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Topic Started: Jul 31 2017, 08:37 PM (316 Views)
Alexander Voight
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Alexander gently grabbed Louis's hands, clasping them over the coral and gently took both lumps, settling his crazed partner down on a black leather sofa. He pulled a roll of spider-silk from his coat and gently began wrapping Louis's head, while signaling to a server.

"F.F. Gerbrandt's Tincture of Vigour, please. Three bottles should just about do the trick." He nodded to the server, working even as he spoke. "Louis...look at me. It's Alexander. Remember? You are safe here. You're safe. You don't need to worry. I'm here."

A flicker of worry lit his eyes. "Have you been at the Republic again? I warned you about that place. Nothing good can come of it."
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Louis Ferdinand
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Louis quietly acquiesced to Alexander's ministrations. "Yes. Nothing Good. But Nothing Good could always be worse, couldn't it? Will be worse. Has been be worse. You've seen it, you know. It's important to remember, to not take what we have here and now for granted. If we do, we risk letting it slip through our fingers and into the yawning Black. Better to feed it with some minor discomfort instead. It's a small price in comparison." He took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling, lost in a momentary daze.

"But it's not all bad, I brought you a souvenir." Louis turned out his pockets looking for something, but it wasn't found.

"Oh... I guess it flew away. I'm sorry."
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Alexander Voight
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Alexander sighed, more worried than frustrated, and waved over the servants, who looked quite horrified at the sight of the gory man on the couch, much less the three innocent-looking blue bottles with their extensive paper labelling. Alexander grabbed one without looking, popped it open, and doused the bandages in it, letting it soak into the wounds like liquid fire or the blood of tigers. The second was popped open, along with a flask produced from the depths of Alexander's coat, was combined with the unknown but certainly pungent contents of the flask, and put into Louis's hands, with a stern command.

"Drink it...I know it's a lot, but drink it down. It'll help slow the bleeding."

The third, to the growing horror of the increasing number of watchers, was similarly combined with the flask's contents and left open, waiting for a second serving, perhaps? One certainly heard that the frequently-wounded gradually built a tolerance to the stuff, but drinking two in a row? Much less using the burning stuff on wounds directly? One would think the human body couldn't take it, or perhaps might explode.

Alexander shook his head, stroking Louis's face tenderly. "I know, Liebling. But you must be more careful with yourself. What have you been doing?"
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Louis Ferdinand
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Louis gulped down the contents of the bottle with the haste of a man left to die in a desert, then grabbed the second bottle and emptied it just as fast. He immediately began to violently cough and retch, but after a minute of threatening to hack up a vital organ or two, managed to keep the mixture down without further difficulty.

"Don't eat. Don't drink. Not now. That's the first act. The protagonist finds his conflict in the marrow of his steak, exposition in its tendons, premise in its fat and is set in motion by its blood. It all starts so innocently..." Louis sighed and leaned back into the sofa. The manic glimmer in his eyes had, if not passed, then at least subsided.

"It's hard to let go." He said softly, too quiet for the spectators to hear. "I will, I have, like I promised. I don't want to go back. But sometimes it's so hard to keep walking and it's always so easy to slip. I won't fall, I promised I wouldn't, but I can't just pretend it doesn't happen. That would invite disaster. So I have begun to expose myself to other, less dire circumstances in a controlled fashion, in hopes that I might develop some kind of immunity to... Well, you know. If it worked with smallpox, perhaps it might work with more... Esoteric infections?" He smiled weakly.

"It's already having an effect. I didn't do anything truly horrendous this time... I think. The damage looks much worse than it actually is."
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Alexander Voight
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Alexander pulled Louis closely, sighing, his tone more worried and concerned than anything. "I know, my dear, I know how hard it is. It's damn hard not to chase mystery. To reach for knowledge even knowing that it will hurt. But you need to learn prudence, care. Not drive yourself mad or cause real damage."

He smiled ruefully, indicating a ragged burn scar on the webbing between left thumb and index finger. "I know, hypocrisy. This is when a Correspondence plaque went molten and cooled as soon as it touched me. Had to pry it off with a set of kifers. But the point stands. Some routes will reward you with knowledge as well as pain. And others will simply destroy you. I didn't get this many scars playing it safe...you've seen the worse ones. I know what I'm talking about."
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Louis Ferdinand
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Louis relaxed in Alexander's arms, too exhausted to maintain the illusion of propriety. "I know you do. But for what you do is worth the risk. To increase the sum of human knowledge is one of the most laudable goals one can have. That you willingly shoulder the massive burden of your chosen expertise is doubly noble. You seek knowledge for a greater good." He took another deep breath, preparing himself for what he was about to say.

"But that's just it. The goal of walking that way isn't knowledge or power or justice or whatever else they might delude themselves into thinking they want. It is oblivion, pure and simple. Permanent, utter oblivion. It is an expression of ultimate masochism, Cupio dissolvi. There is no real mystery to be solved, no knowledge worth knowing. Everyone who has even the slightest inkling of what it entails is aware of this on some level. The whole thing, in all its grotesque absurdity, is simply a method to gradually eradicate oneself: all the observable expressions of the process—the ritual and questing and the sacrifice—are just a means to that end, nothing more. Perhaps in some sense there is an answer to a question, perhaps there is a due which must be paid. But there isn't. There never really was. Even if there were, you wouldn't care. You wouldn't remember. It never existed. You never existed. That is the only truth to uncover. Though if you're is the sort of person to seek such a truth, you've probably known all along."

Louis looked up at Alexander. He tried to retain a neutral expression, but the fear and shame in his eyes was obvious. "As you have said so many times, nothing good will come of it. That is exactly what they work towards. Nothing. No thing."
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Alexander Voight
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Alexander stroked Louis's back gently, holding him closer still. "I know. And you're free of it now. You're safe. I want you here to stay. You're safe here, with me. And to make a confession...I'll admit much of my searches are for my own curiosity. Benefiting all humanity is something of a side benefit."

He snorted, looking Louis over. The whiskey he'd mixed with the tinctures certainly seemed to be helping, but it was still hard to say.
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Louis Ferdinand
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Louis could usually handle his alcohol very well, but not today. It could be the blood loss, or some potentiating interaction with the tincture, or perhaps it was both. But for whatever reason, he was quickly getting quite tipsy. "I know. But it's okay. Even when your keep is away, you still contra—cantribul—cu" He paused to collect himself.

"Hilfst."
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Alexander Voight
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Alexander smiled, continuing to wipe Louis clean and settle him down on the couch. "Rest, Liebling. I'll keep watch over your nightmares and help you recover. The whiskey should help, at least."

He eyed the gathering crowd, thinking. This incident would probably cause at least a small scandal. What favours could be called in to help it blow over? To be sure, a husband helping his partner through an unfortunate fit wouldn't be hard to spin, but even so, the extraordinary circumstances of the event would have people talking for ages. Alexander sighed. Or, at least, until they found some new and more juicy scandal.
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Louis Ferdinand
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"Ah..." Louis sat up. He shook his head to clear the alcohol-induced haze from his head and tried to sit up straight. "Not yet. Not tired. I'll just... Close my eyes." Despite his protests to the contrary, he was clearly beginning to fall asleep.

"How is your game? News from home?"
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