[ Not the first voice that's slipped inside, but the first one that's done so with intention, that's called out to him by name. Delightful in some small way, that someone who has been in his head before would want to be there again.
After all, he's hardly gotten the hang of this; he might've made a bad impression. ]
[ And what a question it is! But he did give her his express permission to be nosy... ]
I've been surviving on the same animals since I arrived, but which parts I prefer, well, ahaha... How do I explain this gently? [ beat ] Do you know how parasites feed?
[ —oh, but he will leave out the story of the first time he felt the urge to bite into a live rat. Even he knows that's a strange thing to do in any context, or say. ]
Mm, no. Not at all. I think I'm fine. [ "Not hungry" is a low bar for "fine." ] Sometimes I feel how much it hurts them, but it's over quickly, luckily.
[ she comes back to the penthouse a little bloody.
don't worry about it. it's not hers.
she's got that ratty backpack with her, full of (????) that she retrieved from one of her safe houses.
she'd made sure to hang onto some plants and fungi before the cold had forced it all to die out. not that she could've known what was coming—rather, she's simply obsessively prepared.
the cold granted one advantage, too. the greenery she brings back is still fresh, because it's frozen. though she can no longer feel the fire's warmth, she figures it can't hurt to try to see if the flames will still thaw what she hopes will be food, anyway. she opens her backpack, spreading a few plants and mushrooms on the hearth before the fire.
and then she goes to find Ivan. don't mind her new teeth or flat, amber eyes. or the fact that she's barefoot, because her feet have become mostly paws and shoes no longer fit.
they're both a little monstrous. ]
Ivan~ [ she's exhausted, but still tries a smile. ] I've brought something back I'd like you to try.
Ivan sits impassively before the spread, and aids their cold, stunted fire by chipping at the ice crystals with his chitin claws. Once he can better see the characteristics beneath, he begins to categorize everything. On the right, he places the plants he's had in the past. The ones he sustained himself on in his early, uncertain days here, by copying the rabbits. On the left goes a serrated leafy green that once made his entire mouth go numb before he could even swallow it. He also sorts a red-tinged cluster of fungal stalks there after bringing them briefly to his nose. A single sniff is enough to raise his hackles.
When he agreed to this, he didn't care if something horrible happened to him, but circumstances have changed somewhat. He wishes for Till to always have enough to eat, and that is assured if he stays alive. So—if his instincts shout at him so loudly that something is poison, he'll listen.
Done sorting, it's mostly the fungi that are left in the middle. Arguably, these are some of the things that are most likely to kill someone, but they're also the most valuable if they can indeed be eaten. They're protein that doesn't need to be hunted.
Indicating the righthand pile: ]
These are all safe. I'll sample them in front of you now, if you don't want to take my word for it.
[ He rolls a mushroom with a cap like a large, sagging umbrella into the palm of his hand. ]
Tell me about this one; do you remember where you found it?
[ It's one more question than he usually asks, when they do this. ]
Lortel sits beside him, leaning into his side as easily as she normally does. if his chitin plating or frankly bizarre anatomy ever bother her, she's never given any sign. ]
I don't need you to prove it. I believe you.
[ if only because:
she, too, is aware of the change in stakes that has come with Till's arrival. she knows Ivan is invested, now—if not in his own safety, if not in hers or Noah's or Sunny's, then in Till's.
it would have been impossible to miss how concerned and possessive Ivan had been. he'd reminded her rather of herself, with Sunny.
in this, his word is now enough. it's not as if she can afford to lose him, either. ]
Sprouting from the cracks in the pavement beside a building. [ not a natural place for fungi to grow, necessarily. but there'd been many such growths when they'd all first arrived. ] Not harvested from Central Park, which is where I found most of this.
[ She'd tell him if it had been sprouting from something like a dead body, mm? He gently tears off half the mushroom's cap, though there's no science behind his portioning. This is what feels like enough.
Without ceremony, he neatly places the piece into his mouth, chews, and swallows it with grace. It's like taking a bite of rubbery skin slathered with dirt. It would have been better cooked, but what's there to be done about that with this supernatural cold sapping the heat from fire itself?
Now, they wait.
He smiles, like the clock isn't ticking. ]
So Lortel, how would you like to spend the next few hours?
[ If he's still fine by tomorrow they can consider the test a success. ]
it doesn't serve her to lie. not to him, not about this.
she watches him somberly, thinking about what she's done. it's not as if she forced him. still, she also knew just as well that he wouldn't refuse her. her human experiment.
she is a terrible person.
idly, Lortel reaches up to stroke his hair. ]
Stay with me. Tell me about your life. I've been wondering.
[ he and Till say such strange things, after all. ]
[ He takes what comfort he can from her warmth at his side and her hand in his hair.
A routine that's easy to slip into.
And a simple request. ]
You might recall I mentioned Till and I were classmates. We attended the same music school, and it's also where we spent our whole lives, nearly.
We were educated in basic subjects, like reading and writing. Of course, the majority of the curriculum was focused on skills that would compliment us as performers. I can play most instruments competently, though he's the one who took more of a liking to them. Both of us can compose songs from scratch.
[ And, the important one- ]
Both of us have been training our vocal abilities since childhood.
[ He could be reciting these things off of a slip of paper for all the energy he puts into it. His voice is polite enough, but no pride shines through, like he's simply listing off pedigrees so that his worth may be determined. ]
[ Her question may seem like a complicated one, but he doesn't have to contemplate overmuch to come up with when singing brought him what might've been pleasure. Singing as a group, singing with Mizi. With Till.
Those were moments that made the fake sunlight feel real on his face. ]
With my friends, yes, or for them.
[ But that can be true at the same time that her suspicions are very, very true. ]
I may not have lived long if it only made me miserable.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Ivan~ I have a job for you, if you’re interested.
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After all, he's hardly gotten the hang of this; he might've made a bad impression. ]
Of course, Lortel, how can I help you?
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A question, first. Has much changed about how you eat, with the … changes to your body?
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I've been surviving on the same animals since I arrived, but which parts I prefer, well, ahaha... How do I explain this gently? [ beat ] Do you know how parasites feed?
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… so he’s been surviving on the local animals … he sounds the same. hm. ]
Assume I don’t. No need to be gentle.
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[ —oh, but he will leave out the story of the first time he felt the urge to bite into a live rat. Even he knows that's a strange thing to do in any context, or say. ]
I'm the same way.
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And you haven’t felt sick? Any strange symptoms, other than the changes to your body?
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Do you think you’d be able to recover, if you ate something … “off”? I’ve been wondering, you see, just how resilient your new body is.
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don't worry about it. it's not hers.
she's got that ratty backpack with her, full of (????) that she retrieved from one of her safe houses.
she'd made sure to hang onto some plants and fungi before the cold had forced it all to die out. not that she could've known what was coming—rather, she's simply obsessively prepared.
the cold granted one advantage, too. the greenery she brings back is still fresh, because it's frozen. though she can no longer feel the fire's warmth, she figures it can't hurt to try to see if the flames will still thaw what she hopes will be food, anyway. she opens her backpack, spreading a few plants and mushrooms on the hearth before the fire.
and then she goes to find Ivan. don't mind her new teeth or flat, amber eyes. or the fact that she's barefoot, because her feet have become mostly paws and shoes no longer fit.
they're both a little monstrous. ]
Ivan~ [ she's exhausted, but still tries a smile. ] I've brought something back I'd like you to try.
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[ And she's brought back quite the variety.
Ivan sits impassively before the spread, and aids their cold, stunted fire by chipping at the ice crystals with his chitin claws. Once he can better see the characteristics beneath, he begins to categorize everything. On the right, he places the plants he's had in the past. The ones he sustained himself on in his early, uncertain days here, by copying the rabbits. On the left goes a serrated leafy green that once made his entire mouth go numb before he could even swallow it. He also sorts a red-tinged cluster of fungal stalks there after bringing them briefly to his nose. A single sniff is enough to raise his hackles.
When he agreed to this, he didn't care if something horrible happened to him, but circumstances have changed somewhat. He wishes for Till to always have enough to eat, and that is assured if he stays alive. So—if his instincts shout at him so loudly that something is poison, he'll listen.
Done sorting, it's mostly the fungi that are left in the middle. Arguably, these are some of the things that are most likely to kill someone, but they're also the most valuable if they can indeed be eaten. They're protein that doesn't need to be hunted.
Indicating the righthand pile: ]
These are all safe. I'll sample them in front of you now, if you don't want to take my word for it.
[ He rolls a mushroom with a cap like a large, sagging umbrella into the palm of his hand. ]
Tell me about this one; do you remember where you found it?
[ It's one more question than he usually asks, when they do this. ]
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[ it's a rhetorical question.
Lortel sits beside him, leaning into his side as easily as she normally does. if his chitin plating or frankly bizarre anatomy ever bother her, she's never given any sign. ]
I don't need you to prove it. I believe you.
[ if only because:
she, too, is aware of the change in stakes that has come with Till's arrival. she knows Ivan is invested, now—if not in his own safety, if not in hers or Noah's or Sunny's, then in Till's.
it would have been impossible to miss how concerned and possessive Ivan had been. he'd reminded her rather of herself, with Sunny.
in this, his word is now enough. it's not as if she can afford to lose him, either. ]
Sprouting from the cracks in the pavement beside a building. [ not a natural place for fungi to grow, necessarily. but there'd been many such growths when they'd all first arrived. ] Not harvested from Central Park, which is where I found most of this.
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Without ceremony, he neatly places the piece into his mouth, chews, and swallows it with grace. It's like taking a bite of rubbery skin slathered with dirt. It would have been better cooked, but what's there to be done about that with this supernatural cold sapping the heat from fire itself?
Now, they wait.
He smiles, like the clock isn't ticking. ]
So Lortel, how would you like to spend the next few hours?
[ If he's still fine by tomorrow they can consider the test a success. ]
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it doesn't serve her to lie. not to him, not about this.
she watches him somberly, thinking about what she's done. it's not as if she forced him. still, she also knew just as well that he wouldn't refuse her. her human experiment.
she is a terrible person.
idly, Lortel reaches up to stroke his hair. ]
Stay with me. Tell me about your life. I've been wondering.
[ he and Till say such strange things, after all. ]
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A routine that's easy to slip into.
And a simple request. ]
You might recall I mentioned Till and I were classmates. We attended the same music school, and it's also where we spent our whole lives, nearly.
We were educated in basic subjects, like reading and writing. Of course, the majority of the curriculum was focused on skills that would compliment us as performers. I can play most instruments competently, though he's the one who took more of a liking to them. Both of us can compose songs from scratch.
[ And, the important one- ]
Both of us have been training our vocal abilities since childhood.
[ He could be reciting these things off of a slip of paper for all the energy he puts into it. His voice is polite enough, but no pride shines through, like he's simply listing off pedigrees so that his worth may be determined. ]
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[ she gazes at his profile, fingers carding through his hair in a speculative way ]
Do you ... like singing, Ivan?
[ or was it merely a duty?
a necessity, for survival? ]
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Those were moments that made the fake sunlight feel real on his face. ]
With my friends, yes, or for them.
[ But that can be true at the same time that her suspicions are very, very true. ]
I may not have lived long if it only made me miserable.
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somewhere in december.
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Oh, why hello, Jinx. Is our resident rebel just bored or does she have a specific individual in mind?
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I've just met up with an old friend and I thought it'd be really swell of me to show some generosity about this new realm we're living in.
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[ Oh, he is absolutely being called upon to scare the shit out of someone, isn't he... ]
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cw: joking about vore?!?!??!?!
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