(no subject)

[chiastic]

Name: un: PXW
Date: Feb 13
Format: Text

[Anyway.]

WANTED-- Lodging in a respectable rooming or boarding house, with a strong desire for the latter. The following accommodations must be met: No animals kept indoors; No children; No fellow tenants who might be susceptible to the vices of liquor, betting, or marriage. The room must be clean, quiet, private, and immediately available. A locking door is most preferable.

Prospective tenant is an educated man of science accustomed to long hours, with little taste for parlor games.

Make your reply here. References to be waived for the sake of expediency and convenience ONLY, and may be requested upon inspection of the premises.

Comments

[chiastic]

[FINALLY. Some decency.]

I am a doctor of the study of aberrant biology. I studied for under the tutelage of the very finest of the field and have been practicing independently for over a decade, having acquitted myself first at the colleges of Vienna and having traveled extensively in South America, Africa, and the far East. I have written a series of papers which you will not have read, am a foremost member of our Society, and a practiced forensic biologist.

Would you like me to expand further, or will that do?

[supersoldier]

[Decency, or an attempt to judge just how much necessity may outweigh his less-than-flattering bias towards those who proclaim to be men of science? Jury’s out, starting now.]

No. That’s concise enough. [With a slightly liberal application of the word “concise”.] Do you intend on continuing your studies and research in this world, living situation notwithstanding? If so, to what degree?

I’m trying to ascertain your suitability.

[chiastic]

Of course. The science is as applicable here as it was in any other place.

As to the question of 'what degree', there is not half measure in the field. Either you are a Monstrumologist, or you are not.

[supersoldier]

Field work isn’t the concern. The concern is how much of it you allow to permeate a shared living space beyond the confines of your own room.

[“Aberrant biology”. “Monstrumologist.” String the context together and it sounds like the sort of researcher who goes seeking specimens to toss under a microscope. It also sounds inordinately messy, and not something easily invited into one's own home.]

[chiastic]

The work is far to sensitive and dangerous to be accessible to anyone who might waltz around unattended. Hence my stated preference for a lock.

[supersoldier]

And if you can keep your work cordoned to behind that lock, then I have no issue with it.

[He will consider it the same degree of irksome as the Science Department back home; potentially wearisome, but easily ignored if kept to their own area.]

That being said. I keep no pets, there are no children. And I have no interest in the vices you listed. However, you necessitate cleanliness, which appears to run counter to the shared photos above.

[chiastic]

The above is evidence of a highly irregular reaction to specific environmental stimuli, the repetition of which would be impossible.

[supersoldier]

And what makes the potential for a second incident so impossible? What stimuli?

[chiastic]

The incident regarding the plate ware was, contrary to what some may believe, indicative of an able mind coming out of a deep state of analysis initially triggered by the significant environmental shock of moving from one world state to the other. It would be inaccurate to describe this state as dissociative, as referred to in the work of Pierre Janet, James, Sidis and so on, as the term implies a state of hysteria or speaks to some cognitive deficiency of which the sufferer is most likely unaware and therefore likely to relapse. Rather, the extremity of the action taken upon exiting that state of self-reflection speaks to the mind being both cognizant of the dilemma and willingness to take sure and decisive action in order to somehow reassert its grasp over the unfamiliar.

In summary: Unless we are to go traveling through another mirror into yet another version of reality, I rather doubt there will be any further trouble whatsoever.

[supersoldier]

[This man really is a scientist. Sephiroth is focused enough, intelligent enough, to parse the meaning before the neat little one-line summary (despite a list of unfamiliar names), but exasperation threatens to roll across him all the same. He tamps it down, partitions it away — knows that unflattering associations are not grounds for impatience when he was the one who asked for an explanation.]

The unfamiliar will continue to surround you in the foreseeable future. This world is foreign to us. There’s no guarantee that you, or any of the Mirrorbound, will avoid experiencing an event just as jarring.

And I don’t want my living space to suffer as a result.

[Cope less destructively.]

But as long as that’s made clear, I can give you the benefit of the doubt. You know your mind better than I.

[chiastic]

[Ha ha! Eat it, everyone who told him he'd never find a suitable arrangement.]

The terms have been made perfectly clear. And may I congratulate you on the sensible progression of this interview. Where shall I bring my things?

[supersoldier]

[Straightforward and simple enough, and done without any needless prattle. It’s about as much as he could hope for, profession notwithstanding.]

The Haven district. Northernmost part of the city, if you’re not already familiar.

[And he will just send the address here. The house itself has more than enough room for a paltry two people, though it is nothing very posh at all — rather ordinary, suited to the neighborhood.]

--> action; im sorry lol

[chiastic]

Then I will be with you directly to see that the space meets my needs.

[Which is how the good Doctor Pellinore Warthrop, looking rather more like a man who has recently crawled out of a roadside ditch - skeletal thin, dark flashing eyes sunken, hair grown long and his beard unkempt - than a scientist of any kind appears at the requisite doorstep with a single extra set of especially featureless (if one ignores the washed out, faintly rust colored stains speckling them) clothes under his arm.

Is it a good sign or a bad one that his handshake is so firm and his attitude so perfectly brusque despite undeniably unpromising appearances?]

Doctor Warthrop.

Don’t be, i’m laughing

[supersoldier]

[The man who meets him at the door presents a striking contrast. Tall frame, sharp cat-like eyes that do not spare anyone of their scrutiny. Straight-backed, dark clothed, and oddly still, even if he doesn’t deny the other the expected handshake. (Though he keeps it brief, much like all pleasantries often are.) There isn’t a single hair gone askew in the long curtain of silver that trails down his back, or the bangs that frame either side of his face.

Compared to the stranger and now-potential-roommate (hm.) standing before him, unkempt versus orderly, the difference is almost comical. Unlike what he assumed, what he’s used to. Maybe that’s his own misstep. Problematic? He wonders.

One facet lines up rather neatly, though, matching in the mismatch — his own tone is brusque. Not particularly warm, but professional.]

Sephiroth.

[His name, of course, though obvious enough from his username on the network.]

...Is that all you have?

[Referring to the extra set of clothes. Even then, he steps back and aside to let the other wander in if he chooses. The house is plainly furnished, almost exactly as Sephiroth found it, indicative of only having recently moved in (true) or someone who does not leave an overly personal footprint in any given setting (also true).

He can ask after his state in a bit.]

dwrp is the best joke anyone ever told

[chiastic]

At present.

[This said as he brushes past the man - him and all his impeccable hair - and into the foyer beyond. Wander Warthrop does, roving from room to room with the air of a rangy bloodhound tracking a scent. A creaking floorboard, once discovered, is stepped on repeatedly to verify its squeal. The stairwell banister is tested to see that it is securely in place. Doors are locked and unlocked. The spare room is observed with little interest. Eventually, he asks:]

Is there a basement or cellar?

[supersoldier]

[Sephiroth follows like a very tall shadow, hovering just a little down the corridor, or framed in a doorway, or a handful of steps below the length of the stairwell, as if loosely tethered to Warthrop. He has no commentary to make; there’s nothing that can’t be assessed by anyone with eyes. There’s more to be learned about this apparent scientist by observing him instead.

A pale brow arches faintly at the question.]

Both a basement and attic. Will you be using either?

[chiastic]

The basement would be most preferable, particularly if it has a floor of either stone or dirt. Fluids might be more easily contained there than in the attic, and the air is likely to be cooler and so reduce any smell.

[How promising.]

[supersoldier]

[This is not promising.]

What will you be doing that fluids and unpleasant smells might pose a problem? Are you going to turn it into your lab?

[chiastic]

As I said, it is a careful business and best kept near to hand. It would be irresponsible as well as inconvenient to pursue my work elsewhere.

[He has wandered back down into the parlor now, running a hand along the mantle to check for dust.]

[supersoldier]

And again, your work will consist of doing what?

[No dust on that hand. Sephiroth, as useless as he is with most other things mundane and domestic, can and will at least keep a clean living space. He had seen to it first and foremost.]

Are you bringing samples back from the field?

[chiastic]

[He runs forefinger over thumb. Good. Yes, that's quite good.]

I would think it very likely, yes. And of course there will be the evening deliveries.

[Warthrop looks to him then.]

This basement. Tell me, is the ceiling of a reasonable height, and are the beams supporting the floor above it exposed or have they been closed in?

[supersoldier]

[The basement, as far as he’s concerned, can wait.]

Evening deliveries. [Dully.] I recall stating that your science, and all that it entails, is only tolerable as long as it’s out of sight and out of mind. I don’t see how that’s possible with potential leaks, smells, and now unnamed deliveries.

[chiastic]

Which is precisely why I recommended the basement rather than the attic. I trust that with a solid door, the aforementioned factors will be all but completely mitigated. As for the deliveries - they really are no different from the post or milk. You will hardly notice them. Besides, it is likely to take some days to find myself a new man for acquisitions. I imagine the market to be stretched quite thin in a place like this one.

[supersoldier]

[He notes that this man tends to offer answers while simultaneously side-stepping the finer details.]

What are these acquisitions?

[chiastic]

Specimens for study. Were every scientist to rely solely on he could personally collect, we might still be as good Ezekiel wandering the Valley of Bones, waiting for the Lord to explain the concept of tendons.

[Which, he seems to think, is an excellent joke albeit one Warthrop waves away with a dismissive hand as if he immediately regrets the distraction of his own rancid humor.]

As for specifics - that remains to be seen.