John 8:14

[nonehousesleftgrief]

First things first, I'm the illest. And by that, I mean I'm dead. Apparently.

So if you're somewhere in the Nine Houses, I'd love to hear that Dominicus didn't explode and you aren't dead. If you are dead, I guess that's fine. Nothing for it. What can you do. I'll try to take it up with the management. Which, actually? Not me.

Comments

[kingofthezombieslook]

Well, well, well.

Hey, John.

[nonehousesleftgrief]

[ Still as the grave... until he relaxes. ]

Hancock.

How's it going, babe?

[kingofthezombieslook]

Out in the Glowing Sea.

Thought you were a hallucination, actually.

[nonehousesleftgrief]

Yeah, that's probably for the best.

[kingofthezombieslook]

Yeah, why's that?

John - you don't think I left on my own, do you?

[nonehousesleftgrief]

No.

[ That gets a huff of a laugh. ]

Maybe a little. But mostly no.

[kingofthezombieslook]

Eh fuck you. I love this place, but I'd rather come of my own accord.

You alright? I know the answer, but go ahead and lie to me if you want.

[nonehousesleftgrief]

I don't know if you looked, but my kid and the guy who dragged me into hell both decided to say hello so...

Guess.

[kingofthezombieslook]

Hard to look on this old thing. You can't see it, but I'm working with a centuries old computer here.

I'm not guessing. I said I knew the answer.

[nonehousesleftgrief]

Didn't feel like lying.

How's Nilla?

[kingofthezombieslook]

Living like a fucking queen in Goodneighbor. She and Irma really hit it off and they'll be the death of me.

I've been busy getting the ghouls settled in the new town a ways north, but there's always time for some adventure. Keeps me from going soft.

Keeps me from thinking too much.

[butnotyet]

[ The all-but-static image displayed is reminiscent of a cathedral, or perhaps a crypt — angles and arches and rafters, like looking up at a ribcage from the perspective of someone trapped deep inside.

Tuberculosis, maybe.

The voice, though? That's an all-too-familiar drawl, almost entirely Oxbridge with only a sprinkling of Kiwi — the sesame-seed garnish of vocalizations. ]

And here I thought you'd always told us you were, ah — what was it — "the dopest trip"?

[ One thing at a time, really; let's just leave the tiny pesky issue of Dominicus exploding for ... later. (As much later as possible.) ]

[nonehousesleftgrief]

[ He can't even take in the utter misuse of perfectly reasonable lyrics that he regrets providing to them to this day.

Because that is
love hate heaven hell everything my oldest friends
It's
dios apate dios apate dios apate
Dominicus might not have exploded. But he feels like he is right now. ]

What's the date?

[ Like nothing is weird. Like this is totally normal. Like he's on the Erebus and not the Barge. ]

[butnotyet]

[ That gets a sigh — one with a very particular intonation that means anyone who knows this voice also knows that its owner is pinching the bridge of his nose in elegantly-displayed Exasperation™️. ]

Just how drunk are you, John? Or have the troops been plying you with some newly-discovered wonder, once again?

[ Still nothing to see but the endless tessellations and crenellations of a bone ceiling. ]

[nonehousesleftgrief]

Perfectly sober. Unfortunately.

[ To anyone but his lyctors, John is currently unreadable, not even blank so much as plain, as he usually is, nothing out of the ordinary, no indications. But right now, there is something emotional behind the oil slick of his eyes, lurking in those dark and iridescent depths. Augustine might be able to read it if it were readable but even John himself doesn't know what it is yet. ]

Now I asked for a date. Or, baring that, when was the last time we spoke?

[butnotyet]

[ There's a long, stretched-out pause — the sort that would be accompanied in person, perhaps, by the slow arching of a single eyebrow, in a dawning smirk. ]

That's quite funny, my Lord; I'm quite certain that if you were asking me for a date, at a bare minimum there'd be discussion of which wines we were going to be drinking. Or where, for that matter — picnicking on the Erebus does pall rather, at this point, don't you think? We could pick some errant moon somewhere, or other planetoid, even if you're going to continue insisting on avoiding major population centers.

[ Still, says his tone. And, this insistence of yours is bloody stupid anyway, for that matter.

Is it an answer to John's question? Does it actually establish anything about how long before Augustine's direct attempt to murder God and all His Miracles he's speaking from? ... eh. ]

[nonehousesleftgrief]

[ Anger. That's it. That's definitely a piece. Anger and sadness, directed very much at Augustine himself. That isn't the whole of it and it's just as clearly not because of his inability to answer a question.

And yet, his voice is even and somewhat amused. This game their playing. It's great.]

How's Joy?

[butnotyet]

As joyful as she ever is, I'm sure.

[ Immediately flippant and dismissive, without even a moment's hesitation — the First Saint, completely unsurprised that God is asking about the Second. And yet also: ]

Not that she's here, of course. You'd have to check her schedule, my Lord, to see which little planet she's gone off to file her teeth on this week — I'm terribly afraid [ he is not at all afraid ] that I must have missed downloading it when I was in range. I am so sorry [ he is not at all sorry ] I cannot provide you with her itinerary at this exact moment.





[ come to think of it: there is the very slight possibility that Augustine the First, the Saint of Patience, Finger and Gesture of the Kindly Master/Necrolord Prime/King Undying/Et Cetera Et Bloody Cetera, is — himself — ever so slightly — perhaps with the faintest touch of projection —




drunk. ]





Is that a no, then, on the date?



[ ... come to think of it, is that not, in fact, the ceiling of Alfred's memorial niche, still on the display? ]

[private]

[routemistress]

You're Augustine, right? Mind 'aving a chat?

[nonehousesleftgrief]

Sorry, I just- I was trying to figure out [ fuck it, he's dead, fuck fuck fuck everything ] if you're from before or after the two of you decided to work with the BoE. You know. Before or after you helped her make my daughter.

Where are you on that, Augustine? Can I see the flow chart, maybe? I'd love that, thanks.

[ What he sees and what he comments on are entirely different. He knows where Augustine is. He can see *how* Augustine is. But this has been holding for almost a year. ]

[corpseprince]

[ There's a girl peering at him from the screen, both familiar and not: those are his eyes gleaming with scepticism, beneath a shock of red hair that could only have come from Wake. That's his power, flowing through what should so obviously be a corpse.

She isn't staring at him in shock, exactly; it's more like bewildered exasperation. ]

This is the weirdest ploy to get Ianthe off your back so far.

[nonehousesleftgrief]

[ It's not that he knows because he's from before this happened, before Kiriona Gaia was a name that meant anything, from moments after he knew he had a daughter. It's that he can put the pieces together, that the pieces tell him so much, and at least one piece of a puzzle has locked into place.

He isn't dead.

But more importantly, this is his daughter. ]

Worked, though, didn't it?

[corpseprince]

She's not in there whining at you so I guess.

[ No, she still doesn't really believe he's not on the Erebus somewhere. ]

[nonehousesleftgrief]

That would be difficult. Not impossible, but difficult.

I'm assuming she's not with you?

[corpseprince]

Nah, we finished sparring an hour ago - and she's getting really good, but don't tell her that. She's been insufferable enough since somebody decided to call her the Saint of Awe.

[ She's leaning hard into playful exasperation, and it's not fake, it just - rings a bit hollow.

Even the growing concern, as she stares at him more sharply, is oddly brittle. ]

You look different.

[saintofawesome]

Teacher?

I'm definitely not dead. I thought you were in a meeting?

[nonehousesleftgrief]

I'm in the longest meeting of my life and the other guy doesn't take 'no' for an answer.

Hello, Ianthe.

[saintofawesome]

Would you like me to make you a distraction, Lord?