inspired, are we ?

                             PITY THAT  .

CARRD.             *  All  icons  that  are  not  from  the  webtoon  or  my  own  art  are  credited  to   @sssbnzi   in  twitter .

Another chance at life, unasked for.

❝ What's your name ? ❞ A voice echoes in the quiet, forlorn veil of the room; the source barely discernible for a few still moments before the flicker of a dim light illuminates both participants of this seemingly unlikely event [ The outlook had not been promising, previous subjects who had similar vitals never fared well; historical data seldom lies, science does not care for miracles ] ( But he supposed he shouldn't be that surprised, there were always the outliers to skew every data sheet no matter how stern the prior numbers had been ).

A gloved hand comes to repose against the table, finger hovering over a button before halting ( A debate in tactics. Oh what will make it easier for this one to comply ? ). A few taps to the frame of it before he stills his hand, aiming for a more receptive to input approach to avoid less chance of a . . . ' scene ' to occur ( Lessening the chances of equipment failure and unnecessary damage, that is all ). ❝ And may I raise your bed ? The upper half of it. It will be less uncomfortable for the both of us as I inspect your vitals. ❞ He chuckles. ❝ I doubt it would not be off-putting to have a stranger hover over you as you attempt to get your bearings either. ❞

Hunger of all worlds, the disillusion of the divine . . . A little twist of a smile lays on the vulture's otherwise impassive face, his mask covering any signs of whether the humor managed to reach his eyes: of sincerity.

Partiality for those that participated in the Jester's daily toil was seldom had; faces went as often as they came to the circle [ Terminated, betrayed, discarded, and never off to better pastures ] ( But that was no concern to him, was it ? He outlived Khaenri'ah, he could outlive this faction if he so willed it ). A soft sigh. [ Though the desire wasn't really there ]. ❝ Oh, one would think you despise the very thought of me . . . ! ❞ he croons, falsity laden with faux sentimentality: theatrical, ❝ abhor my very being, want me to waste away in the pits of ignorance ! My dear Regrator, this old soul must be fed every so often, lest it wither away in a bottomless sea of misery and boredom — you have been very quiet since the Golden House stopped minting the world currency, and I do have enough faith in your skillset to not deem you a fool. ❞ His fingers intertwine, chin resting atop them as he leans a smidge closer in his chair. ❝ Surely, you had a suspicion this would occur without the Gnosis, foreseen the new viable paths that made themselves visible to you as the currency slowly disappears from circulation — after all, it is an essential in alchemy and many other crafts amongst many reasons. Is that not right ? ❞ A wicked grin comes to adorn his face, a little too amused at the idea. ❝ So tell me, do you have any intentions to replace the currency with one of your own ? We have the Gnosis after all, you would be an imbecile not to. ❞

ONE HAD TO WONDER . . . Was the limelight truly such a positive after all ? In some ways, the young man had to assume; a cursory, yet very much accusatory, glance is sent his classmate's way. ❝ We should have brought the spectrophotometer, ❞ he murmurs, inflection waspish with a tinge of annoyance barely stilled, ❝ you would not have been the one carrying it, so I do not see why it was an issue. ❞ Maroon eyes peruse the crevices permeating the arch of the gate, clicking his tongue as he turns to his . . . project partner with a sigh. ❝ I always carry mine anyways, and it would have been quite helpful to check if the external structure had any signs of corruption before – ❞ he does a walking motion with his hand, ❝ – walking down those stairs and getting jumped on by Monster of the Day Number 2 because, apparently, one was not enough. ❞ Another sigh as he crosses his arms, expression sour. ❝ You were not the one thrown into the lake last time. ❞ Luckily, he had not been carrying anything of importance at the time ( well, apart from his dignity and dry clothes that is ).

He sighs again, fingers rubbing his temple as if harboring the weight of thousand lifetimes on his shoulders. Really, he was being a little melodramatic ( and unnecessarily vindictive over Al-Haytham's choice, for — if he was being honest with himself — the young man was just as, if not more, reckless when exploring ruins on his own ).

But that was different.

A SHARP LAUGH — unsettling, insincere, devoid of any softness implied in his previous tangent. ❝ You claim to know me so well. . . ❞ he croons, dragging each word as if to spite her immediate desire to leave: a mockery of her unease.

Nevertheless, he supposed he did indeed miss her ( as much as one did out of getting used to familiarity rather than genuine warmth; she did not particularly merit it, as entertaining as her irate vitriol became when thrown so boldly at him – Ah . . . But even then her lack of fear, a sight seldom seen, was usually short-lived when there was push back ). ❝ Many things can be susceptible to change over time; everything is malleable and humans are not except from erosion, ❞ he drones with blandness coating his very voice, already uninterested in this particular topic, ❝ I am not exempt in dabbling in the philosophical from time to time; humans are typical hosts of existential turmoil and its cousins. ❞ But she was right, of course; he didn't particularly care for the topic at hand, but rather found a certain kind of delight in being contrarian.

And so he smiles.