2nd Metal / open spam covering the next few days

[godsays]

[ He never had thought of Mistborn powers as being an addiction, but this may force him to admit he was wrong. He craves the metals, craves the sensations that come with them. He feels as though his body has been wrapped in cotton; no longer can he distinguish the grains of wood through his fingertips, or hear the whisper of a heartbeat from a room away. He can't use lines of metal to sense movement and to chart his surroundings. Can't fall and fly. Can't lean on the emotions of those he meets. He's trapped in his skull, a prisoner of locked doors and gravity.

This is what drives him to some desperation.

There are many risks that come with seeking out metals not metallurgist-crafted. Alloys can be impure; they can be of an incorrect mixture. It's hard to flake off bits of metal. Chewing on them will only result in certain trace metals in the system, and those could be burned off easily and quickly without much benefit.

So: find him anywhere in a public area, focused on some sort of metal. Perhaps determinedly working at the tines of a fork or attempting to chew on a pipe. Licking, in an attempt to taste the composition of an alloy. (This is unsurprisingly ineffective.)

And then, at some point, he may succeed in flaking/bending off/acquiring some metal that can be swallowed. Unfortunately, alloys of incorrect percentage give him a blinding headache and leave him nauseated and down for the count. So feel free to also find him curled into a ball really wishing he hadn't just tried to do that. ]

Comments

[fridgetothefire]

[She's interested in him. Originally she paid attention to his public conversation with Charles because she likes keeping tabs on Charles, but now she's interested in Zane for his own sake. Metal powers, a blunt superiority complex, the professed insanity, the ignorance and the simple curiosity. It's an odd mix. She didn't expect to find him gnawing on a brass doorknob, but she can roll with it.]

...whatever you're trying to accomplish there, there's probably a more efficient way to do it. Not to mention more hygienic.

[godsays]

[Brass. Brass would be handy. And if he concentrates, he thinks he may almost be able to feel a hint of a reservoir inside him, the tiniest drop of brass-power. It's a spark to the ordinary sensation of a bonfire - a tiny spark, drifting on the wind, that could wink out in a half-second.

Unfortunately, he has managed nothing more than that.

Slowly, he retreats from the doorknob. Moves to his feet.]

...if there is, I haven't found it.

[fridgetothefire]

At least get a screwdriver or something to scrape with instead of your teeth.

And wipe that off, no one needs to get your spit on their hands.

[She is a Lehnsherr, and an oldest sibling besides. When she isn't playing shy - and she doubts harmlessness would win her much, after what Zane's said about powerless skaa - bossiness comes easily.]

spam; later, with curled-in-a-ball Zane

[silvestris]

And just when I was missing the gutters of Gotham.

[She nudges him with one boot.]

What did you get your hands on?

[godsays]

[ It is, if he doesn't miss his mark, an extremely low-carbon alloy of steel. It registers in him as not-quite-steel and not-quite-iron at the same time; when he tried to burn it, it felt like every single cell of his body gave a lurch at the same time. Half of him tugged backwards, half pushed forwards.

His head is agony.

He peers up at her, jaw set. Palm pressed against his temple.

Kill her, he thinks, but God's voice remains silent within him. It's just reflex, now. ]

Steel.

[ Which probably won't explain anything. ]

[silvestris]

[Steel? He got hit with steel? He ran into steel? He was trying to steal something?]

Show me where it hurts. [Somehow she makes that very serious request sound like something you'd hear on a porn set. Force of habit.]

[dalekemperor]

Just the thing to come along and see: a grown man gnawing on a random pipe.

Davros (who is, himself, about 80% metal) stops and stares.

"I am told that there are treatments for pica on most worlds," he observes drily.

[godsays]

He jerks away from the pipe. Reflex, from having been caught. He looks vaguely guilty, though he's fairly sure that no one would have thought to forbid chewing on pipes. These people don't even know about Mistborn, and no one here is paying any particular attention to him.

"Pica?" he asks, wiping a hint of saliva from his lower lip with the edge of his thumb. His eyes travel up and down the - man? - who interrupted him. He really has no idea how to interpret what it is he's seeing.

[dalekemperor]

Well, it used to be a man. Now it's more like a barely animated corpse held together by machines. He quirks a hairless brow over empty eye sockets.

"It is a metabolic illness in which the patient repeatedly consumes things that are not considered food for the base-constituent of its species. Unless, of course, you are one of that rare breed that can metabolise any kind of solid matter, in which case I think a simple request of the cooks here would be a more... dignified manner of obtaining such sustenance."

[itstopped]

[There's metal on Felix, too, although not anything Zane could use; he's not sure what's in the new leg, but it's much lighter and less unwieldy than the old one. It's also compact enough that it allows him to hide it under his trousers, and by now he can very nearly walk normally on it, although he still noticeably favors the leg. It's still harder for him to do something like crouch down on an ankle that doesn't bend, and so when he sees the young man curled up on his way out of the dining hall, he tries to address the situation from a standing position first.]

Uh, are you... okay...? [A strong start, Felix.] Do you need someone from the infirmary, I mean.

[godsays]

[ The words prompt a surge of paranoia, which is just about as disorienting as the surge of nausea from just a few seconds ago. How did he end up on the floor? Turns out that burning unfamiliar metals is just as much of a bad idea as his trainers always said it was. Much worse of an idea, in fact.

He shakes his head, tightly, which hurts, but is necessary because of the whispers in his mind, the thoughts that tell him this newcomer is about to try and hurt him, doctors will take advantage, he should never let himself be seen weak by someone else. ]

I'm fine. [ Forcing himself to uncurl and lean back against the wall. 'Fine' is a clear lie, though. It's not even subtle how not-fine he is. ]

[itstopped]

[Felix understands the impulse, anyway, both the paranoia and the stubbornness, the will to be fine. He was fine much too soon after they took his leg, but what else was he going to do? And in the newcomer's case, what else is he going to do but trust a stranger?

Typically, he tends to keep himself a little detached, a little uninvolved from the non-mechanical goings-on around the ship. It's tempting to just leave the stranger to whatever and move on. Maybe something of the old Felix stirs in him, though, because he can't seem to make himself just... go.]

I'm not... [...not like the others, he doesn't say after all. He hesitates, then bends down rather awkwardly at the waist, his knees still straight.] I wouldn't hurt you. I can bring you something.

[patheticvillain]

[Cassel is used to weird shit. Weird shit is basically his bread and butter. But this . . . is a little much.]

[Well, Zane did say he was crazy. It seems like he was right.]

How, uh. How's that going for you?

[godsays]

[ Cassel, really, how dare you intrude on the quiet corner where Zane has decided to taste the alloys involved in various screws he's extracted from places on the barge. (Righty-tighty lefty-loosey is a rule that took rather longer than he'll admit to figure out.) So he's testing this one with his tongue, trying to determine if it's iron or steel...

He can't taste the difference. He's rarely ingested metals not in a preservative alcohol solution. That taste he remembers well, but the faint metallic tang was always so nondescript.

He focuses on Cassel. ]

Oh. It's you.

[patheticvillain]

[He is licking a screw. He's like . . . basically frenching it. This is really disconcerting for some reason, it's like seeing people wearing lace gloves.]

Oh, it's me, he says, while tenderly caressing a screw with his tongue.

[warisart]

[Here is another that's been silently keeping an eye on the new arrival, curious but hanging back. Ben is familiar with his environment at this point, knows where he can watch unseen and where he can't, and he's unwilling to approach the stranger until he's as certain as he can be of his disposition.

The strangeness is not offputting to the transgenic. He has no preconceptions of normal to compare it to, not that he's understood intrinsically like most would. But he has seen the man make several fruitless attempts at ingesting various metal items, and he's beginning to suggest there might be something wrong with him.

It's quietly, from semi-behind, when Ben finally approaches on quiet feet while Zane is studying something in his hands in one of the common areas.]

Do you require medical assistance?

[godsays]

No.

[A puzzling question, actually. He isn't ill or bleeding - and even if he was, he's a Mistborn, generally assumed to have pewter, and to be able to judge when he needs medical attention or not.

Zane curls his hand around the screw he's managed to work loose, palming it as he turns to look at the other man. His gaze is level, deadpan, and he doesn't speak, waiting to see what the other will do or say.]

holy crap the typos in that last tag, I am so sorry

[warisart]

[Ben meets that gaze with one of his own, keener but with the same qualities. He's nonplussed by the answer, and blinks slowly while he considers it.

The inherent question of why he would think so isn't one that was actually asked so Ben ignores it, asks instead:]

What are you searching for?

[strangehistorian]

[Is that human eating a fork?]

...Are you alright?

[godsays]

[Why, yes. Yes it is.

He abandons his gnawing, temporarily, in favor of bending at one of the tines.

...Oh, it's her.]

Yes.

[strangehistorian]

...Don't hurt your teeth.

[wecanavenge]

[Erik hasn't been particularly social of late, and with good reason: the Barge often has a way of making things worse before it gets better, and the last few weeks have certainly been an emphasis on worse. He's still angry, because letting go has never been a talent of his.

Still, he can't stay cooped up in his room for days on end, so on one of his strolls - shoulders straight, face schooled in a look that keeps most people away - he pauses when he comes upon a man trying to eat a pipe.

He wishes that was stranger to him than it was.]

What the hell are you doing?

[godsays]

[ It's quite surprising how many people have seen him trying this and how no one has actually tried to stop him. He supposes there really aren't any rules against attempting to ingest stray metals, and the sheer number of metals on the ship means that he'll be occupied for a while trying to flake or scrape off enough to burn.

It is somewhat undignified, though.

He steps back from the pipe, turns his eyes to the stranger. Assesses: tall, strong. A strength that must be used, not built for appearance. If Zane didn't know better, he would suspect Mistborn. ]

What does it look like?

[wedonot]

[Fortunately, Charles already knows that metal apparently has something to do with this man's - he never introduced himself to him - abilities, otherwise he might think that there was a gas leak or something on board, because chewing on a pipe is certainly not healthy behavior.

That, or this new arrival was clearly far more unstable than he'd previously assumed.]

That seems like a very good way to get sick.

[godsays]

[ Copper-taste on his tongue, and he can almost - almost - feel a reservoir of the power within himself. Allomancers can burn trace amounts of the metals, but it can't do very much.

Still, the temptation is there - especially when the reason for Zane seeking out copper shows up right in front of him.

He burns the tiny copper reservoir, and it flickers out as fast as it came, leaving a little bit of a headache in its wake. ]

...Probably. [ He can admit that. It's not the safest or most productive thing he's ever done. ]






[ ooc note: in canon, copper is both a way to hide Allomancy from being sensed by others and a way to block mental/emotional Allomancy. So it's up to you if Charles can feel any effect from it. I truly doubt it would be able to block him, really at all, but it might make Zane's mind feel a little fuzzy or staticky. ]