Bring Out Your Dead! (Open)

[Isikais]

Isikais chuckled at the offer of a curtain, and then stopped suddenly. It had been a long time since he had cause to experience humor. He looked momentarily stunned, eyes slightly widened by the sentiment, and the resulting expression. He tilted his head slightly, smiling more naturally than before, and thinking to himself about the offered options. "Warm, please. I find it more effective in cleansing. I have my own materials for bathing as well." Isikais made his way over to the bag set against the wall, and rummaging through it removed several small colorful bottles of liquid. "You may draw the curtain if you wish, but I require no such exertion for my sake. It may surprise you to hear it, but as a Nuit I view this body much in the same way you might view a beloved and very expensive garment. It is the only one I have at the moment, but it is a shell, a thing worn on the outside. I tend to it and keep it because I do not want to have to change into another any time soon." He watched Hadrian carefully for signs of discomfort as he explained himself. One hand undid the buttons of his shirt from top to bottom. "I am afraid though, I will be a poor example of what to expect from a Nuit. We are many and varied in what things we still hold from our lives as mortals. We are equally varied in how well we tend to our vessels. I happen to take pride in the upkeep of mine. Perhaps that pride is yet another reason I hold no modesty as regards my body." Isikais paused a moment before removing his shirt and vest entirely.

[Hadrian]

"All right," was all he said to that. Apparently it was time to put all that theoretical anthropology to work, because if he wanted to blend in with the cultures he visited, he was going to have to learn not to be Hadrian the Human, but just Hadrian, another person. He set two buckets of water into the hearth to boil and then started pumping some cool water directly into the tub. In a little while he would have warm to tepid water for his guest. This would all be much easier once he managed to master the fiery aspect of reimancy, or was rich enough to have servants to attend to things again. As he worked, he spoke to Isikais. "How... These are such open-ended questions, I apologize. How much does the body you inhabit change who you are? Of course, the stuff of souls is eternal, either jumping from body to body the way you do, or reincarnating naturally. If you are an Akvatari for three lifetimes, and then a man... does your soul miss flying? Or... here I assume that at some point you were Eypharian... was there a period of adjustment to having but two hands to work with?" He wasn't exactly ignoring Isikais, but he certainly commenting on the slow strip.

[Isikais]

Eager to watch Hadrian attempt to ignore the discomfort of social impropriety, Isikais continued to remove his clothing slowly. It was informative to watch the way eyes avoided certain places, wandering quickly away or never even reaching the partner in conversation. It was apparently less an impropriety to avoid the gaze of someone than to see then in a state of undress. Isikais would have to remember this. "The body changes little of who you are." Isikais began to respond, hoping the conversation would draw Hadrian to look at him again. He slid the vest and shirt off, separating them and neatly hanging them on the chair with special care to avoid needless wear on the fabric. They would need to be washed as well, despite only being worn for several hours. Nuit did not sweat, but the air in Zeltiva would color the careful mix of fragrances Isikais' clothes always carried. "I was Eypharian long ago. In truth, the first several hundred years of my life, with only a few brief exceptions, I enjoyed the pleasure of all six of my arms, as I only inhabited Eypharian males as hosts. It was easy enough in that time to do so. The Eypharian undertakers were very skilled embalmers, and one needed only ensure...I ramble." Isikais unbuttoned his trousers and slid them off along with his undergarments. His was a wiry body, developed from what must have been continuous and regular exercise in its former life, and carefully altered to suggest physical prowess without the bulk of too much muscle. He stood motionless for a moment and looked to Hadrian. "Every new body is an adjustment. The more divergent from the last, the longer it takes to adjust. In truth, I wish I had the wings of a Zith, the arms of an Eypharian, the legs of a Drykas, and the poison glands of a Symenestra, but such a Chimera would be unwelcome in most cities at best, and hunted down and killed outright at worst." Isikais approached Hadrian quietly from behind, noting that the young man had continued to avoid looking at him. He placed a hand on his shoulder again, and held up his clothing with the other. "I do miss flying, though." Amused nostalgia darted into his expression. He realized that he had not spoken so much since he arrived at Sahova. "Is there somewhere I can hang these when I am done bathing and washing them?"

[Hadrian]

"It would take a team of wizards to build you such a body," he mused, his mind trying to intuit its way through his general ignorance of those fields, but no clear solution coming to mind. "But I imagine you could accomplish it on Sahova. The Nuit wouldn't mind such a... Chimera." In that island enclave of wizards, he imagined Isikais could inhabit such a monstrous body comfortably. He chided himself silently for his close-mindedness. If such a construct were to be created such that they could procreate before Isikais inhabited a dead one, they could be as normal as a Kelvic. One day he sort of wanted to create a Kelvic for himself, too. And then Isikais was there. "Oh, yes. We can launder them tonight, if you wish," he said. "And then I can hang up the laundry line. I'll just..." He took the clothes and laid them carefully flat so he could pour the pails of boiling water into the cool bath water, and then the water achieved a comfortable warmth. "There you go," he said, going about setting up the laundry line to hang the clothes by. "Huh," he said, looking more closely at the clothes. "Sahovan fashion." Then what Isikais had said earlier about his body being a garment really sunk in and he wondered if he was being rude by Sahovan, or Isikais', standards. He forced his gaze up for an objective look at the dead body he was keeping overnight.

[Isikais]

"I'm afraid there again I mislead you, Hadrian." Isikais settled into the bath to give a rinse over himself before standing up again to begin to lather the soap from the smallest bottle, a translucent red liquid. It smelled of cinnamon, clove, and oak. The fragrance wafted through the room subtle but clear. Methodically he washed, as though it were a ritual he had carefully perfected over time. The same number of careful strokes, the same smooth motion. "I got those clothes from one of the bodies that we purchased. They fit this one better, and I traded for them with Selenius, one of our...caretakers, in return for the sackcloth this man wore." From a separate bottle Isikais dabbed another liquid, this one opaque and a creamy peach. He ran it through his hair, careful not to tug, the result of such actions over time being an unbecoming thinning of the full and vibrant head of hair that this vessel had. "I didn't want to look like a beggar when I arrived in Zeltiva. I remember enough of my days as an Eypharian to know that most humanoid cultures judge a great deal by the garments a person wears." It was an interesting comment to make as he catered carefully to the maintenance of the body he had just earlier implied was like a garment to him. His logic was nothing, if not consistent, though. Aside from the hairline fracture in his lowest rib, this body lacked any real defect. He was the picture of human health, complete with high cheekbones and firm musculature. "Many of the wizards of Sahova take poor care of their bodies, relying on the regular supply we get there, and even worse care of their garments, most of which is limited to drab cloaks and loose fitting robes to hide the extent of their bodies decay." Isikais settled into the tub again, submerging himself entirely as he rinsed, and lifting his head again only after nearly inhaling a mouthful of water to speak. "Eventually, however, this body too will decay, and I will be forced to find another vessel." He realized that such a comment might seem ominous to his new host, so he added. "Of course we can only inhabit those who are already dead." It took just a moment for him to realize that his comment would do nothing to alleviate any potential anxiety, in fact might only worsen the situation. He took this opportunity to carefully enact the same sort of discomforted looks Hadrian had earlier when trying to be reassuring. "And I don't kill or take unwilling vessels, in case you are wondering."His eyes widened and wandered, his voice raised every so slightly, and...that hint of red...he could not accomplish it without the use of morphing. He did not want to risk it in such a hurry. Tomorrow I will have to glyph that...perhaps onto a tooth or the inside of my cheek.

[Hadrian]

"Well, I wouldn't know about the fashion anyway," he said, thinking he would have to start paying attention as it was part of the cultures he would eventually seek to infiltrate. He watched Isikais bathe himself, mesmerized by the methodical, economical nature of the ritual, wondering if this is the sort of nightmare undertakers might have, their corpses seeing to their own needs and talking about it all the while. The thought made him smile bemusedly. Then, of course, he found a challenge and attempted to find a solution. His training had helped him compartmentalize his thinking, such that he could hold a conversation while engineering some magical construct with the rest of his brain power. His first impression: a gem implanted over the heart center, an energy feed, possibly blood, or borrowed Djed, granting the Nuit more life rather than extended undead. Possible problems presented themselves, then solutions. It would perhaps be more easy if he were better versed in the necromantic arts. Perhaps in time... Ignoring the possible veiled threats, he asked, "So what do you intend your choice of garment to say about you?"

[Isikais]

Isikais smiled at the word play, and considered playing ignorant for a moment and commenting on his clothing. Deciding against the game of cat and mouse, he replied simply, reaching for a long towel from within the bag, and stepping from the bath onto the bottom of the fabric while thoroughly drying himself. "That I am human." The four words implied so much, and his delivery even more. Never before had Isikais uttered the words with such desire. Hadrian, it seemed, had very rapidly roused his own inquisitive nature. Lower half dried sufficiently, Isikais stepped from the towel onto the floor, and began to dry the rest of his body, with as much rhythm and method as he had washed it. From his bag he produced another two bottles, both opaque, one alabaster white, and the other a dark black. "Next, that I am young, intelligent, and of moderate to high station. As I am sure you know, people will interpret a great deal form your appearance. Ones grooming and appearance is the first indicator of trustworthiness. Take yourself for example; had I been wearing the beaten clothes that came with this body, and been covered in grime and refuse, my hair disheveled, and my flesh evincing the early stages of rot, would you have been so kind and willing to offer me your assistance?" Isikais placed the towel over the chair and pulled a loose fitted robe from his bag. He donned the robe and a pair of sandals he kept as well, looking to Hadrian for his response.

[Hadrian]

"You wouldn't have gotten as far as the University before some drunken sailor or some ignorant and superstitions foysha had mutilated your body past use, or burned it, and so much for being a Nuit unless you can just find a freshly dead corpse and animate it without any preparation or rigmarole," he admitted, using the Eypharian slang for 'peasant' to see if it caused any reaction in Isikais. "You may not be a human, or perhaps wearing a human body makes you more human than you used to be, but it's camouflage. You're the urbane ambassador from Sahova who is less likely to strike fear in those who fear death on sight." He considered for a moment another idea, perhaps something a web mage from Cyphrus could manage, or a suitably powerful shaman, loosing the spirit of some comatose person from its moorings that a Nuit might inhabit a living body. Was it possible? Perhaps, but the means were so far outside his bailiwick that he couldn't form a method of doing so. "Being young, intelligent, and of moderate to high station," he continued, borrowing Isikais' words, "you would fit right in at the University. That doesn't describe the entire population, but enough." It described Hadrian, anyway. "You might at least have earned the assistance of Rak'keli's healers if you came actually looking like a walking corpse." He smiled a crooked smile. "For all the good that would have done. "You consider yourself human, then? Or do you want to be human? Or do you want to present the appearance of being human or of wanting to be human?" There were just so many possible permutations for this entity. Curiouser and curiouser.

[Isikais]

Isikais chuckled, entertained by Hadrian's stream of consciousness pontifications. He turned to pull a book from the shelf. Ahnatep and the Eyktol: Jewel of the Desert. Isikais showed the title page to Hadrian and grinned. "Foysha indeed. I am a human for today, and that is all that matters." His tone was lighter than with the first mate of the Zephyr many hours earlier, but held an equal weight of finality to it. "I will be here tomorrow Hadrian, and you will need your rest if you are to show me around and conduct a proper interview." He had already taken a liking to the boy. His inquisitive nature brought out a playfulness in Isikais that had been so long dormant. He cajoled the Nuits humanity back into existence with a harmless insistence. "And I promise I will not steal your body while you sleep. Well, not exatcly, Isikais thought as he opened the book and looked around for a candle by which he might read. Finding one, he placed it on the table and motioned as if offering Hadrian his own bed.

[Hadrian]

"All right," he said, wondering if Isikais was trying to play for more time by leaving his laundry for another day. Well, so far so good, he thought. If he didn't wake up dead, as Isikais promised, then he would figure out what else would need doing. For now, he left the Nuit in peace, dragging the bathtub to the door to pour out the water. It didn't smell like death, for which he was grateful. He then tipped the tub up in a corner to dry properly; with the sea air one didn't want to invite any opportunities for mold or mildew to grow. Especially with a corpse in the house. That done, he turned down the lamp, got himself his tea, and took it to his bed. With as little self-consciousness as he could manage -- he had never been one of those teenagers who played sports or went swimming with a cadre of others his age -- he pulled off his robes and shoes and climbed into bed in his smallclothes. He sat up for a while, sketching the shape of a blank human body, then adding in the size and contours of its aura. Sipping his tea, he tried to copy the pattern of color he had seen, once or twice taking another glance at Isikais to see if anything had changed or if his memory was faulty. When there was nothing else to add, he tucked the sketchbook and the empty cup under his bed to deal with in the morning. Hunkering down under his blankets, he murmured, "Goodnight," and tried to sleep.