Inbox

[ruinsprofessor]

--"Raine Sage. I can't reach the console right now. If it's an emergency, don't wait to get a hold of me, keep moving. I'm sure I'll hear about it soon. If not, leave a message and I'll contact you when I can."

Comments

[insertdadjoke]

Are you free sometime soon? And-or would you be willing to act as a watch while Valdis and I try something out.

[ He isn't trying to be coy, just hoping to see how much she knows of what Valdis can actually do without giving it away himself. ]

[ruinsprofessor]

[There's a noticeable pause.]

What are you intending to try out?

[insertdadjoke]

Something possibly dangerous that she'd need to practice before using on anyone else.

[ There's a slight exhale. ]

So you see why I volunteered. She said you have an idea about her powers?

[ruinsprofessor]

Yes, I can see why.

[Raine still has reservations.]

I'm aware of many of her capabilities, yes. I sincerely doubt I know the full breadth of them, however.

[insertdadjoke]

It's okay to say no if you don't want to.

[ruinsprofessor]

[A quiet sigh.]

No; I'd rather be there, if it's something potentially dangerous to one or both of you.

[insertdadjoke]

Very little is actually dangerous to me.

[ And it does have echoes of self-importance and bragging, but mostly it's just the truth. Something people might say, but don't quite believe. Cain not only believes it, he knows it. ]

But I'm glad, anyway.

[ruinsprofessor]

I know.

[That doesn't mean it's a good idea; the Void makes everything strange.]

Do you know what, exactly, she plans to attempt?

[insertdadjoke]

Something along the lines of looking into my soul.

[ said casually, like this should be normal. To Cain, it's anything but... except he could say that about almost everything here. ]

[ruinsprofessor]

...Ah.

[Considering.]

I'm not convinced it's a good idea, given that which accompanies her, but if she can gain control of the skill...

I'm willing to supervise the attempt, at any rate.

[So she can help if anything goes wrong.]

[insertdadjoke]

Thank you, Raine.

[ There's a beat, then, well, while he's on the line... ]

You haven't looked into the salt at all, have you? I'm beginning to wonder about that whole thing myself.

[ruinsprofessor]

[Another beat. Raine's hesitant, for entirely different reasons.]

I've made some study of it, yes.

[insertdadjoke]

Anything you feel like sharing come of it?

[ruinsprofessor]

I'd prefer to talk about it in person.

[It's not a no, but Raine's reticent, and wants to keep this as private as possible.]

[insertdadjoke]

That can be arranged.

[ It's more than reasonable. ]

What's the best time for you?

[ruinsprofessor]

Sometime tomorrow, perhaps? We can meet for lunch.

[insertdadjoke]

That's as good of an excuse for lunch as any. I'll be there.

[ruinsprofessor]

Tomorrow afternoon, then.

...thank you.

[No explanation for the thanks; just that.]

February 9 or thereabouts

[edgeoftheknife]

[Sometime during the day when neither Raine nor Solomon is home, on a nicely conspicuous counter or table inside their apartment, appears a small, flat, expensive looking gift box, open to expose the deep green velvet inside and the object resting on top of the velvet.

It's a silver locket on a chain, with a claddagh on the front cover. No other note or explanation is forthcoming, and Erskine is a good enough sneak-thief to not leave any signs of forced entry.

Dead Men.]

[ruinsprofessor]

[Rather a lot of confusion ensues, as does an important discussion.]

[Raine will probably thank Erskine later, though perhaps not for the expected reason.]

audio --> action; early July

[peacefullywreathed]

[Solomon's voice comes over the radio clipped and urgent:]

I need you. My laboratory. Hurry.

[ruinsprofessor]

[Given the last time there was an emergency in his laboratory? Raine's hurrying.]

On my way.

[And she's out the door of her office at high speed, the only stop to grab her staff on the way. She knows the hallways by heart, long since, and it isn't long before she's shoving the door open and looking for Solomon.]

[peacefullywreathed]

[When she reaches the laboratory, the first thing she'll see is that Solomon is standing in the middle of it, dressed down to his waistcoat with his sleeves rolled up, as he frequently did as he worked. The odd thing about it is that he's standing in the middle of a ring of sigils--chalk and black ink, intertwined and hurriedly drawn. There's still chalk and ink on his fingers.

[And the circle seems to be leaking mist, blue and gold-threaded, which vanishes before it moves very far.

[Solomon's head turns toward Raine as soon as he hears her enter, his face tense. His eyes track something--unseen to Raine, visible to him. Usually he only pays attention to others' souls. But right now, he can see his own, wisping away from him as if it's being sucked into the fabric of a plane he can't see.

[And it's making him feel sleepy. In the time it took Raine to get here, he's started blinking rapidly, the way someone does when they're groggy. His voice comes very quiet.]

I'm slipping.

[ruinsprofessor]

Slipping...?

[It takes her longer than it should only because she doesn't want to believe it. Confusion turns to dread.]

[Her staff clatters to the ground. Raine strides across the room toward him, stopping only at the edge of the circle, hesitating. Her instinct is to go to him, but disturbing any of the hasty sigilwork is almost certainly unwise.]

No-- Solomon, you're--

[She's lost for words. Tell her she's wrong. Tell her you mean something else. Please. She will happily be laughed at for jumping to the worst possible conclusion.]

[peacefullywreathed]

It you don't disturb the sigils, you should be safe to enter.

[Solomon's voice is still quiet. He very obviously does not tell Raine she's wrong. Instead he lifts his hands, looks down at them; he can almost see the shape of them, in the way his soul drifts off his fingers. Being sucked away. His soul-gem is a ring, and it seems more intense than the rest.]

The circle is something I was developing for Bakura's ghosts.

[To keep them in the right plane while they stitched them together. The fact that it's working somewhat is unexpected--a desperate move. He looks up then, his mouth tilted ironically.]

Not quite the right tool, I'm afraid. Impractical for me, in any case.

[He would never have thought he'd be able to see this happening before he was whisked away; though perhaps he's also the only one who could have. He's acted as far as he can, and already he knows it isn't enough. He only has a few minutes, if that.

[... It isn't enough.]