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Post by Vykhlu the Erudite on Mar 24, 2014 19:47:57 GMT
Dainn didn't appear all too eager to assist with dragging the bodies downstairs at first. Vyk didn't particularly care about his obstinate mannerisms in this regard--he wasn't about to make two trips, so Dainn would just have to wait for his treat a bit longer.
That treat presumably being tea, as he'd appeared quite eager to obtain a cup when Vyk offered it. The Erudite made a mental note to remember that about the man--favorite foods were always a nice little bribe in his book, and since it didn't appear as if Dainn's diet was exceptionally varied or high-class, he probably was all the more eager to obtain some worthwhile meals.
"Fine. Do customary shoulder massages count as my healthcare benefits in this job?"
"Healthcare benefits?" he inquired in a murmur, inwardly amused at the idea. Of course, this was a dangerous profession, so he supposed some healthcare was necessary in the case of injury. "What, did you pull a muscle in your eagerness to serve your sir doctor?"
Whoever said that Vykhlu wasn't a pretentious prick was wrong.
"Vyk, I don't think humans of your current guise's build can normally pick up weights like that."
"Oh." He paused, then gave a mental shrug. "Oh well! Tsui, there's science to be done!"
Even his OAI couldn't protest in that regard. She was as eager as he when it came to theoretical magic and scientific matters. Perhaps a bit more sensible than he when it came to things such as, well, existing, but usually the two of them worked excellently with each other.
Dainn had paused in the room, but soon was following closely behind Vyk, coming into view just as he began to open the first secret passage. The system had been a trouble to install, but well worth it--a clandestine base for him to work at his craft. Besides, the system was amusing.
"Impressive."
Vykhlu chuckled, taking the comment as authentic despite his companion's apparent sarcasm. "Thank you. About two week's worth of work to install that, you know, but it's paid off. Even without human specimens, I doubt the authorities would take too kindly to some of my experiments."
That reminded him, he'd have to remember to obtain an infant human or a pregnant female to study the human spawning process. That would definitely be required for the Lexicon.
In response to his inquiry about the live subject, Dainn let out a dark laugh. "Perhaps you ought to to see for yourself, sir."
Having just done so, Vyk nodded. "Hmm. I'll need to drag that in later, make sure the subject is sufficiently drugged as to be unable to cry out." Dosages, dosages. He didn't really mind calculating them, but containing a subject really could be such a hassle. He was used to working with things that would rather eat him than run away, however, so perhaps humans would prove slightly easier to handle.
He somehow doubted it.
Humans, at least to him, appeared as a most obstinate folk. He doubted that this subject would be so easy to contain and handle as one might expect. It would probably be not nearly as dangerous, but much more annoying, than some of the beasts he'd worked with in the past. He'd also probably have to remove the subject's voicebox--was that even possible with humans without killing them? He made a mental note to examine the throat structure of one of his post-mortem dissection subjects.
"Anything for you, sweetheart."
One eyebrow raised dryly as Vyk stifled a roll of his eyes, as such an action would be insufferably rude. The things he put up with for his work! He made a mental reminder to become a hermit someday.
Or, at least, get off this blasted planet.
Dainn did at least seem placated by Vyk's praise of the work he'd done tonight. That was good. Dogs needed to be rewarded with affirmative words and treats, after all.
Despite his protests otherwise, the mass murderer was rather like an overeager puppy. Perhaps a mischievous one, always disobeying its perceived master's commands, but once one had an actual hold over him, he seemed most amiable and eager to work.
That's what Vyk figured, at least. He'd have to wait to test out that hypothesis, but thus so far, the empirical evidence he'd noted had definitely backed up his supposition.
"Sounds delightful."
A little eager for our treat, are we? Vykhlu noted with internal amusement. A good dog knows to wait for his master's word, though, as you have done. Such an adorable little pet, aren't you?
"I'm feeling awfully generous tonight, so consider the two stiffs on the house."
A thin smile curved the xenobiologist's lips upwards. "How very charitable," he murmured. "Very well, then. Tea? If you'd like some scones, I think I have a few. Perhaps some raspberries? Not really their season anymore, but I managed to scrounge some up."
"They gave me no trouble anyway."
Vykhlu tilted his head to the side slightly, eyes narrowing as he examined Dainn's face. In the bright light, he could see not only the trickle of blood, but also a multitude of gleaming tiny fragments. Glass, perhaps? Smash a window with your face on your way in? "And that's why you're bleeding? 'No trouble' at all? Alright then." He gave a smug smile, then rubbed his hands together and made his way back upstairs. It was time to play the host, after all, and that required propriety.
He made his way up the stairs nimbly, although refraining from humming out his joy this time around.
After hopping upstairs, he slipped into the kitchen area. There was a small eating area at the counter--a line of stools, reminiscent of a bar. Stepping into the circle created by the countertop area, Vyk pulled out a couple teacups and saucers, proceeding to fill them from a copper teakettle.
"You're lucky you came in tonight." Finished pouring, he put the teakettle back and placed one of the cup-saucers on the counter beside the stools. "Normally I don't stay in this place. I do have a day job, you know. This isn't exactly the most profitable profession, sadly enough." He smiled thinly and took a sip of his tea.
Normally, he'd stay with the Drakonrhedi and study behemoths and humans that way, but Dainn didn't need to know that, now did he?
"I was considering staying at my usual place tonight. Lucky coincidence, I suppose." He shrugged. "Either way, don't be particularly alarmed if I'm not home when you're delivering things. I think I can trust you not to break anything too important."
Putting down his cup and saucer, he ambled over to the oaken door leading to his pantry and pulled it open, glancing over his stores of food. There wasn't much--he was used to eating the Drakonrhedi grub, not like he needed to feed that often anyway.
"Hungry for anything in particular?" he inquired. "I'm afraid I don't have the best-stocked pantry, but it suffices for my lifestyle."
Vykhlu really was a bachelor. Not only did he have the sensibility required for a relationship, but he wasn't rhythmic enough in his schedule to actually be able to promise anyone his certainty of presence. Indeed, if someone demanded that he have a predetermined activity, it disgruntled him. He was here to study humans, and that meant that he needed to be able to seize all opportunities and play to the whims of his curiosity.
It was part of the reason that he disliked reporting to the Infinite. That and the fact that his social ineptitude made such reports terribly stressful for him. It was hard enough for him to talk to Promethaen regularly, let alone involving the leaders of his race.
"Also, would you like my assistance with those cuts on your face, or simply a mirror, darling?"
His lips turned into a thin, sardonic smile. It was all sarcasm, of course. He really was in no position to be calling anyone an endearing term.
"And last I saw you were flirting with him, Vyk."
"Yes, well, it was accidental," he responded curtly. "Just like the time you 'accidentally' almost gave me cancer."
Tsui fell quiet, but he could sense the amusement emanating from her.
Vykhlu sighed.
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"I am not your savior, nor your destruction. I am simply a xenobiologist. And your god." DESIGNATION; the Erudite, Head Xenobiologist of the Infinite. ORGANIC ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE; Tsui CURRENT ALIAS DESIGNATION; Doctor Victor ADDITIONAL NOTABLE COMPANIONS; Dead ones.TAGS; Dainn Haskett Vindalfr INSPIRATION;
NOTES; vyk is like really bad at being undercover. (someday they should meet up with vyk as a Drakonrhedi and he'll be like "ehehehe bloodhound" and then dainn'll try to kill him and he'll be like "no don't die run away i still need dead bodies")
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Post by Dainn Haskett Vindalfr on Mar 25, 2014 1:50:06 GMT
"What, did you pull a muscle in your eagerness to serve your sir doctor?"
Dainn emitted a gruff "Hmph." in response, outwardly expressing contempt at Victor's seemingly playful but patronizing words. Still, the concept of him serving someone in such a way was...new, to say the least. After so many years of living to please himself, Dainn concluded that there was no other alternative. But Victor made it so much fun to be at the receiving end giggity of a dominant force, that Dainn gladly took the doctor's tongue-in-cheek humour on the chin. He'd let Victor play his games, making a mental note to play his own in the future.
"Hmm. I'll need to drag that in later, make sure the subject is sufficiently drugged as to be unable to cry out."
"I bashed her over the head," Dainn returned bluntly with a nonchalant tone, "-so she's fairly quiet." He'd been busy picking his nails, but now his darkened eyes flicked up to meet Victor's, before coyly adding, "...for now. Whatever you've got in mind, I suggest you do it now." He drew himself up, a smirk creasing his lips, "Although it's not in my place to tell the good doctor how to perform his miracles." Dainn had his own methods, and Victor had his. Two professional business minds working alongside each other - how...delightful. Even so, Dainn was interested to see how his companion would effectively silence a living being. His own methods were nothing short of a well placed slice across the vocal chords, but he expected Victor's technique to be much more...intricate than his.
Dainn could do intricate, if he had the time. More often than not, however, he was working against the clock. Victor was lucky; he had a whole basement, a secret domain in which to carry out his practices. Dainn wondered perhaps whether it was time that he too invested in some sort of workshop.
"Very well, then. Tea? If you'd like some scones, I think I have a few. Perhaps some raspberries? Not really their season anymore, but I managed to scrounge some up."
Whether food was in season or not was irrelevant for Dainn. He was a practicing cannibal for crying out loud, a little off-season fruit wouldn't sway his appetite. Still, he welcomed Victor's hospitality; it was refreshing change to the treatment he usually received, although he could easily bounce off either with glee. "Tea would be grand." he returned finally, "And scones? My, my, doctor, I'd hate to starve your other guests of such pleasant cuisine." He gestured around to the empty corridors, bathing in the limited light of but a few candles. Of course, there was some meaning in his dry wit; he doubted Victor was the type to hold large social gatherings, lest one of his guests accidentally stumble upon some of the wonderful secrets his house concealed.
"And that's why you're bleeding? 'No trouble' at all? Alright then."
Dainn grumbled a little at Victor's smirk, "The maid galled me a little, I confess." He decided to leave it at that, concluding that the shards of glass poking out from random points in his skin to be explanation enough. True enough, they weren't incredibly visible at first, the actual extent of the vase's damage becoming apparent in the brighter light of the kitchen area. Thanks to his recent prodding, a couple of the cuts had since become sufficiently aggravated and tiny streams of scarlet seeped from the openings in his skin.
Dainn proceeded to take up residence on one of the stools placed beside the counter in Victor's kitchen. He allowed Victor to assume the routine business of pouring cups of tea while he himself continued to evaluate his injuries by touch. Thankfully, there weren't any shards of considerable size, but there were copious pieces, causing Dainn to grimace in annoyance as he began to assess where to start.
"You're lucky you came in tonight." Came Victor's voice, breaking Dainn's concentration as a now-full cup of tea found itself on the counter next to him, "Normally I don't stay in this place. I do have a day job, you know. This isn't exactly the most profitable profession, sadly enough."
Dainn raised a curious eyebrow. A day job, now? He'd assumed being a doctor was a 24/7 calling. Or perhaps Victor used the cover of night to take a more theoretical approach to his work, and the hours of day were spent helping the sick and needy. Rather comical, Dainn mused; Victor patched them up and set them into Dainn's path to bring them right back again.
"I was considering staying at my usual place tonight. Lucky coincidence, I suppose. Either way, don't be particularly alarmed if I'm not home when you're delivering things. I think I can trust you not to break anything too important."
Dainn released a low giggle, taking a small sip from the piping hot beverage, "You shouldn't leave dogs all by themselves." he chided, in a soft but false scolding tone. He tutted a couple of times, "No telling what sort of mischievous things they'll getup to." Playful warnings aside, Dainn was inwardly thrilled to be given Victor's trust. True, he didn't usually give the homes of other the most kindest of treatments, more often than not leaving them in chaotic, bloody mess. But then again, such occasions were usually endured in a frenzy, Dainn caring more about how to create his artwork than petty vandalism. On this instance, however, he'd practically been given the keys to Victor's quaint abode, and for all his faults, Dainn was not one to break the trust of such a gladly received superior. To satisfy whatever worry Victor had concerning the subject however, Dainn treated him to a reassuring smile, "But don't worry, sir; your bloodhound can and will behave himself in your absence."
"Hungry for anything in particular? "I'm afraid I don't have the best-stocked pantry, but it suffices for my lifestyle."
Dainn caught a stray curl of dark hair and twirled it in between his fingers, musing over Victor's offer of food. Without taking further instruction, he got down from his stool and boldly strode over to a cabinet he took to be the pantry, he flung open the door, saw only an empty cupboard inside, grumbled, and moved along to the next port of call. This time, he was greeted with a reasonably stocked larder; cheeses, fruits, meats, all neatly categorized according to their food group. Dainn let out an amused sound. How typical. Dainn's eyes fell onto where Victor had stored the collection of meats. He was disappointed to discover that his second favourite meat - pork - was not an available option, and -in his disgruntlement- decided he would rather have no meat at all besides the one he desired at the time. Instead, he reached in to the pantry, and pulled out a small jar of jam - a treat he'd enjoyed very much as a young child.
He returned back to his chair and hopped back on top of it, placing the pot on the counter next to time and picking up a near by cloth to wipe any muck away from his hands. A rather thoughtful gesture after such a seemingly rude one, but Dainn was beginning to grow a little cocky. Still, he thought it best not to pry too far into Victor's supposed OCD-ness, so he'd taken the liberty to clean his hands before delving in. Part of his brain was teetering on the possibility of agitating Victor in such a way that the doctor would be forced to take disciplinary action against him, whatever punishment that might be was a mystery, but a slither of Dainn wouldn't mind uncovering it.
He unscrewed the jar and the lid came free with a loud popping sound. He placed the lid down next to him and picked up the pot, swiveling slightly so that he was now facing Victor again. He extended two now-clean fingers and dipped them into the cold, soft mass of the jam, sufficiently coating his fingers in the red goo. After a moment of this, he pulled them out again and popped them into his mouth.
"Also, would you like my assistance with those cuts on your face, or simply a mirror, darling?"
Dainn halted his movements, fingers still taken up residence in his mouth. He furrowed his brow at Victor, annoyed that the doctor had brought the subject up again. He could easily handle his wounds by himself, and the mere suggestion of him needing help was enough to agitate him slightly. He'd dealt with far worse injuries than a few bits of broken glass and was a stranger to receiving aid. Even so, he'd like to see Victor deal with his mock-thrashing as he attempted to pull pieces of china from his face. With a wet pop, he released his fingers, licking the tip of them clean before setting the jar down upon the counter once more.
"You don't think it suits me, sir?" Dainn replied curtly, still licking his lips from the taste of jam, "Broken bits of glass sticking out of one's face are very much in this season." Once a serious expression returned again to his face, Dainn prodded at one of his cuts, now actually contemplating Victor's offer, "I'm perfectly capable of licking my own wounds clean." he began, before quickly holding up a finger, to emphasize that there was more to his answer, "But, a second opinion wouldn't go amiss. I suppose."
Between two fingers, he gripped one of the smaller shards, deciding to start off easy and work himself up to the larger pieces. He jiggled the piece a little, judging how much it'd wedged itself in and somehow managing to keep a collected expression on his face, despite the pain now flaring up from the wound. Drawing in a small hiss of breath, he tugged hard at the piece, and it came free almost instantly. He examined the shard for a moment, lips pursed, before calmly setting it down on the counter next to him.
All in a night's work, after all.
Tags: Vykhlu the Erudite Inspiration: stuuuuuffs Notes: not gonna lie, i've had one glass of wine so the not-so-subtle smut might've stepped up a notch in this one whoops.
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Post by Vykhlu the Erudite on Mar 26, 2014 6:15:23 GMT
Dainn seemed none too amused at Vykhlu's rather sarcastic question, responding with an unimpressed "hmph." A thin smile curled the xenobiologist's lips upwards as Vyk noted that with one comment he had turned his mass murderer business partner into a sulking teenager. It really was wonderful to be a pretentious prick. People were so easy to irritate.
"I still don't like him, Vyk."
"I need his services. The Infinite need his services. And quite possibly, the humans themselves need his services. Which, as you know, is the best part of this whole fiasco."
"I hope that if you're ever in the room with a mass murderer Promethaen, you'll act much more sensibly."
"Yes, yes, yes, Tsui, but science!"
His OAI fell silent. Even she understood and felt his need to perform science and study theoretical magic. They were much the same in that regard, and although she refused to admit it, Tsui was just as curious about the human race and the Infinite's reaction to a Lexicon as Vyk was. She was just perhaps a little more sensible about the psychopathic aspect of the matter.
"I bashed her over the head, so she's fairly quiet."
"That doesn't last long, does it, Tsui?"
"I- I don't think so?"
Dainn confirmed their suspicions with his next statement.
"...for now. Whatever you've got in mind, I suggest you do it now."
Vykhlu sighed tiredly. An unconscious subject to deal with, a person to play host to--and he'd been hoping for a nice, relaxing evening! Nay, he had to bring the subject in at some point before it came to.
He'd have to excuse himself sooner rather than later in the night to deal with it.
"Although it's not in my place to tell the good doctor how to perform his miracles."
Another inauthentic smile in response to that. "It is your place to trust me to know my trade. My methods may be different than yours, but they serve my purpose admirably."
And my purpose is the study of your race, so you had best keep your distance, little bloodhound.
Vykhlu kept his amusement at this particular sentiment silent. It was too complex and far-reaching for Dainn to understand, after all.
"Tea would be grand. And scones? My, my, doctor, I'd hate to starve your other guests of such pleasant cuisine."
"Oh, yes, it's a wild party in here. However, I would not begrudge my guests their desires." That was a truth--Vyk's ingrained politeness would prevent him from actually refusing much to people that he was playing host to. That being said, secrets were secrets, and he wasn't about to go revealing the mechanics of his abode to just everyone. Dainn was an exception because he was providing the subjects, but even the bloodhound could not open that door--it was keyed to open not to the touch of a human, but a being far superior.
However, no one would assume such a thing. Most would simply think that the runes had somehow been keyed in to Vyk's person. How incorrect they were--after all, he was no person.
"The maid galled me a little, I confess."
The smirk grew slightly, briefly showing his teeth before vanishing once more. "Duly noted." He cast another glance over Dainn's face. "Faceplanted through a window," he muttered beneath his breath, amusement evident despite the fact that it was probably an inaccurate assessment.
"You shouldn't leave dogs all by themselves. No telling what sort of mischievous things they'll getup to."
"They had best watch themselves, or else there will be scoldings in order," he responded coldly. He was not about to tolerate his home getting trashed when he wasn't around. It was hard enough to stay neat regardless of bloodhounds chewing on his furniture.
"But don't worry, sir; your bloodhound can and will behave himself in your absence."
"Good." His reply was curt. Vyk's compulsive desire for things to be neat was not to be trifled with.
As such, the fact that he tensed as Dainn took advantage of his hospitality to rummage around the pantry was to be expected. However, the man didn't seem to intend to disrupt any of the careful arrangements found therein, instead simply picking out a food of his choice and retreating back to the stools with it clutched in his hand.
Vykhlu was inclined to grumble a bit, but just in time Dainn had redeemed himself slightly by wiping his hands before diving in. Thus, the Erudite relapsed into marginally displeased silence.
"You don't think it suits me, sir?" Dainn inquired, licking his fingers clean like a real dog would the bowl he was fed from. "Broken bits of glass sticking out of one's face are very much in this season."
It took him a bit to recover a serious face (and his dignity, Vyk presumed), as the xenobiologist stood there, unimpressed. The murderer prodded at his face, eliciting a raised eyebrow in response as Vyk placed his hands on his hips and watched.
"I'm perfectly capable of licking my own wounds clean. But, a second opinion wouldn't go amiss. I suppose."
And with that, he grabbed onto a piece of glass and wiggled it out, flinging it onto the counter.
"Vyk, calm-!"
It was too late, even that small action had made Vykhlu start to fret. His hands flew up as if he'd just touched a wall of some icky, oozy substance, flailing his fingers and with drawing his hands.
"No, no, no, far too crude a method of retrieval. Inefficient, ineffective." He took a deep breath, as if recovering his fortitude for more displays of stupidity.
"Vyk, it's alright."
"If you'll excuse me, I'll retrieve the live subject and a pair of tweezers. I can't stand to see something done wrong. I'll be but a moment, in the meantime, please enjoy your tea."
He took his hurried exit from the scene. Dainn's actions had not been particularly messy or chaotic. Vyk supposed that it was either stress or simply an understanding that there were so many better, neater methods of retrieving said pieces of glass.
That, or it'd just hit a random sore spot on Vykhlu's perfectionism.
It was important to note, however, that he acted not out of any kindness for Dainn, as the man was but a fly to him. A useful fly, but a fly nonetheless. His motions were simply the compulsive desire for neatness and method that he had, nothing more. Things had to be done correctly, done efficiently, done effectively. If he looked like a kinder man offering 'health benefits' to his employees while fulfilling this, then he would take that. But his motive was not the kindness itself.
Regardless, he had tasks to take care of, and quickly. Coming around behind Dainn and flinging open a window, he quickly glanced down into the alleyway, then hopped over the windowsill and landed on the ground with a soft thud.
Pressing on the wall, he quickly activated the trigger rune, the panel sliding open and allowing him to push the crate inside. He caught it on the other side with the table, preventing any loud noises, then let it fall in and quietly closed the panel, standing up and dusting off his hands.
Vyk turned and strode around to the front of his house, slipping in through the gate and in the door. He'd deal with his subject after his guest had left, he decided. She could deal with being left inside a box in his basement on a dissection table for a bit more.
After all, esteemed guests were first and foremost. The less savory ones could be dealt with later. Besides, he had a feeling that Dainn might want to watch him work his craft.
Entering the house, he quickly grabbed a pair of tweezers and oil lamp from his study (glancing forlornly at his closed book) before darting back into the kitchen.
"Apologies," he murmured, slightly breathless from his attempt to expedite his return to his guest. "Uh, yes. Glass."
He quietly lit the lamp, adjusting the wick to provide maximum light.
Stepping up to the counter, he pushed up his glasses and correctly positioned the tweezers in his hands. "Hold very still and I'll give you a treat after we're all done. Treat being seeing the magnificent Doctor Victor operate on the unconscious subject downstairs, that is."
There was science to be done, after all.
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"I am not your savior, nor your destruction. I am simply a xenobiologist. And your god." DESIGNATION; the Erudite, Head Xenobiologist of the Infinite. ORGANIC ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE; Tsui CURRENT ALIAS DESIGNATION; Doctor Victor ADDITIONAL NOTABLE COMPANIONS; 2 dead, 1 live, 1 bloodhoundTAGS; Dainn Haskett Vindalfr INSPIRATION; honestly? ...this NOTES; i nearly lost this post that song is politically incorrect
vykhlu's a nerd
sorry this post sucks i'm tired and frantic cause i nearly lost this post and oh god the formatting's still off |
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Post by Dainn Haskett Vindalfr on Mar 26, 2014 13:14:55 GMT
"It is your place to trust me to know my trade. My methods may be different than yours, but they serve my purpose admirably."
Dainn made a clicking noise with his tongue, "I'll take your word for that, doctor." But don't mistake my indifference for boredom, sir, I intend to find out every little weird detail about you.
How on earth he was ever going to achieve what his mind was planning was another situation altogether, and one that would possibly have to wait. There were other issues at hand here, so Dainn contented himself to focus on matters at hand. Namely, the broken shards in his face. Gods, he must look a state. He was amazed Victor hadn't thrown a bottle of disinfectant at him already.
"Faceplanted through a window,"
Dainn was not so hard of hearing, and his ears detected Victor sly -but false- comment. "I heard that." he retorted, brow stiffening to convey an expression of absolutely-not-impressed-sir. Still, he couldn't have Victor thinking he was so clumsy and foolish that he would've actually fallen through a window. The cheek of it! "She..." His voice went a little quieter, and his mind began to debate if the window-idea did actually sound better, but it was too late; the words were already trickling out, "...she threw a vase at my face." The sentence surfaced as an indignant grumble, and Dainn made a point to avert his eyes from Victor's undoubtedly amused face.
"They had best watch themselves, or else there will be scoldings in order,"
Dainn gave Victor a dry but cold look, and -face unchanging- held up his arm in front of him, his hand falling slack. He raised his other hand and slapped himself twice on the wrist, like one would do with a disobedient child, except Dainn's meaning was nothing but sarcastic. Still, perhaps maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't 'watch' himself. After all, Victor made the idea of scoldings sound oh-so-appealing.
Once he was done mock-scolding himself, and Victor had responded with a taught, no-nonsense "Good.", Dainn lips curled slight into a darkly mischievous smirk, and part of him hoped Victor would catch his reasoning.
Dainn had been dimly aware of Victor's unimpressed stance as he took advantage of the doctor's hospitality, but his disdain (ba-dum-tss) only fueled Dainn's childish streak. But now when he'd moved his attention onto his cuts, Victor had become suddenly frantic and somewhat distressed at his actions.
"No, no, no, far too crude a method of retrieval. Inefficient, ineffective."
"If you weren't aware," came Dainn's nonchalant voice, as he prodded another possible shard to remove, "-there is one piece already lying on your counter. So I believe it is somewhat effective. Still," At this, he looked back up at the irritated doctor, the broken glass now pinched between his fingers, "-if you don't want to stay and watch-" He gave a shard a deliberately violent and visible wiggle, the stinging sensation masked by his own amusement, "-feel free to content yourself with other activities."
"If you'll excuse me, I'll retrieve the live subject and a pair of tweezers. I can't stand to see something done wrong. I'll be but a moment, in the meantime, please enjoy your tea."
Dainn let out a low chuckle, humoured at how much his prodding and poking bothered Victor so. In any case, once the other man left the room, Dainn ceased his apparently insufficient examination and turned to take a sip from his tea, seeing no use in carrying on his bog-standard first aid if Victor wasn't there to be put out by it. He began to have a sneaky suspicion that they both exploited each others' shortcomings for their own personal amusement. Dainn found it in Victor's compulsive desire for order and neatness, and Victor -well, gods knew what humour the equally odd little man found in Dainn, but he did so anyway.
Victor returned after a few minutes or so, just at Dainn was taking the last few sips of his tea and another coated-finger-full of jam.
"Apologies. Uh, yes. Glass."
Dainn took note of Victor's scattered breath, theorizing that he must've been hurriedly tending to the other not-so-stiff guest now taking up residence in his abode. Dainn prayed he had enough scones for everyone.
Victor squirreled around, adjusting the light accordingly for his upcoming examination. Once he seemed satisfied with the conditions, he approached Dainn, armed with a pair of tweezers in his hand.
"Hold very still and I'll give you a treat after we're all done. Treat being seeing the magnificent Doctor Victor operate on the unconscious subject downstairs, that is."
Dainn mentally cooed; A treat he says! How lucky for me. Still, all sour jesting aside, he was a little excited to see Victor perform his craft again. While he tried not to show it too much, he'd been inwardly impressed with Victor's expertise at thorough dissections. True enough, both their reasons for doing so were for different paths (his own for creative reasons, Victor's for the pursuit of science), but that didn't stop Dainn from secretly admiring his technique. Who knows, perhaps he'd even learn something from watching the good doctor work.
All the while, Victor had been preparing to extract the shards in Dainn's face. "Please tell me you can save me, doc." Dainn put on an uncharacteristically high woman-like voice (which was sort of difficult considering he had a fairly low vocal range), inwardly amusing himself with his mock-frantic plea, "Tell me...will boys ever think I'm pretty again?" He batted his eyelashes briefly, stopping only to cringe slightly as his overly exaggerated pout aggravated one of the cuts on his chin.
Tags: Vykhlu the Erudite Notes: wow this is so short what gives arck sorry, opal D: but anyway have a pwetty dainny-wainny
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Post by Vykhlu the Erudite on Mar 27, 2014 7:01:24 GMT
"I'll take your word for that, doctor."
Vyk gave a short, sharp nod, indicating that he approved of such a plan. Take my word and leave it be, a small voice inside of him commented. Delving too far would lead one into a world of wondrous death and mysteries far beyond poor little Dainn's comprehension. Perhaps, someday, he would be immersed in that world, upon the event of the decision of whether or not his race would survive--but until that point in time, he would best remain oblivious. Not only for the good of Vyk's mission, but for his own health.
"I heard that."
The thin smirk returned to Vyk's face. Oh, of course you did.
"She..."
The 'doctor' waited patiently for the finishing of the sentence, as humorous as it might be.
"...she threw a vase at my face."
One brow arched. "A rhyming demise. What a surprise, such a reprise for a move so unwise."
Vykhlu deftly returned to the task at hand after his quick response, as if entirely accustomed to his own ability to blurt out rhymes on command. In actuality, he was rather proud of the little ditty. It'd been entirely spontaneous, after all.
"If you weren't aware, there is one piece already lying on your counter. So I believe it is somewhat effective. Still, if you don't want to stay and watch, feel free to content yourself with other activities."
The Erudite, at that point, had no proper response and thus made none but the displease pursing of his lips before nervously licking them and quickly taking his egress to the soothing coos and attempted reassurances of his rather panicked OAI.
Upon his return to the scene, Dainn appeared to have made no progress. Typical of the humans, to cease in their attempts immediately when someone stepped in and offered assistance. They had no "gumption," so to speak, instead favoring the easiest way out.
Any respectable Promethaen would have, by the time he'd returned, the shards out, the counter washed and cleaned, and would be standing at the ready eager to see what he would do with the live subject.
It would be a wonder if the race survived the Infinite's judgement.
Dainn also appeared to have helped himself to more jam and finished his tea. Vyk withheld a sigh; he would prefer if people didn't double-dip. Oh well, he consoled himself, everything and anything for a guest.
"Mm!" he noised to himself as he remembered that he would need a tray to put things on. Stepping over to another cupboard, he pulled out a metal dish, the type that one might find in surgery rooms or dissection tables, and placed it with a clang on the counter. Using the tweezers, he retrieved the freed pieces of glass and placed them inside the dish.
Carefully, Vyk made an examination of his bloodhound's face, noting the glimmering shards embedded in it, presumably from the vase making forcible contact with it.
"Please tell me you can save me, doc."
An unimpressed eyebrow shot upwards. Another one of these facetious moments, Dainn? You're certainly cheeky for a pet gentleman mass murderer. Not that he was complaining. Vyk was an expert at not caring either way.
"Tell me...will boys ever think I'm pretty again?"
This was closely followed by an expression which Vyk assumed designated mock sadness, and a rapid fluttering of the eyelashes that he could only assume was a colloquialism of pleading. Oddly perplexing gestures, he figured, but humans were an odd bunch.
"I think we're going to have to amputate it," he responded dryly. It was funny to him, but that didn't necessarily mean that others were keyed in to his rather odd sense of humor.
"Once more, hold very still," he repeated for emphasis. "This will hurt only a bit."
"Tsui, calculate trajectory."
"Already, Vyk. Thirty-two degress seven seconds above normal." His OAI indicated which fragment she'd performed the calculations for with a quick mental pinpoint.
With his free hand, he pushed up his glasses, then readied the tweezers like some hostile snake, poised to strike.
"Double check positioning."
"Clear, Vyk." Tsui understood why he was worried about missing, of course: showmanship. "You freehanding?"
While a Promethaen truly had the makings of an excellent warrior, with their ability for finesse practically unrivaled, sometimes it was easier to let the OAI take over for a little bit, as they had the advantage of mechanical accuracy and movement.
A skilled Promethaen, however, could always freehand.
"Why not?"
With a swift motion, he struck, grasping the selected piece of glass nimbly between the tips and pulling it out and withdrawing with the same speed. He held it for a moment, blood and glass gleaming in the lamplight, before plunking it down in the dish.
"Again, I don't think it's possible for humans to do this."
"He's lucky I'm not human, then."
Vyk was by no means an undercover agent. He was a scientist, and not one that particularly cared about blending in with his surroundings at that.
Thud!
He glanced at the stairs, and sighed. "Sounds as if the subject is coming to. Very well, let's be quick. Once more, hold still."
"Tsui."
"Fifty two degrees, three minutes, five seconds."
What followed was a flurry of Vyk plucking the shards of glass out. Tsui had directed his attention towards the smaller ones, as larger ones were easy enough for Dainn to take out with his sloppy human methods.
After a few more thuds coming from the downstairs, Vyk ceased, putting down his tweezers on the side of the dish. "There are a few left that should be large enough for you to handle on your own." ((eyebrow waggle large enough for you to handle hon hon hon shut up i'm super tired)) "I believe I have something to attend to, if you'll excuse me. You're certainly free to come along."
With that, he stepped out from behind the counter and made his way to the downstairs.
The crate was rocking back and forth slightly, muffled grunts and thumps coming from within it. Apparently its inhabitant was none too pleased.
Vykhlu sighed.
"Really? I was in the middle of something. How terribly impolite." He strode over to the crate, shoving it into the middle of the floor.
The movement stopped suddenly, followed by a quiet whimpering.
"Dainn, about what size is the subject?" he inquired, then gestured at the crate. "Feel free to take a seat. I may have to move you in a moment, but until that... well, one must imagine the concept of a paperweight."
Vyk hopped over to a work table, covered in a multitude of papers and syringes. Pulling out a clear liquid meticulously labelled print, he nodded and opened the container, readying a syringe to receive the liquid.
"I only need an estimate. Really, on the heavy side would be nice, I don't mind a little overdose. Underdose is more concerning."
The inhabitant of the crate was much quieter now, he noted with a little glance at the still box. Did it think that it was going to get away by staying quiet and pretending that nothing was happening?
It was sorely mistaken.
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"I am not your savior, nor your destruction. I am simply a xenobiologist. And your god." DESIGNATION; the Erudite, Head Xenobiologist of the Infinite. ORGANIC ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE; Tsui CURRENT ALIAS DESIGNATION; Doctor Victor ADDITIONAL NOTABLE COMPANIONS; 2 dead 1 live 1 hyperactive puppyTAGS; Dainn Haskett Vindalfr INSPIRATION; mah epic playlist on itunes NOTES; i am so tired i am so sorry also in my effort to screw vykhlu over he may possibly be stuck into an arranged marriage with Zsasilda. I figured I should mention this to you because Dainn x Vykhlu ship hon hon hon also i used the word gumption i'm sorry if vykhlu is really uneven as a character i'm tired and still figuring him out i'm sorry /sobs vyk is a ninja with tweezers |
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Post by Dainn Haskett Vindalfr on Mar 27, 2014 23:01:27 GMT
"A rhyming demise. What a surprise, such a reprise for a move so unwise."
Dainn had to stifle an audible grumble, but his face expressed any unimpressed attitudes. Oh great, he's a poet too. Still, perhaps then it just confirmed to Dainn that he was in the company of a cultured, sophisticated individual, if he hadn't realised already- which he had, thank you very much. Dainn liked to think he also sufficiently dabbled in the arts, in one way or another at least. Nevertheless, his current indignant mood forbid him to respond with an idle, poetic response. He grouchily decided to allow the doctor his moment of fun at his expense, and prepared himself for many more.
"I think we're going to have to amputate it,"
Dainn cottoned on to the sarcasm humour in Victor's voice, responding with a mock-flourish of "Oh, heavens!", voice increasing in pitch once more. He tried to move his hand to his forehead but alas- Victor's prodding had begun to take place, and Dainn was forced to adopt the 'sulky child at the doctor's surgery' facade, rather carrying on his performance. Spoil sport.
"Once more, hold very still," Victor had readied himself with the tweezers, "This will hurt only a bit."
Dainn raised a curious eyebrow at Victor's words, "I'm hoping it will, doctor." he commented dryly, leaning forward deliberately as if to meet the poised tweezers half-way. Of course, no pain would be ideal to the common man. Dainn was not a common man, and pain was a frequent mistress. It came with the territory, naturally, and so Dainn had come to accept and live with such things and - in turn - a deep part of him welcomed it-no, enjoyed it. Pain came from toils; if the wounds were great, Dainn could give himself a welcome pat on the back. On the other hand, this particular wound had arisen from -what one would argue- a slight blunder. Still, all in a night's work.
His thoughts were interrupted when Victor's hand shot forward like an arrow and before Dainn could even comprehend what he was doing, the doctor had withdrawn his hand, the tweezers grasping a shard of small glass triumphantly. Dainn furrowed his brow and blinked at the man, slightly dumbfounded by the speed. He raised a hand to prod where the glass had been extracted, and uttered a small, disbelieving "Huh." in response. Obviously not a stranger to doing such deeds, Dainn mused, giving his companion a sideways glance, I wonder how many bloodhounds you've kept before.
Whatever. The amount of previous hounds his master- Master? No, business partner, boss if you will. Dainn's mind was keen to keep him in the clear.
Fine. The amount of previous hounds his boss had owned was none of his concern. If this was to be his 'occupation' for the rest of his days, than so be it.
Suddenly there came a loud, heavy thud from downstairs as Victor's future subject begin to recover consciousness.
"Sounds as if the subject is coming to. Very well, let's be quick."
Dainn was about to turn his head to the source of the sound, but Victor's voice halted him.
"Once more, hold still."
Dainn did as he was told, locking his muscles in place to remain motionless as Victor swooped in like a hawk with a barrage of jabs, pulling back each time with a tiny shard of glass within the metallic grasp of the tweezers. Dainn's face was erupting with a series of stings as each piece was removed, but his expression remain unhindered and unchanging. Soon enough, his face was picked clean of all smaller shards as the doctor performed to the increasing symphony of thuds emanating from below.
"There are a few left that should be large enough for you to handle on your own."
Dainn nodded slowly, inwardly thankful to the doctor for relieving him of the tedious job of pulling them out himself. His fingers rested on one of the remaining shards, a larger piece and began wiggling the broken glass from his cheek as Victor continued to speak.
"I believe I have something to attend to, if you'll excuse me. You're certainly free to come along."
"Too kind." Dainn cooed, raising his other hand to wiggle a second shard from his forehead, now that the other had successfully jerked the first piece out. He placed the plucked pieces next to the others Victor had extracted on the counter, "And thank you, doctor. Should I ever need things taken out of me again, I know who to seek out." He gave a couple of clicks with his tongue, eyes giving off a wicked glint, and proceeded to follow Victor.
If the good doctor saw him as a misbehaving cur, than who was Dainn to rob him of such pleasantries?
They reached the cellar together, Dainn watching with a small upward inflection of his lips at the rocking crate. The girl had definitely come to, and was protesting her current confinement. Dainn was silently pleased he hadn't knocked her out too hard; they were so much more fun when they struggled a wee bit.
"Dainn, about what size is the subject? Feel free to take a seat. I may have to move you in a moment, but until that... well, one must imagine the concept of a paperweight."
Dainn gave a gruff snort of laughter in response, striding forward and hopping up on top of the crate, effectively hindering the rocking motion. He heard the girl whimper at her sudden inability to move. Meanwhile, he positioned himself so that he sat cross-legged like a schoolchild, one elbow propped upon his knee, his head resting on the supporting palm. With his other hand, he scratched his neck, humming as he thought of a sufficient answer. He hadn't really paid attention to how big the girl was. 'Not big', was all he could really remember.
"I only need an estimate. Really, on the heavy side would be nice, I don't mind a little overdose. Underdose is more concerning."
Dainn's gave a mental flinch, but he looked visibly indifferent, despite the cock-up. Whoops.
He let out a long puff of air as he deliberated his answer, before sitting up to gesture a sign of 'how the hell should I know?', but his following words phrased it more eloquently, "I don't know. Maid-size?" he drawled, a little sarcasm seeping into his tone. He gestured to Victor's build, "Like your stature; small, thin, meek." Careful, Dainn, proceed delicately here, his mind warned, "You-size. But with breasts." He sucked his lips in and raised both eyebrows, giving Victor a 'happy now?' expression, before adding dryly, "And in a dress."
There was a thumping sound below him as the girl had seemingly thrown her weight against the sides of the box. It barely shuffled an inch. Dainn lowered his head and looked down, as if his eyes could pierce the wooden container and see the helpless maid struggling below him, "How much do you weigh, darling?" he called, rapping a fist gently against the crate. There was another thud, more forceful this time. Dainn looked back up at Victor and shrugged his shoulders, lips pursed and eyes innocently wide. Tags: Vykhlu the Erudite Inspiration: it was this and i don't even know urm Notes: wow mucho bad writing in this post. and dainn would totally be like "oh hell no woman i'm his bitch right here" when vyk gets hitched and like, push Zsasilda out of their bed or something like a really annoying puppy lelz.
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Post by Vykhlu the Erudite on Mar 29, 2014 15:07:52 GMT
“Too kind.”
Vyk raised an eyebrow at the rather facetious tone of voice, but responded dryly, “Oh, yes. I’m a doctor, you know. I’m known for my kindness and how I help the poor folks who have had vases lobbed at their faces.”
“And thank you, doctor. Should I ever need things taken out of me again, I know who to seek out.”
or something else put into you hon hon honnn
However, Vyk had bigger issues to deal with currently: those being the live subject currently in his basement, causing quite a ruckus. At least Dainn had the decency to take a quick seat on the crate to prevent any more noise besides the slight whimpers coming from inside the crate.
“I don’t know. Maid-size?”
Vykhlu gave a sigh. It looked like he’d be guessing.
“Like your stature; small, thin, meek.”
One eyebrow raised. While these were perhaps not the most flattering adjectives, they certainly described what Vyk had been going for when designing his human guise: something that would make him easy to overlook, a little fragile, and entirely underrated. Besides, he figured if he didn’t seem like much no one would try and pick a fight with him. Fighting, he’d found, was quite the bother, especially when there was no magic involved.
“You-size. But with breasts. And in a dress.”
Dainn appeared to be in quite the sarcastic mood. However, Vyk figured he could match that.
“Vyk, you’re a terrible person, you know that.”
“Indeed I do, Tsui.” He raised an unimpressed eyebrow and deadpanned, “I take great offence at my perceived lack of voluptuousness.”
Dainn glanced down at the crate. “How much do you weigh, darling?”
There was only a thud in response, and a rather rude one at that. Vyk frowned, licking his lips. “What a disrespectful guest you are,” he reprimanded the subject coldly. “You do understand that the easier you make this for me, the easier you make it for yourself.”
There was another whimper and thud in response.
Vyk sighed. “Very well, just don’t say I didn’t offer to play nice.”
However, despite all his cheek, the mass murderer had managed to give Vyk at least a ballpark estimate of what the subject’s size was.
Measuring out the needed amounts of the substance, he carefully readied the syringe, tipping it upwards and squirting out the remaining air bubble. Of course, the substance contained within would only take effect after about a half an hour of use. Thus, he would need something much more fast-acting to ensure that the subject was safely pinned down for the remainder of his operation.
He could, of course, physically knock her out, he mused as he put down the syringe and strode to the door, triggering the rune from behind with a light tap, closing it off and keeping both the subjects and his bloodhound locked in with him. Of course, he had no desire to hurt or dissect Dainn… yet.
Additionally, there were other possible substances that enabled one to quickly knock out a human being. Certain gases and liquids, for one, and a slight pressure to certain parts of the windpipe, from what others’ research had told him.
Unfortunately, he’d run out of chloroform in his testing of the substance. “Tsui, remind me to get some more of that. I’ll be needing it with all these subjects.”
“Of course, Vyk. There’s always magic, you know.”
“I’d prefer to keep that strength hidden for as long as possible.”
Vykhlu frowned, glancing at the crate. “I don’t suppose you managed to bind and gag it, did you? Would make things so much easier.”
He supposed that the subject couldn’t run very far. The farthest she could run was up the stairs, which would lead her to a dead end, as far as she was concerned. And even then, she’d be cornered. She’d have the high ground, but she’d be cornered, and a bloodhound or doctor could easily pounce on her then. Either way, there was no escape. She might be able to overpower a human, but not a Promethaen, and she was definitely not one of his fellow agents. Tsui would have told him by now, and she would have undoubtedly contacted him or sent out a beacon. Besides, all the Promethaen were accounted for elsewhere.
The xenobiologist gave a shrug. At this point, he was inclined to simply start the trial. His deliberation would give no further results. Gloves also seemed unnecessary—he wouldn’t be shedding any blood for a little while, anyway. Why bother with them?
Stepping forward, he jerked his head at Dainn, indicating for him to stand up before assessing the crate itself.
Originally, the lid slid into a slot and appeared to have been nailed shut. However, those nails had been pried out to remove its original contents—presumably meat. Now, the lid had been resecured with a series of leather strips bound around the nails jutting out from its surface.
“Best use a knife, Vyk.”
The Erudite had to agree. Glancing at the table, he quickly located one of his duller scalpels, grasping it lightly in his hand and going to work. It took him little time to slit the strips in half, the leather fluttering to the ground.
Tossing the blade back onto table with a clink and a clatter, he cast a glance at Dainn to see how prepared and inclined to helping his bloodhound was. Regardless of the murderer’s level of preparation, Vyk was fairly certain that he had one little human female covered.
However, it would be so much easier if Dainn pulled the crate open.
Reading his hands, he raised an eyebrow at Dainn. “Mind a quick favour?” he inquired, glancing down at the readied crate.
If Dainn was disinclined to opening the crate for whatever reason, Vyk simply cast it open himself. ((Opal Note: normally I’d ask you about this but uh yeah I don’t have internet currently because I’m on the road, so this is just a possibility in case you wanted to have Dainn be a pouty little bastard or whatever.))
Regardless, once the crate was open, as he’d expected the maid sat bolt-upright, attempting to scramble to her feet and trying her hardest to scream. And after spotting her dead employers, she did.
However, Vykhlu was much quicker, one arm looping around her neck in the sleeper hold and the other smothering her mouth and nose.
Oh, how she flailed! But in the end, it was to no avail, and after a few moments of muffled shrieking and struggling, she fell silent, drooping in sleep.
Vyk adjusted his hold, picking her up with one arm beneath her legs and one on her back and moving her over to the correct table before retrieving the scalpel he’d used for cutting and using it to slice off any bindings, instead using the handcuffs and footcuffs to secure her to the table itself.
“Unfortunately, I cannot leave you able to scream,” he murmured to the subject as he returned the dirtied scalpel to his table, picking up the syringe and quickly injecting the substance into her to secure her silence.
A thin smile curved his lips upwards. “But I will need to perform some of my experiments when you are awake. And thus, I must render you entirely mute.”
Placing the syringe in a special pile of utensils that were marked “to wash” in his mind, Vyk took out a clean, well-sharpened scalpel—much better a blade than the dagger he’d last used in front of Dainn—and returned to his subject. Placing the blade on the table in reach of his bloodhound (as he figured the murderer might want to examine the instrument, he gathered up the maid’s hair and brushed it almost tenderly out of the way of her neck, then unbuttoning her blouse, not out of any lust or feelings, but rather to keep his area of work perfectly clean.
“I will apologize in advance for any sloppiness in this operation,” he stated. “I haven’t performed such a trick in humans, so this is a… trial and error type of deal.”
Notes: THIS PROBABLY SUCKS I’M SORRY I KINDA DID THIS ON A GIANT DRIVE Also that moment when you’re at the drive through at mcdonald’s and you’re like “wow what is that toy I want it” but you can’t get a happymeal because you’re a big girl now Also I got about halfway into this post and realized that I didn’t actually know how dainn would’ve closed the crate and had no internet to figure it out so yeah I’m sorry
also sorry for no format i don't know how long this comp is going to last on me
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Post by Dainn Haskett Vindalfr on Mar 29, 2014 23:21:03 GMT
“What a disrespectful guest you are,”
Dainn looked up sharply with a dejected pout, thinking the scorn was directed towards him. He realised soon after however, that he was not the focus of Victor's judgement. Which was a slight pity, in all honesty; he rather liked it when Victor was irritated with him. Still, he'd have to remember to keep his deliberately bothersome tendencies to a minimum, just to test the waters for now. Victor was decidedly very fun for Dainn to play with, and urge to see how much he could get away, how much he could annoy his doctor companion 'till he fell over the edge was great. I wonder, doctor, how would you discipline a naughty puppy?
Unfortunately for Dainn, the maid was the subject of Victor's scorn.
“You do understand that the easier you make this for me, the easier you make it for yourself.”
A small, wicked grin tugged at one corner of Dainn's lips. I wouldn't make it easy.
(dainn would make it hard giggitygiggity)
“Very well, just don’t say I didn’t offer to play nice.”
Dainn leaned back on the box, placing both hands behind him to keep his body propped up. He gave a lazy stretch, arching his spine upwards slightly. As he did so, he licked his dry lips and let out a soft, low chuckle, quiet enough not to be an outward laugh, but loud enough for Victor to detect. "Were you ever going to be nice, sir?" he inquired coyly, voice straining slightly as he stretched.
The Shuck watched Victor ready his needles and the underground chamber with a face of mock-disinterest, when inwardly -yes, he was actually very quite interested indeed. He found himself with the first few sparks of excitement in the pit of his gut, eager to see Victor's handiwork on a living specimen. In his own experience, he had found that the ones who took longer to give up were always the most fun to play with. Once you had them effectively subdued, they were a blank canvas, just asking- no, begging to be touched, to be broken, to be crafted back into something even greater than before. Of course, he didn't half reckon Victor's own goals were different to his own, but he was certain their wavelengths intertwined at various stages during their individual thought processes. It was probably why Dainn found himself so apt to help his new business partner. Yes, he really was adopting the whole 'pet-like obedience' quite quickly, and it was hard to distinguish who was getting more of a kick out it - him or Victor.
“I don’t suppose you managed to bind and gag it, did you? Would make things so much easier.”
Dainn rudely blew a raspberry, taking slight offense that Victor would even think he'd neglected such obvious precautions. After a brief moment of allowing his tongue to flop out at Victor's words, Dainn quickly withdrew it and his face became light and airy once more, just to show he was quick to forgive and forget the subtle accusation. He really was too kind after all. "Check and check." he returned dryly, "Like I would dare putting you out, doctor." Ohoho yes I would~ chirped a sing-song voice in his head.
Victor indicated for him to remove himself from his perch, and Dainn hopped off quickly and promptly resorted to leaning against the crate instead, but making sure he was out his curious companion's way. He watched as Victor retrieved a blunt knife and proceeded to slice at the leather straps keeping the box secure. He had to suppress a smirk; it was like watching a child open a birthday present, eager and determined to reveal a much sought-after gift.
Once he was finished, Victor turned to Dainn with a suggestive expression.
“Mind a quick favour?”
Dainn let out a brief "Huh." in response but he turned to the crate nonetheless, and hooked his long fingers through the small gap underneath the lid. He stabilised himself by squaring out his feet before pushing against the protective wooden seal. It protested a little against his weight but eventually gave to and slid off the top, revealing the bound individual inside. She sat up almost instantly and tried to launch a hasty escape but Victor was on her like a shot, embracing her tightly from behind in a sleeper hold and -all too quickly- the struggle was over. Dainn had to refrain hehe rhyme from letting a disappointed sigh escape his lips. Pity. He'd been looking forward to a chase. P-E-N-T U-P E-N-E-R-G-Y
Victor mumbled something to his now-motionless specimen before hefting her up into his arms and depositing her on the table fashioned with cuffs and straps. Dainn felt a serious jealous pout coming on.
Nevertheless, he followed Victor over and went to pick up a small, sharp blade the doctor had just set down on the table. He inspected the device with a raised eyebrow, a small but soft smile expressing his genuine approval. Still, he retained the belief his blade was better. "Mine's bigger." he stated suddenly, twirling the smaller instrument in his fingers before setting in down again.
“I will apologize in advance for any sloppiness in this operation." Victor had begun, as he was undressed the unconscious girl. Dainn had to desperately will himself not to make a crude remark. He was surprised with how successful he was. "I haven’t performed such a trick in humans, so this is a… trial and error type of deal.”
Considering his previous track record (or at least, from what Dainn had seen), it was doubtful Victor could mess up his already finely honed techniques. Besides, the girl was still, he wouldn't have to deal with her frantic squirming, at least for now anyway. Surely it wasn't much different than dissecting a dead subject, just a bit more...warmer, perhaps. "Forgive me for saying so, sir," he began, dragging out the last word in a dry tone, "-but I hardly doubt you'll do anything sloppy." He turned so that his back was leaning against the table, but kept his head turned he could watch the process, "That being said, don't feel you have to be neat just because I'm here." A playful smirk tugged at his lips.
It was just then a sudden thought occurred to him, and he looked round at Victor to voice his concern, "You say you haven't performed on live humans, but you're a doctor," His face was unchanging, except from an eyebrow that raised in curiosity and bemusement, "-surely you've cut open patients before, correct?"
Tags: Vykhlu the Erudite Notes: so suggestive omfg dainn behave yourself
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Post by Vykhlu the Erudite on Mar 30, 2014 20:30:44 GMT
"Were you ever going to be nice, sir?"
Vykhlu blinked as if it were a question he had not even considered. "Why, of course. It's always important to extend the utmost courtesy to guests." He spoke as if it were obvious, but not with derision, as if he were simply the host playing his part. Which he was, although very few understood that it was he who was the guest on this planet.
He'd been treated rather abominably thus so far, if he did say so himself.
However, he was a tad bit more undercover than one would normally be when looking for the hospitality of one's hosts. He was fairly certain that should he be part of an official Promethaen delegation, he'd be treated much more nicely than he'd been previously.
"Check and check. Like I would dare putting you out, doctor."
"Putting me out?" Vyk inquired, one eyebrow raising at the phrasing. "If you intend to cause some sort of problem with the workings of our little business contract, I would appreciate advance notice before you throw a wrench into my system," he continued, using a rather quaint human colloquialism he'd picked up somewhere along the way. "I do believe you'll find it rather hard to bring me to any sort of justice, though. I haven't survived this long without being an infuriatingly slippery fish for our friends the law enforcement.”
He gave a quick smile. He was fairly certain that even the Drakonrhedi, even if they were sure of what to do, could really help any when Doctor Victor simply vanished into thin air, as aliases so often did. He doubted the chase would be kept up long after—the humans had bigger fish to fry.
Their expressions were so quaint. It was quite amusing.
Dainn was eager to assist in the process of subduing the maid, despite the fact that he seemed a little disappointed at the efficiency of Vyk’s work.
“Patience, my hound,” the Erudite chastised with a gentle smile. “You’ll get your hunt soon enough. I will need many more specimens…” He let himself trail off, finishing the statement silently, ...before my time on your Earth is done.
“Mine’s bigger.”
and I quoth the teapot, ‘giggity giggity’
“But not nearly as nice,” Vyk replied without hesitation. “I am very picky with my choice of instruments. I assure you that this is not the largest blade I keep at my disposal. It is simply the best suited for my current purposes.” As are you, bloodhound. Of course, you have a bit more… sentimental attachment due to the wonderful irony contained within your assistance.
“Forgive me for saying so, sir, but I hardly doubt you’ll do anything sloppy.”
The xenobiologist gave a thin smile. “Sloppy? No. Perhaps not as exact as I could be, however, a fact which I must be resigned to. There is a first trial for everything, after all, and hopefully my experience with other life forms will assist me here.”
“That being said, don’t feel you have to be neat just because I’m here.”
“I assure you that I require no assistance in feeling as if I have to be neat,” Vyk responded, equally amused. That was most definitely true—as many observed very quickly, Vyk was meticulously, unnecessarily, compulsively neat. It was one of the few things that he thought nearly necessary to change about himself—sometimes it was more of a hindrance than a help.
But as it stood, there was no reason for him not to indulge himself with a bit of cleanliness. Even in the field, one had to take certain precautions to ensure that data was not contaminated, after all, and his current facilities enabled that, even if they weren’t as sophisticated as he was used to.
“You say you haven’t performed on live humans, but you’re a doctor—surely you’ve cut open patients before, correct?”
Had he said those exact words? Not that he remembered. He hoped not, but he had never mentioned what his ‘day job’ was to Dainn—and his hound would probably never learn the truth about the guise switch that he pulled off every so often.
Thus, Vyk chuckled slightly. “Aye, I’ve cut open live patients, but I doubt any of my paying clientele would especially appreciate it if I were to try this particular operation on them. After all… they like their voices.”
With that, he carefully crouched down and leaned in so he was closer to the subject, picking up his knife and twirling it in his fingers nimbly before positioning his arm on the woman’s slowly rising and falling chest to ensure its stability and carefully inserting the scalpel a few centimeters below where her chin met her neck—a rather delicate specimen, indeed.
Red welled from the incision, although he kept it very shallow. He was not aiming to kill her, after all, and deliberation was required, especially in this stage. Humans’ necks were a very important part of their body, after all, much like in Promethaen. However, he’d performed much more delicate experiments—one alien, for example, that had its voicebox nestled deep in its chest, right beside vital organs. He’d not even popped a lung—well, rather, breath-sac. It wasn’t technically a lung.
All his centuries of experience, then, assisted him in keeping this procedure as easy as could be.
“I always like to make this one of my first few steps,” he explained in a low, slightly distracted voice as he carefully peered inside her neck, getting a feel for the dimensions of the organ he was removing. “I do detest a subject making a cacophony, after all. Although some would prefer to remove the tongue or gag them, I’ve found that squealing can still happen, and that’s just as bad as screaming. Instead I simply root out the problem—at its source.”
As he’d spoken, he’d cut out the entire organ, carefully outlining its shape on the surface with rivulets of crimson, sending droplets of crimson like tears down the woman’s neck and tumbling into the table beneath her.
Vyk carefully withdrew the blade to examine his handiwork. There was a slightly longer original cut than necessary, about an inch-long incision down the middle of her neck, with a small circle where the voicebox was.
“Think I’m deep enough, Tsui?”
“Looks about right. I think it could’ve been bigger, but…”
Re-inserting the blade, he carefully pried the organ out, balancing it on his knife for a moment before letting it slide off into his palm.
“Little darling won’t be squealing anymore,” he announced with a pleased smile as he retrieved a dish from his table and plopped the organ inside it. “One pharynx removed. And look, still alive! Now we can move on to the more enjoyable parts.”
((I think it’s the pharynx? I can’t remember and I don’t have internet to search. I think it’s either the pharynx or the larynx, I just can never remember which one.))
“For example.” He went to where one of the maid’s feet was bound down, opening the shackle to yank off her shoe and sock before locking her back up. “I don’t really need the leg for anything except tendon and nerve structure, and I’ve got the other one for that.”
He drifted over to the cupboard beneath his tools table, opening it and pulling out two meticulously labelled fluids. “Do you have any idea how your skin reacts to acids and bases?”
Vyk popped open the bottle and let a few droplets slip down onto the woman’s skin. Both landed with hisses.
“The effects are barely distinguishable at first,” he mused, “but I have a feeling that with a few moments—ah! Yes, indeed, very different reactions. I suppose the next step would be to dip entire limbs in strong versions of these substances, but I’m afraid I can’t waste this particular subject on such a whim.”
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"I am not your savior, nor your destruction. I am simply a xenobiologist. And your god." DESIGNATION; the Erudite, Head Xenobiologist of the Infinite. ORGANIC ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE; Tsui CURRENT ALIAS DESIGNATION; Doctor Victor ADDITIONAL NOTABLE COMPANIONS; 2 dead, 1 napping, 1 bloodhoundTAGS; Dainn Haskett Vindalfr NOTES; kay so I’m not sure what should happen next. I can always have Vyk be like “blargh doctor cutting shit up” but that requires me to do research and think about what Promethaen would need to know and UGH so do you have any ideas? We can always shut this thread down and have them run into each other another time, even with Vyk in a Drakonrhedi guise or w/e. Although maybe we should save that for further into the plot. Also hi I just had a piece of candy with THIRTY GRAMS OF SUGAR which is about THIRTY MORE GRAMS OF SUGAR THAN I SHOULD EVER EAT IN ONE SITTING. It was tasty.
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