, since he was there), and what precisely ended the war. It wasn't the treaty, in Skulduggery's opinion. It wasn't even Mevolent's death, or Vengeous's arrest.]

You know, I'd forgotten about that. I didn't think you were cognizant enough to remember any of it.

[ Cain pauses, eyes drifting down to Skulduggery's clock. He remembers what it was before this whole thing happened. Chances are, there hadn't been that large of a reprieve between the end of the war and now. Relatively speaking, of course. ]

Guess we should all be glad regular wars don't last that long. Not like that, anyway.

[ At the mention of cognizance, Cain ducks his head and shakes it. ]

Not at the time. I was definitely out of it. But Abel... wait, that's right. You met Abel, too. [ He glances up to Skulduggery, considering. ] You're the only one who's met anything like my brother at all here.

[ That terrible version of Abel in the fight against Malicant only half counts. What Skulduggery saw was the most honest representation of his brother that he could muster. ]

Very probably. Personally, I choose not to be glad until we've put an end to war entirely, but I've always been an incurable optimist.

[If by 'incurable optimist' you mean 'brutal and pessimistic pragmatist'.]

Should I be flattered?

Something tells me you're not just in the cleanup phase here. Long ways to go yet?

[ Cain knows the type. He isn't above poking them every now and then. ]

Well, probably. It means you have the leg-up on anyone else here when it comes to insight, and you seem like the kind of guy who'd appreciate that.

[ He doesn't mention that Raine probably rivals Skul for this familiarity. They're different things, and it's more some kind of sideways teasing than an actual meaning to encourage deep, thoughtful conversation. ]

In a manner of speaking. The war you saw ended about a century ago. A new one started just last year. It's theoretically ended now, but since it was built on lies and misdirection to begin with, I very much doubt we've seen the last of it.

[... We've. Technically, Skulduggery has seen the last of it. No matter what happens in Keeliai, he isn't going back home.]

I do appreciate relevant insight. I'd appreciate, for example, a little more insight into how your brother's managed to survive the years if popular mythology says you killed him.

A century without war is pretty impressive.

[ It sounds depressing like that, but overall it's a rather big accomplishment. Perhaps not as much when considering the relative lifespan of those engaging in the war, making something similar to the gaps between mortal wars, but he'll compliment it all the same.

At the comment, Cain tilts his head. There's a moment where he thinks Skulduggery has figured out actual identity hiding behind the facade — but then he remembers. The facade. Of course. Thankfully the confusion lends to itself and he answers rather simply, like it should be obvious. ]

I did kill him. He's a ghost, or something close enough to count for the sake of cross-dimensional understanding.

Ah.

[Too simple. Much too simple. Skulduggery might have chalked that up to his own personal lifetime experience bias, but Cain's lived for thousands of years. Nothing's ever that simple when you've lived for thousands of years.

The problem is that Skulduggery hasn't lived for thousands of years, and he already has the disadvantage of lesser brain functioning. If there is something more there, he can't see it.]

How accurate is popular mythology?

[i.e., Did you kill your brother because God told you to, Cain?]

[ Cain pauses, then allows a shrug while he shakes his head. ]

They hit the highlights, although there's less mysticism in it than they'd have you believe.

[ It's all the truth. Whether speaking about the original Cain killing his brother in a fit of jealous rage and being cursed to wander the land while staying safe from attempts at retribution, or that Remus and Romulus were suckled by wolves and their lives preserved by divine providence, what actually matters is the end result of the actions they took. Not how or why. ]

If you're asking about the existence of higher beings in control of our lives, then I'm afraid I'll have to plead the fifth on that one.

Because you don't know, or because you'd rather not talk about it?

[It's a joke. Partly. In theory, Skulduggery couldn't care less about the existence of higher beings. He had enough to contend with battling the insane worshippers of the Faceless Ones. In practice, however, he'd spent a good chunk of his life trying not to think about the fact that no one knew what brought him back from the dead, which makes him a little more curious than he likes to admit.]

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insertdadjoke - 2015-09-12 23:08 (UTC) - Expand

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