psychoshenanigans | Goodnight // AU

Just one eye, belonging to someone wedged in a corner. Back past all the corpses and wreckage, near the toppled-over table, he's in the only real remaining 'safe' place in the room. Jammed back between bookcases and holding his breath. At the man's entrance, the eye bobs backward, retreating as the kid scoots back into the deeper shadows.

The sound of approaching boots had prompted him to reach for a weapon--a half-delirious instinct--but the opening door brought the overriding urge to hide, and he abandoned it. It was broken anyway; he couldn't quite remember what exactly had smashed his staff, but it was in two separate pieces now. So, he scrambles back with the kind of haggard and hurried motions that tell of fear, and presses himself as flat into his sad little refuge as he can.

A human. He can tell from his breathing. Zhas doesn't lower his weapon just yet, listening and glancing around for any signs that it might be some kind of a trap. The body count is high here, though. If he had to guess, he'd say that this survivor is either skilled, lucky, or both. Logically, he should be figuring out how this factors into things, how he might be able to use him to find out what happened and why this place would be of interest.

But he's not thinking about that. He's fixated on that eye, second-guessing whether he saw it or just imagined it. That's what gets him to finally step forward, slowly pacing into the room, still ready to kill if necessary.

He takes his time, making his way around the corpses and the overturned furniture. He's trying to get a look at him, trying to establish an identity or a relevance.

Once he gets around to the proper angle, he has a perfect view of him, with how the kid can't go anywhere. Boxed in on all sides by bookshelf and wall, he can only cringe backward and stare like an animal.

And he does stare. Now that he knows that he's been definitely spotted, honed in on by this monster-faced man, it's all he can do. It's all he has left. Zhas will get a wonderful look of his eye--quietly seeping tears, perfectly round with fear, the glow of it a greyish moon-white.

Other than that, he's unremarkable. Smallish, youngish, marked up with signs of whatever battle had happened here. If Zhas didn't have that glow to read, there wouldn't have been much about the kid beyond an unfortunately missing eye to set him apart from anything.

Zhas takes a moment to consider what he's looking at. Younger than he'd thought, one eye covered. Hardly in a state to put up a fight. And now that he can see him clearly, that glow is unmistakable. It can't possibly be some trick of the light. The color is brimming with a potential for power, a potential to understand. It's a spark he's only ever seen a couple of times in his life in anyone else.

And that's what makes him slowly lower his arm and tilt his head, his obscured expression growing more and more considering as the seconds pass. His eyes narrow, and he keeps his hand on the trigger... But now he's regarding this stranger with more curiosity than apprehension.

What's more, he lowers his gaze to the ground after a moment, noting the broken weapon and a dozen other signs of struggle, before he turns his head and focuses on some unimportant part of the wall. He's listening. Footsteps down the hall, but they turn and go back up a flight of stairs. The other knights must be gathering, which means they may come looking for him again soon...

Seeing this frightening man lower his weapon, and then look away, taking his eyes off him... confusion is finally able to cut through the other emotions. Without his imminent demise being so imminent, he unexpectedly finds himself with a moment to think.

All things considered, he at least tries to think quickly. His mind is in shambles, but he manages to sit up straighter, glance around, forcing himself to try and come up with something useful. A weapon that is actually within reach, an escape route, a spell that he might still have energy for... anything.

But all he gets is a better look at fallen familiar faces, a clearer image of this man--one with actual details, and he can't move.

After a moment or two, he turns his attention back towards his find, making the decision to step gingerly out of the way, shards of something expensive crackling underneath his boots. He gives him an exit, space to edge out of his little corner, if he so chooses.

He's got a checklist to go through. Even if he's Clearsighted, he may not necessarily be worth the trouble it would be to drag him back with them. He finally speaks, voice both soft with disuse and rough with intention.

"Are you hurt?"

Whether or not it's true, he dumbly shakes his head no. He doesn't even give himself time to think about it; it seems like something that would be stupid to admit to either way. His attention is immediately shifting anyway, sliding to the escape route as soon as it's open.

He scoots around the corner of the bookcase and puts his hands back to use it to climb up to his feet. He's clumsy about it, scrambling a little, but he manages. And once he's up, his eye darts with the effort of wracking his brain for what to do, but he doesn't come up with any answers. He's left with useless rattled buzzing in his head, limbs that are shaking and weak, stuck back to the shelf as if it's the only thing keeping him standing.

He's not looking at the skull-faced man anymore, though. Now that he can better see the whole room, all the unmoving shapes in the shadows, he can't look away.

He watches the kid stumble upwards, pays attention to how his gaze sticks to faces and forms. This is more familiar to him, habits and feelings he knows with a particular clarity. That settles it more than anything. He will be of use in this investigation, yes. But now, in Zhas's mind, he also deserves to be saved.

"My men are clearing the area." He quickly glances back in the direction of the open door, where he can just see movement at the far end of the entrance hall. Then his attention shifts back to Coil. "You should stay here until we're done."

...His men. Stay there until they're done.

All of the things that he doesn't understand pile up with everything that he does understand and is still having a hard time processing. He's reeling with it.

He doesn't know who they are, why they're there, or what they're planning after they're 'done.' He doesn't know if anyone is left. Returning to staring at the man for a minute, shellshocked, it takes him a minute to form everything his mind if jamming with into a singular thought.

Bringing shaking fingers up to his face, he shakily gives the sign for 'why?'

That gesture looks familiar. It takes him a moment to remember where he's seen it before. Hesitating, he moves his hand away from his arm, drawing on muscle memory to make the same gesture himself. 'Why.' When he remembers, he unsteadily draws some signs himself, trying to recall how to piece together his thoughts.

They followed the monsters here. They do not know the situation. He wants Coil to stay so that he won't be in danger, if danger is still here.

He's not sure if he got that through, but it's a start... And it's much easier for him to stumble through these silent words than it is for him to find an audible explanation.

It's hard to follow. He's not used to anyone outside of his family understanding the signs, and even within his family no one really ever signs back. So, it takes him a minute. Watching his hands, glancing away to run them through his head and string the meaning together.

Eventually though, the picture becomes understandable enough. It at least maybe explains some things. He probably wouldn't be able to take in much more information than that anyway. So, finally manages a small dazed nod. He understands.

It'll do. Zhas doesn't necessarily need him to understand. He just needs to give him a reason to stick around instead of running off or wandering into any surprises.

He considers this boy a moment longer, considers the carnage his feet. He remembers a little boy and a record player. He gestures at Coil again, but simply this time. A little repetitive motion to get him to come closer.

Leaving the refuge of the bookshelf he's pressed back against, he shrinks a few steps forward. He flinches a little when his feet crunch on glass, the sharp sound grating against all that hypersensitivity.

He can't imagine what the man might want with him, but it's pretty clear that he's dreading it.

On the other side of Coil's approach, Zhas shrugs off his jacket. It's not the motion of something done on a whim, and it's not something with a great deal of weight to it. Rather, it's business as usual. It just has to happen, so he does it with neither grudge nor grandiose gesture.

He steps forward just as certain, swinging the coat up and over the stranger's shoulders. He pulls the collar forward to make sure it hangs well, reaches into an inside pocket to pull out a kit that he'll need later. And then he steps back, returning them to their separate boundaries.

He looks smaller without the coat. Not any less dangerous, given that all of his weapons are visible now--the bolts at his side, the holster under his arm, the blades in his boots, the strange sheath that circles around his waist... The coat itself is heavy, probably with more weapons and whatever else he keeps on him. But it's warm and it's thick, meant to keep out much colder winds than these.

"I'll need that back," he says, half-signing it anyway, "Don't lose it."

He turns, then, back towards the door, crunching through the remains of some vampire's skull on his way. He's got a lot of work to do.

And Coil looks smaller with the coat.

It makes him look like a child, with weights dragging down on his shoulders. As if the thing weighs a thousand pounds, it makes something about him buckle and crumble beneath it.

It's because the gesture brings reality pressing down. It's something sudden and tangible, and it isn't what he'd expected. It surprises him, hangs on him, pins him down to the present. Everything is a little more real.

He's grounded now.

The heaviness helps still his shaking, it pulls him back together. As the man heads out of the room and leaves him with the finality of his surroundings, Coil steps and sinks back against the bookshelf again... but the coat keeps him on his feet.

While Zhas has never explicitly told Coil to stay away from his office, there's a common sentiment around the castle that it's healthier to avoid it anyway. While his reputation as a vampire hunter and his quick trigger finger are enough reason for most, his occasional experiments don't help. Those are the days he will, with resigned indifference, drag half-conscious and whimpering bodies up to the third floor. They're never seen again, and no one really wants to know what he does with them.

On those days, though, he likes to keep the door open, just enough so that the agonized noises will float down the hallway and remind people that him killing them is probably the nicer of his options.

His office space is something of an organized mess. A large room, divided roughly between a "library" and a "lab". The prior is the side filled with research. Books are piled on every available shelf, practically overtaking one of the corners of the room--and still, relevant stacks can be found much closer to his desk. Arcane magics, vampire lore, scientific manuals, and most recently, a couple of books on signing have been dragged to the top of the madness. What's not covered in books is covered in notes, charts and scrolls and all the tools you'd need to keep up something like this. Over a decade of work is on haphazard display. It started out having a system; one could imagine that Zhas has been meaning to get around to sorting it all one of these days. But for now, it's abandoned to logical chaos.

Zhas is currently busy on the other side of the room. Meticulously organized by comparison, the walls are covered in medical charts, blueprints, multiple to-scale drawings of the castle's floors... Tools and technology are hung up on hooks or laid out on tables, arranged by size and function. His projects range from mechanical weapon upgrades to the full-blown chemisty lab he has bubbling away in the corner. But the real sight is the operating table, impressive and well-used. A large, spider-like contraption hangs from the ceiling, various electronics hooked up to the arms.

He's got a woman strapped up to the table today. She's still dressed, mostly pretty, but all the attention is up at her head anyway. He's managed to saw off the top of her skull, managed to convince her that not regenerating will greatly increase her chances of living. Blood and whatever other fluids might be up there are dripping nicely into a pan on the table (since he can use it later; waste not, want not). His weapon of choice seems to be a small drill attachment on one of the slender, hanging mechanical arms. Hunched over his work, goggles on, very focused, he very carefully lowers the quietly whirring bit into a specific point of soft tissue and--

She panics. Maybe not drugged enough, or maybe they wore off too fast. She's still too aware. Perhaps not of her conscious will, her wound quickly tries to seal itself up, catching the drill before he can remove it. A scream turns into a strangled noise. Zhas just pauses to sigh, leans back, turns off the drill before it can do worse damage, and frowns at the piece of metal lodged in her head.

That's what he gets for optimism, he supposes. They'd been making such good progress, he and her, and now he has to open the whole thing up again and dig out his drill, and if he were the the type to talk, he would tell her that it's no one's fault but her own.

The twitching will be a problem, though. Must have scraped something a little too important. He'd thought that perhaps he was done with the electric saw for today, but as that's clearly not the case... He reaches up for the correct arm extension and a set of scalpels on the desk behind him. Once more, with feeling.

Edited 2012-12-04 22:27 (UTC)

Coil had circled the area many times before. Getting a feel for his new home through gradual exploration, he incrementally pushes limits on the touchier--and more interesting--places in the castle. Just testing the water, careful about it, experimenting to see what gets him in trouble and what doesn't.

This room, he has been particularly curious about. The others avoid it, but it's pretty clear to him why. He hasn't gotten in trouble for hanging around nearby yet, so... today he gets a little more brave. How can't he, with Zhas actually working in there today?

The sounds are what really draw him.

First, he peeks in. Looking over the notes and books, words and diagrams, recording as many mental mental snapshots as he can handle. He's hungry about it, but everything on the other side of the room quickly steals the show.

So, then he hangs his upper body into the room, hand on the doorframe, technically still mostly staying out. He's only trespassing a little bit. And he'll stay there for now, leaning as much as he can, eating up as much detail as he can possibly swallow. The periphery of his attention works on the technology and other projects, passively absorbing details, while he ravenously picks apart the 'main event.'

He's not watching someone cutting into some creature. He's looking at data, assessing a work in progress, analyzing its problems and already coming up with possible solutions. Restraint seems to be the biggest area that could use improvement. If he could just get in there, he could really understand. And help. And get a better look at everything--touch, observe, investigate, remember.

It makes his fingers itch.

For a moment he merely stands, keeping his his thumb near the operating switch, thinking of the least damaging way to make her hold still. The restraints are already too tight, she doesn't have an easily-applied weakness, and it seems like his sedatives are always in short supply...

And then he catches him out of his peripheral, eyes darting to follow up on the thing that's not supposed to be there. He recognizes him pretty fast, assumes he must be there with some kind of message (because that's the only reason that anyone ever comes here), but then changes his mind. He doesn't ever catch anyone leaning halfway into the room, not even the crazy ones.

So after a pause, a moment to assess, he pushes the softly-hissing arm away from him, back to its previous position. Coil has at least 90% of his attention for the short while he can spare. What does he want?

Edited 2012-12-05 04:05 (UTC)

Zhas' eyes hit him, and he runs into that point where he's suddenly unsure, feeling like a burden. His fingers tighten on the doorframe and he stops leaning quite so far into the room. He's intruding, he knows.

He doesn't know how to explain that he's curious, interested. Even if he'd known the signs for the words, putting them together in a way that makes sense is beyond him. He wants to watch and ask questions. He wants to be a part of this work.

And he might not get another nice opportunity like this for a long time. So, he doesn't retreat all the way. He summons up a little bit more bravery before he entirely chickens out, and hesitantly points to himself and draws a gesture in toward the rest of the room. ...Can he come in?

Not a message, then. Genuine curiosity? Zhas is hesitant about letting any of the morons in the castle run around his lab, especially considering all the dangerous things he has tucked away, weapons and knowledge alike. But Coil definitely isn't a moron, and that changes things.

He knows physiology and anatomy, he knows about the undead, and he knows how to string ideas together to get progress. Furthermore, he's been nothing if not well-behaved and good at following instruction. He's never really had an opportunity to work with anyone else, but it might be... useful.

So his eventual answer is a quick sign--no touch--followed by a quick gesture inviting him into the room. He's under adult supervision, but Zhas is willing to give it a try. He reaches up for his saw tool again, focusing back in on the problem at hand, trying to think back through all the notes he's seen in the last few weeks for how Coil might be of immediate use.

When permission is granted, Coil enters immediately. The only reservation in his steps is out of respect for property and space, making sure not to bump into anything, working hard on being unobtrusive. And when he approaches the workstation, the curiosity in his face is not the wide-eyed awe of someone struck and shocked by what they're seeing. He knows exactly what he's looking at. It's a professional and eager expression.

He keeps his hands to himself, fidgetfolded together to make sure he doesn't accidentally give into the temptation to touch and look. While Zhas thinks, Coil spares a few glances around at all the tools--such a different collection than what he's used to--and then all his focus goes to the project at hand.

And, in a minute or two, he has something. And even though it's an offer, he still feels like an intruder. So, he's tentative when he makes two questioning signs--restraint and help.

He keeps Coil in his peripheral for a number of reasons, the biggest being that he may need to watch for more gestures. And he's not proven wrong--he's given an offer to help keep her still, which could be very helpful. Looking her over, it'd be faster, easier... and he gets his chance to observe.

So he nods, gestures vaguely over the body. Do what you want, he'll just watch.

He really does try not to look too excited about the invitation. It's more than he'd hoped for, so it's hard to hide. His hands drop free to his sides, fingers absently curling and uncurling while he quickly sets up a little plan, now that he's allowed.

It kind of puts him on the spot, but he apparently thrives in that.

Nodding a little to himself once he comes up with something that he's happy with, he gets to work and... ducks out of sight.

Crouched below the table with a wax pencil that he's fished out of his pocket, he's drawing on the floor. He wouldn't mark it up if he wasn't confident that he could clean it off easily enough, so he just kind of hopes that Zhas is okay with it. It kind of breaks the whole "no touch" thing, but he's sure that the results will be appreciated. Just give him a minute.

The little sigils he's drawing are small, but quite complex. Five little arcane circles, arranged in a skewed pentagram shape, though that aspect may be more incidental than it probably seems. They're roughly below where the vampires head, shoulders, and knees are.

And once he works his way quickly through the symbols, he stands again and swaps the wax pencil out for... a pen knife, which he uncaps and points at the vampire with. Then he makes a little stabby motion, and holds up his other hand to indicate a little.

While he's dived under the table, he'll hear the creaking and settling of a chair nearby. Zhas decided to take a seat for this one, waiting patiently with folded arms and a bit of a slouch. Normally he'd be less inclined to wait, but it's interesting. He only understands this sort of thing in theory, having had very little success with the actual practice.

And then Coil's back up again, indicating injury, bloodletting. His eyes flicker over the animated corpse as he considers, but he doesn't have to consider for long. She's already got a drill in her head; a little physical damage won't ruin anything. He nods, once, permission granted.

She's not really in a state to heal very well anyway. Vampire bodies are strange. Usually it takes conscious control to heal up, and this one's a special case. As long as it's not immediately life-threatening, Coil should get away with it.

Not life-threatening at all, it's just a few jabs. He runs through the steps with meticulous quickness; it's just like being quizzed at home. In his head, at least, he's performing under the same sort of scrutiny.

Starting with his subject's knees, he pops the blade into her skin and twists, opening up a small wound in each. Just enough to bleed. Then, he presses a finger to each wound, picking up drops of oozy blood on two different fingers, and crouches to stamp them into the centers of the appropriate sigils beneath her. He repeats the process for her shoulders, staining two more fingers and adding the smudges to two more circles.

Her head is the last step... and that gives him a little bit of pause. He stands there for a minute--bloody pen knife in one hand, the other hand held up at his side with red-tinged fingers spread so he doesn't get the stuff anywhere that it isn't supposed to be--while he thinks. He carefully considers what will be left untouched when Zhas gets back to work, judges where would offer the most stability, and finally picks a spot in the center of her forehead, just above her brow. And once he makes the wound, the last finger is loaded up, and he adds the bloody thumbprint to the final circle.

The rest is just a matter of activating it.

Luckily, the ritual is a simple one. He doesn't need any of his other arcane equipment. His focus and reverence is enough to make it work here. All he has to do is kneel at the sigils and stick his bloodied hand down over the topmost one, clear his mind, and mouth the words.

And the moment that it triggers is definitely noticeable. It's maybe a little dramatic for such a small spell. As if the symbols are drawn in gunpowder, they sizzle and ignite, scorching into the floor. The knifeholes in the vampire's flesh react much the same way, burning and scabbing up in an instant... but the most striking effect is the way that the vampire seems like she's suddenly yanked still by those points.

It's as if there are invisible hooks threaded through her body at those marks, and they're being dragged toward each circle by an incredible force... and it probably feels about the same. Her knees are shoved flat, shoulders pulled back and steady, and head dragged straight on the table.

He watches all of this with a remarkable calm; he places casual observation above everything else. It speaks of how much he already trusts Coil's intention and confidence. If anything's being tested, it's his ingenuity... and since Zhas has no complaints when the spell is completed, he must have passed.

He stands again, feeling at a shoulder wound just enough to get an idea of what the injury's turned into, how the body is trying to heal. He verifies with touch that it's a secure link.

"...Hm." Not bad.

And then it's back to work. With her head secure, it's easy to find the guidelines from last time. While he pulls the saw over, he gestures to the few pairs of goggles that are hanging on the wall, kind of shrugs afterwards. He doesn't have to wear them or anything, but sometimes little bits of bone fly off, and vampire blood stings pretty bad if it gets in your eyes.

He won't wait very long for him to decide, though. He flips the switch and, very carefully, starts cutting his way through skin and bone just like he did the last time: slowly, carefully, and to the severe discomfort of his victim.

It's not disapproval, so he'll take it.

And he frowns at the sight of the goggles. Protective eyewear is not something that he's ever had to worry about back home, and he doesn't know how comfortable putting a pair on over an eyepatch would be. But he does only have one working eye, so maybe...

When the saw spins to life, however, the debate ends and he is suddenly convinced. Power tools are something else that he's not exactly used to, so the sound of it gets him moving. Hurrying over to the wall, he finally grabs himself a set of those goggles.

It'll take him a few minutes to adjust the thing and get it properly fitted onto his face, but he'll head back over once it's settled. Stepping up... and then inching a little closer after he gets used to the sound of the blade. It's fascinating, if intimidating. He'll do his best not to crowd Zhas, but he is try to get as close of a look as he can to watch how that thing slides through bone.

It's a balancing act between working quickly and trying to keep everything as carefully put-together as possible. He skimps in a few places, especially thicker parts and grooves with distances that are harder to judge. But eventually he turns off the saw and, with some assistance from a very sharp knife, he's able to separate things again. He pulls it away in a few pieces, quickly tossing them into a bin at his feet. Useless to him--seeing as the skin and bone and bits of hair crumble into ash in seconds. Coil can tell, now that he's closer--there's something in the tray under her head that keeps the liquids from likewise dissolving, a coating on the inside.

And he'll stop to scribble something down in his notes, of course. Revision of the situation, the damage it looks like he's now dealing with... And after that, he can finally, slowly, reverse the drill and remove it from the brain.

From there he has to take a moment to inspect the damage as well as he can, with a simple light to help him see into the punctured hole. Maybe not as bad as he'd imagined, and she's still technically "alive", so... Another small note of revisions, in a shorthand that he'll translate back later.

Instead of positioning things to continue as usual, though, he stops to think--as it's a complicated question--before signing out his inquiry. Life in the brain. What does Coil think?

Oh... oh!

Coil's busy trying to get a sneakily-close peek at what the coating of that pan could be, when Zhas pulls his attention with a question. And after mentally walking back and forth along the signs to pull the meaning together, it suddenly dawns on him what exactly Zhas is trying to accomplish here. His eye widens as it all clicks, the lightbulb almost comically flicking to life up in his head.

And he does have input. His family had plenty of theories on the subject, ran piles of experiments, and it all spins around in his brain for a minute. He nods eagerly and his hands hover, searching for words.

Trying to explain is a mess. His fingers flick through letters as he spells out part of an anatomical term, but doesn't get very far. It will take too long and trying to then explain around it will only make it more confusing. So, he begins to point at his own head, stops when he briefly considers their subject instead, and then finally sweeps a frown over the charts on the wall. There's one of a cross-sectioned brain that gives a decent view, so he moves around Zhas to get to it.

He points at a few things, gives a couple 'kind of' or 'so-so' gestures. He traces a circle around two things in particular, though. The core of the brain first, accompanied with the sign for reptile. Then he indicates a collection of slightly more complex (but still pretty basal) structures, and runs through a few vague signs. He's frustrated that he can't think of better words for it, but it will have to do. Play and then together and both.

It's not one process. As far as he knows, it's something that happens between the reptilian and paleomammalian complexes of the brain and...

...He'll write out notes if needed. He's already scanning around for blank paper.

He watches this explanation unfold, much less animated but no less invested. Even through the goggles, it's easy to tell that he's paying attention. From the gestures to the chart, he's already thinking through his mental archive of the place, thinking of similar notes, connecting up keywords to form a bigger idea...

And then he suddenly kicks something with his heel--a drawer at his feet, built into the table and suffering from a bit of rust around the edges. The table is steady, but the drawer rolls forward with the shock and opens to reveal a sizeable stack of mostly-clean paper parchment inside.

He takes a lot of notes, so. It never hurts to have extra around.

But if Coil's going to get any of it, he'll have to do it himself. Zhas steps to the side, repositions the drill, and goes for a much lower angle. The core is tricky. The rest of it is at least easier to drill at in the immediate moment. He is running on a clock, as the hole in her brain is already starting to show signs of minor decay around the edges...

So there he goes, drilling another thin hole to see if she'll turn to dust.

He does go for the paper. Snatching up a leaf of it and uncapping the pen knife's arguably more useful end, he moves to whatever available countertop space there is to start scribbling down notes. He's sloppy with them, though... due in no small part to the fact that the work Zhas is returning to is infinitely more interesting than note-taking.

So, as soon as he's got down the basics of what he'd been trying to explain, he abandons the notes and sneaks up to peer around Zhas's elbow again. Just as hungry for the results. Zhas's methods are less precise than his family's, but they also lack all the tedious downsides. This way, they should get something interesting much sooner.

He nods a little when Coil returns. He doesn't make room for him, but his presence is now accepted rather than tolerated. Things are moving along.

This new angle doesn't prove immediately fatal. The vampire woman flinches against her bonds (both physical and magical), then grows entirely too still. She might have been confused for truly dead if it weren't for the fact that she hadn't yet started turning to dust. And that's what Zhas waits for, re-positioning for another attempt, counter-timing against the estimation of how long it'll take until her body starts disintegrating out of general damage anyway.

He thinks he's got one more shot. So he keeps the appropriate notes in the back of his mind while he goes for something in the other half of Coil's description. It'll need to be followed up on, need to be tested further, but he does make something of a satisfied sound when drilling down from a higher angle makes her give one last, uncontrolled flinch. Her fingers crumble upwards, her open wound starts to dry and turn to dust at an exponential rate.

And then, soon, there's just a pile of dust on the table. Zhas straightens, sweeps some ash away from his sleeves, and moves back to his original spot to finish taking notes.

Coil lingers a little longer. He's left staring at the dust for an extra minute or two, but it's just a place to put his gaze while he thinks.

The ending was enjoyable and he's interested in what it potentially confirms, but he's left with the thought of what know? He's maybe disappointed that it's over already.

And with this thought, comes reminding himself that he is trespassing. Fun's over. It's probably time to pack up and go home.

So, he automatically drifts back over to the scribbled notes he left off to the side, but... doesn't really know what to do with them. He can finish his notes in his room, and this one is written with an embarrassing amount of sloppiness. So, he picks the paper and just kind of... hangs onto it.

He's completely absorbed in scribbling, for a moment. Moves between his notes and marking a diagram, all his bizarre shorthand. When he deems it good enough, he takes his piece of paper, folds it in half, and tucks it securely into the cover of a nearby journal. That journal gets placed on a stack on the lab side of things, probably the only place he can put notes and expect to find them again in a timely manner.

And now that he has a guest, well... cleaning has been bumped a little further up the list. He could recall something similar to what Coil had explained, written in one of his collected research journals... but who knows where that one disappeared to...

But that's for later. The real matter, now, is Coil himself. He turns, his experiment finished, and takes to leaning casually against the desk. A lot of possibilities are opening up, a lot of different directions he could take this. While he's still understandably hesitant, and just a little suspicious out of habit, that doesn't change the fact that Coil is obviously and honestly hungry for this stuff. And that... Well, he's never met anyone who even remotely shares his interest in taking undead things apart, whatever the reasons.

He thinks of telling him, but he falls much more comfortably into searching for a gesture instead. It's a much more comfortable though. The sign for magic is hard for him to remember, but he follows it with good, and interested. And that's followed by what he hopes is an easily interpreted question--does Coil want a turn?

Either the question itself confuses him, or the thought behind it does. He fidgets with his notepaper for a minute, holding it a little closer to himself while he thinks.

He's sure he misread it. With how private Zhas is, the last thing he'd expected was anything resembling some kind of invitation, but he can't twist it around into anything that makes more sense in his head.

So, after a pretty big hesitation, he tilts his head?

He starts trying to explain again, but it's limited. He's spending more time thinking of what to say than actually saying it. Eventually he just stops, mid-thought, pauses... and shakes his head, making a slashing motion through the air. No, forget about it. Let him try this a different way.

He steps over to the table instead and flips a switch at its side. The barely-sunken surface of the table slowly floods with a thin layer of water, which helps settle all the ash. Better a pulp than something breathable, as a general rule.

While that's going, he walks towards the door. Signing for Coil to stay there, he adds, in very clear signs, I want to watch you work.

And though he's got one foot out the door, he waits for a reaction.

Coil has as much trouble following as Zhas has at explaining, leaving him loitering in place while he stares at the vague signs. Brow furrowed, he stands around as he watches Zhas busy with what he assumes is part of cleanup, then gets one step toward following after him when he's told to stay.

The explanation that follows throws him off. His expression unfurrows so his eyebrows can raise, surprised, as he points to himself in disbelief... even though that is probably the stupidest implied-question he could have reacted with.

Zhas rolls his eyes, if only because he doesn't have it in him for a, 'no, the person behind you'. But at least it's not out of annoyance. It's hard to tell; his expressions are so slight, and the way his face is painted only doubles the challenge. But there might be a little smile there. He might think it's funny.

Some idea about 'lost kids' bumps around in his head, but he disappears through the doorway before he can think about it too much. He makes sure to knock the door almost-shut with his foot before he leaves completely, though. He'll be back.

Edited 2012-12-12 06:52 (UTC)

Coil doesn't understand the joke. So, he's still looking pretty concerned by the time Zhas actually disappears out the door.

But, he's obedient. He'll wander back to the chair in the lab and take a seat with his notepaper, then. And wait. ...And try to run the scenario of Zhas watching him work through his head, over and over, until it's not quite as shocking and uncomfortable of a thought.

He doesn't take too long. Maybe ten, twelve minutes later, he swings the door open again. There's someone in his arms--another vampire, another girl with dark hair and that familiar deathly pallor. Judging from how limply she's being carried, she's not any better off than the first one.

He only makes it into the door before he has to use his words-- "Get the ash into the tray, far side. There's a brush--" He looks elsewhere, makes his way to the back with the kind of expert spacial understanding that comes from spending half your life somewhere. He picks up a couple liquid-filled vials off the table with his almost-free hand while Coil, presumably, does what he's told.

It's not hard to figure out what he means--there's another part of the floor on the far side of the table, where they were standing earlier, where there's already a layer of cement-like ash remainders. Anything he'd need is nearby.

Coil's on his feet and moving in an instant, looking around before he has even fully processed the specifics of the instructions. Ah, and then he's got it and knows what he's looking for. ...Or, knows what he should be trying to find the equivalent of. He grabs whatever seems closest to a brush and a pan and starts to clean up.

He works fast, frowns a little when he realizes that working with wet ash is way different than dry, but he does his best.

It packs better. Keeps dust from getting all over his equipment. He'll get used to it. Zhas appreciates the quick work more than anything (while lugging around one-hundred and twenty pounds of dead weight is easier for him than most people, it does not change the fact that it is still one-hundred and twenty pounds). When things are clean enough, he sets the girl down and makes at least the standard effort to make sure she's strapped on. Very practiced, very controlled, very comfortable with the motions.

Before he goes anywhere with that, though, he walks back and shuts the door. He makes sure it clicks closed completely this time. Not that he expects visitors, but--he doesn't want anyone in this kid's business.

Finally, he comes back, stands on the opposite side of the table. He's back to being blank-faced and analytic about things, since this is business, and he takes his business very seriously. And, since he hasn't forgotten, he makes a short scribbling gesture and holds his hand out, over the body, for the notes Coil had scrawled out earlier.

Having a new project set before him and feeling the pressure of working under watch finally has him forgetting most of his self-consciousness over his notes, and he hands them over with only a little bit of hesitation.

They're mostly an extremely crude sketch of the layers of the brain according to complexity groups, with some notes on what those parts of the brain are normally in charge of, and the beginnings of an explanation as to how vampiric life is in there somewhere. Sometimes those things can be damaged individually without inducing death, and sometimes not. ...There's sure to be volumes on experiments systematically trying to nail down the specifics.

Meanwhile, Coil is leaning to curiously peer at their new subject. It's the examining and analytical kind of curiosity, running through the possibilities for a new project.

He takes the notes, still hovering over the body even when he has them. In fact, part of the way through deciphering the scrawl, he leans his elbows on the side of the table almost as if the half-conscious vampire between them is nothing more than part of the furniture.

He does it partly to give Coil a little time to think and look things over. He'd come in interested in Zhas' work, and now it's Zhas' turn to be interested in how he interprets things--even the simple idea that Zhas would like to see what he does when given a subject to work with. But, beyond that, he's genuinely interested in the notes. Coil'd been working closely with this sort of thing. It's a long shot, but his expertise is probably better than anything else he'd be able to find. Besides, some of this looks very familiar to him...

After a little while, he hands it back. He signs simply explain, and then gestures to the body. That seems helpful, easy enough. Zhas can play observer for a little while.

This is... less direction than Coil would like, but he isn't about to ask for clarification. He can work under pressure, he's smart, and he wants that to be apparent. So, he'll have to settle for sneaking glances over to check what of Zhas' expression he can read, periodically judging how he's being critiqued as he works.

And, in the meantime, he needs a few minutes to think. He fills the time with magically bolting the vampire down as he had with their previous subject, and it goes much master with the circles already scorched into the floor. He just needs to adds drops of blood to the appropriate places, looking over the girl and brainstorming while he works, circling his way around.

It leaves him standing at her head again, watching her snap into place with the activation of the spell. He glances up at the multi-armed contraption hanging overhead, but... no, he's not ready to touch power tools yet. That would be too many big steps in one day. Instead, he looks to Zhas and mimes holding something, pulling his hand back and forth. He needs a manual saw.

Ah... There's a smile. Unmistakable and a little terrifying.

But soon he's turned around, kicking around at boxes tucked under shelves and a couple drawers that hide below tables. He's rather embraced the power-tools setup, and he's got more than enough replacements for those... but there's a certain finesse and preciseness that you just can't get when your saw is connected to a high-powered motor. He's sure he's got something hanging around.

It takes him dragging open two or three different drawers to remember, but eventually he finds something--laid flat at the bottom of a filing cabinet that is apparently not being used for files at all. He holds the wicked thing out for Coil to take (waves it at him a little), while he distractedly checks the other contents of the drawer. Seeing if there's anything else that'd come in handy.

The blade on the saw is good. Clean, very sharp. Well taken care of. Either Zhas takes this kind of work very seriously, or he has a special place in his heart for sharp things. ...Maybe both.

He very much approves of the blade. Good bone-saws are hard to keep nice, so he really appreciates the state of this one. After he feels the cutting edge, gets a feel for how this thing is going to cut, he wastes no time in bracing his subject and getting to work. Even with the restraints and magical bonds, he braces the vampire's skull for the extra stability needed for manual sawing, pressing a good grip down on her cheekbones. He doesn't bother even thinking about gloves; his fingers are already stained with blood from the spell.

It takes him a moment to get started, but he's quick about it once he does. This part, he's totally confident in. He's done this plenty of times. Once he gets used to the saw, catches up the muscle-memories of what it's like to saw open someone's skull, remembers the physical effort and momentum needed to cut through bone, he gets her skullcap separated in good time.

And then, as he's wedging the blade in to pry the pieces apart, he... stops. Looking around, he's really realizing just how much he misses the set of tools that he's used to having at hand. With one hand holding the saw in place, he spells out words with the other. Scalpel, probe, hemostat.

It's interesting, to say the least, to watch someone else sawing a nightwalker's head open. It would send stronger men than Coil into fits of disgust, surely... but then again, stronger men do not usually have a background in necromantical magic. So it's a little fascinating to see him work. This is what he wanted more than anything, simple little observations about his methods and attitudes and the way that he responds to information.

He shuts the drawer and steps back to the desk with a small handful of horrible sharp things, tools and the like--then reaches nearby for a leather case of tools much closer to what Coil is looking for. Not his set, of course, but the tools he keeps on backup.

And then he waits, watches. Forms an opinion, looks for structure, maps out what he wants to do with this kid.

Goodnight // AU

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