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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Oh, it won't be that bad.

[which is, of course, far from a straight answer. and once he's settled beside his new friend, comfortably close and facing him, he takes his hand and guides it to touch the markings at his eyes.

even for someone undoubtedly well-versed in scars, tattoos, and all of the other various ways to mark up one's body, the lines underneath Tek's eyes are strange. they don't quite fit any of the commonly-seen modifications. the designs are permanent and slightly raised, but are far too smooth and perfect to be simple scarification. and achieving such delicate, solid black coloration would be impossible by tattooing onto scar tissue--at least with conventional methods.]

[if Tonic ever had hang-ups with getting up-close and touching other people, he lost them when he got into the fashion industry. he does as directed, sliding his fingertips over that perfect, solid line.

his expression changes to surprise very quickly.]

What is...?

[he never finishes his sentence. while most would recoil, he dives in to investigate, actually leaning in closer to really get a look at the way the line is raised, and the opacity of it, and how close it is to his actual eye. he runs his fingers all the way to the cute little swirl at the end, with no smudging, and no better idea of what this could possibly be.

he is all up in this business.]

[not only is it close to his eye, most of it actually runs over his lower lid, which is notoriously thin and difficult to work with--not to mention the obvious danger of it.

Tek is, of course, terribly smug and enjoying every moment of this.]

You said you had a thing for poisons, so... I thought you might be interested to know that this was done with one of the rarest and most dangerous poisons I have ever encountered in my work.

[if Tek enjoys this kind of rapt attention, he'll love the near-imperceptible inhale of surprise and excitement as Tonic's very favorite subject is brought to light.

since they're so close already, Tonic instinctively drapes his arms over Tek's shoulders, hanging off of him like a scarf. ready to cling onto his every word.]

Tell me about it.

[yeah, he pretty much loves this. a dedicated audience is all he ever really wants, after all.]

Oh, it's horrible stuff. Excessively dangerous. [he says, grinning with delight.] It does immediate, horrific things when it comes in contact with the blood, causing wracking pain throughout the body with even a small amount.

[he tips his head back a bit, to show off the markings just a little bit more.] However, when applied as an ink to scarification wounds, it makes for fantastic end results... even though the survival rate of its users is a little dodgy.

Sounds terrible...

[he says this with an awful grin that pulls at the bad half of his mouth, giving him a truly ghastly expression. he has many questions, and at least half as many theories to go with them, some of which are very dangerous.]

And what a bizarre application... I'd kill to know how they figured that one out.

[he loves the expression on the man's face, even with the small, nasty pit that it forms in his stomach when he thinks about how familiar it looks. luckily, there is absolutely no chance in the world that Tonic will ever get his hands on the vile stuff, so he does't need to dwell on it.

he can carry on and enjoy treating his friend to information that he'll never be able to use.]

Well... from what I understand, someone finally managed to survive the typical application, and the scarring they ended up with caught the eye of someone who was both clever and morally bankrupt. In an instant, a failed murder turned into a successful and impressive body modification.

[he chuckles, amused.]

Isn't that funny.

[he tilts his head a little, looking curiously up at Tek's face while still clinging comfortably against his chest.]

Is that just what rich people do all day at the Capitol? Excessively dangerous aesthetic modifications?

Only the ones worth knowing.

[he is indulgently comfortable right where he's at, with someone interesting lavishing him with all the attention he could ask for, so he glides along with non-answers. he's sure it's true somewhere.]

Everyone else is too busy spending their time and money on blending in.

[it's a very good non-answer, even if it doesn't really tell him anything at all.]

What a waste...

[he says, almost pityingly. being a nobody has its opportunities, but being a faceless somebody is just about the most banal and worthless thing he can think of. Tonic moves one of his arms so that he can brush his fingers (the good ones that still have all their nerve endings) against that perfect little swirl again.]

And what's this poison made of, hm?

[Tek lazily closes his eyes (though, fingers coming in near his eyeballs has something to do with it too).]

Ah... that is a secret. And it isn't worth thinking too much about anyway, because there isn't a chance in the world that you'll find some around here.

Oh, boo...

[but he smiles deeply, already trying to narrow down what it could be. if in a few weeks, word from the Capitol comes back about some weird market demand for a poisonous ink that doesn't exist... we'll know who to blame.]

[it really would make his week to cause a minor stir in the black market economy. maybe he should try whipping up some off-brand decoy, setting it loose to the masses, and seeing where it ends up...

which does remind him of something, actually.]

If it makes you feel any better... I do have a sample or two of a biological poison that I'm almost certain you haven't seen before, if you'd be interested in taking a look at it sometime.

Oh, babe...

[he laughs a little, mostly at himself, for sounding as excited as he is. but dangerous or not, he's always looking for new things to tinker with. his favorite kind of friends are the ones that will get him rare things.]

Extremely interested. You're spoiling me.

[he laughs a little too, because that hideous excitement is surprising, but pretty charming.]

Well, don't mistake me for being too altruistic. I am trying to make friends with you, after all... and maybe it could help toward paying off whatever treasures you're going to make me.

Hah, well. I won't lie, my friendship can be bought.

[with the conversation again shifting to the topic of business, Tonic finally takes a moment to sit back up, pushing himself stiffly back up into a sitting position, and then getting up to his feet.]

And so can my coats, if the trade is fair.

[he holds out his hand to help Tek up, if he wants it.]

[he'll take his hand for politeness' sake, but he doesn't need the help.]

I'm revealing my hand rather blatantly here, but... I'll admit that I may need help knowing what would be considered fair in this case.

[please go easy on the new kid.]

[Tonic doesn't seem bothered, or even that surprised. he waves his bad hand (a clumsier motion than the good hand would have been able to manage) to show that it's no big deal.]

Not to worry, dear. I'm an honest salesman, the first time. Sometimes the second.

[the good side of his mouth crooks up into another smile.]

And if you don't get it by then, you have it coming. Now--talk to me about what you liked out of that chest.

[he actually crosses past Tek as he says this, moving towards the mattress area and the piles of half-finished clothing around it.]

[Tek just giggles. and slowly meanders after him while he thinks over the various pieces he'd seen so far.]

I like a clean, fitted profile--looking like I could move around quickly and not get caught on anything if I needed to.

[but why would a good, well-mannered rich kid ever need to do something like that, right?]

I am looking for something I don't already have, though. A new cut of something, maybe, or a unique embellishment... I loved the brocade, but I always go for brocade....

[he likes his fancy fabrics, what can he say?]

[while that first qualifier is a strangely specific request, Tonic isn't going to think twice about it. he doesn't ask questions when it comes to clothes, and he doesn't have to guess about why this particular customer would need to be as mobile as possible.]

So a simple silhouette, to start. Definitely fitted.

[he starts picking things up from around the bed--a couple of already half-finished coats, some swatches, a small box of something that rattles when he lifts it. the mattress is shoved under a low part of the tent, which has been reinforced with sheets of metal.

that's not interesting on its own. several of the walls in here are reinforced with metal. but none of them are seven layers thick, like this one is. there are also some necklaces and bits of beaded jewelry hooked onto this wall, but they aren't displayed as prominently and artfully as everything else. most of them look uncharacteristically simple.

whatever the case, Tonic has to crouch to get a couple other things before turning back towards Tek.]

The story of this coat will be in the details, I think. [then, cheerily:] Let's get your measurements.

[he's learned that he doesn't generally need to disguise his stares and glances around Tonic, so he doesn't bother hiding his idle curiosity over the other man's sleeping quarters. he goes right ahead and looks at the details that he can see from where he's at while his interest is caught, and just as easily looks away again when it's time to move on.

he obediently begins to remove his (currently modest) jacket when it comes time to take measurements.]

The fact that you even used the word "story" there already makes me very happy.

[Tonic definitely won't explain his sleeping arrangements if he doesn't have to, as it's the only thing in this tent that he could consider even remotely personal. he's much more interested in getting Tek over towards that mirror again.

he dumps his things on a nearby chair and drags something else out--a canvas stretched on a light frame that seems to have been coated with dark paint. with a piece of chalk, he starts writing down what is probably shorthand for a few standard measurements he'll have to take--and then, with that set up, the fun can begin.

his instinct here is to just maneuver Tek around as he needs to, lifting an arm or tapping a leg. this is because he wants his mouth free for more important chatter.]

May I ask another question, darling?

[even if he doesn't often get the chance to go in for specially tailored clothing, the combined instances over the course of centuries add up to a lot. so, man-handle all you want, he can take silent instruction without hesitation.]

It's either that, or we engage in small-talk to fill the silence. [gods forbid.]

[almost childishly, he sticks out his pierced tongue at the suggestion. he plays in small talk with customers all day. doing it here would be such a waste.

but still, he'd hoped to warn his friend of an incoming query... he wouldn't want him to feel that he's been unfairly surprised, after all. while holding a faded tape-measure along the width of his shoulders, he asks his question with a fairly even tone.]

Have you ever been poor?

Edited 2018-12-10 04:37 (UTC)

[his first reaction is the acknowledging sound that is a wordless stand-in for "good question." it's going to take him a moment to think that one over.

he needs to decide whether to stick to his cover story or speak more broadly, lie or tell the truth, offend his new companion or try to pick something as neutral as possible. he also needs to decide what the actual answer even is. with him being something that exists so far outside of the realm of normal human needs, it's not something that he has really considered. to even run it seriously through his mind, he needs to change the typical definition of the term before he applies it to himself.

it all results in him sounding just a touch more serious or detached than he has been in their conversations so far when he finally answers.]

Once. Though, it was only for a short period of time, when I was much younger.

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