If you don't stop, you'll lose control

[blackmagus]

Who: Fortescue, and you (open)
Where: The bar.
When: Day 78, late morning/early afternoon.
What: Fortescue stops holing herself up in her room and decides to go to the bar to self-medicate her discomforts.



She was cut off from the Planes, and that was the problem. Normally the connection was healed in what felt like a matter of minutes. But when the barrier had split open, it had ruptured the connection to her soul, safely contained within Jazz, and now it was healing, but slowly. At first she had felt normal, as far as being severed from your soul was concerned, but here in the Cape she was cut off from the medication that stopped the later panic attacks and hallucinations. One of her superiors had once, with immense gravity, described it as the little bit of your soul that's left, having a nervous breakdown. She had crawled under her metaphorical rock and had barely come out, Jazz howling up a pained storm. Normally he was knocked out and kept that way, when he had to handle this much time alone with a human soul.

Fortescue didn't like to think of what it could be doing to him. It wouldn't kill him, she knew, or they never would have let her pick him as the carrier of an exanimed soul. But she knew it was painful, both from his cries and from the fact that — as the connection started to heal — she could now feel it. Prolonged pain did funny things to both people and animals. And this was like sitting in a sauna, with a switchblade being, occasionally, stuck straight through the heart.

Whether her Guide or the Planes itself normally healed the connection, she didn't know. But it would be at least another day, at this rate, before she and Jazz would both feel closer to normal.

To that end, Fortescue decided to go drink until she couldn't feel it as much. It was her standard solution to such problems, her tolerance being decidedly average. Imperium had always kept its secret weapon well-stocked, though maybe they had been starting to regret that move. And she needed to get out of the house before she started crawling the walls. Even when curled up in bed, she didn't like it, though possibly that was because of being curled up alone. That was being safe, however, because she knew exactly why her superiors cut her off from Jazz on certain missions. She was more... 'effective', that way. More likely to question instincts that others would consider moral or human. No matter how much she liked to pretend otherwise, she'd been trained to kill and that was what she did for a living. So for a few days, she kept herself away from others and only let herself talk to them over the comms. Or in short bursts.

Now that the tether to her soul seemed more stable, however, she was eager to get out. But sitting up and on a stool, or in a chair, seemed to magnify her discomfort. So late morning and early afternoon found Bethmora Fortescue sitting against one of the bar's walls, near the counter, with a twitching cat in her lap and a bottle of something nameless in her hand, humming something that was closer to a funeral dirge than anything else. It was 3AM somewhere. Probably. Despite the tone of what she was humming, she had a pleasant expression — aside from the occasional twinges of discomfort.

[ooc: For those who can sense such things, her soul residing in her kitty is about 500% more obvious right now. As the connection is still sealing itself.]

Comments

[blackmagus]

Jazz was sluggish from pain and discomfort, but he slowly pushed his head into Rat's hand; grateful for any sort of attention. Fortescue watched him, with a funny little smile on her face. While she doesn't think there's anything particularly malicious about Rat, she's never told anyone about this sort of thing before.

"In a manner of speaking," she agreed. Then she chuckled. "I'm not sure you'll believe me."

[bluesrat]

It wasn't until the cat head-butted his hand that he noticed Jazz didn't seem up to snuff, either. His fingers got busy with a good ear-scratching.

"I don't know..." He watched the cat, thinking this out. "I've been learning to believe a lot of fantastic things, since I came here, and more practice can only help. If you'll tell me, I'll listen, and try."

[blackmagus]

Fortescue had to think, for a moment, about how to word it. Perhaps it was best to approach it gently. Jazz purred at the scratching, appreciative, but it was much more quiet than usual. "Your world has the concept of souls, yes?"

[bluesrat]

For a moment, Rat toyed with the idea of making some joke about soul music, but she was unlikely to understand it so that might only confuse things. Instead, he gave a nod, settling in to petting the cat, and listening. "Yeah, it's the part of us that goes on after life..."

[blackmagus]

She nodded, glad that she didn't have to explain that part of it.

"Essentially. I'd appreciate if it you didn't spread this around, but..." How to describe it without being blunt? "I practice a type of magic that isn't very well received, in my world. Not much is commonly known about it, and the church demonizes what the general public does. And people do tend to fear what they don't know. Not that their fear is entirely unwarranted — in fact, it's very powerful magic, and it has a damaging effect on the soul when used often."

Fortescue stroked Jazz's side idly as she went on. "My job more or less depends on it. It's in the very job description itself. So, to protect me, when I was inducted, they had a member of the church perform an exanima on me. The process of removing a soul, and putting it in an external holder. Nothing too essential changes, as long as you stay close, and while the magic will continue to harm your soul, the... terrible side effects won't happen to you."

Not unless the soul was put back.

[bluesrat]

For a long moment, Rat was quiet, frowning mildly in thought and focusing his attention on the cat. "I won't discuss it with anyone. But that means... that your soul is still damaged, possibly badly? Won't that catch up to you sooner or later?"

[blackmagus]

"It must be," Fortescue agreed, thoughtful. "I have no way of knowing how bad it is, though I've heard that souls are... quite resilient. But I've been lucky in my life. Depending on your definition of luck. I only have to keep its holder safe, and I won't have to worry about it."

[bluesrat]

"It's holder?" Rat gives a couple of wheezing coughs, which might slow her answer, but once he's gotten a breath again he has more to say. "I don't know much for certain about souls- I've never been too good at religion, just good enough to know how sad that is. But I do know about people. People are very resilient, but we all have our breaking point, too, and we all need hope. Even if the only hope we've got left is that there might be something better after this life is over." He turns a look of fatherly concern on her. "If you're racking up some kind of... damage that's going to destroy whatever waits for us after, that's going to bleed through into your daily life, sooner or later."

[blackmagus]

Fortescue paused for a moment, thinking that over and remembering a talk she'd had as a child with her Guide. In the days when she'd been very curious about the so-called 'afterlife'.

"Back where I come from, religion is a bottle of laughs. Nothing true about it. Except for the parts about being a good person," she added, snorting just a little. "My soul will get dragged the Planes whether I want it or not, in the end, and then... who knows. Maybe it'll get recycled." Or eaten by a Behemoth, she didn't say.

It was a moment before she added, quietly, "But you're right. If my soul is returned to me pre-maturely... there will be some sort of effect."

There were old texts that mentioned the subject. Nothing recent. And nothing comforting.

"But I don't really have a choice."

[bluesrat]

While he may not be devout, Rat was raised going to church every Sunday, saying Grace before dinner, and some of the ideas linger in the blues music he's so devoted to. The idea of an entire culture so cavalier about spirituality makes him uneasy, and it may show. "I... see. Can souls heal? Is there anything that can be done to reverse... whatever damage is there?"

[blackmagus]

"Not that I know of. Of course, it's not like too many people have studied it, I imagine," Fortescue answered thoughtfully. "To be exanimed is also... illegal. I was given special clearance."

She was told after signing up that she'd need to have the procedure done, and by then she barely cared. It wasn't like she could ever see her sister again. Why should she care about the removal of a thing that, for all intents and purposes, did her more harm than good. Why care about others if your only purpose was for wiping them out. Steal a few laughs here or there, a few lively nights, and then die prematurely, like she suspected all of the Black Magi did. It was hardly a safe job. And if all of them had been exanimed...

But then, of course, she'd been transplanted here, and suddenly she had acquaintances and now everything was a bit of a mess.

She wished the tether would heal faster. She really did.

"I've never met anyone who specializes in souls, at least."

[bluesrat]

"There's a lot of..." He's afraid to say strange, because then it would sound as if he's including her in that, which really is the case anyway, but he's afraid she might be offended so he hesitates in search of a better word. "...unusually gifted people here. Maybe you should ask around. You wouldn't have to explain why." He rubs Jazz under the chin, feeling slightly useless. "Somebody here might know some way to fix it."

[blackmagus]

Jazz purrs, closing his eyes, movement sluggish. Fortescue watches him for a moment, while she thinks of how to answer.

"Sounds a little suspicious, doesn't it?" she half-jokes, before biting her lower lip. "'Wanted: someone who can diagnose a soul.' ...I don't know if I like admitting to the Cape at large that it might have... scarring, or... holes in it." The old texts she'd found hadn't been too descriptive on how a soul was damaged, exactly, only the effects of having it put back in.

Which had been horrible enough, really. Unconsciously, she wraps a hand around one of Jazz's feet.

"It isn't that people haven't been nice to me, but... It's a big thing to be able to hold over my head," she finishes slowly.

[bluesrat]

Frowning a little, Rat nods. "Okay, fair enough. That's a damned vulnerable position to put yourself in." He may not understand soul damage, exaniming, or her connection to Jazz, but he does understand not wanting to be vulnerable.

With a sigh, he lets up on petting the cat to pat her shoulder. "Sorry, I guess it's just that you're telling me, and I'm afraid I can't do anything about it."

[blackmagus]

Fortescue smiles at him, warm, bumping her shoulder against his gently. "You have a trustworthy face," she teases, although, for her part, it's true. She doesn't feel as though she needs to worry about telling him things.

"And when I drink I tend to ramble on and on. As you've likely noticed. I'm not dissuading you from your playing, am I?" she adds, nodding at his instrument.

[bluesrat]

She may be making a joke, but his face is not misleading. He's a trustworthy kind of guy, sometimes at his own expense.

He just gives her a smile, though, and lets her rub shoulders with his. "Honestly, I just came here because I was hoping there'd be somebody else here. I can't sing right now, anyway." His voice is still a little rough from the smoke, and he's not in a hurry to push his lungs. At least avoiding cigarettes is easy enough here, since the supply is limited.

[blackmagus]

"Fair enough, love."

If her injury were less personal, she'd be doing the same thing. That's how she'd found the bar in the first place. But the company was, in this case, a pleasant side bonus; it was the alcohol that was making her discomfort tolerable, at the moment, which wasn't commentary on her floormate by any means.

"We appreciate the company," she adds, stroking Jazz's head softly.

[bluesrat]

He gives a few rattling coughs, and scratches Jazz under the chin. "It's good company, yeah. Maybe I should grab a drink..." He eyes the bar, but getting up seems like too much trouble. He's comfortable right here, really. This is a perfectly fine alternative to playing music.

"I'm just sorry I can't do more for you."

[blackmagus]

"I've been through worse," she says, lightly enough, before considering her bottle. Jazz purrs, low, pleased and sluggish. "You're welcome to this, but it's not... appetizing, exactly. Just good at doing its job."

Fortescue considers trying to use her magic to get something for him, but then decides against it. Her accuracy is shot from the pain, and Blood magic strains the connection as it is. Best not to risk smashing a perfectly good bottle of something.

[bluesrat]

He considers her bottle, for a good, long moment, then shakes his head with a tired little smile. "Better not. I've gone the rotgut route before, thanks. I'll get a beer, later." Because it's really not worth getting up for. His need is nowhere close to hers.

"Just be careful, okay? I've been there."

[blackmagus]

Fortescue nods, chuckling and joking, "Don't worry. Caution is my middle name. Mostly because I don't have another middle name."

She doesn't mention the fact that this is a very common activity of hers, even when not under strain from her soul itself.

[bluesrat]

He rolls his eyes a little, and pulls a wearily amused face. "You strike me as many things, but not the cautious type. Just let me know if you want food or water to go with that."

[blackmagus]

At that, she laughs quietly. Perhaps she's not been the spirit of caution in the Cape, lately, but her job does require being careful. But she's not her job. ...is she? "Maybe not some of the time. But thank you, love."

[bluesrat]

"Somebody's gotta look out for you, right?" He smiles back gently, with concern that's fatherly rather than in any way flirtatious.

[blackmagus]

Fortescue tilts her head to the side, smiling. "It's been a while since anyone's done that."

In any way other than an official, employee sort of way, at least. While she and Darby are friends as much as they can be, it just really isn't the same as what Rat's referring to.