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

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]

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From behind a wall in his mind, Huey observes her. And his attention shifts. "Are you free of the witch who made you?"

"Yes." At least Erika shifts back to her more pleasant disposition. "What I do now is my own choice." Which is not the whole truth all things considered but even Erika doesn't divulge that part.

Huey smiles his faint doll-smile and thinks of Rail and Christopher and Chane and what they might do next. "Congratulations."

"...Ah." Erika blinks, not expecting that. What do you even say to that? "Thank you."

"Do you feel worthless without her? Or perhaps have you found new worth? Is it in another person or do you have worth on your own and of yourself?"

"I..." Way too personal. But she was boasting just a moment ago of how she accepts truths now, right? That doesn't mean she has to give up information so easily, though. Not that information. "Why do you want to know?"

He answers freely and with a smile. "Two of my homunculi have recently found freedom--one, accidentally, the other, deliberately. I don't believe either will return to my service. My daughter has also for the first time in her life found a reason to live outside of me. I had intended to watch the results, but I may miss the opportunity."

"So I'm a convenient person." She doesn't sound annoyed, because isn't. He seems to lack emotion and probably would be honest if he intended to do anything weird. Of course, telling him doesn't mean trusting him. It means only that she doesn't feel threatened by this.

"...I do serve someone but willingly. He's a friend. Actually, I've made a few friends. Weird..." That part is more to herself, but she shakes her head and continues. "It was...hard at first. But at this point, there's someone I care about enough that I want to have a future with him. So I guess that answers it."

He doesn't respond, as she is correct. "Yes, that seems to be the common factor." Christopher has found that Russo, and Chane has Vino and, it appears, a small gang of delinquents. "Perhaps Christopher will be able to save Rail," he considers aloud. Rail took such extreme efforts not to trust any humans, and the Lamia are a delicate support network.

"Most people need someone. Bad or good, after relying on another, it's hard to break away from that." Erika sighs and shrugs. "Humans are social creatures."

"Yes, humans most commonly pursue the company of other humans. Homunculi are orphans, lacking real family, only half able to connect to humankind. Yet their actions continue to be so human-like, even as they are tormented by their inhumanity. Would it be the same for the living dead? I don't know. I have never accomplished resurrection."

Though she raises an eyebrow - most people don't break out philosophy suddenly - she doesn't mind it. "For me it has been. I would say... the dead act just the same as the living. Those are my observations."

"Humans find many arbitrary reasons to feel separated from other humans. For beings such as yourself, perhaps it is that the distinctions are only more vivid and rare."

"...Really? Weird." She giggles but it isn't because she thinks he's wrong. On the contrary, she does notice those differences. "It's a foreign language that comes only from experience. It can't be learned."

"The gap between knowledge and experience," he agrees, recalling the Corpus Hermeticum. "Beings such as Pœmandres should be able to bridge that. Alchemy is a philosophy grounded in the essential connectedness of all things, yet more often than not, humans believe in their own solitude and despair. Immortals also speak of isolation."

"You probably noticed I'm Japanese. We commonly teach that differences bring discord to a person's life. Conforming brings harmony to the community and to yourself." Though she grins. "I don't believe it myself. Losing your personal identity hurts much more than isolation."

"That would seem more variable than constant."

"Humans like stability, right? But too much drives them insane. It's kind of funny."

"I've never found them especially interesting," he admits, "but they are varied and inconstant, and as raw material, they have a great deal of potential."

"I don't like people but I love puzzles." Might as well be honest. There's no reason to act usually. "I think most people aren't worth anything. But that's fine. I'm happy."

"Are you?" It isn't questioning. Yes--Frank will be fine. Sickle and Christopher will rescue him. Rail might die, but oh well. At least Renee won't take his homunculi.

Her declaration deciding his understanding of his freed homunculus's choices, he smiles, pleasant enough, even if it is a painted doll's smile. "Thank you again. But perhaps I should set to establishing myself now."

It will not be an issue. To an immortal, who ought to have died a long time ago, finding or forging a place in a foreign society is a simple practice.

"Of course." Again, Erika curtsies to him but this time deeper. Not mocking or respectful, simply that she can have fun with it without being quite as on guard. "My current Master is a leader in the Order of Dagon."

Like dropping a business card, she smiles. Nothing wrong with staying in touch.

"It was a pleasure, Huey."

There is a momentary pause, and then Huey laughs. "'The Order of Dagon,' is it? Now that presence is explained.

"Probably, we will meet again."

Or they won't. But his expression is friendly enough when he leaves. Of course, he doesn't return the curtsey with a bow. It isn't a habit of his.

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

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