And a few minutes later, there's a Johnny at the door, knocking gently. He's tired, still dressed in his pajamas, not wearing shoes, and he has a blood-soaked handkerchief in his hands.
Almost every time Pal has seen him, Johnny has been exquisitely turned-out, in sharp contrast to the disheveled man now standing outside his cabin door. Pal ushers him in without a word, wishing he had a kettle so that he could at least offer some tea.
“Why don’t you start from the beginning, Mr. Summer?”
"Cesar is dead. This is his blood. He was stabbed, then hanged in his own cabin. Is that enough of a beginning for you, Mr. Sextus?" Johnny may be just a little bit agitated. A tad perturbed. Fucking pissed.
In such circumstances, Palamedes is more than happy to forgive the man’s sharpness. He doesn’t know Johnny well, and he has never really spoken to Cesar, but they have all been on the Serena Eterna long enough that Pal knows what the two men mean to one another.
“It is. I am so very sorry.” He gestures to one of the room’s chairs. “Don’t be alarmed if he doesn’t return to you tomorrow morning. For reasons I have yet to discern, the process of resurrection seems to be taking three days now.” For the time being, Pal doesn’t explain how he knows this. He doesn’t much feel like talking about Natsuno’s death, and besides, this meeting isn’t about him.
"Three days. Thank you." Johnny takes the offered seat, and hands the handkerchief over. "There's...factors I'm not telling you about, because I don't want to influence what you're looking for, in the reading. I hope you understand, this isn't about trying to trick you. It's about understanding what you see and how it lines up with what we know."
Palamedes inclines his head. “Understood and appreciated. You’re right to be concerned about such biases. They can creep in when one least expects it. But I hope you won’t mind filling me in later.” Could Jinx have struck again? Reluctantly, after discovering that she had played a part in Natsuno’s death, Palamedes had decided that she wouldn’t pose a danger to anyone else. But if he’s wrong, he will never forgive himself.
He sits down opposite Johnny and takes the handkerchief with care, almost reverently. Though he might not know Cesar, Pal can easily surmise that the blood belongs to him: male, late twenties, tall, originally from a thalergenic planet. But the blood is fresh enough that something else comes through, something very odd indeed.
“Thank you for bringing this to me so quickly,” he begins. “Much longer, and we might have lost the scent, so to speak. Mr. Salazar was stabbed in the chest and the abdomen—the percentage of ventricular blood makes me suspect that the former was the killing blow.” He chews on his lip. Now for the odd part. “The perpetrator was a pubescent boy, likely no older than thirteen or fourteen.”
Which is super weird given that, as far as Palamedes knows, there is no one matching that description aboard the ship.
"And that's why I didn't tell you shit. Fuck. That young, you're certain of it?"
He gets up out of the chair, beginning to pace the room. "No one's going to like hearing that. But it does make certain aspects of the situation make more sense, actually. If he's that young and that...desperate." He pauses, trails off, and looks up at Palamedes.
"The person who murdered Cesar...was using Rich's body to do so. Rich is an older teenager than that and..." and transgender, but he's not sure how that affects anything that Palamedes is doing. "...the circumstances weren't making any sense for it to actually be our Rich. So, now we know you can read the actual culprit, not just the body they're using."
“That young. I’m certain of it. Or I would be, if I could think of any passengers of a similar age—“ But before Palamedes can speculate further, Johnny is leaping up and pacing the room. The soaked handkerchief lightly folded in his hand, he watches with sharp eyes as Johnny goes back and forth, back and forth, offering details of the story he hadn’t shared earlier.
“By God and his Lyctors,” Palamedes breathes, realizing with horror that the possession he had learned about just the day before was not an isolated incident. “Another one. The natives are restless.”
But before he can explain what he means, there’s something more immediate he must attend to. “Do you know where Rich is now? Are you and Dr. Watson safe?” If this revenant had gone after Cesar, they had good reason to worry that he would attach Rich's other caretakers next.
"Watson's reaching out to Six, they'll keep one another safe. I'm armed, both with my revolver and..." There's a small gesture to a pair of vintage scissors sheathed at his waist, as if they're a suitable weapon for defending himself.
(They have mad cursed vibes, if Palamedes can sense that. They are mad cursed scissors.)
"And I have good dangerous friends to reach out to, I'm not going to be out in the open alone, I don't think. Not until Rich is...apprehended."
“Good.” Palamedes is confident that Johnny and Watson can take care of themselves, but he’s comforted by the reminder. He clasps his hands together. “You should know that Rich is not the only passenger who has been possessed. Someone else has been taken over as well. He’s called Jeff, and from what I can surmise, one of the ship’s revenants has taken over his body. And given what you’ve told me, there may be more. Stay vigilant.”
"I would be grateful if you did," says Palamedes, whose mind is already turning over the scant facts he knows. The two ghosts he knows about don't seem to have much in common, but they must be connected. There must be a reason they have chosen this moment to emerge.
"And if you would still like me to ward your cabin, I would be happy to do so."
"Mundanity is in the eye of the beholder," Palamedes says. "I'm sure there are plenty of wonders the two of you could show me that would render me speechless. But," he stands and gestures for Johnny to lead him out, "let's start with these wards."
Johnny offers a bit of a bow and leads the way back to cabin 102 (passing 107 where Crabb and Watson are having the first meeting of the Serena Eterna LGBTQ Alliance).
"Most of my wonders are cocktails, Palamedes, I'm not the scientific genius that some from my time and place are."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Can you teach me how to ward mine? It may become important.
What cabin number are you?
Johnny
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Once you explain the situation to me, I would be happy to assist you with your cabin. I have to admit, you now have me concerned.
I await your arrival,
PS
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Surprise!
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“Why don’t you start from the beginning, Mr. Summer?”
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Just a little.
But not at Palamedes.
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“It is. I am so very sorry.” He gestures to one of the room’s chairs. “Don’t be alarmed if he doesn’t return to you tomorrow morning. For reasons I have yet to discern, the process of resurrection seems to be taking three days now.” For the time being, Pal doesn’t explain how he knows this. He doesn’t much feel like talking about Natsuno’s death, and besides, this meeting isn’t about him.
“Would you like me to examine the blood?”
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He sits down opposite Johnny and takes the handkerchief with care, almost reverently. Though he might not know Cesar, Pal can easily surmise that the blood belongs to him: male, late twenties, tall, originally from a thalergenic planet. But the blood is fresh enough that something else comes through, something very odd indeed.
“Thank you for bringing this to me so quickly,” he begins. “Much longer, and we might have lost the scent, so to speak. Mr. Salazar was stabbed in the chest and the abdomen—the percentage of ventricular blood makes me suspect that the former was the killing blow.” He chews on his lip. Now for the odd part. “The perpetrator was a pubescent boy, likely no older than thirteen or fourteen.”
Which is super weird given that, as far as Palamedes knows, there is no one matching that description aboard the ship.
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He gets up out of the chair, beginning to pace the room. "No one's going to like hearing that. But it does make certain aspects of the situation make more sense, actually. If he's that young and that...desperate." He pauses, trails off, and looks up at Palamedes.
"The person who murdered Cesar...was using Rich's body to do so. Rich is an older teenager than that and..." and transgender, but he's not sure how that affects anything that Palamedes is doing. "...the circumstances weren't making any sense for it to actually be our Rich. So, now we know you can read the actual culprit, not just the body they're using."
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“By God and his Lyctors,” Palamedes breathes, realizing with horror that the possession he had learned about just the day before was not an isolated incident. “Another one. The natives are restless.”
But before he can explain what he means, there’s something more immediate he must attend to. “Do you know where Rich is now? Are you and Dr. Watson safe?” If this revenant had gone after Cesar, they had good reason to worry that he would attach Rich's other caretakers next.
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(They have mad cursed vibes, if Palamedes can sense that. They are mad cursed scissors.)
"And I have good dangerous friends to reach out to, I'm not going to be out in the open alone, I don't think. Not until Rich is...apprehended."
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He manages a weak smile, appreciating that Palamedes' compassion and care in a moment where everything is turmoil.
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"And if you would still like me to ward your cabin, I would be happy to do so."
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He doesn't yet know about the science nuns doing a whole Frankenstein in his world, yet. Though he has seen the result of that firsthand.
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"Most of my wonders are cocktails, Palamedes, I'm not the scientific genius that some from my time and place are."
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He's going to have to pick out something appropriate for Palamedes as a thanks for his help tonight.