[Lucien arrives looking a bit more modern than the last time they met: black denim, black boots, and a black t-shirt that gives an idea of the figure beneath. Might as well put himself on a bit of display. Slung across his chest is an innocuous messenger back.
As he steps into the lobby, he feels something exceedingly familiar. The feeling of being watched doesn't make him flinch, however. Not here, not now. If anything, the red eyes hidden on his body glow faintly. Most are hidden by his clothes, but the one on his neck and the two on his right hand - the back and the palm - are evident enough.]
[Jon is in his usual work outfit, a button-down with a pair of dark slacks and a dark green sweater vest. His eyes are drawn to that bag more than the tattoos for the moment.]
Hello. We're upstairs. I trust you can manage without a lift?
[There's a sharp gesture to the stairwell leading to the upper levels.]
The journey upward takes longer than it should, mainly because Jon keeps glancing back at the other man, not entirely trusting him to be behind and out of his sight. But they make it up to the third floor, and Jon lets them into an office that has a few desks and wheelie office chairs in it.
"This should do. Where's the book." His attention is back on that bag.
Lucien seems to be on his best behavior, however, paying little mind to the man ahead of him beyond the fact that he is following him. He steps into the room and examines the space, absently running his fingers over one of the desks.
"Not even a little foreplay? You make a lot of friends, don't you."
Jon rolls his eyes. "We're doing research, not flirting. Tell me what you have divined about the book, if you want to talk beforehand." He grabs one of the chairs and seats himself at the desk.
"Oh, keep that up. It's really doing it for me," he says with a low chuckle. Lucien slides the bag off and he pulls out what appears to be a stack of papers, but it's soon apparent that they are bound together - the only thing missing is whatever had been used as a cover.
"Some intrepid soul went to explore the ruins of Aeor - a floating city that crashed into the earth sometime during the Calamity. And if you want a history lesson, I'll give you one later. This is that explorer's journal."
Jon ignores the first comment. It's better not to respond to a troll, right? That's what people keep telling him. And Lucien is, very clearly, a troll, his species notwithstanding.
Instead, Jon's full attention is on the bound pages. It's hard not to try to reach out and snatch it. "Summarize what's legible for me. It's probably too much to read in one sitting." That's not a lie, so it's... fine. He can make it through this without letting on that he's illiterate at the moment.
"Well, first of all, it's written in Undercommon," he says as he flips it open, allowing Jon to see the text. "Starts with some musings about the history of Aeor and it's current location. According to the journal, the writer travels to discover a massive anomaly and an entrance to an underground labyrinth of corridors and structures."
Lucien flips through the text, and as he goes, Jon might notice that the handwriting becomes more... erratic. He continues summarizing, with a bit of flare. He isn't a bad storyteller, with the cadence to keep interest while still being informative.
"The writer explored more of the ruins, discovering information about the Cognouza ward - a part of the city organized by a group of philosophers. They were dedicated to the idea of using arcane energy to manifest dreams and imagination, and they were apparently getting very obsessed with the Astral Sea."
He flips through a few more pages, slowly. He stops on a page with another, older piece of paper wedged in. On the facing page, there's a careful recreation of that text on a clean page.
"When the city was under threat, those philosophers betrayed it, apparently managing to send their entire ward - and all its populace - into the Astral Plane. This," he says, tapping the more ancient-looking paper, "was recovered from the ruins of Aeor, left behind. Our intrepid explorer apparently intended to project himself into the Astral Plane, to seek out possible survivors. And then..."
After that entry - the last one with recognizable writing - the pages are filled with nonsense scratches, shapes, symbols, and incredibly detailed patterns focused around the number nine.
To Jon's eyes, there's little change from the legible text to incoherent scribbling. He listens intently and squints down at the pages as Lucien flips them, though, as if reading along with him. If Lucien is watching closely, he's more focusing on points on the pages, rather than reading along the lines. When they do reach what's illegible, though, it's the scratches and symbols that catch his attention.
Without thinking about it, Jon reaches forward to try to touch the page, smooth his fingers over the shapes. "Is that... nine? Six?" Sixty-nine because this is Duplicity? God, he hopes not. "Is there any significance for either of those numbers with the Astral Sea, Aeor, or the Cognouza ward?"
Lucien watches as Jon touches the pages, fingers brushing past symbols and scribblings. He's come to understand them, but if Jon wants to look... well. Far be it from Lucien to stop him. Yet.
"Nine," he affirms. He leans on the table next to Jon, allowing the Archivist a little more room to look. He's paying attention, though. "Well, there's nine planes of existence. Material, Astral, Ethereal. Four elemental planes - earth, air, fire, water. Then two outer planes. There are symbols for all of them here. But."
Lucien turns a page, whether or not Jon has finished looking, to reveal barely-legible handwriting.
"There were nine philosophers who headed the Cognouza ward."
Jon isn't finished, but there's too much here, really. His eyes are darting greedily across the page, and he should know better given his experience with cursed books. This one isn't a Leitner, though. He can deal with it. And Lucien's clearly read it without bursting into flames. Which... might not actually say much. He's in too deep at this point, though, too fascinated by it, trying to follow the swirls and strokes, even if he can't understand it.
Maybe if he sits with it long enough, he can divine some meaning? The Beholding has to have taken an interest. "He has to have made it. This explorer. That's why the writing's gone wrong. He made it to the Astral Sea and... got back? Maybe? Or can things just fall through from one plane to another?"
"Hm, not usually. Someone can be thrown from one plane into another, but I don't think there's any falling out unintentionally."
Which is why the Somnovem need him. Lucien brushes his thumb over a crudely-etched symbol that looks like an eye. Whatever the writer was using, they pressed down hard enough with it to rip through the paper while making some of the lines. Jon's interest is palpable. And oddly attractive.
"Life would get very complicated very quickly if that were the case."
"Life is already fairly complicated when we're being dragged to sex cities against our wills." Just saying. Jon's attention turns to where Lucien is touching.
"Do you know the significance of the eyes here? I presume it has something to do with piercing the veil into the different planes?" He's going to be looking for others like it on the book, comparing to other eyes he's familiar with and-
"Hm, would you look at that?" he says as he looks at his right hand, which features a red eye hidden in the tattooed snake head as the snake's eye. Then he slips his fingers beneath the book block and flips it closed with the soft thump of dozens of pages landing.
"It goes on just like that, page after page after page."
That's not an answer, and Jon wants it. His hand comes to rest atop the book block. He needs to know more about those eyes, what they really mean, particularly on Lucien.
"What do you want for the chance to review this more in-depth? Money? I can pay you by the hour for the time I'm examining it."
It is, but it's one that Lucien can solve in other ways. This has more value than some coin. He drums his fingers lightly over the bound pages, seeming to consider his options. Though it's difficult to tell when his focus shifts by looking, it's something one can feel. He looks at Jon.
He's not sure if that's what this man is driving at. It's not something he particularly wants to do, but he's willing to compromise when he has this mystery staring him down. Once Lucien finds out he's not especially experienced, he probably won't be interested in anything further.
"How am I supposed to know what you want?" Jon snaps back, his fingers pressing down harder on the book. "I don't know. You can ask me whatever you want and I'll answer honestly? I'll let you look at some of the Statements I have from natives? I'll give you a contract, if you haven't got one, so you can do whatever it is you can't do without one?"
"A contract?" he echoes. Now that's something that could be worth it. But that would tie him to this little man for what, three months? He supposes in the grand scheme that isn't terribly long. How far could he twist Jon's arm before breaking it?
That's easy enough. If he can survive a contract with Dorian Gray, he survive a contract with anyone. "A contract. Temporary, of course. I'll pay for you to live somewhere that isn't the Down public housing, and you'll have permission to buy whatever you want with your own money. You can write up the contract however you want and I'll sign it." Because that's legitimately never gone poorly for him. Why would it now?
"I only have one clause I include in every contract, which is that we can update it on a weekly basis, just in case something in the city changes."
"Everything is temporary, I'm not sure there's a need to specify that. You might hurt my feelings, Archivist."
Unlikely. But the possibility of getting out of the bloody Down sounds like a chance he can't pass up. Lucien is used to not having creature comforts, but this is... an enforced humiliation that he would rather not continue.
He drums his fingers again, considering the book.
"However I want?" he prompts, brow lifting. Surely there's a catch there, other than that little clause.
"However you want within reason. I'm not just giving you all my money, or whatever. You can rent a flat somewhere, and I'll pay for it. Buy what you need. I'll expect you to contribute your own income to things, as well." He accepts only one kept man in his life, and that is Martin Blackwood. "You can do whatever you want for quota. I don't care."
"You don't care? That hurts my feelings, Jon." A passing pout turns into another smile. "I already said I don't want your money."
What would he do with it, in his position? The contract grants him license to spend it, but.
"And when I change hands? What happens to a flat then?" Well, since this is temporary, he should look to the future, shouldn't he? "I've heard the newly contracted live with their Dominants."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
>> action
As he steps into the lobby, he feels something exceedingly familiar. The feeling of being watched doesn't make him flinch, however. Not here, not now. If anything, the red eyes hidden on his body glow faintly. Most are hidden by his clothes, but the one on his neck and the two on his right hand - the back and the palm - are evident enough.]
Hello again, Archivist.
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Hello. We're upstairs. I trust you can manage without a lift?
[There's a sharp gesture to the stairwell leading to the upper levels.]
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I'll manage. After you.
[He makes a sweeping gesture with his arm and falls in behind the Archivist for the trip up.]
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"This should do. Where's the book." His attention is back on that bag.
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"Not even a little foreplay? You make a lot of friends, don't you."
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"Some intrepid soul went to explore the ruins of Aeor - a floating city that crashed into the earth sometime during the Calamity. And if you want a history lesson, I'll give you one later. This is that explorer's journal."
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Instead, Jon's full attention is on the bound pages. It's hard not to try to reach out and snatch it. "Summarize what's legible for me. It's probably too much to read in one sitting." That's not a lie, so it's... fine. He can make it through this without letting on that he's illiterate at the moment.
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Lucien flips through the text, and as he goes, Jon might notice that the handwriting becomes more... erratic. He continues summarizing, with a bit of flare. He isn't a bad storyteller, with the cadence to keep interest while still being informative.
"The writer explored more of the ruins, discovering information about the Cognouza ward - a part of the city organized by a group of philosophers. They were dedicated to the idea of using arcane energy to manifest dreams and imagination, and they were apparently getting very obsessed with the Astral Sea."
He flips through a few more pages, slowly. He stops on a page with another, older piece of paper wedged in. On the facing page, there's a careful recreation of that text on a clean page.
"When the city was under threat, those philosophers betrayed it, apparently managing to send their entire ward - and all its populace - into the Astral Plane. This," he says, tapping the more ancient-looking paper, "was recovered from the ruins of Aeor, left behind. Our intrepid explorer apparently intended to project himself into the Astral Plane, to seek out possible survivors. And then..."
After that entry - the last one with recognizable writing - the pages are filled with nonsense scratches, shapes, symbols, and incredibly detailed patterns focused around the number nine.
no subject
Without thinking about it, Jon reaches forward to try to touch the page, smooth his fingers over the shapes. "Is that... nine? Six?" Sixty-nine because this is Duplicity? God, he hopes not. "Is there any significance for either of those numbers with the Astral Sea, Aeor, or the Cognouza ward?"
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"Nine," he affirms. He leans on the table next to Jon, allowing the Archivist a little more room to look. He's paying attention, though. "Well, there's nine planes of existence. Material, Astral, Ethereal. Four elemental planes - earth, air, fire, water. Then two outer planes. There are symbols for all of them here. But."
Lucien turns a page, whether or not Jon has finished looking, to reveal barely-legible handwriting.
"There were nine philosophers who headed the Cognouza ward."
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Maybe if he sits with it long enough, he can divine some meaning? The Beholding has to have taken an interest. "He has to have made it. This explorer. That's why the writing's gone wrong. He made it to the Astral Sea and... got back? Maybe? Or can things just fall through from one plane to another?"
no subject
Which is why the Somnovem need him. Lucien brushes his thumb over a crudely-etched symbol that looks like an eye. Whatever the writer was using, they pressed down hard enough with it to rip through the paper while making some of the lines. Jon's interest is palpable. And oddly attractive.
"Life would get very complicated very quickly if that were the case."
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"Do you know the significance of the eyes here? I presume it has something to do with piercing the veil into the different planes?" He's going to be looking for others like it on the book, comparing to other eyes he's familiar with and-
Wait.
"These... look like your tattoos."
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"It goes on just like that, page after page after page."
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"What do you want for the chance to review this more in-depth? Money? I can pay you by the hour for the time I'm examining it."
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It is, but it's one that Lucien can solve in other ways. This has more value than some coin. He drums his fingers lightly over the bound pages, seeming to consider his options. Though it's difficult to tell when his focus shifts by looking, it's something one can feel. He looks at Jon.
"Offer me something better than that, Archivist."
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He's not sure if that's what this man is driving at. It's not something he particularly wants to do, but he's willing to compromise when he has this mystery staring him down. Once Lucien finds out he's not especially experienced, he probably won't be interested in anything further.
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"Really?" he deadpans, trying to discern if Jon is actually being serious. "What a disappointing lack of imagination."
Sure, there's something appealing about the Archivist, but he certainly isn't interested in trading something so simple for another look.
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"A contract?" he echoes. Now that's something that could be worth it. But that would tie him to this little man for what, three months? He supposes in the grand scheme that isn't terribly long. How far could he twist Jon's arm before breaking it?
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"I only have one clause I include in every contract, which is that we can update it on a weekly basis, just in case something in the city changes."
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Unlikely. But the possibility of getting out of the bloody Down sounds like a chance he can't pass up. Lucien is used to not having creature comforts, but this is... an enforced humiliation that he would rather not continue.
He drums his fingers again, considering the book.
"However I want?" he prompts, brow lifting. Surely there's a catch there, other than that little clause.
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He makes a dismissive gesture.
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What would he do with it, in his position? The contract grants him license to spend it, but.
"And when I change hands? What happens to a flat then?" Well, since this is temporary, he should look to the future, shouldn't he? "I've heard the newly contracted live with their Dominants."
He lifts a brow.
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