He'll Say Magnified Pain

[apathynotenvy.livejournal.com]

WHO: Doul & Ivy
WHERE: The path Doul takes on his afternoon runs.
WHEN: The evening after the IT CAME FROM THE SEWERS event
WARNINGS: None
SUMMARY: Ivy decides to check on the Captain. Automatically this means that she plays 20 questions with poor Doul.
FORMAT: IRC quicklog, formatted here.

Doul:	Vell, in that case, Doul has gone out for his usual evening run, it's a good way to work off all the stresses and annoyances of the day -- which, when you're in retail for the first time in your life, is a heck of a lot of stress.
Ivy:	She'll wait alongside some building that she's decided is, more likely than not, on his little running route. Neither too close nor too far from the park he goes through. "Good evening, Captain."
Doul:	He doesn't so much startle as he quickly stops and lets his hand drop to where he keeps a knife before realizing who it is. "Ivy."
Ivy:	She smiles. "So -defensive-, Captain? How does this fair evening find you, hmm?"
Doul:	"Old habits." Give him a moment? He was pushing himself pretty hard on the run. "And it finds me well enough. I take it you've heard that I've left the hospital?"
Ivy:	"Mmhm." She'll wait for him to catch his breath, she's feeling polite at the moment. "I did hear though he was a bit unclear on the why..."
Doul:	Perhaps they can walk and talk? It's not good to just stop mid-run and then stay still in the cold -- that leads to cramps and aches the next day. "Again, old habits."
Ivy:	They can, in fact. "I suppose it would be too much to ask if either of you could bother explaining old habits, for once. What is this lost thing you are so busy looking for, anyway?"
Doul:	"His name. I did something truly terrible to him, for what I thought was the best reasons, and he will only forgive me if I ask him by name." If she's not being too strange, he might even buy her a cup of tea.
Ivy:	Ivy is always being strange, so that's really up to him. "His name." Ivy taps a finger along her lip. "That would be...difficult." There is a pause before she speaks again. "Would this something truly terrible have anything to do with his scars?"
Doul:	"How bad are they? He...he said that it was a hundred years since we last saw each other and it's a morbid curiosity, but I wonder how they've faded." Either she'll be strange or he'll get cold.
Ivy:	"If that is after several hundred years of healing, I shudder to think how horrid they were to begin with. They are healing, Captain, albeit slowly." Well, there's her answer anyway. Isn't he at all curious how she managed to see them in the first place?
Doul:	"Just a hundred. That's all." Ha, yes, 'that's all'. He will be curious in a moment or two, just as soon as he's not thinking quite so hard about what he'd done. "I knew the ones on his face had healed, but I wasn't sure about the rest."
Ivy:	"-Just- a hundred." Really, does he even know how that sounds? "They're still there, on his chest and his shoulders and they are horrid. Why?"
Doul:	He's an old man, of course he knows how it sounds. "Like I said, I wasn't sure." Doul is quiet, reserved, and beginning to suspect he'd best prepare his usual blank expression for whatever is coming next.
Ivy:	She doesn't like this preparing blank expressions bullshit. "Why?" Answer the damned question or actively say you won't, don't waltz around it.
Doul:	It's too late, he's already withdrawn and perfectly composed. Doul's damnably gently voice seems to be at odds with the unfortunate truth: "Because I gave them to him."
Ivy:	And she can practically taste the way his feelings clash with the way he's speaking about it. "Do I look like a fucking idiot to you? I figured that out already, WHY DID YOU DO IT?"
Doul:	"Ivy, that is none of your business. It is a long time ago and I sincerely doubt you can change the conditions of my forgiveness by getting upset." It doesn't take long before he's able to reign in his emotions to match his appearance. He really is just that cold.
Ivy:	"No, I suppose I could be like you and just calculate and stare my way through this problem, really." Goodness, Ivy wants to strangle him but it would do no good. "Does he know why, at least, or would you rather continue on your errand from hell?" This whole conversation feels like uselessness. Who bothers trying to reason with people to turn themselves into brick walls?
Doul:	"He knows." Not all of it, but most of it. "There is more that I couldn't tell him before -- and before you say anything, I was physically unable to tell him and not being 'petty'."
Ivy:	"The contract." It's not a question, it's a realization. Fine, Doul. "Have you attempted rectifying that since then?"
Doul:	"I am trying to and this is as far as I've come." There's a sudden expression of surprise; it's easier to to tell her these things than the Brucolac.
Ivy:	Maybe because she yells but hasn't gotten to the point of throwing him into objects. "Define trying. I need to know what is going on here."
Doul:	No, it's because she wasn't specifically mentioned in the contract. "I ...can't talk about this in public. Can we go somewhere other than the street?"
Ivy:	Well, that would be easier. "Where ever you choose is fine." Ivy sighs. Century-long misunderstandings feel very much NOT her forte, yet here she is. "Lead the way, Captain."
Doul:	There's bound to be some sort of small, dingy, and likely revolting bar around that is open at this hour. If they've gone out early enough, it might even be empty except for a couple of the 'usuals'.
Ivy:	Someone sure knows how to show a girl a good time. Dingy bar it is, complete with over 40-year-old regulars who are there within the half hour of the doors opening. Ivy won't even bother looking at any of them, finding a booth and waving off one of the leering men. Something in her face (or maybe it's all the green) convinces him to get the hell out.
	With a rather unamused expression, Ivy sits down and raises her eyebrows at Doul. Well?
Doul:	"When I was recruited to Armada I was profoundly unwell and my employers used a man familiar with Teshi ways and gods to help support me, but that lead to a contract that I could not break." He's still not giving her the whole story, but if she's seen the Brucolac's scars that means they are close enough that she'll tell him this and he -ought- to be able to piece it together.
Ivy:	"A contract with the lovers, who were at odds with the Brucolac politically. So they ordered you to do...that...to him. At some point. And you had to, by merit of this contract." She has no idea which gods he's speaking of and can't say that she wants to. "What would happen if you had attempted to break this contract while still in Armada?"
Doul:	"I was required to stop the mutiny and rebellion at all costs, to put it down, and assert the power of the Lovers." He wasn't given exact orders on what to do, but they had wanted him to kill the Brucolac. "I couldn't break it. Nothing short of the Lovers breaking it themselves could let me free."
Ivy:	"So when did they?" It's not the question she wants to ask but it's the one that should come next in line. Ivy uses her finger to trace small whorls and patterns into the tabletop. It keeps her from looking at Doul too closely.
Doul:	"Five days after I crucified him to the mast of the ship." Doul doesn't look away or hide what he's done.
Ivy:	Good for him. Ivy, on her part, has the niggling feeling that if she spends too much time observing Doul's cool demeanor she might try to make his life miserable for the next half hour or so. Instead she folds her hands over her mouth and thinks. "So they're burns, from the sun. You fought, I take it. Why did the Lovers break this contract and why didn't you seek to repair all these things then?" Why the fuck where they still dealing with it a century later?
Doul:	"They broke it because they disagreed with each other and we are dealing with this now, because after this happened, I was taken here and he was left behind for a century." He really doesn't want to get into the ugly details of his contract.
Ivy:	"And in order to properly ask for his forgiveness you have to have his given name?" Ivy laughs without humor and turns her gaze to the ceiling, dirt and smoke stained as it is. "A bizarre fairy-tale type of fool's errand. You can't tell him this because?"
Doul:	"Because I only know him as the Brucolac and that is not his name." Simple, isn't it? "And there is our sordid history."
Ivy:	Depends on one's definition of simple. Plants, to Ivy, are simple. Century long feuds are not. "Of course asking it of him would defeat the entire purpose. So how will you learn it?"
Doul:	"I don't know. You saw my question on the network and while most of my replies were private, I don't mind letting you know I've had no luck." This may take him a very long time.
Ivy:	"Naturally I am going to assume he could not see that post. So why don't you mind? After not, oh, 10 minutes ago telling me this was none of my business?" Ivy is starting to hate this horrid little place and it's conversation. "Amusingly enough, this was not the original reason I wished to speak with you."
Doul:	"Because I found that I could say these things." Again, this is true, but not entirely true -- he wouldn't tell he why he harmed the Brucolac, and even now, he's still keeping a lot hidden. "Now, what was it that you wanted to say?"
Ivy:	The look on Ivy's face makes it very plain that she doesn't believe it is that cut and dry for a moment. "Someone was asking about psychic barriers and replied. Do you have a history with that sort of thing?
Doul:	"Yes." Goodness, this all relates back to the same thing, doesn't it? "I am not an expert and I don't know if it will work for anyone else."
Ivy:	Does it? "What is it you do, then? Trying is not likely to do much harm." She's still angry but Ivy's managed to temper it down to a smoldering fury in her chest for now, until she can sort out all the reasons and whys and talk to the Brucolac about it. Inevitably she knows she'll have to. "Were there many psychics in Armada?"
Doul:	"Low level mental tricks were common, but anything more powerful or specialized was rare." She's welcome to get as angry as she'd like, Doul will weather it and survive. "Simply, you know your own mind, and so that way, when someone else comes in, you can identify it, and if you're lucky, divert them."
Ivy:	Getting angry here would do no good, especially since Doul would just weather it. His stoicism is maddening to her more often than not. "How long did it take you to become good at it?"
Doul:	"Two years before I had any confidence that I could partition my mind." And that was already after he cracked the Probability Code and understood how to cause multiple simultaneous events that both did and did not exist.
Ivy:	"I see." Which in this case means holy shit, nevermind. Ivy's fairly certain that a good amount of the forcibly immigrated population will have either killed each other off or lost their minds from being in the City in two years. "I suppose I shall have to take my chances, then."
Doul:	Probably. Remember how Doul said that he could survive her anger by waiting it out? He did the same for his contract. Ten years of unwelcome servitude and he outlasted it.
Ivy:	Ivy has patience, at times, but it is often overruled by at temper that is quickly ignited. Who knows what sort of havoc she would have wreaked upon herself to be free of that sort of control. "What do you think of me, Captain? Be honest." It might seem slightly out of character with the conversation but it bothers Ivy that she can't just -tell- what he thinks of her.
Doul:	"You're powerful, fickle, and fascinating." He doesn't like the way she dared Harley to kiss him; being treated like an entertainment does not appeal.
Ivy:	The girl was bored and honestly she could have done much worse. Has, in fact. He should ask Mello what happened to his eye. "Hmm. Other than the Brucolac's name and forgiveness, what do you want?"
Doul:	"To return to Armada, failing that, to survive, to learn, explore." Doul truly believes that one day he will find a way home and he is just so determined that it's entirely possible.
Ivy:	That answer isn't surprising. Nor would it surprise her to learn if he did find a way out. "What do you think of my relationship with him?"
Doul:	"Professionally or...?" He's not sure, but he can take a guess.
Ivy:	Ivy laughs. "Or."
Doul:	"It's irrelevant. He was my employer and is no more."
Ivy:	"Is it?" Somehow Ivy doesn't believe that for a second. "If he was your employer and is no more, the end of story, you would not be looking for his name. At least be honest and say you don't want to tell me the truth but your lying is annoying."
Doul:	"It -is- irrelevant. He is not longer my employer. That's not all there is, but that's all that matters at the moment." Doul often misdirects or leaves out part of the truth, but the rarely lies.
Ivy:	To Ivy, at least in the context of this conversation, misdirection and lies are too close together to tell them apart. "If it wasn't irrelevant, what would you say?"
Doul:	"You're both adults and I have no say in the matter." Why should he?
Ivy:	"And if you did?" Because Ivy likes pulling responses out of this man like an ancient dentist.
Doul:	Look, he really doesn't get where you're going with this. Why does it matter? "I can't see why I would have a say. You can be charming and you're certainly attractive and know that, but it's of no importance."
Ivy:	It matters because the Brucolac matters, to be honest, and you're someone from his past. Someone who left a horrific amount of scars on his body yet he cares enough to send you bumbling on a -quest- of all things. "Hmm." Ivy smiles to herself, shakes her head, and stands. "You know how to reach me if you need anything I could help you with. Goodnight, Captain."
Doul:	Sorry Ivy, he thought you were asking if he was interested in you. : D? "Goodnight, Ivy. Should you need to find me, I have been invited to stay in the old church owned by Eric Draven."
Ivy:	Ivy's not that crazy, thank you. "I do hope it is warm. The child Klara is staying with me, I forgot to mention." Not that she's sure it's any of his business, now, but she doesn't exactly plan on treating him any differently now that his standing with the Brucolac changed. For the moment, anyway. Another smile and she's gone, freed of the cloying scent of too much smoke and too many years in too dirty a place.