this didn't go as well as Eastwood's escape

[longlived]

A back alley in London. Body parts fall to the streets. Two hands. The forearms. Feet, legs, a hollowed torso in several pieces, internal organs. A human head. Each of the parts is light enough that a falcon could conceivably transport it from one place to another in its claws, and the blood is all clinging. Altogether, these parts would make a full human being--short one eye.

Huey has only done this once before, so it takes some time before his body reassembles. Like cells of an organism, like a well-coordinated swarm of ants, his flesh and bones and organs pull themselves back together, joints locking in and blood flowing once more. He is now as whole in body as he was that day he was made immortal, minus an eye and a ponytail. Huey Laforet looks around him, and in a calm, quiet voice, calls for his youngest daughter.

"Leeza? ...Hilton?"

But there is no answer, and the streets beyond don't sound like 1930s Chicago. Nor did this place seem to have any connection to Alcatraz. So. Something didn't go to plan. (Again.)

"Ah."

But at least he has the clothes he had asked the Poet to fetch. He may as well dress and go looking for answers. He places a hand over his empty eye socket and wishes Renee the best.

[blah blah spam or prose, I don't care which, apologies for his lack of social, you know the drill]

Comments

[longlived]

Huey doesn't step back (it's a left hand) but the flick is a surprise. Confirmation? That's fine. Nothing is unworthy of testing. Huey hasn't spoken French in some time--he even uses English with his homunculi--but he falls back into the language of his mother, the rural accent never schooled out of him in his time in Lotto Valentino or the following centuries. "Thank you." Mechanical (doll-like) thanks. He doesn't mean for the flick.

How utterly laconic. There's something in the presence. Not an immortal. Far from a demon.

He doesn't ask Will a question, not out of disregard for Will. Rather, it's like a philosopher caught in thought, saying the words for himself rather than others. "What would the opposite of a demon have to do with dismembered bodies? No... Perhaps that isn't altogether surprising." The clothes are the eighteen hundreds. Literature is already being transformed. But that doesn't change the truth Huey knew from before, when they came to drown his mother. (Even at that thought, there isn't any flicker of emotion behind his eyes. He can recount his life's greatest pains like he is reading from a textbook. But he is better than Elmer. He doesn't smile as he says it.) His thoughts surface in his words again. "So corpses aren't surprising."

Also, Will is there. But Huey never stopped looking at Will--even seeing him. It is just that he is accustomed to speaking this way.

[alethiological]

The first part earns the faintest 'mn' noise, expression flattening out somewhat. Silent for the rest of it. The type that gets lost in thought trains, related or not, only speaking parts of them when deemed relevant. Current conversation and confusion of the other party be damned.

Sounds familiar.

That type of personality means going straight to the point is the most effective means. Say upfront to keep the angel thing quiet? Not worth it. He'd decide whether or not to tell anyone. So, take the better route.

"Never seen a corpse put themselves back together again."

Not surprising. But curious. And whether it's something to keep quiet about or not. If so, then he'd extend the same gratitude. Fair's fair in the analytical mind.

[longlived]

"Ah." An utterly uninformative response. It's, Ah, so you don't know of us. That's fine. "Are you in fact an angel?" It's a street. People could hear. But people could also see. If this man was so obsessive about it, he could kill any potential eavesdroppers. If his power was even a fraction of Ronnie's, it wouldn't be any effort to even kill Huey to keep silence. So it isn't really a problem.

[alethiological]

It's a different language than most of the idiot brits know about, and he's not so paranoid as to be that fearful. If he was, Huey'd have his head lopped around the 'opposite of a demon' part. But the question does earn a retort immediately after the last syllable.

"Are you one of those apple-biting fools?"

[longlived]

There's a moment of silence, and then Huey laughs. It isn't exactly a laugh of pleasure or delight, but still, it isn't a faked laugh. Elmer would accept it. "Let's see... Back then, that drink was something like a wine. So perhaps it was indeed made from a fruit."

He'd take the retort as an affirmative.

[alethiological]

Affirmative from both sides. Oh, humans and your desire for the forbidden. It's frowned upon, but it's not like it's anything new or amazing. And still a human, so. Eh.

"To use 'back then', you've probably learned what it cost you.,," Eternally banished from the world of humans, cursed to a life of nothing but misery, et cetera. He never liked the part of the job that involved scolding stupid humans anyway. So... moving on. "I'll spare the lecture."

If he hasn't come to terms, he never will. Sucks to be him.

[longlived]

The genuinely amused glint lingers in his smile. "I suppose some must truly resent their immortality." But if they truly do loathe it, that demon has offered them all a way to escape the eternity of their lives. Huey is grateful to his immortal life and feels no pain at being severed from humanity, so it cost him little to take that step away from his old life.

He understands how it works with humans. They crave immortality and fear death. They don't realize how much they'll tire of it in a century or two. Yes, isn't that what Victor said? That he and Huey were practically dead from the moment they became immortal?

Englishmen truly have the strangest philosophies. Still, he half-accepts the point. That demon has placed them all in a prison of sorts, and Huey has chosen to trade freedom for his desire. He is content with his exchange. If Victor hates immortality so much, Elmer will probably eat him in return for his dying smile.

"Thank you for the mercy," he says, having zoned out during enough of Victor's lectures to appreciate not hearing another. He thinks aloud, "Regardless, there's little point in pursuing you--" (for experimentation--it's as pointless as trying to bottle the demon, so he's not even going to consider it) "--but I'm interested in why a being of your nature might choose to live on the Earth." A momentary pause, and then he notes, "But perhaps choice and Earth are unwarranted assumptions. There is something foreign in everything here--" (more foreign even than the demon at his worst) "--and I myself had intended to arrive in Chicago."

[alethiological]

"Hn... Probably. I mean it more as all of creation actively hates you and wants you to be miserable."

The universe tries to remove imbalances. Immortals can't be removed. So it settles with just making their lives shitty. And it's effective at that! But explaining all the mechanics behind His failsafes and the angels that manage it is annoying, so whatever.

The 'pursuing' part gets a small expression shift, head tilting to one side and one eye squinting in the nonverbal equivalent of 'the hell?'. Feels like Jade after the blood sample all over again. But the kid moves on easily enough, so roll with it. Eyes closed again and going over the various explanations in his head to find the easiest. Or the laziest. Same thing.

"...'Earth' is correct. 'Choice' is not. Could be worse."

[longlived]

"Interesting. I've never experienced suffering in my immortal life comparable to my mortal existence." What is inhuman about him is the genuine interest there, the absolute lack of pain or even self-regard as he assesses the misery of his lifespan. It sounds exactly like what it is: a scientist hearing a theory and taking interest in what at first appears to be contradictory evidence. "I believe this balance of suffering more prior to immortality than after also holds true for at least one other of the alchemists in my cohort. Ah," Huey says, and for the first time, there's real human emotion, a genuine, wry fondness as he talks of this other alchemist, "but he's utterly insane, so it's difficult to tell."

It passes, but the light of curiosity stays with him. "Usually it can be. The trouble with this Earth, then, is in the presence of beings that humans are not and ought not be accustomed to?" It's only half a question, for Huey knows the feeling well enough.

[alethiological]

"I'm only saying you're all bad luck magnets. If you think your life is better, then it is." Though that second part earns a faint smile, more amused than any other emotion to be named. "Good to see you have a friend, though."

And there might be a chance here to debate on whether someone utterly insane could count as a friend. Except there isn't, and he doesn't actually get the chance to. Since Will moves right on to that second part about being accustomed to shit. "Sounds right. It actively tries to drive you insane. There's ways to get used to it, but I don't condone their methods."

What with the slugs being inserted into people's brains and whatnot. In no God-graced universe does that shit fly.

[longlived]

Huey won't argue about it; Elmer is Huey's friend, as well as the only living person Huey considers 'human' aside from himself. He would hardly discount Elmer for his insanity. None of the alchemists were entirely sane, and Huey has found Elmer's madness to be his guiding star.

Much more interesting to his immediate pursuit of knowledge was the matter of this world. "And is it capable of grounding an angel?"

[alethiological]

"...Two." And it's said with no small amount of wariness, though it's obvious it's less from the 'grounding' comment. Protecting a friend, possibly? Not important enough to analyze probably, since a hand is removed to gesture at the wall near him. Even though it's not at that wall, and to a completely different one.

"The master of this domain actively keeps us trapped. However, the space immediately outside this reality is... dangerous." That word feels like a massive understatement. "Being kept inside might be safer. Your attitude might be better at handling the atmosphere."

A beat. "Assuming you're not one of those vivisection types."

[longlived]

Two angels. What are their limits? He sets it aside. He knows they are limited to this place currently but not usually, and he considers asking Ronnie, next time they meet, about his own limits. "Do you know the domain's master?" He speaks of active efforts--of intentions. So that is something to take note of.

Vivisection? Not of innocent bystanders. The only creatures he had vivisected in the last few decades were his own homunculi.

[alethiological]

Unfortunately, being a heart-reader does not mean being a mind-reader. So any idle thoughts or curiosities and his vaguely-concerning vivisection habits go unheard. It's why the pointed stare remains or beat or two after the question. At least before losing the energy to care and reverting back to the lazy state. "Not personally."

The tone says he's in no rush to fix that.

[longlived]

Huey persists in his questioning. The matter of vivisection is long out of mind. "But you're aware--certain--of his existence?"

[alethiological]

"Its."

A bit miserable, but it's enough to pass as an answer. Good enough.

[longlived]

"How are you able to be certain?" Persistent but also quiet, calm. There is no force in the question, no passion. He asks like it is commonplace, routine even, to question angels about inconceivably powerful beings.

Huey Laforet has a human heart, but it is absent from his research. If Will chooses not to answer Huey's continued questioning, Huey will find other ways to research the answer. And eventually, he will uncover the truth. The prison of immortality has drained him of all impatience and urgency. Everything he sets his mind to will come to him in time--and he will continue on after he has his desires, no matter how many thousands of years it takes to achieve them. The few centuries he has lived are meaningless against the eternity that lies before him, and knowing that, Huey's persistence merely is the casual pursuit of an inevitability.

[alethiological]

"The forbidden knowledge didn't teach you that? ...Hah. You got ripped off."

Feel the amusement at your expense, Huey. Oh, stupid humans. Always hilarious. But the twit asked for an explanation, and as much as he hates explaining, it's to a person he doesn't have to spin up some elaborate metaphor for. Assuming, anyway. If he can't follow along, then sucks to be him. Right.

"All universes are made up of two realities, and the third that oversees all of them. The first reality is the one you stand in. The second is the reality only those no longer human can reach. The third is that allows travel between all other realities. ...And the one I can no longer reach."

Following? Hopefully. Not even a breath before continuing. "That aura of mine you spotted. Myself, and any others like myself, keep it restrained. No need to make others become like you. That thing does the same. A visit to the next layer, unprotected, confirms its presence easily."

How helpful! Now he can ask how to get to that reality, to confirm it himse--

"Too bad you'll never get there." What. Again, not given the chance to argue, on account of said angel has already turned away. "My spare room's already taken, so find a convent or something to help you out. If you say Wright sent you, the Christians'll give you a better deal. Just be sure to send in the proper paperwork. Blue or Black ink only. Multiple submissions are forbidden. Spelling errors, erasures, and scratch outs are similarly forbidden."

The voice of someone who has said this way too many times. Probably why he's waving once over his shoulder in a vague farewell. Or a 'good luck asshole'. Hard to say.

[longlived]

He understands. And he has learned. So it is all beneficial. "Thank you," he says. He wears that faint smile as he leaves.