summonthesuit | IC Inbox

[...Oh. Okay, that is- not what Quentin expected. Just gonna... quietly tuck that compliment away for later, as he looks away briefly. Scratches at his jaw absently as he can't meet Steven's eyes for a tongue-tied moment.]

I'll take smart. But it's- soft, yeah. Little bit weird, but not as messy as the... scales, I think? On these. [One of his wings twitches as he says 'these', like lifting an arm and then dropping it again.] They tint the water, looks- really weird, if you're not used to it. The fluff doesn't shed as much. Sorta like...

[Quentin's face scrunches up in thought. He's never had to describe this to somebody else.]

Hair, I guess? Some comes loose, but not- handfuls. Do you get feathers everywhere, or is it a similar deal?

[When Quentin brings up the wings, Steven takes a closer look at them. They tint the water? Now he's wondering how that works. He doesn't know enough about insects to trace it back to anything.

At the question, his own wings strain themselves a bit, their position tilting backwards.]

Ah, no, I barely moult. For most birds it's seasonal, so I expect I might be in for a trail of feathers everywhere I go when winter comes 'round, but... Depends whether angel wings follow the same rules as bird wings, doesn't it? Maybe they don't moult at all. There's not a whole lot of Nephilim around to ask.

[Quentin's only learned how moths vaguely... shed through personal experience. Before this, he knew little to nothing specific about insects. It's still off-putting sometimes.]

Huh. Well, I guess I can't really say 'birds of a feather flock together' then, if there's so few of you. But I'd say- maybe? [Another small thoughtful face scrunch as he looks at Steven's wings.] Most of us seem to take animal influences from somewhere. But your wings are... painterly. Nice. Look a little sharp there, but-

[He gestures at them loosely, careful not to touch even by accident.]

Wouldn't be surprised if they turned out to be soft. Place is always full of surprises, ain't it?

Not soft, actually. I wish. Turns out, feathers are real fragile, actually? And they can bleed? [Ronstadt gave Steven plenty of warnings about that and now he's honestly kind of terrified he'll accidentally break some feathers and bleed out.

But you know what? Beck seems to not have recognized just why Steven's wings look so 'painterly', which simply will not do.]

The influence is Egyptian. It's the kind of wings you'd usually find on depictions of Horus. You know, most commonly known as the god of the sky, including sun and moon. Which is different from the god of the night sky- that's Khonshu. Bet he hates Horus, come to think of it. More than he hates all the other Ennead. But anyway, you'd sometimes see wings like this on scarabs beetles, too. Scarabs were all over, in jewelry and such. And engraved into sarcophagi or tomb rooms. People saw it as an amulet of protection against disease and death. And it was interpreted as a symbol of resurrection, too. But don't think of the heart scarab, though. Those didn't have wings. But they're fascinating little trinkets. They'd place 'em on the heart of the deceased, right? So when they got to the afterlife, the scarab would bind the heart to silence while it was being weighed in the Duat- the underworld. That way, the heart couldn't bear false witness against the deceased and influence the scales. Brilliant, right?

[Oh no. This is all weirdly enthralling, and Steven is- very passionate about this. Quentin is... so very fucked, dear god he hopes he doesn't look head over ass or something right now. Oh no.]

Huh. So there are scarabs and then... heart scarabs? Do the heart scarabs have no open wings because they're... containing life, maybe? Keeping outside influence out of things. That is pretty brilliant, honestly. An interesting way to-

[Quentin makes a vague gesture as he tries to find the right word. Enjoy his vague theorizing, Steven. He was more of a Greek myth kinda guy growing up.]

Do the whole afterlife thing. What'd they way the heart against? Some kind of karma meter, or-?

[However Quentin looks right now, Steven's not really processing it. He's just happy he gets to talk about these things and actually be listened to, instead of being brushed off.]

No no, you weigh on scales. That's a common motif in a lot of religions, innit? In Greek Mythology, you'd have the golden scales that'd weigh fates. In the Iliad, during the battle between the Achaeans and Trojans, Zeus takes out those scales and weighs the keres of the Greeks and Trojans against one another. Keres are like death spirits, so they're "fateful portions of death". [He absolutely airquoted that.] But in the Testament of Abraham, the archangel Michael is shown weighing souls on Judgment Day. And then according to Egyptian beliefs, the Scales of Justice are used to weigh the ka, which is the heart. It's weighed against the Feather of Truth, and if the heart's heavier, the soul won't gain entry to the Field of Reeds. Which is, y'know, eternal bliss.

[...There was scales in Greek myth, not just woven tapestries of fate and shit? Neat. Also no one should look good while air-quoting something, and yet Steven is right here doing exactly that. Rude.]

Okay, so it's the heart versus- what. The truth as in some universal truth, some kinda- cosmic thing, maybe? Or the truth of the person's life? Like, the feather can pick up whatever lies you've told and go 'Nope, no bliss for you. No reeds, just-' I dunno. I do think that's some interesting overlap, though. The Greeks had Elysium Fields, and then there's the Field of Reeds with the Egyptians.

['No reeds, just-' Ammit, according to the old tales. Except, apparently that isn't quite right. Ammit was imprisoned by the Ennead, and ever since then, souls who don't make it to the Field of Reeds are cast into the sand to turn into... Well. Steven has a bit too much experience with that. His fingers shift uncomfortably in his lap.]

Right, right! And to get to Elysium, you'd have to cross the river Styx and face the judges, yeah? In the Egyptian underworld, it's the Duat you need to cross. That's not a river, it's a whole landscape, but you could still use a boat for that. [Trust him. He knows.] But then there's also the Wakandan Ancestral Plane, have you heard about that one? You wouldn't expect it, but that one's tied to Egyptian mythology too. They say Bast and Sekhmet will take the hands of the deceased's soul and lead them to an endless green valley. That's like another field, innit? And the Greeks also had that middle ground, didn't they? The Asphodel Fields? So just... Fields all 'round.

[Quentin doesn't miss that finger shift, but Steven sounds- confident enough. Settled. Prying isn't worth doing right now. He's not sure how long this pause on serious talk will last, so he'll enjoy it while it does.]

Now that you point it out, what is it with all these fields? If you're passing on, shouldn't there... [He gestures a bit helplessly in the air.] Be something to do, at least? Or are you gonna sit around all day watching the reeds and asphodels wave in the breeze-? Gonna get a bit dry after a while, I'd think.

[He has no idea what kind of personal experience Steven has with the afterlife already, so this'll get interesting.]

[Steven never actually saw the Field of Reeds with his own eyes, so he can't say for sure what it was like in reality. Maybe the tales were wrong. He'd ask Marc about it, but it feels like a touchy subject. Ultimately, all he can do is speculate based on stories.]

There's more than just reeds, at least in the Egyptian mythology. See, the afterlife was meant to be an idealized version of life. So you'd find your home there, right down to your favorite tree and the stream where you'd like to go fishing, things like that. And your lost loved ones, and your pets... It'd all be waiting for you, so you could live the... The best version of your life, so to speak. And working the fields was always seen as virtuous and satisfying. So spending the rest of eternity cultivating the perfect field and harvesting bountiful crops? That was their ideal. [Steven pauses for a moment, frowning.] Those stories are ancient, of course. Who knows? Maybe the Field of Reeds evolved along with humanity and now it's less field and more... Sitting around on a sofa watching the telly? Playing videogames with your chums? I dunno. Just a cuppa and a good book, that'd be nice. I expect the afterlife exists on a plane of existence that's outside regular space-time, so it wouldn't feel like forever either way.

[...An idealized version of life, huh? Quentin grimaces, briefly rubs a hand against his jaw. It'd be... nice, if that were real. If it could be real. He doesn't even know what his own ideal life would look like anymore.]

...Is it like a blanket-statement of what's the ideal, like everyone would be doing the same thing, or still varies, person to person? You would get your books and drink, and I'd get- something else. Just- [Quentin gestures vaguely, blowing out a breath.] Old projects to work on, or whatever. Some movies. Old haunts to pick through.

[He looks down at his hands for a moment. He doesn't want to be this vulnerable, but. Steven probably won't twist the knife, as it's a genuine question. Probably.]

...Would people also have to believe in the same afterlife if you wanted to see them there, or no? Seems like a pretty big... problem, there, for lack of a better word.

[It isn't until this very moment, where Steven spots a grimace half-hidden by a hand and hears Quentin wondering about his own afterlife, that he realizes he's made a terrible mistake. He let the conversation get away from him when he really should've been more careful. Because Quentin's dead back home, isn't he? And he died a 'villain', so if there's a choice between a good place and a bad place for him, wouldn't he go to the bad place?

All that passionate enthusiasm over the topic slips away from Steven and he sits up straighter; more rigid. He absolutely doesn't want to twist the knife, but he hadn't even realized it was there until now and he's worried he'll end up jiggling it anyway.]

I uh... I don't really know. Maybe there's overlap between the different planes? Feels like there might be.

[But they should stop talking about this. Yep. He bites down on his bottom lip as his mind races to find another topic. Finally, he hits on something- a straw to grasp at- and leans towards Quentin again.]

But uh, old projects and movies, eh? What kind?

[Quentin doesn't full miss the way Steven tenses up, but- it's not really a surprise he's probably shoved his foot in his mouth somewhere in there. Talking about being able to see people you've lost isn't the easiest topic to navigate.

This one is safe territory, though.]

God. I haven't been asked this in ages. I, ah- my tech shit would be pretty tabled, so- none of that. [Nothing Mysterio related, even if a part of him misses those holograms. The ability to build something out of literally nothing.] But... don't laugh, I know how this'll sound, I- I used to do these... models, sometimes. Monsters, cars, spaceships, whatever. Put on some old B-movies, and just- made. Once you've done a few, it's- simple. Familiar.

[Quentin can't even pretend to be suave and aloof about all this with faerie bullshit forcing him to be genuine. Ugh.]

Used to be a lot of old sci-fi, before that... Chitauri bullshit. Dramas, for a while. That... Cary Grant, Ingrid Bergman kinda thing, with some mystery in there. Real, but- not, if that makes sense. [His voice gets quieter, a bit embarrassed with himself.] A safe kind of distance. Black and white's different from color like that. Like another world.

[Steven doesn't laugh at the model thing, nor anything else that follows. He's intrigued, really. Old movies aren't the sort of thing he knows much about- names like Cary Grant and Ingrid Bergman mean nothing to him- but he knows what it's like to love something old and niche. And the models, of course. He knows about that too.]

An old movie buff, eh? Honestly, that sounds brilliant. Don't think I've seen too many of those myself, but I get it. It was a different era of movie-making back then, wasn't it? Less pretentious. More genuine love poured into it, I think. [And that's probably why Marc clung to Tomb Buster as much as he did, Steven thinks wryly.] ... If you like models, you should see my Pyramid of Giza sometime. I'm making it with real limestone. Got the idea after talking to someone about it on the network. I've only just gotten started though, so it isn't much of anything yet.

[Quentin does laugh a little, but it's a soft huff more at himself. Movie buff, nostalgic- same difference. Just reaching for old lists on the back of receipts, in the margins of a book, an old letter. Trying to ignore the bittersweet ache that grew over the years when he wasn't watching them with his uncle or cousin, the ones who had recommended half of the shit in the first place.]

I mean, anything can be pretentious. But love... yeah. Yeah. Can't argue with that one. Makes you almost believe anyone could be your Clark Gable, or Bergman. The effects are... pretty good, too. Maybe not perfect, or real, but- good. Delightful.

[His smile is a bit lopsided now, but genuine as he leans enough to press their shoulders together for a beat. Show that he's being genuine, is listening.]

Real limestone, huh? You using anything to cement it with, or trying to stay as accurate as possible? Did they even use any kind of... grout or whatever back then? Or is it more of a 'things fit so well, they didn't need any of that' kinda deal.

[He can give his vague thoughts on how to potentially imitate stone if the real deal is too finicky later. Right now he just wants to hear Steven keep going. See someone else in their element, when returning to his old one feels- off, still. Trying to be somebody he hasn't been for a long time.]

[Honestly, if he'd been given the chance, Steven would've kept asking on about the movies. But the way their shoulders are pressed together for a moment is enough to drive any follow-up questions from his mind, and next thing he knows, they're back on the pyramid model. He doesn't mind talking about that either, though!]

Nah, they used mortar, actually. Mostly made with gypsum, but with bits of wood ash and straw in there too. Not all that durable, but it wasn't really used to stick the blocks together anyway. It was more to fill up any gaps. Hide the imperfections, you know. 'Specially in the inner chambers, that was important. Have to make the burial chamber look nice, you know? And most archaeologists reckon the inner structures were constructed in a hurry, while they could take their time with the outside and really make those last blocks perfect. [He pauses, then chuckles sheepishly.] Which works for me, you know. I made a proper dog's dinner of the first few blocks, too. Once I've slapped some mortar on there and closed the whole thing up, nobody will be the wiser. Except for you, of course.

[When Quentin is uncomfortable, he'll flip the conversation in the other person's direction. It's one of the few things he's picked up over the years when his own words felt... like not enough.

But there is genuine interest on his face, and a slightly flattered look when Steven says that last part.]

Aw, man. Little ole me gets to see behind the curtain, then? I'm touched. Though, between you and me-? [Another little shoulder nudge, playful in a way as Quentin smiles slightly.] Inner stuff's for practice anyways. Unless you're doing a whole... display thing where you can see the interior, you're golden. And real stone too? Wow, just... wow.

[Oh no, endearing conversation and compliments? Steven still doesn't really know how to handle something like that. Even Layla was a little gruffer with him. It's almost enough to have him forget how heavy the conversation was mere minutes ago. Almost.

Maybe he's just being played by Mysterio. Truth or no truth, maybe it's just one big ploy to win him over. -No, no. He can't think like that. He wants to give Quentin the benefit of the doubt, which means he has to give this the benefit of the doubt as well. He ends up wringing his hands together in his lap.]

Heh... It's not too impressive. Just something to keep busy. Lots of time to piddle away when a bloke can't sleep.

[It's less Quentin trying to divert the conversation or win Steven over, and more- falling back into old habits of misdirection. Partially. He genuinely finds the fact Steven is working with stone very interesting though. He was always more of a 'fake stone via foam' guy himself.]

Hey, don't sell yourself short. Not everybody can do masonry, so that? Is very unique. You think you'll keep going with it, or branch out into something else-? It's... good, having more than one thing to look forward to. A lot better than just... [Quentin scratches the back of his neck self-consciously, but he's got to keep going.] Losing steam, or getting stuck on something.

["Masonry" feels like an awful big word for just dividing bigger chunks of limestone into smaller bricks for a hobby. Though... It's correct in the technical sense, he supposes. He grins bashfully, ducking his head a little.]

I mean... I'm definitely going to finish the pyramid. Once I get started on something, I tend to finish it. 'Cause it's infuriating, knowing it's not finished. But I expect I'll try other stuff too. Writing, maybe. Or crocheting. And I do a lot of baking and cooking, so...

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WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, HASNOFEAR. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 13.15.15.14 * HASNOFEAR has joined 13.15.15.14 <HASNOFEAR>** Hello! This is Steven Grant! If you need something, just leave me a message and I'll get back to you asap!