middaeg | Intro Overflow: May

(from here.)

[ Aymeric's searching expression betrays nothing, and his tone is mild — perhaps a touch less genial than it was minutes ago, perhaps not. ]

I can hardly imagine you would be granted an office of such import if those granting it did not find you innocent.

[ He pauses, tilting his head in concession: ]

—A generous conclusion, no doubt, when you yourself know the answer, and I presume survived much trouble ere the truth was brought to light. You were falsely accused, I take it?

Edited 2019-05-14 01:30 (UTC)

[If Julian notices the slight cooling of the other man's demeanour, he gives no outward sign of it. Not when he's still lit up like the night, drunk and cheery with it.]

Ah, I suppose you're right. Kind of gave it away, didn't I? I should have told you about the murder charges first if I'd wanted to surprise you, eh?

[The flash of his smile goes sloppy-drunk but dashing again, all the feigned sharpness from before bleeding out of him.]

But that's right. I happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and following a little ritual and deal struck, I was also lacking some memories. I didn't know, in that moment, whether I'd killed the man or not. So I er, well. In my confusion I confessed, only to slip the dungeons later having already been branded a murderer and was forced to flee the city for...oh, three years.

In truth, I would have saved everyone a good deal of bother if I had killed him. Just between you and I, though, I don't think I have it in me. Murder, that is. Not even for a good cause.

[ A good cause would seem to call for another term, Aymeric nearly answers, but he closes his mouth and looks straight ahead, quiet, the drunken man on his arm temporarily forgotten.

It would still, of course, be murder, and not even the noblest intentions could make murder palatable to everyone.

His delayed answer is distant, the change of subject swift and inelegant: ]

Indeed. Dare I ask what sort of ritual robs a man of his memories?

[ He marshals a convincing smile, one for co-conspirators. ]

[At the very least, drunk as he is, it's a simple matter to turn his attention on to other things. Though in this instance, the 'other' thing is quite firmly entangled with the tale of murder and intrigue he previously mentioned. One - now that he's been questioned on it - he's more than willing to tell.

Aymeric is likely to get far more than he bargained for.]

Oh! Well. It's quite the tale. One that won't make sense unless we begin from the top. So, allow me to set the scene!

[he says it, flinging out the arm not clutched in the other man's grip, almost smacking into another festival-goer as he goes so, one who casts an annoyed glance in Julian's direction before disappearing off into the night.]

Three years ago I answered a call for all able persons - magicians, doctors, scientists and the like - to come to the palace in Vesuvia where no expense would be spared on equipment and supplies, for any willing to work on a cure. A cure for the Red Plague, that is-- a terrible affliction sweeping the city-state, killing any and all who succumbed to it. The death toll was steadily rising, in the end there were bodies strewn in the streets, the dead being burned by the hundreds out at the lazaret yet still they couldn't shift them fast enough. But um, as I say, I answered the call. The Count of Vesuvia - yes, that's right the Count, for who's supposed death I was hanged - was someone I knew from my days as a combat medic, and of course I was willing to do whatever it took to rid Vesuvia of this awful sickness.

But uh, in the end, the Count decided I wasn't working fast enough, that I needed an incentive, as it were. By this time, he'd contracted the plague himself and would have done anything to be rid of it. Anything, including deliberately infecting me by force-feeding me plague-carrying beetles, and then locking me in the dungeon to work on said cure whilst I steadily succumbed to the plague, myself. He thought I'd work faster, you know, if I was desperate and dying, myself.

[He takes a breath then, and just for a moment, his drink-hazy expression turns hard.]

As you can see, I lived to tell the tale. Found...well, found a cure. Whilst locked in the dungeon, steadily growing more delirious as the plague sank its hooks into me, I started...now, this might sound a touch strange...started having visions. Of a raven-headed man, telling me to follow him. I had this book I'd uh, borrowed, from...well, he'd been my lover at the time, but that's a whole different story. A book of rituals, that showed one how to reach other realms. So there I was, on the border between life and death, quite desperate...and I used the information within that book to conduct a last-ditch ritual to put me in touch with this entity...the Hanged Man. He told me what I needed to do to cure the plague, that it had been magical in origin all along, that the Count himself was responsible for it and the only way to stop the spread of death was to kill him. Then he cast this seal on me, which um, which saved my life. In return for my memories of that night.

By the time I got to the Count's room, it was already on fire. So you see, he needed to die, but it wasn't by my hand. But uh, that's the tale of it. How I lost my memories, and ended up wanted for murder.

Edited (repeated words!!) 2019-05-15 10:32 (UTC)

[ For a man with a generally calm and sober mien, Aymeric enjoys an exciting story — though more when he's confined to his office with a cup of cold tea and a stack of papers to sign — but this goes a little beyond his expectations. Plague-carrying beetles! By the time Julian's half-finished, Aymeric is staring at him, fine brows drawn together, mouth open as if he meant to object to something and forgot, only glancing away to for a moment at a time to guide them out of the way of obstacles. ]

By the gods, man— [ a conscious effort to be inclusive; most here, he presumes, are likely to swear by many gods, and he's at least aware of others— ] 'Tis plain you've earned your office, but mayhap they ought have granted you a manor and a pension and thanked you kindly.

[ It's no wonder, really, the man's so drunk. Aymeric pats his arm, somewhere between companionable and awkward. ]

It is quite a tale, I suppose. [ So there's...that...

He looks straight ahead again, digesting the rest of it. Summoning otherworldly entities from strange tomes is, by and large, A No-No, but it evidently saved lives, this particular time.

Still. ]

And...there was no other cost for this Hanged Man's aid?

Edited 2019-05-16 02:11 (UTC)

[He blinks a little in surprise in the wake of that response, and at the very least - for the moment - all thoughts of the fire seem to have exited his mind.]

Oh. Hah. Well. No-one ever thanked me. But um, that's all right. I didn't do it for praise or fortune, of course. I just wanted the plague to end. All those deaths...

[His gaze turns inward for just a moment, goes dark around the edges. But then he's flashing his drink-sloppy smile, focuses himself down around the question being posed.]

Well er, it wasn't a cost exactly, though I'll admit that for a while there I considered it a curse. Thanks to my missing memories I actually...well, I thought my ex had cursed me, as a parting gift, when we broke up. Turns out I was wrong about him though, and the 'curse' was all just part of my cure. In order to save me from the plague the Hanged Man cast a magic seal upon me, and it meant that any injury or illness, poison or anything else, that befell me after would just...heal up. And...here's the kicker...I could heal other people too, by laying hands on them, and their injuries and ailments would transfer over to my body instead, where they'd promptly heal.

But I used it all up, in the end. The plague was set to return, you see, and I needed my missing memories in order to remember my cure. So I had to pay the Hanged Man a second visit, as it were. And this one was ah, that is to say, I needed to be brought to the brink of death, yet again. A little tricky to do, when one heals from almost any injury. So! I turned myself in for the Count's murder, let them hang me. That did the trick. He returned my memories to me, and I got to return to life, the price this time being my healing magic.

[His smile, it turns wry at the edges, then.]

Funny, I spent so long considering it a curse. But in some ways I miss it, now it's gone.

[ This is all so incredibly improbable that it approaches hard to believe, and Aymeric has Heard, Seen, and Done Some Shit. He's forced to walk in silence for several seconds, asking himself whether Julian might be that drunk...but he seems lucid, and his story is reasonably coherent (or at least sequential).

He fumbles for another moment with with an appropriately sympathetic response. By now the pause is significant, but he covers for it gamely with friendly optimism: ]

Do you know if you've any talent for magic here? Surely the Coven must encourage the learning of so beneficial an art as healing.

Edited 2019-05-17 23:53 (UTC)

[Not to worry, Aymeric-- if it hadn't happened to him, Julian would have found it equally difficult to fathom, just as hard to believe. That his life had become something strange and unusual for the course of the past three years is something that subtly unsteadies him even now, and then just when things had returned to an even keel, when he'd thought all the strangeness was finally over--

--well. Here they are.

But the question comes, and Julian abruptly shakes his head.]

Oh, I've always been singularly useless when it comes to magic, outside of the curse. It's ah, it's all a bit beyond me. All those strange runes and creepy old tomes. I'd rather stick with what I know...real medicine, the logical, practical kind.

[But then he's turning to look as he spots a little clutch of revelers up ahead, the noise and bustle of one particular street catching his eye. He flings out a loose-limbed arm, points over in that direction.]

But look! Over there...do you think that's it? The entertainment district, or whatever it was called. Those people certainly look to be enjoying themselves.

Intro Overflow: May

julian

no subject

no subject

I'm sorry for this, he likes to talk ;;

never be sorry it's beautiful

he's a chatty boy even when he isn't drunk ;;

GOOD TBH. also i realize this is an Old Log now so if you wanna handwave or w/e that's fine!!

totally up to you! we can wrap it up with them heading off into the night if you like!