lostcarnival | The Harder I Try [Closed]

Entry tags:

The Harder I Try [Closed]

Who: Foster and Rita
When: S2: D22
Where: Trailer 18
What: Foster and Rita learn the power of teamwork(?)
Warnings: Foster. Specifics to be added as they come up.

He's both disappointed and relieved that Rita is so prompt--there was a small hope she'd protest against working with him, but he's sure the reasonable conclusion would have been orders to surrender the book to her, and he...

...well, he would have obeyed, but it would not have been in good faith that he did so.

Anyway, the extra-large door of trailer 18 is already open when she gets there.

If she lets herself in, she'll find it... clearly demarcated between the two owners. Foster's side is actually neater, if only for want of so many material possessions. It's also arguably less sanitary; there are spots and smears of dried blood on both the bedsheets and the wall.

Foster is on the floor next to the bed. He's on the floor because he's about the size of a child's rocking horse, and his... well, he could best be described as a 'teddytaur,' covered in soft golden curls and clad in a costume to match 9S', pink and all. There's a heavy book in his lap, his paws resting on top of it.

He doesn't say anything, just looks at her. His round, plush little face is hard to read.

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"Unfortunately," he confirms shortly, in the same slightly-proud tone he'd used to confirm himself stupid not long ago. It's definitely the same voice she'd argued(?) with on the channel, at least. But now that they're not talking over walkie-talkie, it's also smaller than it was back in the manor prison.

'Smaller' is really the only way to put it; Foster's voice wasn't especially deep as a rule, but at least he sounded like a grown man.

"This book isn't leaving the trailer, so if you want to see it, you might as well sit down."

No offence, but... well, full offence.

Lambert never ordered him to hand the book over.

Rita frowns and at first, she remains standing in the doorway, weighing her options.

In the end, reading that book wins out, and she approaches with a sigh at the inconvenience. "...Fine." She walks over and sits cross-legged on the floor, keeping a small distance between them. "Give it here."

He better not make this any more difficult than he already has.

Foster is... surprised when Rita doesn't argue with him, and even more surprised when she actually sits down. His estimation of her lowers immediately, but he doesn't say it. It's certainly not visible on his soft face.

"Not that I have the authority to give you orders or anything, of course!" he assures her in a bright, ingratiating voice, but while the sentiment is sincere, the gesture is completely platitudinous: Lambert has given him no such order, and he does not intend to let her leave his trailer with that book.

Still, he hands it over, the very picture of helpfulness. Not like he has a choice, right? He has to lift it pressed between his paws like a particularly unwieldy sandwich, though; with such small paws, odds are good that he'd just drop it. And she'll have to reach for it. It's not like his arms are very long like this.

There's no author, and the title (Of Many Worlds: the Legacy of the Source) isn't on the spine, but it's easy enough to find once she opens it up. Unfortunately, the book itself isn't just heavy, but dense; it's like a religious text in terms of easy reading, and the font is infuriatingly small, the pages delicate and thin.

But it's in nearly pristine condition. Foster has taken great care with his book, if nothing else.

Rita makes a face at his awkward manner of offering it, but she's quick to take the book, her arms immediately sinking from the weight, though she manages to place it on her lap without dropping it.

Book-lover that she is, she takes a moment to admire the elegantly decorated cover and the unmarred pages before opening it to see inside. The small font and verbose writing are no deterrents; in fact, her eyes light up when she gets a glimpse at the walls of print.

"So the Prince really did have some nice things back there..." she muses. "I knew he was holding out on us."

He's still feeling pretty uneasy, but Lambert's orders were not to be a pain in the ass, so he endeavours not to be. He doesn't even stare at her more than a second or so longer than necessary when she pulls a face at him. And he lets her flip through the pages without interruption, though he's watching her so closely for potential damage to the pages that he actually forgets to breathe.

"Mmmm," Foster agrees, this time without underlying motive. He would have liked, in an ideal world, to have had more time to investigate the Prince's study--he's not an acquisitive person (the phrase 'you can't take it with you' is much more poignant this close to his own death) but suddenly he's got more time guaranteed now than he has his entire life and it's like everything developed more potential to be interesting.

At a glance, the book is a dissertation on the multiverse--angels, demons, fae and their courts. Creation. The Void. Things like that. The essential thrust of it all is something about the essential template from which worlds are derived (and defined) and the original form of the various powerful beings that inhabit them.

"We might have had more time to look, had someone not flooded the room with spiders." There's a lightness to that, a strange lack of judgment in his voice. But really, what else is there to say about that?

Fortunately, Rita loves books far too much to allow any harm to come to one in her hands, and she handles each page with great care.

His comment about spiders gets a raised brow from her, however, and she glances up from her reading. "Spiders?" There's a story she hasn't heard. "Who were you with, anyway? I'm surprised someone like you managed to sneak as far as his personal study." Because from what she's seen of Foster until (and including) now, subtle isn't a word she'd use to describe him.

Apparently she doesn't love them enough not to get distracted. Not that anyone would blame her. It's a pretty difficult book.

He stares at her in a teddy-eyed deadpan.

"Someone like me?" Foster echoes, in a tone that strongly suggests he's laughing at her. But he also smiles, the expression mostly obscured by the fuzzy shape of his face. "No, I'm just dead weight."

Ha ha.

"Childermass," Foster continues, shifting to fold his forelegs under him more comfortably. He's still keeping a very close eye on her. "I had to beg, actually.... and Lapis. Taako. Syrlya." He pauses. "The spiders were Syrlya's problem." Another smile, but only briefly. He doesn't elaborate past that, either, though he lets that sentence hang to make it clear that it was a problem.

Dead weight...? Rita doesn't get it, but it sounds like more of his apparently usual self-deprecation.

"Sounds like a real ragtag crew," she comments, her eyes going back to the book. "But if Childermass was there... I guess it makes sense that you had the success you did." Rita's well aware of how his abilities can be used to sneak people around. But considering the group he was with, something else sticks out to her...

"... So how come you're the only one who got caught?"

Admittedly, that turn of phrase loses some of its impact when he's not undead. He might or might not even be terminal any more, although he is quite sure his time is limited, whether or not Herbert's 'cure' did anything... anything else. He knows the disease was a symptom--not the cause.

He won't deny the group was.... motley. It's partially (well, mostly) his doing, in fact, but he won't tell her that. Taako's involvement had proven crucial to their success, but that wouldn't have happened without his intervention. He won't tell her that, either.

"I didn't leave when they did," he says instead, which does actually answer her question. To his ears, it sounds either flippant or terse. But it seems like the more he says, the less people hear, so--

He's a little relieved she's going back to the book, honestly.

If she keeps reading instead of getting distracted by the teddybear in the room, it will become apparent relatively quickly that several beings (fae foremost amongst them) are referenced as though they are a multiversal constant. And, it further implies, there is a reason for that.

Edited 2018-03-07 00:33 (UTC)

So he stuck around like an idiot and got caught. Rita supposes that's not too surprising.

...even if she probably shouldn't judge that harshly, when she was fool enough to get caught herself.

Oh well. Back to reading.

"Hmph... seems like fae are pretty much all over the place in the multiverse," Rita muses as she reads. "I wonder if they would've inhabited my world, too, if we weren't protected for so long..."

Sure, you can call it that. He's not picky! What right does a failure have to defend himself?

It's probably a good thing she didn't say that out loud.

Instead, she's actually reading, and that's what he's supposed to be here for. That particular subject has his attention immediately. And not coincidentally, it is the focal point of the book.

"Yes, because they're descended from the Source," he supplies as though that should be obvious. "And they are the closest to it." He doesn't know what Rita means about being 'protected.' Protected from... the presence of beings greater than oneself? That sounds less like 'protection' and more like 'privation.'

"The Source..." Rita repeats, her expression thoughtful as her eyes continue to scan the page. She never really heard of it before, but considering it's the origin of fae and part of the title of this book, she can already guess it has immense significance.

"I assume this book's going to get to that, but... as far as you understand, what is the Source?"

Foster is quiet for a moment. The struggle is not in knowing the answer to Rita's question, but in communicating it, all of it, especially... well.

Given the reason Rita is holding his book at all. So he takes a moment to... gather his thoughts beforehand.

"It is the nature of reality to reflect itself, and so the same forms are seen. These repeated images are not insignificant. Do you understand?" Hopefully she does because he doesn't stop, gesturing with a stubby paw and parting his curly fur with his claws. It leaves plush little furrows in the side of his face.

"After Creation, and the Void, there is The Source essential. The Source is... the Source is the root being from which all beings in the universe derive. The original form of Life, and Power. All living things, all beings of consequence... and inconsequence, hahaha. They reflect this origin. The further they are derived, the further diluted, the further distorted, they are... less, for it. Humans, mere animals." Lesser beings still.

Rita looks up from the book to face Foster and simply stares, her mouth hanging open.

"Th-that's... wait. You're not joking, are you?" Is joking a thing that Foster even does? Rita has no idea. "I mean... if that's true, it would change everything we know about the nature and origin of life!"

And that's before getting into the part about humans being lesser. Is that just his interpretation, or...?

Foster is not joking, but he is laughing--absolutely delighted. He's laughing, yes, but then he's not; he doesn't have to angle his head any special way to look up at her now, with a wide smile and bright eyes.

"Everything you know, you mean."

There is a definite tone of correction there--not quite smugness or contempt, but still as much pleased as critical. He waves away the rest with a singe paw.

"Lambert's orders were to work with you, to let you see this book and answer your questions." And not to be a pain in the ass, although he's somewhat more apprehensive of how to interpret that one.

"I'm not going to lie."

Not that he would have have lied about this anyway, especially with the book right in front of her. How stupid does he--well. No. That's a bad question. Of course he's stupid. Whether he looks it or not, and he can be fairly assured he does. But at the very least, he's trying not to let his worse character get the better of him right now, so she can trust him.

Or doesn't she trust Lambert?

Rita has no retort, because yeah, she did mean everything she knows. And that's a lot! But it's true that Rita never really claimed to have all the answers about life, the universe, and everything. It's just that she never thought she'd have some of those greater truths revealed to her by a stupid-looking teddy bear.

And he doesn't have to laugh at her like that, damn it.

"It's not that I think you're lying, but..."

It's a lot to take in. And it raises a lot of new questions.

"...I have to verify this, as much as I can."

And with that, her nose is right back into that book.

With all due fairness, he's stupid-looking when he's not a teddy bear too. So the timing couldn't really have salvaged that one.

He doesn't have much to say to that, though; he just lets her go, his beady little eyes cool and detached despite his smile and the glinting light in them.

The book, as Rita returns her attention to it, does eventually appear to agree with Foster's claims. It doesn't specifically mention humans yet, but it definitely takes every available opportunity to imply (or explicitly declare) that fae are indeed the titular 'Source.' This, the book asserts, is the explanation for how immensely powerful they are and why their existence is so consistent in and significant to the multiverse.

Her current chapter begins to lead into a more thorough discussion of multiversal time and space structures after a while, though.

Edited 2018-03-12 02:09 (UTC)

At some point, Rita pauses to flip back to the very front, then the very back of the book, looking just in case she missed some mention of the author's identity.

"Who wrote this, anyway? It must've been a fae..." considering how eagerly the author asserts the fae's essential role in the multiverse. "I wonder how objective I can expect this information to be..."

The part she's at now, at least, seems more firmly grounded in facts, making it easier for Rita to digest.

For someone Foster is genuinely trying not to antagonise, she's working awfully hard to antagonise him. He actually opens his little mouth, and the beginnings of a syllable are out before he snaps it shut again--and he closes his eyes tightly, covering his mouth with two crossed-over paws like a small child.

It takes him a few seconds to regain his composure.

But no matter how hard she looks, there is no author information.

"Was that a question?" he asks, finally--brightly.

Instead of being snide or reproachful, it's almost... guileless in tone. He's even smiling. And not in a creepy way, but sincerely.

Rita glances up and furrows her brow at his bizarre expressions. She doesn't know how to read Foster, and when he brightens suddenly, she leans back a little in alarm.

Seriously, what's wrong with this guy?

"...It is if you know the answer," she says after an awkward delay. He doesn't... does he?

That's not a 'no.'

It's also not very specific. Which answer? Because no, Foster doesn't know who the author is. But he also has no reason to mistrust the information in the book, and is in fact deeply perturbed that she's so quick to do so.

The veracity of the contents is not untested. It told him more about the Pillars of Creation than Noa did. It organised the truths he already knew, had almost and always and already known into something more tangible, more correct, more real. It proved the Ringmaster and his purpose.

And, speaking practically, if he (and she) served fae, subverted fae, negotiate fae for the benefit of their lives and their master, then what form of reality is more important than that seen by fae?

No. He isn't interested in entertaining her doubts.

"I think you'll find you can trust the author," he offers in an assuring--and assured--tone.

Yeah... that isn't much of an answer.

"We'll see about that," Rita murmurs, looking back to the book. "These theories on time and space are pretty interesting, I'll grant. They're consistent with what I've observed so far, too." Between their long lifespans and ability to traverse the multiverse, it's not a stretch to think some fae would have advanced understanding of such concepts.

It's the answer you asked for, Rita. Which leaves him a little nonplussed, especially when she dismisses it for not agreeing with her prior belief. He's starting to wonder what Lambert expects him to do if she doesn't even want his input.

The pages she's on are effectively reflecting on the existence and nature of timelines, and the dramatic instability of worlds with many of them--splintering off and collapsing and merging and so on, as timelines do. Unfortunately, as with everything else in the book, it's meant less to be a technical manual or research publication and more like a cross between a religious tome and a long dissertation. So this takes a while to get through--moreso if she's reading every word.

There is a brief mention of Realms by way of contrast, but in a way that implies she might have missed something in a previous chapter.

She's barely touched most of the book, though; she could spend days getting through it.

Rita may be a hell of a speedreader, but even she has to recognize that there's no way she's getting through this in one sitting. She gets to the end of the current chapter, then stops, crossing her arms and taking some time to mull over what she just read.

"Never knew that divergent timelines could grow to be so volatile..." she murmurs, then gently closes the book and holds it out for Foster. "You can have this back now. I'll have to come back and continue this another day."

Come to think of it... they've been here a while, and Rita spent most of the time absorbed in the book, but Foster? "And, uh... you don't have to sit and watch me the whole time, you know." He does know that, right?

Foster looks mildly startled--some of it is from how quickly and decisively Rita decided she was finished, and then actually returned the book to him. Sure, there was his little gesture when she came into the trailer, but he did not actually expect her to take it seriously.

He accepts the book gingerly, reverently, with both paws.

The other reason for his surprise, though--

"Of course I do!" He turns his head to the side a bit, his eyes staying on her enough that the whites can actually be seen. Which proves there are whites to them, finally.

"I'm no use to you if I'm distracted elsewhere." Obviously.

Rita stands, brushing the creases out of her tunic with her hands, and frowns.

"You can answer questions just fine from somewhere else in the room!" she protests.

Foster looks at her. Then, slowly, he turns, looking over Taako's detritus-rich side of the room. Skirts, shoes, snacks, at least one book, sad-looking paper aeroplanes, and so on are scattered variously under his bunk, on top of his bunk, on top of the dresser, and... well, Taako doesn't care where things end up, is the point.

But where Taako's stuff isn't, there's... not a lot of anything. No other books besides the one in Foster's paws and the two under Taako's bed. No food that isn't Taako's, no art supplies, no evidence of hobbies of any kind.

Unless the gratuitously wicked-looking knife on the tiny kitchen table is a hobby.

He glances back at her.

"No," he says simply.

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The Harder I Try [Closed]

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