mental link | morning of day :039

[perroquet]

[ The ever present mental music that plays from the bard's end of the connection grows invasively louder sometime after breakfast, and it is rather anxious. The morning has been heavy enough already with packing getting underway, but this is due to something different. While the music in him is clear as ever, his thoughts stumble across the connection sloppily and desperately. ]

( I require a detective... I think. Oh dear, this is quite dire… )

[ He knows of several, but with the situation being as dire as he claims, well... he may need as much help as possible. All hands on deck. ]

( I believe someone has discovered that I am not Carbauschian, and... has poisoned me. )

[ The pauses between coherent thought are more than a bit dramatic, but he's being quite serious. ]

Comments

[iuno]

[ he'd planned to tune out whatever public announcement is going through the Nest this time, but at the word detective, Juno perks up like a dog that only recognises a few words and doesn't let that deter him from reacting. it's a little pathetic. he's so desperate to make himself useful in the only way he knows how that he'll take anything these days.

he considers, all his thoughts weighted and a keen little spark of interest: detective. ]

( Detective? Sounds to me like you need a doctor. )

[perroquet]

[ The quick reaction is promising, though Gildor doesn't recognize the voice that responds across the connection. He's also desperate, (because, well... he's dying, or thinks he is) and will take all the help he can. ]

( Doctor? Well, eventually yes. I am a healer, but my spells only help in slowing poison, not curing it. )

[ And those spells have already been cast as a precaution. He's bought time, though his mind and the music echoing through it remains quite frantic. ]

( Is that an offer from a doctor, or...? )

[iuno]

( Nope. Detective. )

[ he just felt like there should be a disclaimer that his job is to solve crimes, not help someone who's poisoned and still alive. ]

( If you're poisoned, someone's going to need to know where it came from to do anything about it. Anyone get a chance to slip you something? )

[perroquet]

[ At least this detective seems eager to catch a poisoner. The other in his head is just as eager to dismiss it. ]

( Well yes, it would probably be simple to. I'm blind. )

[ And drunk half the time since Shinji fell into a coma, but he leaves that out. Or tries to. It's easy to think that he's safe from having his memories examined too closely when none of them are based in imagery, but the smell of that grassy Hyrypian liquor is as strong in his mind as his music. He craves it just as much as song. ]

[iuno]

( Huh. Yeah, that would make it easier. )

[ alcohol doesn't need any imagery to understand, at least for Juno; if he were a social drinker, maybe. but he's the drowning sort of lady. hazy connections are good enough for him to get the idea of it. ]

( Not going to be much use to ask unless you tasted something off, then. ) [ there's a faint exasperation, as always lamenting the fact that nothing he takes on is ever easy. ] ( Let's try a different angle: symptoms? )

[perroquet]

( We are in an entirely alien world. Everything tastes rather... well, not off, but different. ) [ While any associations he's made Hyrypian food are notably positive, it's too difficult to tell from taste alone. ]

( Chills, fever, dizziness, pain... )

[ So vague, vague, vague, and vague. ]

[iuno]

[ there's a beat of hesitation. Juno may not be a doctor, but he does know poisons to some extent, and he'd expect debilitating pain, poor motor skills, bleeding. that sounds... mild, to say the least. ]

( So... what makes you so sure it's poison, and not, say... the flu? )

[perroquet]

( Because I believe I was discovered last night. )

[ Really, must he repeat that part? He's clearly dying a slow painful death and not at all being a giant baby with paranoia. ]

( I may have exposed some skin between my sleeves and gloves while performing in the town square. I had to tear holes in the tips of the gloves to play at all. Someone must have seen- )

[iuno]

( Okay, but then why would they poison you? You would have just handed them the perfect opportunity to expose all of us and take us out of the whole political squabble. If they just kill you— ) [ his train of thought switches tracks and he pauses, reconsiders: ] ( Hm. Actually, that wouldn't be a bad plan. Kill one of us and call for an autopsy so they have evidence... )

[ ... and that's maybe not helpful to hear. this is why this part shouldn't be a detective's job; he gives people answers, not reassurance. ]

( Look, never mind — the point is, it doesn't sound like poison. Either you're just coming down with something, or someone did try to poison you and they didn't do it right. Happens all the time back in Hyperion. )

[perroquet]

[ If Gildor was expecting validation for his paranoia, he wasn't expecting it in the form of more, wilder paranoia. It actually makes the orchestra in his head fall quiet for a moment as he examines the back and forth theories Juno presents. ]

( ...are you certain you're detective and not an assassin? )

[iuno]

( I'm a private eye from a city where crime is a career choice and "upward mobility" usually means killing your way up the ladder. )

[ there are impressions of Hyperion in Juno's mind, the shape of its absence in him a terrible gap like someone has torn it out of him — glaring neon lights and the long, dark shadows they cast; towering buildings that scrape the top of the dome encasing their picture-perfect snowglobe city and the alleyways in between. a place where only the richest will ever convince themselves that they're safe. ]

( Trust me, it's just experience. Attempted murder might as well be a Hyperion hello. )