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[ukan]

Leave a message, knock on his door, etc.

Comments

[epistemological]

In my own world, I work for the Magnus Institute in London, which is an organization dedicated to academic research into the esoteric and paranormal.

[ He pauses as he considers how to address exactly what he does, the reality of the organization.]

We take statements of people's experiences and we study them to try and gain a better understanding of the machinations of the Entities that seem to be working in the world through a variety of creatures and avatars.

[ This is a bit of a sore spot for him, still. Which is why he continues.]

I've been a voracious reader since I was a child, appreciate all manner of books, but the fact of the matter is that the ivory tower of pure academia is never going to have the same impact, provide the same practical understanding, as first-hand experiences.

[ukan]

[Lark has an innate respect for those who go after difficult, first-hand experiences. Especially if they have a less effective but much safer alternative.

But what he's thinking about now is:]

Not Magnus as in Helen Magnus?

[epistemological]

[ There's a pause at the question as he has to consider. That wasn't the founder, certainly, but he also didn't remember any Helen other than, well...]

Jonah, actually. If there was a Helen, I've never heard her mentioned.

[ukan]

[Lark waves a hand] A coincidence. I'll send you one of her recordings, then, and you tell me if the format is helpful. If it's not- well, it's all I have.

[epistemological]

Archivists can't be choosers. So to speak.

[ Though he can't say he hasn't cherrypicked a little. But here, he hardly thinks he should. He has as much learning to do as anyone might. ]

I'd love to know the... approximate number of recordings, statements, that kind of thing... that you happen to have. Just for determining the size of the area I should designate.

[ukan]

Some of them belong to my boyfriend; I'd need to bribe him to let us use them. But the things I've gathered myself are free, and there are a few hundred entries at least. Do you want to archive them chronologically or...?

[epistemological]

[ It is, in some ways, somewhat good that Jon had contacted him on an audio link, as the mention of hundreds of statements about this place makes something hungry and needful flicker through his eyes. Jon's oldest desire, since even before 'A Guest for Mr. Spider' had set him on his path, had been to know. To hear all the different voices within the pages of the books he read, to see and hear and experience. Some of it is in his voice when he speaks, an eagerness to get to work, certainly. There's nothing sinister to it, he has no plans for the information. He just always wants to Know. ]

Honestly, I'd like to see what you've got before I make any assumptions. Depending on what the records entail, how they're organized, their length and breadth, that will all determine what might serve best.

[ukan]

All right. You'll have to give me time to get things decrypted and put together, it might be slow going. Most things with me are. [This is maybe the most openly honest thing he's said all week.]

[epistemological]

[ Hmph. Well, at least he'll have time to scout out a good spot.]

That's fine. I'll take the time to find a proper location for the archive, given the numbers you've given me.

[ A soft, thoughtful hum as he starts putting together a list in his head.]

Not to mention getting settled into this place properly. I've only just arrived, after all.

A spot for tea as well. And I should probably get to know at least some of the people here before I bury myself in my normal work, considering.

[ That last one was sort of a joke. Sort of. ]

[ukan]

I thought introversion was a requirement in your line of work. And don't stress if you don't meet many people at first. Sooner or later, you'll end up in a life where you're family.

[He tries to say it neutrally but Lark hates breaches. Hates. Them.]

[epistemological]

[ And that is a very disturbed sort of clearing of his throat. Because, well-]

I'm sorry, f-family?

[ He sounds the opposite of thrilled.]

[ukan]

The Admiral's main method of changing us is to force us into alternate lives. I've been married, I've been someone's child, I've been a brother. You never know when it will happen, and you won't realize it has happened until the Admiral stops fucking with your head.

[epistemological]

[ You'll excuse the small explosion of sputtering sound, please. He's livid.]

That is barbaric.

[ He'd been told that there would be changes, that he might be a bird or a child, that he might be transported into one world or another. But to assign loved ones, family, to give someone a child-]

And this is normal?

[ukan]

It's life here. It's what a warden's job is: making sure that the inmates don't completely break down, so that we can all survive the next round.

No one told you?

[epistemological]

[ He very much sounds as if he'd like to snap at someone, but he doesn't want to snap at the person he's talking to so it's just... bottled irritation.]

No one had mentioned that particular aspect in such a way, no.

[ukan]

People probably water it down. They don't want to scare new blood, but they also have to justify being here while still telling themselves they're decent people. To them, being shoved into a new family is fun.

[epistemological]

[ His smile is a little grim and audible enough.]

I'm under no such delusion, I suppose. And have...

Suffice to say, I'm not looking forward to any new 'family' this place might 'decide' for me.

[ He really does sound rather bitter about the whole thing.]

[ukan]

I've had a few. I ignore them all when we come out of it. Not the people--just the fake lives we led. They sometimes fade. But anyway, that's going to be in the archives I send you, too: posts that people made while they were living strangers' lives.

...You have some experience with this, don't you?

[epistemological]

I have... quite a lot of experience with... I suppose the best way to put it is living through others' experiences. Feeling what they felt, knowing what they knew.

[ A pause. ]

And in... well, in some thing deciding to change people around. Filling in thoughts and images and memories for you, copying over what's real with something fake.

[ Sasha. And the Not!Sasha. The idea that such a thing happens here, regularly, frequently, and everyone just brushes over it-]

It's evil.

[ukan]

[Lark doesn't like wardens as a rule. He can get along with them, laugh and play games and share with them, but at the end of the day he'd leave them to die on the ship if he got the chance. All but two--Tiffany and Alec--who show genuine concern for him, and have suffered for him.

He's never heard either of them refer to any part of the Barge as evil. It's a strange word to hear after so long among superheroes but it resonates unexpectedly in him.]

Are you a telepath?

[epistemological]

[ That is the sound of a soft snort.]

No. Nor do I have any manner of omniscience. I can't-

I don't look inside anyone's head.

[ukan]

[It is a relief to hear, even if Lark has made peace with telepaths. More or less.]

Around here it's hard to say how literally to take people. I tell people I can be a monster, you know--but half of them don't realize that I mean it.

[epistemological]

[ Another low chuckle, with just a tinge of bitterness.]

I won't disbelieve you.

[ He lets out something very much like a sigh, familiar and tired all at once.]

Especially as I could say the same.

[ukan]

I'm a wolf. [It's not a secret at all, but it still feels like one. Lark tries never to forget how sharing this secret will cost him his life at home.]

What kind of monster are you?

[epistemological]

I've heard.

[ He won't make any secret of the fact that he'd been informed about him, during a conversation that had happened somewhat concurrent with this one. Quentin had been up front about it, and he hadn't been bothered by it in the least since then. Less so than the news that he'd be having his entire life NotThem'd like some sort of game whenever the Admiral bloody well felt like it.

But he does consider his answer carefully before he speaks. As carefully as he considers anything which, in some ways, isn't nearly as careful as he perhaps should be.]

The kind that feeds on secrets, on knowing, the same way I suspect some part of you thrives on the Hunt.

[ Lawrence Mortimer's words were still there, after all. He'd read them off the page and some part of them was still in him, just like all of them were. He could almost hear the sing-song recollection of the predator's words.

He understood that hunger more than he liked.]