[This far into the future, long past the threshold of stepping into a digital age, the fact that there are no physical books to be found isn't surprising to V. During his time at the station, he noticed a dearth of paperwork passing hands (even if he was not in a position to be dealing with paperwork, he was certain he would've spotted at least one stray document in passing), and there was none to be seen in the safehouse, either.
It was an inevitability even in his own time. But to be living it, with the wide scope of the internet basically existing in his head now, is almost surreal.
It threatens to make him frown; that is, until Prompto fishes out some messily etched pins from his pocket, and V nearly tilts his head, holding out his free hand in a bid to look at a one or two of them.
(What a person eager to help, he thinks. Overly friendly, even to a stranger who had caused more trouble than good.)]
Let me take a look, then?
[He can try to access wherever the QR code leads him, if it'll work with no registered ID. He needs to practice using this invasive thing in his head.]
Not that it'll ever replace the feel of a book in my hands. What a dreary future this is.
[he easily relinquishes them into the ownership of the other.]
If I find more I'll make sure to drop them off with you. They're not that difficult to come by. And, well, the future's not so bad. It's missing a few things, but I'm really into all this tech stuff.
[that being said,] You're still learning to use the implant, right? It'll become second nature soon enough, but lemme know if you have any questions.
[It takes a second or two before he opens up the interface to scan the QR code lying flat in his palm. His implant processes it nigh immediately, but then flickers with an error: ID not found. Please try again.
It’s the same result when he tries the one that lies next to it. Apparently a subscription service, free or otherwise, still requires an account to tie it to — and in consequence, a working ID.
He shakes his head, offering them back.]
Thus far, not being in the system seems to cause more problems than not. But I think once I’m assigned a name, I’ll adapt. And be able to browse an online library more freely.
[He’s always been clever, quick to learn. The tech is advanced, but the user interfaces shouldn’t be too hard to unravel in time.]
[he's crossing his arms, so enjoy keeping shit in your pockets.]
[prompto even raises an eyebrow at the other.]
Yeah, you'll have to come up with a name other than just V. There's a minimum character requirement and all. [a shrug] You'll have a library for years, so at least that's something to look forward to if you're into reading.
As for me, that's three months already. Time feels like it's dragging here.
[V lifts a brow, because he sees it as just that — keeping useless junk in his pockets until his ID is activated, and he assumes that’ll be a few days yet before that happens.
But he relents, curling his fingers inwards to keep the tidbits close, then shifting a little to place them in a pants pocket.]
I’ll think of something clever. [With regards to his name. You know. “Vee” is probably clever, right.] Three months is a long time. Far longer than I feel comfortable staying in this world.
[He had heard tell that time might not move similarly here as compared to home, but without any certainty to this theory, he can’t quite feel at peace with the idea. Obligations hang over his head, the same ones which led him to strike a deal with Riko in the station.]
[can't wait to see what clever shit you come up with, it better be good.]
That's right. You mentioned how you — had to get back.
[everyone has to get back to their own worlds, continue on with whatever it is they were doing; it all mostly falls under the realm of urgent or exceedingly important. prompto understands, having been plucked away halfway through something that had yet to reach a conclusion.]
[not to mention the prophecy ardyn had mentioned...]
Some people have left. Dunno how, they just disappear from one day to the next. We don't know if they actually return to their homes, but... Hopefully you'll get lucky.
I do have to get back. Despite the amount of time I can feasible stay here now, I left something behind unfinished. Incomplete. [A vague statement, but nonetheless true. Somehow, by some impossible means, V's body has halted its degradation, no longer feeling as if it's crawling towards an inevitably slow dissolve. But that didn’t mean that he should enjoy it — it was but a constant reminder of how he had been torn from his own reality and transplanted into this one.]
How close have we come to figuring out why we’ve been brought to this place?
[this is the part where prompto shifts uncomfortably in his chair and looks apologetic, fidgeting away with his hair and pushing back at blond spikes behind his head.]
I don't think we've made a lot of progress in that front. There's a lot that we don't know about yet, and there's a lot of variables, so...
Doesn't help that many of us don't even come from the same planet or universe. Or that the people who come from Earth aren't even from this Earth, or the same Earth as others. A lot doesn't line up.
[ultimately, he shrugs]
Some others are a bit more well-versed in this than I am. Maybe they'll be able to give you a better answer than what I can say for sure.
[Suddenly he’s glad for the deal he made with the detective — if they’re this clueless as a group, even with a cavalcade of personalities and skills originating from various worlds, then they will need all the resources that they can squeeze dry.
Police included.
But that’s a thought for later, he assumes, with nothing to be done about it now. Let it be one more passive stressor in a whole list of them.]
My priority will be adjusting to what this world has to offer, after all. As I understand it, making a temporary life here is unavoidable.
[back to arms crossed in front of him, prompto hums in thought.]
Once you're out of the safehouse you've got to fend for yourself. Get a job, or just find something to do to blend in and appear like a normal citizen of New Amsterdam. Some people get apartments and others have stayed in the safehouse instead, it's all up to personal preference.
It's not hard to get on by, though. Morningstar helps with the initial hurdle a lot.
[glancing up at v, he considers the man for a moment.]
When setting up your ID, El asks about your interests to try and help you land a job so you can go about it as you like. Maybe that's something you could think about in the meantime.
[A job. How utterly mundane and very much human; he supposes it would be fitting for him to try to fill that role now, given both this body and his new circumstances. But for all of his memories, his years of existence if taking that other self of his into account, V has a feeling he'll still be a bit at a disadvantage.
Never has he really lived as a "normal" human before. He knows the irony in that, but keeps these thoughts to himself.]
It's difficult to imagine how my interests might apply to a job in this sci-fi future. [Because it really does seem like they're living in the pages of a sci-fi narrative, something dystopian and raw.] Manual labor isn't much my forte. Is there much of a call for the arts still, in this day and age?
[he starts, sitting up and leaning forward, pulling up a bunch of tabs on his own neural implant to look through the different arts related careers.]
I do photography a lot, and I'm popular enough that I cover a couple of small music events and the like. My friend Markus [whom you will never meet] is an artist, and he's into painting and works at an art gallery. Music and arts in general are a big thing in the city.
[he wishes he could share these tabs, but without v having an actual id, he can't send anything at all.]
Dunno about — literature stuff, in specific. Not sure what to even look for. Do you have any ideas? I could look it up.
[No, he has no bloody idea. V exhales through his nose, then leans back to place his cane across his lap as he crosses a leg. Again he's at a disadvantage, never having to give thought to what his preferred daily grind might be.]
Libraries, I assume, have no use. If the whole world has gone the path of digital.
[Is it all floating around the internet? Is there a curator, born of some necessity that he can't even fathom, being centuries behind the times?]
Writing. Or potentially music. You said your focus is on music photography, right? What sort of events are they?
[Are we talking orchestra hall or rock and roll concert.]
Not— music photography. It's just events I like to go to. [he glances down at his hands for a moment] They're just DJs or bands, usually on the electronica scope. People are a lot into the synthesized music now. I've been trying to get into the other genres but it's been a lot harder in comparison.
[V's look is a steady one, even if he might be math lady meme on the inside.]
Voice work and voice overs?
[He doesn't know how reading poems aloud might constitute as a job. However, idea of narration isn't a bad one, not if he's to truly believe the compliment that was slung his way just minutes prior.]
Yeah, but there's gotta be a market for it. Right? People don't read as much anymore even if there's archives of books and documents online and all over. What better way to read but to listen to things?
[he thinks he's on to something!]
Since you probably wouldn't be able to do a lot of the other stuff... What do you think?
[He makes a vague gesture with his hand at Prompto.]
I think one idea is better than none. So I'm minutely better off than before.
[In other words, he'll think about it.]
Not that I can do anything until I'm- [He picks up his cane and uses it to indicate the whole of the safehouse.] -free of my prison. What a blessed day that should be, able to lose myself in the veins of New Amsterdam. I look forward to it.
[With anxious trepidation and curiosity alike. He sort of looks forward to it.]
I'm feeling much better than before. A day's rest is good for this body of mine, since it's so easily worn down.
[He's also less harried by confusion, which means V's mind is of slightly better ease. That makes all the difference, too.]
A tour guide? Right, I'll look to Prompto Argentum, citywide expert. [Is he a citywide expert? It's a joke, because V sure as heck doesn't know.] I do have a question about our supposed powers, though.
[prompto snorts at the joke, not because he knows it's a joke, but because it seems About Right. that, and, it feels a bit like a compliment.]
Good to hear you're doing okay, dude. Getting sedated and moved around like that on top of the usual poison must have been rough. But, yeah, shoot. [about the powers] That's a new one for all of us.
[oh, he knows that already? surprise shows momentarily on prompto's face, before he's nodding to confirm what v heard.]
Yeah. Not just that, though.
[he puts his hand forward, somewhere in the space between the two of them]
Physical contact between any of us will cause our chests to glow. But, uh, [here he pulls back his hand a bit, fingers curling inwards] there's also a kind of emphatic communication... Shared emotions, mostly.
[V's not the sort to sit around and wait for information to be tossed his way. He had done a little bit of asking around, to fill his idle hours as he paced here and there, like a lazy animal trapped in a cage. ]
I was told about that, too. Someone else found me, in the carnival. Told me to avoid touching their skin or else we would glow and share our emotions.
[To V, this sounds like The Worst. But at least there's no sense of surprise or wariness at Prompto's explantation, since he had already been informed the day before. Still, one might wonder why he's even asking at all, then? He clarifies a moment later, the look of any vague amusement beginning to slide off.]
But what I want to know is why— [He pauses just long enough to focus, to call upon his familiars with just a thought of intent, wanting to unbind the power inked into skin and bring one of them into existence. It's always been easy, a part of himself brought forward as feather and fang and claw and power.
It doesn’t work, of course. It didn’t before, and it won’t now, but a blue glow blossoms from his chest and pain crawls beneath bone. V hunches forward just slightly, grimacing.] —this happens. Does the new power override the old? For what purpose?
[hands in fists, he places them over his lap. watches as v presents the same kind of dissatisfied pain as noctis did whenever he tried accessing the armiger or the crystal's magic.]
I don't know what the purpose is, but it does seem like the new does override the old. My friend went through the same. He couldn't access his magic the whole time he was here. Isn't it painful? I wouldn't recommend doing it a lot.
[it seems surprising that v would have powers of some sort, originally, but only because his body denotes the complete opposite of strength. still it isn't as crazy an idea as it should be.]
It's clearly still there though if you get that kind of reaction.
[The glow stops the moment he severs his focus, a hollow resignation singing in his bones. Being so cut off from his familiars, rending him both useless and (lonely) alone in a strange world where he could use their aid, it’s… upsetting, if stays planted on the thought for too long.
Prompto’s words offer a small amount of comfort, at least.]
As long as they’re still there, though… [He trails off, sucks in a slow breath. Leaning back in the chair again, V runs a finger across his arm, trailing one of many coiling designs on his skin.] It means that they’re just under lock and key. That lock being this new power, one that I’ve yet to discover.
[He’s already convinced it can’t be as useful as Shadow or Nightmare, or even loud-mouthed Griffon.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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It was an inevitability even in his own time. But to be living it, with the wide scope of the internet basically existing in his head now, is almost surreal.
It threatens to make him frown; that is, until Prompto fishes out some messily etched pins from his pocket, and V nearly tilts his head, holding out his free hand in a bid to look at a one or two of them.
(What a person eager to help, he thinks. Overly friendly, even to a stranger who had caused more trouble than good.)]
Let me take a look, then?
[He can try to access wherever the QR code leads him, if it'll work with no registered ID. He needs to practice using this invasive thing in his head.]
Not that it'll ever replace the feel of a book in my hands. What a dreary future this is.
no subject
[he easily relinquishes them into the ownership of the other.]
If I find more I'll make sure to drop them off with you. They're not that difficult to come by. And, well, the future's not so bad. It's missing a few things, but I'm really into all this tech stuff.
[that being said,] You're still learning to use the implant, right? It'll become second nature soon enough, but lemme know if you have any questions.
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It’s the same result when he tries the one that lies next to it. Apparently a subscription service, free or otherwise, still requires an account to tie it to — and in consequence, a working ID.
He shakes his head, offering them back.]
Thus far, not being in the system seems to cause more problems than not. But I think once I’m assigned a name, I’ll adapt. And be able to browse an online library more freely.
[He’s always been clever, quick to learn. The tech is advanced, but the user interfaces shouldn’t be too hard to unravel in time.]
You’ve been in this world very long, then?
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[he's crossing his arms, so enjoy keeping shit in your pockets.]
[prompto even raises an eyebrow at the other.]
Yeah, you'll have to come up with a name other than just V. There's a minimum character requirement and all. [a shrug] You'll have a library for years, so at least that's something to look forward to if you're into reading.
As for me, that's three months already. Time feels like it's dragging here.
no subject
But he relents, curling his fingers inwards to keep the tidbits close, then shifting a little to place them in a pants pocket.]
I’ll think of something clever. [With regards to his name. You know. “Vee” is probably clever, right.] Three months is a long time. Far longer than I feel comfortable staying in this world.
[He had heard tell that time might not move similarly here as compared to home, but without any certainty to this theory, he can’t quite feel at peace with the idea. Obligations hang over his head, the same ones which led him to strike a deal with Riko in the station.]
no subject
That's right. You mentioned how you — had to get back.
[everyone has to get back to their own worlds, continue on with whatever it is they were doing; it all mostly falls under the realm of urgent or exceedingly important. prompto understands, having been plucked away halfway through something that had yet to reach a conclusion.]
[not to mention the prophecy ardyn had mentioned...]
Some people have left. Dunno how, they just disappear from one day to the next. We don't know if they actually return to their homes, but... Hopefully you'll get lucky.
no subject
How close have we come to figuring out why we’ve been brought to this place?
no subject
I don't think we've made a lot of progress in that front. There's a lot that we don't know about yet, and there's a lot of variables, so...
Doesn't help that many of us don't even come from the same planet or universe. Or that the people who come from Earth aren't even from this Earth, or the same Earth as others. A lot doesn't line up.
[ultimately, he shrugs]
Some others are a bit more well-versed in this than I am. Maybe they'll be able to give you a better answer than what I can say for sure.
no subject
[Suddenly he’s glad for the deal he made with the detective — if they’re this clueless as a group, even with a cavalcade of personalities and skills originating from various worlds, then they will need all the resources that they can squeeze dry.
Police included.
But that’s a thought for later, he assumes, with nothing to be done about it now. Let it be one more passive stressor in a whole list of them.]
My priority will be adjusting to what this world has to offer, after all. As I understand it, making a temporary life here is unavoidable.
no subject
[back to arms crossed in front of him, prompto hums in thought.]
Once you're out of the safehouse you've got to fend for yourself. Get a job, or just find something to do to blend in and appear like a normal citizen of New Amsterdam. Some people get apartments and others have stayed in the safehouse instead, it's all up to personal preference.
It's not hard to get on by, though. Morningstar helps with the initial hurdle a lot.
[glancing up at v, he considers the man for a moment.]
When setting up your ID, El asks about your interests to try and help you land a job so you can go about it as you like. Maybe that's something you could think about in the meantime.
no subject
Never has he really lived as a "normal" human before. He knows the irony in that, but keeps these thoughts to himself.]
It's difficult to imagine how my interests might apply to a job in this sci-fi future. [Because it really does seem like they're living in the pages of a sci-fi narrative, something dystopian and raw.] Manual labor isn't much my forte. Is there much of a call for the arts still, in this day and age?
no subject
[he starts, sitting up and leaning forward, pulling up a bunch of tabs on his own neural implant to look through the different arts related careers.]
I do photography a lot, and I'm popular enough that I cover a couple of small music events and the like. My friend Markus [whom you will never meet] is an artist, and he's into painting and works at an art gallery. Music and arts in general are a big thing in the city.
[he wishes he could share these tabs, but without v having an actual id, he can't send anything at all.]
Dunno about — literature stuff, in specific. Not sure what to even look for. Do you have any ideas? I could look it up.
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Libraries, I assume, have no use. If the whole world has gone the path of digital.
[Is it all floating around the internet? Is there a curator, born of some necessity that he can't even fathom, being centuries behind the times?]
Writing. Or potentially music. You said your focus is on music photography, right? What sort of events are they?
[Are we talking orchestra hall or rock and roll concert.]
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[he's still searching,] Music and writing... Uh.
[suddenly prompto looks up]
Why don't you narrate things? Or read poems?
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Voice work and voice overs?
[He doesn't know how reading poems aloud might constitute as a job. However, idea of narration isn't a bad one, not if he's to truly believe the compliment that was slung his way just minutes prior.]
That seems... niche.
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Yeah, but there's gotta be a market for it. Right? People don't read as much anymore even if there's archives of books and documents online and all over. What better way to read but to listen to things?
[he thinks he's on to something!]
Since you probably wouldn't be able to do a lot of the other stuff... What do you think?
no subject
I think one idea is better than none. So I'm minutely better off than before.
[In other words, he'll think about it.]
Not that I can do anything until I'm- [He picks up his cane and uses it to indicate the whole of the safehouse.] -free of my prison. What a blessed day that should be, able to lose myself in the veins of New Amsterdam. I look forward to it.
[With anxious trepidation and curiosity alike. He sort of looks forward to it.]
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[this he indicates with a smile, excited at the prospect (simply because halloween is the best).]
And, well, if you got any questions or need a tour guide— [here he points at himself] you know who to look for.
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[He's also less harried by confusion, which means V's mind is of slightly better ease. That makes all the difference, too.]
A tour guide? Right, I'll look to Prompto Argentum, citywide expert. [Is he a citywide expert? It's a joke, because V sure as heck doesn't know.] I do have a question about our supposed powers, though.
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Good to hear you're doing okay, dude. Getting sedated and moved around like that on top of the usual poison must have been rough. But, yeah, shoot. [about the powers] That's a new one for all of us.
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I hear it's accompanied by a glow in our chests. Is that true?
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Yeah. Not just that, though.
[he puts his hand forward, somewhere in the space between the two of them]
Physical contact between any of us will cause our chests to glow. But, uh, [here he pulls back his hand a bit, fingers curling inwards] there's also a kind of emphatic communication... Shared emotions, mostly.
no subject
I was told about that, too. Someone else found me, in the carnival. Told me to avoid touching their skin or else we would glow and share our emotions.
[To V, this sounds like The Worst. But at least there's no sense of surprise or wariness at Prompto's explantation, since he had already been informed the day before. Still, one might wonder why he's even asking at all, then? He clarifies a moment later, the look of any vague amusement beginning to slide off.]
But what I want to know is why— [He pauses just long enough to focus, to call upon his familiars with just a thought of intent, wanting to unbind the power inked into skin and bring one of them into existence. It's always been easy, a part of himself brought forward as feather and fang and claw and power.
It doesn’t work, of course. It didn’t before, and it won’t now, but a blue glow blossoms from his chest and pain crawls beneath bone. V hunches forward just slightly, grimacing.] —this happens. Does the new power override the old? For what purpose?
no subject
[hands in fists, he places them over his lap. watches as v presents the same kind of dissatisfied pain as noctis did whenever he tried accessing the armiger or the crystal's magic.]
I don't know what the purpose is, but it does seem like the new does override the old. My friend went through the same. He couldn't access his magic the whole time he was here. Isn't it painful? I wouldn't recommend doing it a lot.
[it seems surprising that v would have powers of some sort, originally, but only because his body denotes the complete opposite of strength. still it isn't as crazy an idea as it should be.]
It's clearly still there though if you get that kind of reaction.
no subject
[The glow stops the moment he severs his focus, a hollow resignation singing in his bones. Being so cut off from his familiars, rending him both useless and (lonely) alone in a strange world where he could use their aid, it’s… upsetting, if stays planted on the thought for too long.
Prompto’s words offer a small amount of comfort, at least.]
As long as they’re still there, though… [He trails off, sucks in a slow breath. Leaning back in the chair again, V runs a finger across his arm, trailing one of many coiling designs on his skin.] It means that they’re just under lock and key. That lock being this new power, one that I’ve yet to discover.
[He’s already convinced it can’t be as useful as Shadow or Nightmare, or even loud-mouthed Griffon.]
I’ll sure I’ll be disappointed, either way.
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