psychoshenanigans | GRATIA // PSL

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GRATIA // PSL

The first thing he feels is the cold.

It permeates everything down here on the lower levels. What little warmth humans have made for themselves is greedily gobbled up by the stone walls that surround them on all sides. Despite the stirring of people in the streets, in their homes, and around corners, this place feels like a grave. A similar sense seems to loom over the heads of most who make their way through this deep, dark part of the world, hovering around them like a cloud of inevitability. No one has been outright sentenced to death, but they may as well be.

Upon waking, Tek will have found himself in a dark, wet alleyway. Attempts to orient himself reveal that he has been brought, somehow, to an impressively large network of tunnels that all lead, more or less, to three or four larger chambers. There is far more vibrant life above him somewhere, far, far above the layer of caves he's in now, and there is also a very deep, sluggish form of life somewhere far below his feet.

No one is coming to get him. No one follows him in his immediate vicinity--the few stragglers hanging around doorsteps and windows don't give him a second glance, or even a first one. The place is crowded, but not busy. Everyone keeps their heads down. The people are all dressed poorly, in rags and robes and bundles that suggest a certain level of consistent poverty all throughout the level. The buildings in these tunnels look man-made, either built from scrap or carved straight out of the rock of the cave, but the majority of the actual roads and cave walls seem to have been formed with very little help from human hands.

The place is lit with lanterns and dirty-looking florescents suspended high above in the cave ceiling. The air is thick and stuffy, the smell of mold and mud prevalent over even the smell of human stagnation. It would not be hard to drag someone off, and he gets the immediate feeling that if he did, it's unlikely that anyone would come looking for them.

What does he do?

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[Tek leaves his hand draped against his forehead as he lounges on the pillows, continuing to reflect on the absurdity of the night. he watches Tonic and his cigarette, and gives one last chuckle when his companion finally speaks.]

It is your turn--if you still feel like playing.

[he moves his stocking'd foot to bump into the other's fake leg.]

Is there anything left that you do want to ask?

[he puffs out a breath of smoke, sending it roiling lazily out the bad side of his mouth. detached, he watches his leg get nudged by a pretty little foot.]

Well, I still have a sleeve. [he looks up, not at anything in particular, casual and conversational now.] And I'll admit I was still hoping to see you with your shirt off.

[though, who knows what's hiding under there. he gets quiet to think for a little bit, pondering what kinds of questions he may even have left for this strange, upsetting, fascinating person.]

[if Tek was concerned about getting the smell of smoke embedded in his clothing, he has a funny way of showing it. seeing Tonic sitting there, pondering, is too much to leave alone. after a minute, he sits up and leans forward to join him there.

he does go slinking in a sort of predatory way, but he's slow about it. he's trying to be nice, showing that he's just playing. he doesn't actually want to crowd him or imply anything too heinous. he just sidles up with a smile, resting his chin lightly on the other's shoulder if he'll let him.]

...What if I'm covered in scales? Would it be too much for you?

[Tonic casually flips him off.

it's to the comment, though, not the closeness. he stays mostly still for that latter part, not seeming to mind so much... he even minutely tilts his head, just to give Tek a little more room to come in close. he seems to be getting comfortable again, bringing his good leg under the bad, finding somewhere to lean back into.]

What if that's why I'm asking, hm? For the scales, obviously.

[and obviously... that isn't why he's asking. he's much clearer about that distinction this time, this is meant to be a joke. (so don't get weird and mad at him again, friend.)]

[he does appreciate the distinction. let's all keep our subtext-game straight, shall we?]

I just wouldn't want to overwhelm your sensibilities.

[it's still lightly teasing, but he does actually want to measure and warn as much as he can. he can better avoid crossing the line if he clearly knows where it is. he wants them to keep having fun. as it currently stands, he doesn't actually want to scare the poor boy.]

...But, if that is the case, I'll be sure to do a better job at losing.

[Tonic looks down at Tek in his peripheral, his strange, bleach-stained eye nice and visible. he smiles just wide enough to pull up at the dead half of his face before looking forward again. still thinking.

after a sizable silence, he sounds finally curious as he asks his next question.]

Ever killed anybody?

[the laugh that follows isn't necessarily a big laugh, but it is sudden enough to dislodge him from his perch. he props himself back on one hand so that he can still lean but not have to go very far, and he covers his chuckling with the other.

it definitely didn't sound like the laugh of someone dismissing the thought as ridiculous, but he still answers--] Never.

[Tonic just smirks. he expected that reaction, at the very least.

maybe he just wanted an easy answer, or a final confirmation.]

Lying.

[finding this very funny himself, he takes another drag from his cigarette.]

[pleasantly overdramatic, Tek sighs and shrugs. he's happy to give him this one. notary scribe indeed...] You caught me.

[and he doesn't drag out the next round. as he leans forward again, to tug off his own pretty black stocking, he peers over and asks as if it's a small, nothing question--]

What do you want?

[Tonic thinks about it, not watching Tek... and then laughs. mostly to himself, a scattered chuckling as if he's just remembered a funny inside joke out of the blue. and then he states, very plainly:]

I want to not be killed.

[ha, he chuckles too, as if he totally gets the joke. because he just might.]

If those two questions are meant to be related, I hope I haven't worried you. I assure you that all of my intentions are mostly harmless.

[it should probably feel strange or out of place to be reassuring someone who you've been having a lovely evening with that you're not intending on murdering them, but it seems to fit in this case. he can only hope that addressing the topic so bluntly won't have the opposite effect.

it's hard to know how to navigate these topics, sometimes. mortals can get so touchy about it.

and then, as an afterthought, he remembers the point of the game.]

And I suppose it would be silly of me to call that anything but a truth.

No darling, you haven't worried me any more than I already was.

[to which he gives another breathy little laugh, turning to look fully over at Tek again. he has a lot fewer reservations about pulling off his final sleeve this time, which he does almost as casually as if he was just getting undressed for the evening.

Tek had wanted to see scars, and he gets them here. Tonic's other arm is pale, healed-over but irreparably mangled. much of it has that same strange texture as his deformed face, where it seems just a little bit wrong all over. and much like his leg, there are old puncture wounds and bad slices that have since closed up.

most of the attention goes to the metal sticking out of his arm, though. delicate, slender strips of brass run over muscles, hooking up at subtle mechanical junctions, bending at hinges, connected by wires--some of which is clearly plugged directly into his arm. some of the entry points look a little irritated, swollen, mostly where his elbow bends and the parts would have been jostled the most. it looks invasive, and potentially very dangerous--but much cleaner and less aggressive than the metal sticking out of the two gentlemen that Tek had met earlier.]

[this time, Tek doesn't catch himself. there's an unreadable expression on his face as the scars and the metal are revealed, and as soon as the fabric is fully peeled out of the way, he goes reaching for where Tonic's mangled elbow bends.

he wants to touch it. he doesn't want to grab or inspect or jostle anything--he just wants to feel how the tissue is doing. he compulsively wants to make completely sure that nothing is rotting or poisoning or dying any more than it should be, and it's easier with a touch.

he forgets about the person that the limb is attached to, and the fact that he should ask permission first.]

[this has an affect on Tonic, of course. his only flinch is to tense his arm, causing those small wires to bend with whatever current runs through them. he also shudders, quiet but audibly, when he can feel fingers on the sensitive parts of his skin.

his nerves are all messed up. the tissue is thick and varied and calloused. but it isn't rotting away from the inside. it's not even infected, just irritated. it looks like Tonic keeps this whole setup very clean.]

What are you...? [he starts to ask what he's doing, but never quite finishes, forcing himself to relax his arm instead.]

[right. he should act like a human again. so, on goes the smile from before, and he looks at the man's face instead of his mess of an arm.]

Would you believe me if I said that I possessed an uncommon amount of medical knowledge for a notary scribe?

[he stares back, meeting his eyes.]

Wouldn't surprise me that much, dear.

[Tonic's cigarette is getting short; reaching out with it, he carefully taps some of the ashy ends behind one of the pillows, where the mess is promptly now not his problem. while Tek's fingers are still on one of the most sensitive parts of his body, he adds:]

You tampered with those drinks, after all.

[oh, it's entirely the wrong reaction, but his eyes light up. he seems absolutely delighted by the idea that someone might have caught him.]

You think so?

I know so.

[he doesn't seem... accusatory, at least not of the fact that Tek essentially tried to poison him. he's eyeing Tek more like he wants to figure him out than anything.]

Do you want to know why they call me Tonic?

[Tek is devouring that look, seeming eager and thrilled and just barely holding back information that he would love to share. or would love to be caught at. like a criminal excited at the idea of being discovered for their crimes.]

Of course. It was the very first thing I'd wondered about you.

[one crooked half-smile later, Tonic is reaching forward into his coat again, digging in that same pocket that held his cigarettes and pulling out a small, flat leather pouch, smaller than the palm of his hand.]

You asked potion or poison... But at the end of the day, those are essentially the same things. Just mixed differently, or in different amounts, or treated with heat rather than being left to fuse at a mild temperature...

[he says this while lifting the cover to reveal a line of small, delicate-looking corked vials. he pulls one out, holds it out for Tek to inspect. inside is a thick, pearlescent, whitish liquid.]

This one's popular. It sits in the blood, counteracts most alcohols and some lighter irritants before they have a chance to cause impairment.

[so not a hangover cure... so much as a buffered tolerance for alcohol. it is essentially an anti-poison, waiting to eat a very specific kind of chemical once it enters the body. this is mind-blowingly advanced stuff, from what Robin has told Tek of the Underground.]

They call me Tonic because I'm the best at what I do. So it's been frustrating me... [he narrows his eyes at Tek, again trying to puzzle out this mystery he has yet to crack.] ...That I still don't know how you were able to do it.

[he actually doesn't like the feel of the liquid in the vial, which absolutely fascinates him. he rolls it in between two fingertips, feeling the greedy stuff even through the glass, and he can't help but masochistically wonder if it would make him sick to try some.

eyes still on the vial, his smile creeps wider as Tonic shares his frustration.]

And I could have done much worse. Isn't that wonderful?

[he wants to play so badly. it's all over his face when he finally meets Tonic's eyes again.]

If you want to keep playing, you should ask me if you are the best at what you do.

[and Tonic's smile creeps wider in response, partly sickened by the idea that Tek absolutely could have tried worse, but partly secure in what Tek still doesn't know about him. he's shared a lot, but not all of it.]

Okay. [he does not sound convinced.] Am I the best at what I do?

[eyes bright and looking as though he's fighting back another horrible, teasing giggle, he shakes his head.]

Not while I'm visiting.

[Tonic scoffs. he doesn't care what strange traits this man possesses, magic or not, he refuses to believe that he could be better at this than he himself is.]

You're telling the truth-- [with a deft motion, he flicks the last of his cigarette out the opening of their little nest.] --but only because you don't know any better, sweetheart.

[the point was to ruffle Tonic's proverbial feathers and not actually to win the argument, so he seems satisfied. he moves to remove his final stocking, bringing each player down to only tops, bottoms, and whatever they might be wearing underneath.]

How would you judge it? I'm honestly curious. [because he is absolutely intending on returning to this topic later on.] And what would you do if it turned out that you were wrong?

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