[This is the first personal message Liem has received on his syntrofos, and already he's confused. He has to spend long moments puzzling over it, and even then he isn't certain he's figured out the purpose behind it.]
[This is a real brain teaser. Somehow, during their entire acquaintance, it had never before occurred to Liem that Konoha might not know how to write, beyond a small selection of words. He is rapidly coming to that conclusion.]
Oh yes, tree leaf. 木🌳 I remember.
[The first character of her name. This is easy enough to understand, but unfortunately, that's the best he can say about these little pictures.]
[On the one hand, Liem would wonder about this, but on the other hand, he has to assume a lot of the people who end up here will end up figuring out Karteria's communication tech more easily than him. He's still proud that he figured out how to use emojis.]
If you want to refer to me by my title, Father would be the appropriate form of address.
[He doesn't feel like he has to accept "Hey, Priest" from some young pup with sticky fingers.]
That said, what makes you say that about this person in particular?
[Hmm! Did somebody go hunting for Liem at the Valentia and find that he wasn't there? Liem's response is not immediate, but he will attend to it after a reasonably short length of time.]
I found new accommodation. Patho-Gen and I were both tired of my extended stay at the Valentia.
[Yes, he got Patho-Gen to pull some strings for him so he could move somewhere halfway nice, but it's not like he brought any furniture with him. Additionally, he hasn't had the energy to do much of anything since moving in. His place is depressing bachelor pad levels of barren at the moment.]
[ pictured: set perched on the edge of his own lodgings, swinging his legs freely off the edge of a rooftop den. gleefully texting like he's a schoolgirl chatting up a reluctant friend. he will either be invited, or will use his sniffer to find liem....... ]
[ it starts like an itch, a persistent thought that worms under his skin and refuses to leave: that it's been weeks since he's seen liem, or heard from him, anything at all. and once his syntrofos confirms that he isn't missing from this world, silver weighs his options: to send him a message, one that might go ignored, or receive an ever-polite response that explains nothing... or find him and make sure he's doing alright.
(he thinks of kelesis, then, sitting underneath that tree, of liem's deathly cold skin, the way he'd refused all but water. a worry creeps into his veins.)
as much as he dislikes his natural soul, it does have some benefits — being able to make use of senses not available to regular humans is one of them, and one silver uses without remorse as he tries to remember liem's scent, tastes the air with the tip of his tongue, navigates through the streets until they lead him to a pretty well-off area, behind a fairly nondescript door.
[Liem’s house is still and dark and quiet. The curtains are all drawn shut, and from the foggy glimpse of interior visible through the door’s small, frosted glass window, the unadorned hallway within is draped in deep shadow. Though the shapes of shoes and a jacket can be seen in the gloom, nothing else about the home looks particularly lived-in. Even the yard outside looks abandoned, wilted and dry in the summer heat.
There is no mistake, though, that this is Liem’s house. His scent clings to the door’s handle and seeps in sluggish flows from drafty windows. It sweeps in cold, stale trails up the path leading to his home, which is otherwise so devoid of life.
But there is no response to the knock on the door; no response, either, to the voice calling out from the porch. Perhaps Liem isn’t home? Perhaps he’s too busy to come to the door? Or perhaps, given the neglected state of the yard and the flyers sitting uncollected in the mailbox, something has happened after all.]
[ there is an ominous emptiness hanging over everything, something haunted in the heavy curtains, the shadows that cling to the hallway barely visible through the small window; even the outside seems dead, dried up and overheated.
someone else might conclude that liem isn't home, and leave. someone else might ignore the chill in his spine, the inherent sense of wrong that clings to even the scent of liem, lingering near the door.
silver has never once in his life been that someone.
he draws a deep breath. grips the doorframe for support, lifts his metallic leg, and kicks. again, and again, wincing against the pain, until the door swings open, lock broken.
he steps inside, and follows the scent, his tongue pressed against his teeth as he tastes the smell in the air. ]
[Navigating Liem’s home is simple. For one thing, it is fairly small: a few narrow storeys stacked atop each other in order to squeeze the townhome between its equally narrow neighbours. For another, the home itself is quite barren, with only a few necessities populating otherwise empty rooms. A single glance will suffice for Silver to take in the empty expanse of the main floor, and to confirm the uninhabited status of the small rooms he passes once he’s climbed the stairs to the floor above.
It is just as well that the house is largely empty, because the upper storey is just as dark as the ones below. Liem’s scent leads down a nearly pitch-black hallway to a door at the very end, yawning open to reveal a glimpse of the spartan-looking bedroom beyond.
There, curled on his side in the rumpled bed, clutching a pillow to his chest as though he was trying to squeeze the life from it, lies Liem’s unmoving form. He is dressed for sleep, and might seem to be sleeping but for the utter stillness of his body and the rictus of anguish gripping his expression. His skin and hair alike are bleached pale, while the extremities of his hands and the tips of his pointed ears are darkened as though from frostbite.
His heart does not beat, and he draws no breath. He is very, very cold.]
[ it is a good thing that silver's second soul provides him with a better sight than normal; his pupils slit as he looks into the rooms, climbs the stairs with one hand supporting him against the wall, takes in the oppressive darkness of the hallway on the upper floor.
it is all ghost-quiet. his steps echo far too loud, and yet there is no response.
he knows what he will find even before he enters liem's bedroom. the knowledge sits inside his spine, cold and foreboding, in the rapid thrum of his heart. it culminates in seeing him: liem, unmoving, pain etched onto his features.
silver is aware that he's making a noise of some kind, but doesn't have enough presence of mind to know what it is — only that it speaks of a loss, sorrow and anger and regret all rolled into one.
slowly, he sits down next to liem's body, lifts his hand to brush a few locks of hair off his forehead. ]
You should have told someone, [ he whispers, voice raw and scratchy. ] You shouldn't have been alone.
[ surely that would have been preferable to this — dying alone and in pain. silver looks at him, his features, his closed lids. ]
... I never even saw your eyes. [ what a silly thing to think about, and yet there is a painful pang in his chest nonetheless. ]
So. I have a very blunt, rather personal question for you.
Big lead in, I know, but it's nothing dire. In fact, I'm asking through a chat like this because it is so completely NOT dire that this is the best way to ask.
[Regardless of what the question is, Eleanor is correct in supposing that text might be the best way to ask it, given that this is the first time ever Liem will have spoken to her without needing to worry about her hearing some too-revealing stray thought. He may be an old man who still isn't entirely comfortable with the features of his syntrofos, but it has its uses.]
Hello Eleanor. What is your benign blunt personal question?
Okay. Please imagine me taking a deep, calming breath. And to be clear before I ask, "no" is a perfectly valid answer, and you will not hurt my feelings.
[ ...Which is a little bit of a lie, but. She's a big girl, and she'll get over it if so. This is what she'd told herself as she practiced this conversation mentally, at least. ]
[Liem hasn't spoken to many people over text message, and this is the first time he's encountered someone narrating their body language for him to provide context for the words appearing on his screen. Honestly, he appreciates the extra clarity. Emojis are still pretty foreign to him, and he isn't always confident he "gets" what they're meant to indicate.
So... Oh. Oh. She's asking—]
In the interest of clarity, and please excuse me if I'm mistaken, you mean... a romantic outing in a public setting?
[ Somehow, him asking for the clarification is even more embarrassing... The real reason that she wanted to do this over text is because if this were in person, there's absolutely no way she would be able to hold back from accidentally beaming her own flustered reaction into his brain. And he's probably flustered too. It's a terrible, theoretical feedback loop. ]
That's the idea, yes. She said, fanning herself.
Though it doesn't have to be anything that serious, to be clear. Dinner, a walk in the park, Lua, just going to get coffee and chat. But I'd like to get to know you better in a way that's more romantic than purely friendly.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
FatherTalbott
PROFILE
un: treeleaf
🌳🍃！ 👧🏽🐎
へあｌｔｈ？
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🌳🍃 is you, Konoha? ➡️ 👧🏽🐎
Is this me? ➡️ 👨🏻
➡️ 👨🏻🙏🏻🗝️⛪
I can't read the last line, I'm afraid.
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👍‼️
👧🏽🐎 ➡️ 🌳🍃
tree leaf
👨🏻🙏🏻🪙⛪‼️
👨🧠⬆️
へあｌｔｈ？
🧍♂️good?
🥩🍚🫃？
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Oh yes, tree leaf. 木🌳 I remember.
[The first character of her name. This is easy enough to understand, but unfortunately, that's the best he can say about these little pictures.]
Are you asking if I can cook? 👨🏻🗝️ ➡️ 🔥🍳🥩🍚 ?
Or is this an invitation? 🥩🍚 ➡️ 👨🏻🗝️🌳🍃 ?
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🌳🍃
木葉
👍☺️👍
[Hmmm, though… This next part…]
🔥🍳🥩🍚
now?
🫃now?
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un: 201
Hey, Priest. I found a lost soul for you to preach Abadar's good word to.
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If you want to refer to me by my title, Father would be the appropriate form of address.
[He doesn't feel like he has to accept "Hey, Priest" from some young pup with sticky fingers.]
That said, what makes you say that about this person in particular?
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( Reminds himself to never call Liem "Father" out of egregiously misdirected spite )
He's terminally ill and wants to pray before he dies.
Can I put you in contact with him or not?
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[He erroneously assumes this is someone Hei cares about.]
I don't mind at all. Does he need me to come visit him?
[He has completely misunderstood the situation.]
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( Hei stands on the rooftop of a tall townhouse along the waterfront, watching, waiting.
I'll find you, you motherfucker............ )
A comforting message or call would probably lift his spirits.
If you can get his current address out of him, I can send him a card and care package.
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1/2
2/2
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@SET
Where are you living now?
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I found new accommodation. Patho-Gen and I were both tired of my extended stay at the Valentia.
Why do you ask?
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Where? I want to see it.
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I haven't made it ready for guests yet.
[Yes, he got Patho-Gen to pull some strings for him so he could move somewhere halfway nice, but it's not like he brought any furniture with him. Additionally, he hasn't had the energy to do much of anything since moving in. His place is depressing bachelor pad levels of barren at the moment.]
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I will bring a warming gift!
[ pictured: set perched on the edge of his own lodgings, swinging his legs freely off the edge of a rooftop den. gleefully texting like he's a schoolgirl chatting up a reluctant friend. he will either be invited, or will use his sniffer to find liem....... ]
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action 》
(he thinks of kelesis, then, sitting underneath that tree, of liem's deathly cold skin, the way he'd refused all but water. a worry creeps into his veins.)
as much as he dislikes his natural soul, it does have some benefits — being able to make use of senses not available to regular humans is one of them, and one silver uses without remorse as he tries to remember liem's scent, tastes the air with the tip of his tongue, navigates through the streets until they lead him to a pretty well-off area, behind a fairly nondescript door.
he knocks.
and calls out, just in case, ]
Hello? Liem, are you there?
no subject
There is no mistake, though, that this is Liem’s house. His scent clings to the door’s handle and seeps in sluggish flows from drafty windows. It sweeps in cold, stale trails up the path leading to his home, which is otherwise so devoid of life.
But there is no response to the knock on the door; no response, either, to the voice calling out from the porch. Perhaps Liem isn’t home? Perhaps he’s too busy to come to the door? Or perhaps, given the neglected state of the yard and the flyers sitting uncollected in the mailbox, something has happened after all.]
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someone else might conclude that liem isn't home, and leave. someone else might ignore the chill in his spine, the inherent sense of wrong that clings to even the scent of liem, lingering near the door.
silver has never once in his life been that someone.
he draws a deep breath. grips the doorframe for support, lifts his metallic leg, and kicks. again, and again, wincing against the pain, until the door swings open, lock broken.
he steps inside, and follows the scent, his tongue pressed against his teeth as he tastes the smell in the air. ]
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It is just as well that the house is largely empty, because the upper storey is just as dark as the ones below. Liem’s scent leads down a nearly pitch-black hallway to a door at the very end, yawning open to reveal a glimpse of the spartan-looking bedroom beyond.
There, curled on his side in the rumpled bed, clutching a pillow to his chest as though he was trying to squeeze the life from it, lies Liem’s unmoving form. He is dressed for sleep, and might seem to be sleeping but for the utter stillness of his body and the rictus of anguish gripping his expression. His skin and hair alike are bleached pale, while the extremities of his hands and the tips of his pointed ears are darkened as though from frostbite.
His heart does not beat, and he draws no breath. He is very, very cold.]
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it is all ghost-quiet. his steps echo far too loud, and yet there is no response.
he knows what he will find even before he enters liem's bedroom. the knowledge sits inside his spine, cold and foreboding, in the rapid thrum of his heart. it culminates in seeing him: liem, unmoving, pain etched onto his features.
silver is aware that he's making a noise of some kind, but doesn't have enough presence of mind to know what it is — only that it speaks of a loss, sorrow and anger and regret all rolled into one.
slowly, he sits down next to liem's body, lifts his hand to brush a few locks of hair off his forehead. ]
You should have told someone, [ he whispers, voice raw and scratchy. ] You shouldn't have been alone.
[ surely that would have been preferable to this — dying alone and in pain. silver looks at him, his features, his closed lids. ]
... I never even saw your eyes. [ what a silly thing to think about, and yet there is a painful pang in his chest nonetheless. ]
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@ salem (the scariest text liem has or will ever receive)
Big lead in, I know, but it's nothing dire. In fact, I'm asking through a chat like this because it is so completely NOT dire that this is the best way to ask.
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Hello Eleanor. What is your benign blunt personal question?
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[ ...Which is a little bit of a lie, but. She's a big girl, and she'll get over it if so. This is what she'd told herself as she practiced this conversation mentally, at least. ]
Would you maybe
Perhaps
Possibly
Be interested in going on a date?
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So... Oh. Oh. She's asking—]
In the interest of clarity, and please excuse me if I'm mistaken, you mean... a romantic outing in a public setting?
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That's the idea, yes. She said, fanning herself.
Though it doesn't have to be anything that serious, to be clear. Dinner, a walk in the park, Lua, just going to get coffee and chat. But I'd like to get to know you better in a way that's more romantic than purely friendly.
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