2022-04-20 - The Fault in their...Blood?

(TXT to Vyv) Ava : May need your help with something really big tomorrow to stop abductions. Details better in person. Meet me at the morgue.

(TXT to Ava) Vyv : The invitation every man dreams of. All right, I can be there shortly.

The morgue isn't really meant to be inviting. It's meant to be sterile and cold, and just a little unwelcoming perhaps. The place where you're only supposed to be if you have a reason. Luckily there's a reason in this little glass vial. Also luckily, Ava has veered away from the room with all the body drawers and off towards the lab section. It's warmer in the lab, as well. Small miracles. A crisp, white labcoat is pulled on over her dress, and Ava goes to work pulling her hair up into a bun.

"You can just sit wherever is comfortable," she offers to Mikaere, her temporary roommate who has accompanied her to the lab today in order to help out. "I really don't know how long this is going to take. Or really if this blood was even the cryptid's. It could have been one of the assholes with Haggleford's. Or Haggleford's himself. I'm not sure what help it'd be then for my little crackpot idea." There's a pause, her eyes narrowing. "It might spawn new crackpot ideas. But that's for later." Once the hair is up, she leans her hips back against a desk. "I messaged a gentleman by the name of Vyv. He'll be joining us shortly. Have you met him yet?"

'Go to the morgue to help out' seems like a perfectly reasonable occupation, when you have not much else going on, right? Mikaere at least seems to have thought so, enough to be willing to accompany Ava, though he's probably exceptionally relieved not to be in the room with the bodies. (Are there some in there right now? There probably are. That's unnerving. No matter...)

"If it's one thing we can sure of," he tells Ava, hoisting himself up onto a stool that's more-or-less out of the way, but still within easy reach, "it's that there will be more crackpot ideas. At least you're accepting that that's what they are, ay?" That's more teasing than chiding, far too amused. "Vyv? Nope, name's not familiar. He another scientist type?"

"I am very accepting of the face that that's what they are. I'm realistic that way. You can't live here and imagine that any idea you might come up with using magic and blood and portals might be a good idea. Hell, even in fantasy novels blood magic tends to be frowned upon. But, it also tends to kill the creature it's being used on, which is how it was used here. What I'm going to shoot for is finding a way to avoid that completely. If that's possible." Ava sighs. "Big if."

There's a laugh at the last question. "You'd think so since I'm calling him in for this, right? He, uh, actually owns the best bakery in town."

Mikaere's laugh is immediate; open, honest, unrestrained. "I'm going to assume he's got some specific skill that's useful for this," he says, still laughing. "And you're not just angling to get pastry delivery while working."

He swings on his stool (because of course it spins; all good stools should), then leans forward, bracing his arms against the bench in front of him. "It's a worthwhile if," he adds. "But please don't get any ideas about anyone being able to read any kind of important meaning from the blood via non-laboratory means. I don't want to touch it or taste it, thanks very much." Fantasy novels may not be Mikaere's particular jam, but it's not an illogical progression of ideas.

Whether the weather sees fit to acknowledge it today or not, it is spring, and thus, as with nature, a time for things to gradually become lighter and brighter. So when Vyv arrives, the slimly-cut three-piece suit in which he does so today is a warm shade of camel, with a pale blue shirt and a deep teal silk tie sporting tiny paler-teal polkadots. The details have not been neglected; his cufflinks are simple gold and turquoise affairs, his watch is an understated rectangular thing in gold with a brown leather band, his shoes are a nice pair of brown leather brogues, and his pocket square is a bit of silk with a paisley pattern in teals, light blues, white, and browns. Everything is high-quality and either tailored or designed to fit, should one have an eye for that sort of detail.

He also has a currently-moist traditional black umbrella and a faintly annoyed expression. "If April showers insist on continuing at this rate, we're all going to suffocate to death under a mountain of May flowers in a couple weeks. Or they're going to end up summoning pilgrims by accident." He also has a decidedly 'proper' British accent, it turns out. Mikaere gets a curious and decidedly appraising once-over; Ava gets a somewhat less thorough one, but he's seen her before. Also, lab coat. "Are you wearing that mainly for effect, or ought I keep hold of the umbrella?" he inquires of her, before glancing to Mikaere again, and offering, "Good afternoon. New in town, are you?"

"Well, what I'm planning for tomorrow, I'm hoping that he can help me with. Which means he's going to need to know what's been going on. Thus, I asked him to join me here so that I can give him an update on things while I check out the blood." Ava grins. The vial is held up as she studies the contents of dried blood. "Honestly, touching it wouldn't be a terrible idea to get some kind of idea as to whose it was, man or beast. But if it was beast, I fear that the visuals you might get could be heartbreaking and I wouldn't ask that of you. That seems kind of cruel."

Vyv gets an affectionate smirk as she smooths the labcoat. "I'll be working with at least one chemical, so the labcoat stays. I never risk my cloths." A sentiment he no doubt understands. "You won't be close enough for them to spill on you, so I think you can set the umbrella aside. Don't get my lab wet or I'll do the same to your kitchen." A threatening finger waggles. She would never. "Mikaere, Vyvyan. Vyvyan, Mikaere."

Mikaere's return glance is equally appraising, albeit in a casual kind of way: Vyv does, however, get a slight raise of a brow. When Ava said 'gentleman', perhaps he didn't quite take her that seriously. In contract, too, the Kiwi seems decidedly under-dressed, shorts and boat shoes and his usual sleeveless fleece over a t-shirt, the weather be damned. "New in town," he agrees, evenly, in that possibly-not-Australian-but-maybe-similar-to-the-untrained-ear accent. "Mikaere Hastings. Not here to touch blood," now he's glancing back at Ava. "If at all possible."

Which does not, of course, entirely rule it out. "What is it you're planning for tomorrow, Ava?"

"You presume I'd allow you in my kitchen," Vyv retorts with the faintest of smirks in return, though he finds what seems a suitable spot to rest the umbrella up against the wall near the door, and sets it there to drop its remaining drips slowly onto the industrial floor. "In any case, I certainly wasn't suggesting you divest yourself of your scientist-whites. I just feel it's important to know how much protection I might require."

The other man's sartorial choices likely do not make the grade in that appraisal, but that doesn't mean Vyv doesn't stroll over and offer a hand to shake in any case. "Mikaere Hastings," he repeats; perhaps notably, he gets it right, even the little roll of the 'r'. A small narrowing of the eyes, considering for a breath. "Kiwi? Welcome to the bizarre. Vyvyan Vydal, Vyv generally. How do you do." It's not a question. "And I've never gone anywhere to touch blood. At least, not intentionally."

He glances over to Ava and the bodily fluid in question. "Whose blood is this, and why are we considering touching it? I assume not a sudden aversion to sanitation, given the general state of the place. And what did you mean about abductions?"

"You assume I would wait for your permission if I was intending to tarnish it." A retort for a retort . Ava's eyes sparkle with amusement when she sees that slight smirk. Hah! She sees that, no hiding it. "You require no umbrella, I assure you. Nor will I ask either of you to touch the blood if you don't want to. If you volunteer, I wouldn't turn it down. But, I fear if it's the cryptid's blood, it might be a little rough, considering it was a sacrifice. I'm not sure I want either of you dealing with those emotions."

The vial is set into a slotted holder with a handful of empty ones. "How aware are you of the situation with a man named Haggleford? He's the evil Santa looking gentleman who has been kidnapping numerous, and I mean numerous amounts of people to use for slave labor, flesh trade... honestly we're not sure what else he's doing with the bodies. About a month and a half ago he attempted it on myself, Kailey, Itzhak, and a couple others."

There's a definite, distinct quirk of Mikaere's mouth at the full impact of Vyv's name, but he acknowledges the other man-- and shakes his hand, firmly and professionally-- with a smile otherwise. "Kiwi," he confirms, sounding mildly surprised but undeniably pleased to have been so correctly identified, and his name pronounced correctly first try. Two easy ways to win his approval. "Good to meet you, Vyv."

His willingness to touch blood, or otherwise, if absolutely necessary, is remarked upon only with, "If anything's liable to leave a memory... but I'd still rather not."

Haggleford is no new story to him, but he listens anyway, forearms still braced against the bench. "Sick fuck," is his conclusion.

"You may underestimate how many knives there are in a pātisserie." It comes with a sidelong glance to Ava, and a slight quirk of one brow. The just-perceptible upward tilt at that one corner of his lips remains. That long, at least. Vyv's own shake is firm and professional as well, and he looks briefly pleased to be confirmed correct -- not surprised, mind, but pleased -- and gives a small nod of acknowledgement before things get to the question of blood and kidnapping. Then he looks intrigued.

"Are we certain this isn't how Santa recruits elves? Perhaps he's been evil all this time and we've simply been bribed with presents not to notice." He watches the slotting of the blood. "I can't say it's top of the list of things I'd enjoy doing today, but I suppose I can try to read it if we think it'll be helpful. And presuming I can sterilize my hand afterward."

He doesn't immediately head over to do so, however, instead claiming one of those looks-out-of-any-spatter-zone stools for himself. "I've not heard much about this situation, no. I'd have thought I'd hear about emphatically numerous amounts of people going missing, but apparently not." And that's a bit annoying. Better late than never, though. "When you say 'the bodies'... are you positing he's abducting corpses for slave labour, the flesh trade, or, I don't know, particularly unexciting games of Monopoly? Because even for here that seems suboptimal on the planning front."

"Well see, now you're just flirting," Ava coos at the mention of knives with no drop in her own grin. Her elbows lean back against the desk, one leg crossing over the other. Her expression does flatten out at the talk of Haggleford, however. If there's one thing that her and Itzhak have in common, it's the thought that this man is their nemesis.

"The most recent abduction was about a month ago and it was five people. They were alive when they got into an accident out in Humptulips. One of them might have been dead when they were removed from here. So I say bodies because he is at least making a few corpses along the way. Though, I believe he wants as many alive as possible. Slave labor is hard to preform if you're dead." Her head bobs to Mikaere at the sick fuck comment. "We," she gestures to Mik and herself, "and a couple others went up there to investigate because I thought that it was just a Nightshade bear attack. I didn't know it was connected to Haggleford until we got there. Turns out he used the bear as a sacrifice to open a portal."

Her nostrils flare. "He's basically unleashing large, dangerous cryptids, and then sacrificing them and using them to open some kind of portal or gate to get the people or bodies back to wherever it is he's keeping them. The last one he used, portal I mean, still has energy left."

"Note the 'just' relating to the Nightshade bear," points out Mikaere, not without a rueful enough smile, though it's not exactly funny. "Where I come from, cryptids aren't much of a 'just', but I accept that things are somewhat... different, in this town."

Not even that much of a smile, though, when he adds, "Ava wants to see if she can use the portal, still. I think she's crazy, but--" But he's here, anyway. Perhaps it is, as much as anything, an attempt to keep Ava from doing anything too quote-unquote stupid. Maybe he can't help himself.

"Clearly he does need to be stopped, though, one way or another."

A gentleman is never late. A gentleman appears exactly when he wants to. Or is that a wizard? You're a wizard, Ravn. Either way, Ravn finally finds his way to the location -- after asking for directions of three different people, and spending some time lost in Radiology. A chat with Nurse Baldwick and a fresh set of directions later, and he actually makes it to the right place.

He wishes he hadn't. He does not like morgues. But whatever is going on here doesn't involve a dead body that he knows of, and definitely not one he's related to, and he grits his teeth and tells himself it's just another part of the hospital as he knocks on the door frame. "I'm not late. I wanted to get here now."

"As I say, suboptimal," Vyv says with a small nod to the idea that slave labour is tricky when dead, "Although I suppose necromancers and zombies might disagree." He'd like to say they don't exist, but one doesn't live in GH with Glimmer for too terribly long without revising one's opinions about what might be somewhere out there.

The eyebrow goes up again at 'just a Nightshade bear attack'. "Have we been having a spate of those? Bit far west for them, isn't it? But that's... interesting." Sometimes that's a weasel word. Here it appears to be the accurate one. He is Interested.

A glance to Mikaere at that addition about trying to use said portal, and then he's dubious, also. "The portal you believe is created by a blood-magic sacrifice of a somehow-summoned legendary and likely mythical creature, about which the only thing you know of its destination is that an unpleasant gentleman with I presume a rather impressive beard likes to kidnap people to it dead or alive, where we could expect he knows the general terrain while we don't really even know if it actually has terrain -- that's the portal you're aiming to head through, is it? Mn. Yes, can't see how that could possibly go wrong. Hello, Ravn."

"Well, I knew it was a Nightshade bear. Or Conner knew it was a Nightshade bear. So that's all we thought we were dealing with. How about that instead? We didn't realize how much deeper it went than 'bear attack'. Ava corrects the statement with a brief laugh. "But, we brought a tranq gun and a whole handful of people just in case, for dealing with the bear, but stumbled on the whole Haggleford angle."

"We're back here, Ravn." At least that means he doesn't have to be in the room with the drawers of dead people. Back in the lab where it's warm and people-y. "I think it's a good idea that we have the option to use the portal if we need to, yes. I also think it's a good idea to be able to use it without having to sacrifice a cryptid like he's doing. Hence my completely crazy idea, and part of why I'm here studying the blood. Also, this is the first time I've been able to get my hands on potential cryptid blood on this side of the Veil before. So I'm very excited to check it out." The vial is taken out again and she holds it out towards Vyv.

"Did you want to try, or would you rather not? There's absolutely no pressure if you don't want to. I can get not wanting to touch weird, dry blood."

"I," says Mikaere, not without a half-smile, "would have preferred to find the bear, I think. One random out-of-its-place cryptid is vastly preferable to what increasingly sounds like a terrible, complex evil plan. Hi, Ravn. Good to see you doing something completely normal, as opposed to running lobster fight-club for the locals."

Okay, that does get a smile, a real one, along with the tip of his head aimed at the other man.

"That portal is so far off the end of my list of things I think is a good idea I'm not even sure where to start-- but I accept that I am not the boss of you, Doc, and you're going to do whatever you need to do. Hopefully the blood tells you everything you need to know and we can just be done with it, ay?"

Ravn scratches his neck with a gloved hand. "Tell you the truth, I think I prefer lobster fighting rings to morgues."

He's not sorry to leave the drawers room and step into the laboratory instead. "So, we're looking at the blood of the -- man bear cat thing? You want to try to grow one? I guess that would work around the whole problem with cryptids being cryptids because no one's ever caught one. It's kind of the definition -- when they caught the coelacanth, it stopped being a cryptid, after all."

Vyv looks thoughtful while the explanations continue. "How do we think he gets from wherever his portals lead to here?" he muses, "Do you suppose he has to sacrifice some sort of local cryptid there as well? And where is he getting them from? It does seem," a vague gesture toward Ravn and his definition of cryptids, "a bit odd to be able to plan around them. In areas they aren't local to. Sasquatch, certainly. Nightshade bear, though? And they aren't precisely pocket-sized, unless one has really quite impressively and inconveniently prodigious pockets."

Still... this is intriguing. "I suppose I can give it a go. But I want to see the hand sanitizer ready before I do."

"Technically I'm already growing one. I'm growing a bunch of them, remember? Firefly forest has some, and the greenhouse has some. They just haven't bloomed yet. They're freshly planted still." The Cryptids. They're freshly planted. It doesn't make much sense. Ava realizes this and gestures at Mikaere and Vyv. "I was given Veil fruit by a gentleman named August. When they're fully grown, cryptids of all different kinds can sprout from them when they flower. It's why the Greenhouse was reinforced like it was." To try to prevent escape.

"Once I'm done investigating this blood sample, I'm going to try to make a fertilizer with it and add it to one of my fruits. Then I'm going to see if I can get the fruit to bloom and a cryptid to come. I just need a live blood sample, and then I was hoping to get a door opened so that the cryptid could go free into the Veil." Ava gestures towards Vyv. "That's one of the things that I need help with, since that's certainly not something that I can do. I thought you might be able to help with that. My goal is to get a live sample, so that I can figure out a way to use my abilities to make it so that we can open the portal without having to sacrifice a life."

Use dead sample to get live sample to keep from having to kill more to get portal open. Just in case.

Ava moves to grab the hand sanitizer kit. This is the heavy duty lab stuff. This is a morgue after all. It get set next to him. "There was a Mothman, as well. Which leads me to think that he may also be... creating his own cryptids. Sacrifices. That may be what some of the people are for. That's just my theory. I don't have any proof of it. Be careful with the sample."

Wryly, "I'm beginning to think the murder motel may have been a safer place to stay than your spare room." Mikaere's got a dubious eye for the vial of blood, and one that is no less dubious for Ava herself. "I'm... not sure this is even a question I should be asking, but I find myself doing it anyway, so here goes. You can't speed up their growth already, without the blood? You're a healer."

Opening a door without taking a life is an improvement on the alternative, but the Kiwi does not seem especially comforted by it, given the way that brow furrows so deeply. "The whole portal thing seems dangerous, still. You don't know what you'd be walking into."

Such a downer.

"August Rųn's Veil ... figs ... aren't cryptids," Ravn objects. "At least not the textbook definition -- which is a creature spawned out of folklore but never actually seen or verified. To the best of my knowledge, something does come out of those Veil figs of his. But, for the intent and purpose, this difference may be so bloody academical in nature that it doesn't matter."

The Dane seems to have his reservations as well; he nods at Mikaere and murmurs, "If you do end up jumping through portals with a shotgun, promise me that you jump with someone who can open doors. This sounds like a way to get yourself Lost on the Other Side with no way back. Might end up somewhere that can't sustain human life as we know it, too -- Haggleford's enough of an asshole to not just lay out a welcome mat and his house key under it."

"As I said," Vyv says, making another vague gesture toward Mikaere and Ravn as they mention the dangers of what the other side of unknown portals might be like. What, is he just being accurately sarcastic for his own enjoyment here? ....okay, mostly yes. But points were made! "It sounds as though there isn't enough known to rule out anywhere or anything, and if the other side of that portal isn't the relatively near Veil as we know it, one can't safely assume even a particularly powerful mover could open a door back. If it takes some special technique to get from here to there, it might well require one to get from there to here as well. You need more information." A small pause. "And possibly self-preservation. You're aiming to grow strange creatures in your greenhouse..."

He's not even going to address the list of things that come to mind regarding that, yet. More information is needed, he's just asserted that. And there's just one potential source of it he's aware of. A glance at the sanitizer, then at the blood, and he sighs. One hand pushes the cuffs of his shirt and jacket slightly further up his arm, then grasps the edge of the table... just in case. The other, somewhat reluctantly, touches the blood. And he tries.

"I don't need the blood to speed up the growth. I'm hoping the blood might help shape what comes out into something helpful!" There's a pause at Ravn's words, Ava blinking for a moment. "Oh. So, less cryptid and more just Veil animal in general? Well, then maybe the blood fertilizer really will help? And perhaps the faerie's tending will have had an effect as well. We never know. His didn't grow within the effects of a faerie garden, after all." There's a little shrug. "To be perfectly honest, I'm pulling all of this out of my ass. Like a true scientist. I don't know what will or won't work. I'm just throwing ideas out there and seeing what will stick."

"I wouldn't go jumping through portals alone. I can promise that. I wouldn't even say I'd use it. I just think that it's important that we know that we have access to it as well. Just in case we need it. Though, I'm not opposed to finding others who are willing to go with me to see what's on the other side. But it'd have to be a group. A small group, but a group. Healer, fighter, door opener. Etcetera." Ava sighs. "I like having options. I don't like Haggleford running around being ten steps ahead all the time. I just want to feel like I'm catching up to him. You know?"

Mikaere's expression suggests that they're damn well not 'figs', either, though if he has an alternative name for them-- well. Maybe he just doesn't.

"You could open a window," he supposes. "Rather than try and go for a door, first. I wish I knew a good way of sending through a scouting party without sending through a scouting party, but that's absolutely not my area of expertise." Even talking about doors and windows, he sounds as if he's choosing his words carefully, copying the terminology used by others, and then extrapolating, rather than it being his own words of choice.

Those dark eyes, so very nearly black, study Vyv, his hand on-- in-- the blood.

"Hell yes, I know," Ravn murmurs. "That's the thing about Gray Harbor that gets you the most -- the sensation that you never get the entire user's manual. It's always piecing together information a little too late."

In Vyv's hand, the dried flecks of blood feel -- strangely hold. Cot? Warm and cold at the same time, like a hand may feel if one half of it is in shadow and the other in blazing sunlight. Oily? Though it is dry. Immaterial, flimsy. Like oil film on water is not quite water, this fails to feel quite right for blood. Images transmit themselves to the Mentalist; running through an unfamiliar forest, trapped in a circle of lights, the loud sounds of gunshot, the piercing pain -- numerous piercing pains, and then, the slow loss of consciousness. To be carried, through the woods, dragged like something that just had to be moved somewhere else to die. An emptiness, as if nothing came before and nothing came after; whatever creature shed this blood died in agony, but did it ever really live? Or was it just an idea given form, and then bursting like a soap bubble when no one was thinking of it any longer? A beast, the mind of an animal, terrified -- running, fleeing, bleeding, dying.

Mikaere's idea has merit though, as far as Ravn is concerned. "A window sounds like a very good idea. A skilled mover should be able to get a look at the other side without opening a passageway for something to get through. Give you an idea what's there, if anything."

Vyv's brow furrows a bit as he 'reads' the blood, and remains that way in the moments after he retrieves his hand despite the fact that this is how one develops wrinkles and he is not currently in the market for those, thank you. "It feels... odd," he says, reaching for the sanitizer with his 'clean' hand. "The blood itself, that is. Both hot and cold, when it really oughtn't feel either in here. Somehow oily. Not like proper blood." Look, he said he didn't go places intending to touch blood; he never said it didn't ever end up happening.

"It's definitely a creature. A non-human one. Not from around here. I could feel it running, lost; caught in a circle of lights, shot. More pains, I'm not sure what. Dragged away to die, I suppose where the portal needed to be." His hands are being thoroughly sterilized as he speaks. "Imprints tend to be just the important moment, but there's, mn. It makes sense obviously for there to be a feeling of nothing particularly after, considering. But there's a stranger sense of nothing particularly before. It may or may not mean anything, it's simply... unusual. Though I can't say I've read many animals' dying moments. None 'til now, actually."

He brushes his hands against each other, tidies up the cuffs he'd pushed upward, and settles back into the more elegant posture he'd taken on the stool before the attempt. "A window ought to be easy enough in principle, but this doesn't sound as though he's going simply to the Other Side. If he is, we needn't use his portal, we could just make our own. If he's going somewhere farther... well. I shan't say it's not possible, the way things have gone, but I've not encountered a way to open to other places." He tilts his head a touch. "I wonder if one could use the Art to open his portal as a window, given a portion of it remains."

"Sure. A window. How do we go about doing that, then?" Ava arches a brow between Mikaere and Ravn for a moment. "I'm not a skilled Mover. This is all I've got. Nobody else is talking to me about this shit, so I'm doing what I can." There's a scowl on her face now, but it's a wounded sort of scowl. Clearly she'd taken some pride in her wild scheme, even if it was crazy. Now feelings are hurt.

The blood is taken back and the scowl turns to sympathy. "I'm sorry you had to deal with that. Dying moments probably aren't fun to have to endure. Emptiness is actually something I expected. Kailey mentioned it of the Mothman, too. When she tries to use her mind abilities on him, he was just blank. It was all just instinct and that was it. There was nothing to him. Which is kind of why I wonder if they're being created."

The blood is taken and Ava turns towards the equipment now, getting out gloves and starting to prepare some slides. "If you can use the Art to just do a window, that sounds a lot safer. Then we won't need to worry about super charging any of my fruits or anything." Someone sounds disappointed but like they're trying to be more mature about it than they feel.

By way of answer, Mikaere's expression offers Ava a silent apology. If he's flushed at all, it's not particularly visible thanks to the darkness of his skin; instead, he simply makes a face. "I don't know," he says. "I'm hypothesising, same as you. I don't have those skills, either, I'm just... I'd hate for anything to be done that isn't necessary. Maybe going through will be necessary, but if there's any way around it, anything that doesn't involve--" a wave of his hand: all of this, "-- then I'm all for it. It's absolutely clear that he needs to be stopped, one way or another."

He adds, then, glancing back at Vyv, "That tallies with what I felt, out in the forest. All wrong. That poor creature, wherever it came from. It didn't deserve that."

"I should be able to do this, but I'm not," Ravn says, a little dejectedly. "Until recently, I had no idea I had more power than it takes to move a pea across a table or bend a spoon. I'm learning to open windows, but I have no control over where they're going. That seems not at all subtle or precise enough for what you need here -- don't want to alert the asshole we're watching, either. Might have to hunt down someone like Rosencrantz, Kailey Holt, or Vic Grey. Vic's kind of quiet about her power but she is a remarkably talented mover all the same. I'm not sure whether Perdita Leontes can do it but it wouldn't surprise me -- she doesn't advertise, either, but I've seen her do things."

He winces at Vyv's explanation all the same. Sometimes, he's grateful to not have any of those skills -- the empathy, the psychometry, the stuff that forces you into someone else's mind. His own mind is mess enough for one man to sort out, thanks.

Then he glances at Ava and points out, "If these things are being made for the occasion, so to speak -- then it may not be their death that's the issue. Hypothetically, it might be their creation. I remember Rosencrantz told me about the spirit moose -- it died, but it also ran off. Like it split into two."

"Or me?" Vyv says, the brow quirking a bit again. "Or Bax, for that matter. " A pause, and a look to Ravn. "Do not tell him about this. Not unless I'm there." The glance flickers to the others; that goes for them as well. Even if, as far as he knows, neither of them have yet met the man in question. Still. Do Not.

"Generally speaking, a window goes to the Other Side. Directly. Here. The same as a window or door in any wall; it goes to the other side of it. It doesn't go to Tahiti, no matter how much one might like it to, unless Tahiti happens to already be on the other side of the wall in question. It gets stranger and more dangerous the thicker the Veil at the point one attempts it; one might end up somewhere quite different deep in the Dreamlands; but unless people have made more discoveries they haven't bothered to let me in on, which I grant is irritatingly possible, one doesn't get to choose. Which is what I was saying. I could open a window to the Other Side near his portal, but it would only let us see the near Veil there. If that's where he's going, we don't need to use his portal at all. If it isn't, then the only thing I can think that might work for a window is to try to somehow open one through his portal, or his portal as one. I've genuinely no idea if either could be possible."

He exhales, sharp but light through the nose. "It's all hypothesizing. And... I can't say the dying moments were pleasant, no, but that's interesting -- emptiness is a good word for it, that feeling. Perhaps they are being created. If so, is it by him? Is it to be killed, or is something else going on? And how does a moose..." A small shake of the head. "Mn. All right. What's the story with the spirit moose? This is related as well?"

As Vyv says 'Or me,' Ava is gesturing vaguely towards him with a gloved hand, despite her back being turned to the group as she prepares everything. "That's part of why I called Vyv. I was hoping he would help me tomorrow, with the gate opening, to allow whatever sprouted from the fruit to go back into the Veil. Then, after all that was done, tomorrow, maybe we could pick his brain about The Vivisectionist and her annoying little Post Its." Gritted teeth.

"Right, the moose splitting in two." Ava slides the blood sample into the microscope and sets up a special projector on a screen. Then she rolls over to turn on a tv so that they can see what she's seeing. Then she spins in her seat. "The moose wasn't the only one. Haggleford is able to split himself as well. When he came after us, it wasn't the real him. He nearly died by fire, but the real him was apparently sitting nice and safe somewhere else according to his hired goon. So, whatever he's doing, he can do it to himself, too."

Ravn looks at Vyv. "I actually didn't know you can do this too. I'm not exactly surprised, though. And I agree -- let's not point Bax at a shiny thing unless we want to watch him running towards it at high speed."

Then he nods. "Spirit moose was another cryptid. I wasn't there for that one but Rosencrantz told me about it. Lightning struck it and it died -- and then there were two. One dead, and one that ran off like whatever. He talked about using the energy to move unconscious people. So we know for a fact that these cryptids relate to Haggleford's opening doors. But we don't know how exactly."

He quirks an eyebrow at Vyv; the chef is considerably more experienced in all things Veil than Ravn is. "I remember being told that if you cross over at Gray Pond or the lumber mill, you're pretty much guaranteed to hit the Other Side Gray Harbor. And elsewhere it may -- fluctuate? Either way, it's beyond my current ability. I managed to step in at the Pond a few times and then step back out somewhere else, but I don't think Haggleford is there. Something just -- if he was, he'd call himself something -ist. Not act like a low grade extra-dimensional mob boss with hired goons."

Mutter, grumble. "And remote controlling a copy of himself from a safe place, yes. So the reason you want to get over there is to kick his arse where he can't just die like a bad video game character and respawn five minutes later."

Well, this is all very interesting, though not least, "The Vivisectionist?" which rates a blink, a brow furrow, and a faint frown. "Are you certain? It definitely seemed--" Vyv pauses, and shakes his head. "All right, yes, one thing at a time." But Ava has his attention for tomorrow, if she hadn't already.

"So these creatures might be copies of originals, and something about killing one creates energy he can use for portals to... wherever it is. Possibly where he keeps his actual self. Possibly not." His lips purse slightly. "Shame we can't learn that trick. We could just send our remote-control doppelgangers across to investigate while we could respawn five minutes later. I wonder if he needs this energy for the portal because it's an empty copy doing the work?" Possibly not important. But, again, interesting.

Ravn quirks an eyebrow at Vyv. "That's a very interesting point. And definitely one we should consider -- that the whole point isn't the door but the manifestation. Right."

"If they are the copies, that could also explain the blank minds in a way, couldn't it? The originals aren't blank, but the copies are." Ava tosses that out there with narrowed eyes. It seems to make sense in her head. "If it's the empty energy that's doing the work, then my blood idea definitely wouldn't have worked." Another look of disappointment from Ava before she turns back around towards the microscope. "Alright. Let's see what this blood might tell us. You guys can see what I'm looking at on the screen."

There's a lot of fiddling on her end as she shifts the slide around and adjusts the settings to get the right magnifications. Then she starts to zoom in to see what they see.

Blood; a liquid in which the colour stems from the plate-shaped cells, ferrying oxygen around the body. Assorted acids and substances, blah blah, look, the point here is -- there should be something in this slide besides liquid. Dead cells. Something.

There isn't. All there is, is small, dark crystals. Ashes. Whatever this liquid is, it cannot possibly have moved in the veins of any creature born on Earth. Whatever was in this blood burned. On a level that is far beyond the laws of physics in this reality.

It's a little headache inducing.

"Wow." Ava sounds enthralled with what she sees, looking at the burnt crystals. Fiery blood. Whatever this is. "Normal healing wouldn't have worked, I don't think. But Spirit may still. I should..." There's a second as the slide is pulled free. Delicate hands work, taking a piece of the blood and cutting it off to set into a different vial and capping it. Just in case. The bulk of it is set back under the microscope and focused back in on.

"This way, if it doesn't work, there's still a little left. I'm thinking that maybe heat can restimulate it, maybe? It's not human, so maybe, even if it's been dead for a bit, it can still be reactivated? They work different, right?" Is there a way to blend Revive magics and Heating magics together? No, probably not. But that's not going to stop Ava from trying her best to try it, focusing all of her energy on that little bit of dried blood.

The ability of a healer to knit and weave tissue is no small thing; it is sometimes a life-saving thing, literally. The last great boundary, though -- to call life back from the beyond, may still be under the Jesus trademark. Maybe it's that life is more than broken things mending; ash can be restored to charcoal, and charcoal to wood, but to return life to dead matter -- it may be possible in the way that very few things are truly impossible, but to do so would likely require the direct intervention of forces far greater than what humanity can muster.

Maybe some day, when human science understands death.

The remains of ash burn, and then stop burning as the last trace remnants of whatever they were before, is expended. Whatever this creature was, that spawned these drops, it never belonged in this reality. It never could have lived and breathed and moved in this reality. If it had been left alone, it would have died in short time because there is no way this thing can be alive.

Ava clicks her tongue. "Yeah, I kind of figured that's what was going to happen," she murmurs before leaning back in the seat. That's why she make sure to cut off a piece. "But it was worth a shot. I atleast have the other little bit that I can add to one of my plants to help make it big and strong. Or maybe it'll just make sure it's a fire type." Was that a Pokemon reference? Maybe she got caught up in the Pokemon Go craze just like everyone else.

She pulls out the slides which are now ruined and slides them into a sharps container to be disposed of before cleaning off the microscope. "We'll see what we can do tomorrow about opening a window, then, I suppose. How about for now we just go grab some coffee. My treat."