[Fortunately for all parties involved, Byleth arrived at Bondrewd's lab unmolested and in good time! The directions had been simple enough to follow, and the glowing fungi made it easy to spot out the rather... ramshackle looking front of the workshop. Byleth couldn't help but eye it curiously, wondering if it was a form of disguise to deter would be ambitious looters. No point in rooting around something that looked so unappealing.
But he didn't linger overly long on his inspection of the workshop: Bondrewd's towering, unique form was pretty hard to miss against the glowing backdrop. He cut an ominous figure, patiently waiting for him to approach before offering his hand and greeting him. Byleth considered the appendage briefly, before reaching out to grasp it firmly. No fear in this lad.]
Bondrewd. Yes, a drink would be nice. Alcoholic or otherwise.
[A more cautious man (probably Claude or Yuri), likely would've stared aghast at him for accepting a drink from such an inscrutable man in such an isolated location, but Byleth was confident (maybe overly so) in his own body's robustness. While he didn't understand how or why, most poisons and drugs passed through his system harmlessly. The few times an enemy had tried to drug him with a tranquilising or paralytic agent ended with failure, as the effects had been so greatly reduced as to be negligible (though he did feel a little nauseous or headachy afterwards).
[ He is pleased to see Byleth arrive, unbothered and unruffled. Knowing the little that he does about the young man and his time-related ability, he did hope that he had not needed to use the Pulse to traverse Kowloon — it might tire him, and then they would not be able to do as much. Greeting Byleth outside of the warehouse is as much for himself, to be seen with a member of the Meridian faction, as well as for Byleth, to be seen around a member of Zenith. A neutral accord, one that Bondrewd hopes will not be affected by the environment of Kowloon changing or adjusting in the future.
For if his work was arrested, by upheaval, he would be forced to take action to right the environment and restore it to one that would be beneficial to him. No matter what that would mean. He shakes Byleth's hand, tail swaying hypnotically — a slow wave of motion that preceded him turning on his heel to begin to lead him inside. Through the tidy steel door at the front of the building's former locker and break room, and through the body of the warehouse itself — tidied in sections and left to be collapsed and ruined in others. It was a long process, to clean the whole thing. And Bondrewd was only one person.
The filing room and manager's office is the cleanest and most repaired area, in the end, the environment in which Bondrewd had set up the bulk of his lab. A wall having been knocked down to make room for additional shelves and tables, and the tile of the bathroom beyond scrubbed methodically down to the grout to prepare it for efficient sterilization and conversion into a medical bay. However, he pauses in the laboratory itself — smelling of chemicals and metal — and draws close to his desk, reaching for the pitcher of water upon it and a nice, clean glass to offer a drink to Byleth. ]
I have water, for now. Perhaps afterwards, if you are not feeling lightheaded or ill at ease, we can go out for a drink. I will happily treat you to a meal, if you have an appetite then.
[ He invites Byleth to sit, if he pleases, before he rounds his desk and reaches into his filing cabinet to take out a folder. It is placed on the table and flipped open. The paperwork within is written in his native language, a script of round curves and dots and lines. The language of the Netherworld, the Abyss. ]
Mister Eisner, before I begin to speak with you about my ideas, I would like you to let me know what question you would like answered. Before I taint it, with my own queries, it is currently important to me that I know what you ask about yourself.
[As they travelled through the repurposed warehouse, Byleth's gaze swept over every inch of it, his expression not shifting from its blank passiveness. It was clear to him that it was incomplete, but what its final shape was to take, he wasn't quite sure. Considering the language Bondrewd used, as well as his proficiency in biological matters, then it may resemble what Aetós's workshop had appeared as... something alien and too advanced for him to really understand what he was looking at.
So, he put it out of mind, and took the seat and glass of water that was offered to him. If Byleth had felt any unease or uncertainty about his current situation, it was swiftly forgotten in the face of Bondrewd's offer, visibly perking up in open interest. A free meal and drink? Count him a very happy and willing guinea pig!
(He completely glazed over the ominous phrases like "if you are not feeling lightheaded" or "if you have an appetite then", because in his mind, he's just giving some blood and minor soft tissue, right? Byleth had lost more in every day combat. He wasn't concerned in the slightest (oh, Byleth).)]
The question I'd like answered is what... am I, exactly.
[He paused, realising that this question was both perhaps too vague and too philosophical.]
Let me amend that: biologically speaking, I'm aware that I'm a half-human, half-Nabatean hybrid. As far as I'm aware, I'm the only successful one that didn't suffer from... debilitating defects. For example, my mother, who was an artificial hybrid - that being, she wasn't born but created - suffered from weak vitality and a myriad of other health problems.
[According to Jeralt, it was considered an absolute miracle that Sitri managed to carry Byleth to term, her health had been so precarious. But despite being so sickly, she was also considered one of the more stable vessels that Rhea had crafted. In the three hundred years Jeralt had served Rhea, he had seen a few... terrible failures. What shape those failures took, he never said, only sporting a very grim expression about the matter.]
The only defect I had was one that was somehow resolved by my mother's creator. I was... stillborn, but my life was restored by transferring my mother's Crest Stone - a Nabatean's version of a heart - into me, as I lacked my own. This has made me wonder... what is my existence? Am I actually alive, or merely reanimated? I wasn't born with a Crest Stone of my own, but I still have a human heart, even though it doesn't function. Was I stillborn because I wasn't meant to live, being an unnatural hybrid?
[Byleth trailed off slightly, realising that he was veering back into the philosophical side of things, but finding that there was a measure of relief in giving voice to these heavy questions. He could never ask them to the others, because they would give him platitudes of 'you're alive' or 'it doesn't matter' and tell him to focus on the future, but he just... he wanted to know...
And Bondrewd could offer him those answers. He wouldn't give him platitudes. He was, despite being outwardly friendly, a cold man of science and logic. There was no pity within him. Bondrewd wanted to know, to satisfy his curiosity, and in this Byleth was the same. If this arrangement would grant him what he had thought unobtainable, all for the cheap cost of sacrificing a litre or two (or three, or four...) of blood and a pound of flesh, then he'd pay the price without hesitation.]
[ Attentively, he listens while Byleth explains what it is that he questions.
While Bondrewd had expected a simple response, the degree of information he is offered leads him to immediately reach for Byleth's file and card through to a clean piece of paper, beginning to dutifully record the young man's concerns and questions and the supporting information that he offers while he speaks. In shorthand, as well. He does not want to seem as though he is sacrificing his interest in what Byleth says for the opportunity to take notation down. If anything, he needs the notes to ensure he meets all of Byleth's needs.
He pauses, toward the end, and places his pen down. Considering where to begin. The best spot, he must conclude, is addressing Byleth's honesty. ]
Mister Eisner. I am grateful, that you are sharing in your curiosity with me. What I can offer you is nothing short of observable fact and data, which you will need to examine and assess for an answer that satisfies you. Any answer I offer you will be derived solely from rationality, as I am not a philosopher or scholar of the heart. I cannot twist findings to suit a satisfying or comforting answer, but in that, you have my full honesty.
[ Ultimately, it may be in Byleth's hands to decide for himself what he is. What he wants to be.
All that Bondrewd can offer is purity of reason, divorced from feelings or sentiment. ]
To that end, what I would like to do is take some samples from you. Hair, skin, nails, blood, lymph, bone and marrow. Are you able to commit to two rounds of that, once as you are, and once while utilizing your divine ability? And, that being said, is there anything about your Nabatean heritage that might prove challenging to traverse medically?
[Byleth appreciated Bondrewd's frank honesty. He knew, on some level, that the man wouldn't be handing his desired answers on a silver platter, easily digestible for him to internalise and accept. No, what Bondrewd could offer him were facts, and Byleth preferred facts over sentiment or vague theories.
Facts didn't lie. Facts were immutable. Facts followed some thread of logic, even if you couldn't immediately see it. Having Bondrewd divine the facts of Byleth's body would be more than enough for him... more than what anyone in Fódlan could've offered him, what with their severe lack of medical technology. The only one who held answers for him was Rhea, and he'd rather live in ignorance than willingly go to her about the matter.]
I appreciate your frankness. Truthfully, having your unbiased observation would be a boon, even if your research brings me an answer I'd dislike.
[At least Byleth would Know, then.]
As for potential challenges, there're a few... I'm not sure how to explain them, though, as my father didn't know the full details, and when I asked- a, ah, more knowledgeable source, they used medical language I didn't fully understand.
[Sothis had gone on a very long and confusing ramble about the uniqueness of Nabatean "gen-et-icks" and her own theories as to how this interacted with Byleth's human heritage - but her rambles were only theoretical (what with being bound to his mental scape and being unable to investigate his body medically) and she struggled to 'dumb things down' for someone who's science knowledge was leagues beneath her, so it had left Sothis annoyed and Byleth more confused than ever.]
I'll try to explain what I can though, ah... so, the properties of the Nabatean mean that ingestion or transfusion of their blood or introduction of soft tissue can cause adverse effects in incompatible organisms. [A kind of, bastardised quote from Sothis there.] This is because they have 'Crests', which is a- a "biological marker"? That the Crest Stone uses to send instructions for how 'cells' and 'genes' should be... manipulated?
[Ah, he's reaching the limits of his understanding...]
If there's no Crest Stone, these Crests can act abnormally... and vice versa, introduction of a Crest Stone without the corresponding Crest can force uncontrolled mutations on the subject. Um, so... my understanding is that if you accidentally ingest or implant Nabatean blood, soft tissue or a Crest Stone into a living entity, it can cause them to sicken or to mutate into a demonic beast.
[Phew!]
I've shed blood plenty of time on the battlefield, and exposure to it in that fashion hasn't caused such effects on other people, so I assume they'd have to... drink large quantities? Or deliberately introduce it to their own blood somehow...
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
But he didn't linger overly long on his inspection of the workshop: Bondrewd's towering, unique form was pretty hard to miss against the glowing backdrop. He cut an ominous figure, patiently waiting for him to approach before offering his hand and greeting him. Byleth considered the appendage briefly, before reaching out to grasp it firmly. No fear in this lad.]
Bondrewd. Yes, a drink would be nice. Alcoholic or otherwise.
[A more cautious man (probably Claude or Yuri), likely would've stared aghast at him for accepting a drink from such an inscrutable man in such an isolated location, but Byleth was confident (maybe overly so) in his own body's robustness. While he didn't understand how or why, most poisons and drugs passed through his system harmlessly. The few times an enemy had tried to drug him with a tranquilising or paralytic agent ended with failure, as the effects had been so greatly reduced as to be negligible (though he did feel a little nauseous or headachy afterwards).
So, it was a weighted risk. Also he was thirsty.]
no subject
For if his work was arrested, by upheaval, he would be forced to take action to right the environment and restore it to one that would be beneficial to him. No matter what that would mean. He shakes Byleth's hand, tail swaying hypnotically — a slow wave of motion that preceded him turning on his heel to begin to lead him inside. Through the tidy steel door at the front of the building's former locker and break room, and through the body of the warehouse itself — tidied in sections and left to be collapsed and ruined in others. It was a long process, to clean the whole thing. And Bondrewd was only one person.
The filing room and manager's office is the cleanest and most repaired area, in the end, the environment in which Bondrewd had set up the bulk of his lab. A wall having been knocked down to make room for additional shelves and tables, and the tile of the bathroom beyond scrubbed methodically down to the grout to prepare it for efficient sterilization and conversion into a medical bay. However, he pauses in the laboratory itself — smelling of chemicals and metal — and draws close to his desk, reaching for the pitcher of water upon it and a nice, clean glass to offer a drink to Byleth. ]
I have water, for now. Perhaps afterwards, if you are not feeling lightheaded or ill at ease, we can go out for a drink. I will happily treat you to a meal, if you have an appetite then.
[ He invites Byleth to sit, if he pleases, before he rounds his desk and reaches into his filing cabinet to take out a folder. It is placed on the table and flipped open. The paperwork within is written in his native language, a script of round curves and dots and lines. The language of the Netherworld, the Abyss. ]
Mister Eisner, before I begin to speak with you about my ideas, I would like you to let me know what question you would like answered. Before I taint it, with my own queries, it is currently important to me that I know what you ask about yourself.
no subject
So, he put it out of mind, and took the seat and glass of water that was offered to him. If Byleth had felt any unease or uncertainty about his current situation, it was swiftly forgotten in the face of Bondrewd's offer, visibly perking up in open interest. A free meal and drink? Count him a very happy and willing guinea pig!
(He completely glazed over the ominous phrases like "if you are not feeling lightheaded" or "if you have an appetite then", because in his mind, he's just giving some blood and minor soft tissue, right? Byleth had lost more in every day combat. He wasn't concerned in the slightest (oh, Byleth).)]
The question I'd like answered is what... am I, exactly.
[He paused, realising that this question was both perhaps too vague and too philosophical.]
Let me amend that: biologically speaking, I'm aware that I'm a half-human, half-Nabatean hybrid. As far as I'm aware, I'm the only successful one that didn't suffer from... debilitating defects. For example, my mother, who was an artificial hybrid - that being, she wasn't born but created - suffered from weak vitality and a myriad of other health problems.
[According to Jeralt, it was considered an absolute miracle that Sitri managed to carry Byleth to term, her health had been so precarious. But despite being so sickly, she was also considered one of the more stable vessels that Rhea had crafted. In the three hundred years Jeralt had served Rhea, he had seen a few... terrible failures. What shape those failures took, he never said, only sporting a very grim expression about the matter.]
The only defect I had was one that was somehow resolved by my mother's creator. I was... stillborn, but my life was restored by transferring my mother's Crest Stone - a Nabatean's version of a heart - into me, as I lacked my own. This has made me wonder... what is my existence? Am I actually alive, or merely reanimated? I wasn't born with a Crest Stone of my own, but I still have a human heart, even though it doesn't function. Was I stillborn because I wasn't meant to live, being an unnatural hybrid?
[Byleth trailed off slightly, realising that he was veering back into the philosophical side of things, but finding that there was a measure of relief in giving voice to these heavy questions. He could never ask them to the others, because they would give him platitudes of 'you're alive' or 'it doesn't matter' and tell him to focus on the future, but he just... he wanted to know...
And Bondrewd could offer him those answers. He wouldn't give him platitudes. He was, despite being outwardly friendly, a cold man of science and logic. There was no pity within him. Bondrewd wanted to know, to satisfy his curiosity, and in this Byleth was the same. If this arrangement would grant him what he had thought unobtainable, all for the cheap cost of sacrificing a litre or two (or three, or four...) of blood and a pound of flesh, then he'd pay the price without hesitation.]
no subject
While Bondrewd had expected a simple response, the degree of information he is offered leads him to immediately reach for Byleth's file and card through to a clean piece of paper, beginning to dutifully record the young man's concerns and questions and the supporting information that he offers while he speaks. In shorthand, as well. He does not want to seem as though he is sacrificing his interest in what Byleth says for the opportunity to take notation down. If anything, he needs the notes to ensure he meets all of Byleth's needs.
He pauses, toward the end, and places his pen down. Considering where to begin. The best spot, he must conclude, is addressing Byleth's honesty. ]
Mister Eisner. I am grateful, that you are sharing in your curiosity with me. What I can offer you is nothing short of observable fact and data, which you will need to examine and assess for an answer that satisfies you. Any answer I offer you will be derived solely from rationality, as I am not a philosopher or scholar of the heart. I cannot twist findings to suit a satisfying or comforting answer, but in that, you have my full honesty.
[ Ultimately, it may be in Byleth's hands to decide for himself what he is. What he wants to be.
All that Bondrewd can offer is purity of reason, divorced from feelings or sentiment. ]
To that end, what I would like to do is take some samples from you. Hair, skin, nails, blood, lymph, bone and marrow. Are you able to commit to two rounds of that, once as you are, and once while utilizing your divine ability? And, that being said, is there anything about your Nabatean heritage that might prove challenging to traverse medically?
no subject
Facts didn't lie. Facts were immutable. Facts followed some thread of logic, even if you couldn't immediately see it. Having Bondrewd divine the facts of Byleth's body would be more than enough for him... more than what anyone in Fódlan could've offered him, what with their severe lack of medical technology. The only one who held answers for him was Rhea, and he'd rather live in ignorance than willingly go to her about the matter.]
I appreciate your frankness. Truthfully, having your unbiased observation would be a boon, even if your research brings me an answer I'd dislike.
[At least Byleth would Know, then.]
As for potential challenges, there're a few... I'm not sure how to explain them, though, as my father didn't know the full details, and when I asked- a, ah, more knowledgeable source, they used medical language I didn't fully understand.
[Sothis had gone on a very long and confusing ramble about the uniqueness of Nabatean "gen-et-icks" and her own theories as to how this interacted with Byleth's human heritage - but her rambles were only theoretical (what with being bound to his mental scape and being unable to investigate his body medically) and she struggled to 'dumb things down' for someone who's science knowledge was leagues beneath her, so it had left Sothis annoyed and Byleth more confused than ever.]
I'll try to explain what I can though, ah... so, the properties of the Nabatean mean that ingestion or transfusion of their blood or introduction of soft tissue can cause adverse effects in incompatible organisms. [A kind of, bastardised quote from Sothis there.] This is because they have 'Crests', which is a- a "biological marker"? That the Crest Stone uses to send instructions for how 'cells' and 'genes' should be... manipulated?
[Ah, he's reaching the limits of his understanding...]
If there's no Crest Stone, these Crests can act abnormally... and vice versa, introduction of a Crest Stone without the corresponding Crest can force uncontrolled mutations on the subject. Um, so... my understanding is that if you accidentally ingest or implant Nabatean blood, soft tissue or a Crest Stone into a living entity, it can cause them to sicken or to mutate into a demonic beast.
[Phew!]
I've shed blood plenty of time on the battlefield, and exposure to it in that fashion hasn't caused such effects on other people, so I assume they'd have to... drink large quantities? Or deliberately introduce it to their own blood somehow...