Can you really tell the difference? [peers up curiously] Most don't, unless it's something terribly dramatic, like a lost limb... But, I suppose that is what that is, so it does make sense...
[It's always "research this, research that," but Skulduggery has never once actually heard him say what he's researching, exactly. Normally he would extrapolate, but his mind is currently trying to compartmentalize eleven months of eldritch torture into a box labeled "another Skulduggery's problem," so he's a little distracted right now.]
I've tested the ascension rituals of thousands of realities, but not a single one fits my purpose. I've compared myself to the species and entities of thousands more, but not a single one fits.
[and there's a genuine spark of frustration, a hard edge to the even tone, even as he twists the leaf in his fingers into strips and pieces.]
I have two questions to answer. What am I? And what can I do, as what I am, so that no one is ever able to give me an order ever again. Those answers exist, and I'll burn through every soul alive if it gets me even one step closer.
[It's more information than he's ever given out before. Maybe it's the madness talking, but Skulduggery is inclined to take his words at face value. The question of what the captain is is already one that's been posed, but the rest...]
Who could possibly order you around? [You're a stubborn bastard, is what he means.]
You just said, one of your questions is "What can I do so nobody is able to give me an order ever again." I'm asking who would give you an order to begin with.
["But you haven't been normal ever since the Faceless Ones used you for hunting practice." And the fact that he can hear that tells him all he needs to know about his own status as an unreliable narrator.]
But now, maybe not. I, mmm... [...can't tell him. Not a good idea.] Maybe I was mistaken.
[He doesn't like this. He doesn't like being unable to trust himself, feeling uneasy at the first sign of resistance to what he thinks is real. And to have it happen with someone he already only tenuously trusts to remain truth-adjacent...]
I can't either. You don't strike me as the type to be controlled. ...The other part, the bit about ascension rituals and trying to solve what you are -- you said that, didn't you?
It depends. Is there a way to -- [Of course there is. The man runs a ship that's powered by souls. If Jenny could use the feeling of a memory to conjure up dolls for Ava, then of course there's a chance... but that sort of request is inherently dangerous. Owing favors to a man hellbent on using your soul as fuel sounds like a bad idea.
...]
You wouldn't happen to be able to... I don't know, undo it, would you?
[he frowns, lost in thought for a few good seconds.]
... Theoretically. Like most things... It's thermodynamics. All that exists will always exist in some form; an alteration of matter necessitates a return to equilibrium... But, for it to have happened even once was pure chance. This has happened twice. You're asking for lightning to strike for a third time.
[pause]
What happened to you was always going to happen. Has happened. Is happening. And undoing that requires more than you're willing to take.
[Oh shit -- no! Nope. Nope, absolutely not paying attention to the hallucination that just walked up on them like he owns the place. That's just unfair! He only just remembered the damned man, now he's conjuring him up?]
...And did you know what was going to happen to me?
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What am I, then, if not one of myselves from the timeline?
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...And the skull? How did the physical change work?
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Of course, I can tell the difference. It's my skull. Answer the question.
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[It's always "research this, research that," but Skulduggery has never once actually heard him say what he's researching, exactly. Normally he would extrapolate, but his mind is currently trying to compartmentalize eleven months of eldritch torture into a box labeled "another Skulduggery's problem," so he's a little distracted right now.]
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[and there's a genuine spark of frustration, a hard edge to the even tone, even as he twists the leaf in his fingers into strips and pieces.]
I have two questions to answer. What am I? And what can I do, as what I am, so that no one is ever able to give me an order ever again. Those answers exist, and I'll burn through every soul alive if it gets me even one step closer.
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Who could possibly order you around? [You're a stubborn bastard, is what he means.]
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What?
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["But you haven't been normal ever since the Faceless Ones used you for hunting practice." And the fact that he can hear that tells him all he needs to know about his own status as an unreliable narrator.]
But now, maybe not. I, mmm... [...can't tell him. Not a good idea.] Maybe I was mistaken.
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[shrugs]
Weird.
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I can't either. You don't strike me as the type to be controlled. ...The other part, the bit about ascension rituals and trying to solve what you are -- you said that, didn't you?
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[frowns]
Whatever could control me... or whatever I am...
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[he says in a joking tone, as if he's not going to spend two days not sleeping trying to figure out what the fuck just happened here.]
I suppose this whole business will put a bit of a damper on our working it out. Stede will be very disappointed.
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It depends. Is there a way to -- [Of course there is. The man runs a ship that's powered by souls. If Jenny could use the feeling of a memory to conjure up dolls for Ava, then of course there's a chance... but that sort of request is inherently dangerous. Owing favors to a man hellbent on using your soul as fuel sounds like a bad idea.
...]
You wouldn't happen to be able to... I don't know, undo it, would you?
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... Theoretically. Like most things... It's thermodynamics. All that exists will always exist in some form; an alteration of matter necessitates a return to equilibrium... But, for it to have happened even once was pure chance. This has happened twice. You're asking for lightning to strike for a third time.
[pause]
What happened to you was always going to happen. Has happened. Is happening. And undoing that requires more than you're willing to take.
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[don't mind Stede, just strolling up, looking pleased if somewhat wary]
Getting along already! I knew that you would.
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...And did you know what was going to happen to me?
[...yeah uh. sorry stede]
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