cops gonna cop (closed)

[prodigalmess]

Who: Malcolm and John Grey; Malcolm and Quentin Coldwater
What: Malcolm and John go and explore the cave. Malcolm returns and Quentin helps him with research in the library.
When: Mid to late April
Where: The cave and then the library
Rating: None; will update if necessary

Starters will be created in comments below.

Comments

for John

[prodigalmess]

Malcolm's pleased to be working with John again. He finds that he enjoys the man's company whenever they do their rounds together. They always end up having good conversations. Malcolm knew that he was an old soul, but he didn't realize quite how old until he found out that he had a lot in common with a man from the 1700s. Not that it matters that much though. A friend is a friend and Malcolm's always been in short supply of those.

He's equally pleased that they're getting another chance to explore the cave. Is he a bit unnerved to go back to the place where he essentially died? Yes. Is he going to show that? Absolutely not. He's got to do his research, got to try to figure out what went wrong in there, even if the idea of going back there freaks him out a bit. He can put all that aside for the investigation though.

He and John are on horseback, nearly to the cave. The ride has been a few hours long and his legs are getting sore. "Please thank your friend for letting me borrow her horse," he says. "The eight-legged ones are... weird." Honestly the four-legged variety is enough for him to handle. "I used to ride back home for fun when I was a kid, but this isn't our main mode of transportation anymore."

Something strikes him and he turns to John, eyes wide. "Did I ever tell you about cars?"

Malcolm's decided to screw the butterfly effect. It'd be kind of impossible for him to keep everything that's happened in the nearly 300 years that separate them a secret.

[iustise]

John glances aside at the other man, offering him a smile as he shakes his head in reply. He's surprised and relieved to have found that Malcolm can ride, truth be told. So many of the others that have come to Asgard from the future, as it were, seem to have fallen out of the habit. It's reassuring at least to know that they still do have horses, at least in Malcolm's time.

"I was made to promise that we would take good care of her," he says. "But Karolus thanks us both as well, I think. He himself would rather the more familiar traveling companion. But no, sir. That is, I take it you do not mean in the way I am more familiar with myself." Which is to say, any sort of vehicle drawn behind a horse and therefore, requiring one.

[prodigalmess]

His sister did horse shows as a kid and Malcolm, coming from a stereotypical rich family, learned how to ride as well. Mostly he just went on long quiet rides by himself. He hadn't ridden in years before coming here, but at least he was picking it up again quickly.

"Right. These are cars that propel themselves. They use engines... create their own energy." Malcolm waves a hand. "I'm terrible at explaining this kind of stuff, so you'll have to bear with me. Have they done anything with steam power yet in your time?"

Malcolm doesn't think so, but maybe he's wrong.

[iustise]

John tilts his head at the other man, considering the question before shaking his head.

"Not that I am aware," he replies. "Though I will admit that I do not frequent the most scientific of circles. Political, yes, but I have found the scientists among society in London to be..."

He trails off, uncertain how to be delicate on the matter, before settling on, "Eccentric. I once knew a surgeon who had very little scruples in the way of procuring himself the body of a particularly fascinating specimen to study, be that beast or man. I very nearly found myself on his operating table myself, as horrifying as it is to say."

[prodigalmess]

"That's surprisingly not that horrifying," Malcolm says, his voice edging on deadpan. While his father insisted that he had never violated the Hippocratic Oath and intentionally hurt one of his patients, Malcolm wasn't so sure he could buy that. How could he turn off that need to kill when it came to his patients but not with innocent victims?

"Anyway, it's... like a carriage that runs itself," he continues, steering the topic back. "It uses petroleum oil to make the engine work. I don't think they have petroleum in your time either. Well, technically they do, they just haven't discovered it and its properties yet."

for Quentin

[prodigalmess]

The next day, after visiting the cave and the village, Malcolm is left with more questions than answers. A lot of what happened there dealt with something he has very little concept of: magic. It keeps coming up again and again, and since it doesn't exist in his world, Malcolm's already behind the eight ball. He doesn't like that feeling.

Fortunately, he knows someone who might be able to help. Quentin's a mainstay at the library, so Malcolm isn't surprised to see him sitting at one of the tables, books spread out around him. He hopes he's not going to disturb him, but this is kind of important.

"Hey," he says by way of greeting and takes a seat across from him at the table. Malcolm takes a deep breath, looking at Quentin with a furrowed brow. "What do you know about blood magic?"

[minormends]

It really is no surprise to see Quentin in the library, not for anyone in Asgard and not for anyone who knows him in general. Both as a member of the Vanguard and as a professional supernerd, he feels very much at home among these stacks of books, with all his books and papers strewn about him.

He hasn't made it a secret that he's a magician either. That he's been studying magic. Hell, he'll just about talk the ear off of anyone who'll let him.

Still, he's nevertheless somehow taken aback as Malcolm sits himself down at his table and just outs with a question like that.

"Whoa, uh," Quentin begins, before reining it in and trying again. "You mean in Asgard, or in general?"

[prodigalmess]

Yeah, he did kind of just hit him with that question out of the blue, but he's in investigative mode and he doesn't want to lose his mojo by exchanging pleasantries.

"Preferably in Asgard, but general knowledge might be good too if you're not sure how it works in Asgard." Any knowledge will be more than what Malcolm's working with at the moment.

[minormends]

Quentin sets aside the book that he's been flipping through for a moment, sitting back in his chair to squint across the table at Malcolm for a moment. It's true, the question sort of has come out of nowhere, though he supposes that there are some contextual clues for him to pull from, if he thinks hard enough.

"Is this about that cave, then?" he asks, after a moment, shifting to cross his arms in front of him on the table. The one that he himself still is hesitant to go anywhere close to at all, especially now that he knows just what sort of effects it had on the people who had.

[prodigalmess]

"It is," Malcolm replies. "I went back there and was able to go inside with magical protection for about thirty minutes." If being back in the cave bothered him, he's not actually showing it. "There was a large pool of blood in the back of it. Also I'm apparently able to do blood magic now. I discovered this even before I revisited the cave."

He leans forward, folding his hands on the library table. "I have a feeling that blood magic has something to do with whatever happened in there."

[minormends]

Quentin shifts to rest his chin in his hands as he listens, considering the question, the facts.

"From what I understand, the villagers who were in the cave said that the blood had something to do with what's causing the corruption," he explains. "At least, as far as they know."

He shifts, motioning with his hands as if gesturing will somehow help him explain abstract theory, which clearly demonstrates he's settling into this conversation on the whole.

"You see, the cave itself is a place of magic," he continues. "The villagers sent their people there for -- a blessing, I think is the word they used. But the pool of blood is where it all went south. Turned this blessing into something else."

[prodigalmess]

Malcolm sits back in the chair, listening.

"So do you think one of the half-orcs attacked another one? A pool of blood that size would have exsanguinated a human, though I don't know the amount of blood that a half-orc has in their body, so it's difficult to tell if the blood was indicative of a murder or not. Do you think maybe the cave got desecrated in some way?"

A murder in a sacred cave that was supposed to be used for blessings could definitely turn things bad.