an important thing about each immortality-seeking variant of Lucent is that attaining immortality is not the end of his problems, and in many cases just serves as a jumping-off point for him to have more problems

for Dr. Ashveil in particular, drinking Hesperidean Cider indirectly fucked him up in multiple ways. there's the whole survivor's guilt deal with his best friend's permanent death, obviously. but even without that, I feel like he would find that true* immortality makes it easier to justify working himself to death (sometimes literally). it makes it easier for him to justify doing things that cause quite a lot of pain and harm to himself. it makes it easier for him to justify holding himself at a distance from everyone else. it makes it easier for him to devalue his time, his body, and his mental wellbeing.

sure, he can go back to the Surface now, but why would he when his work is in the Neath, and his work never ends? what pleasure could he take in walking beneath the sun again, when sunlight itself has become hateful to him? when he knows how wrong, wrong, wrong the universe actually is?

I don't think immortality itself has to suck. I think he's someone who is capable of embracing both the joy of meeting and the sweet sorrow of parting, of forever finding new things to delight in. but "capable of" doesn't mean he's currently doing that. it's something he has to learn, especially as a revolutionary.

*as true as the immortality given by cider can be, anyway. we know from Sunless Skies that it's not so simple. but for the good doctor's purposes, it might as well be

rolling around a Fallen London OC who lacks empathy, doesn't feel emotions in the same way as most humans, goes by it/its pronouns, and is always vaguely disconcerting

feeling very much like "wow, this is the kind of character most fandoms would have absolutely garbage takes on" but I am hoping that most of those sorts get weeded out by FL's whole deal

(more info on this character under the cut! gets into Parabola lore a bit for those avoiding spoilers. mention of suicidality/egocide)

A scuffle from the other room, and a high-pitched yelp. Rafael immediately clambered to their feet, the cards forgotten. They made it two steps before the source of the commotion made itself known.

"Rafael."

Their adoptive sibling was holding an especially bedraggled urchin by the collar, with the air of a sunbathing snake inconvenienced by a cloud. The urchin was notably less calm.

"I found this one" --Felix gave the urchin a little shake, causing another yelp-- "trying to steal from us. What punishment would be appropriate for this transgression?"

Rafael breathed a sigh of relief. "None. Put them down."

Felix tilted its head. The light glinted silver upon - within - its pupils. "Is there a reason to allow a trespass to go unpunished?"

Others would have mistaken its words as a threat. Rafael understood them as simply an expression of curiosity. "To avoid the wrath of our Lady Lemures. Urchins are dear to her, as you'll recall."

Felix put the child down. (And rather quickly too, Rafael noted, amused despite themself.) "The continued goodwill of an indispensible ally. I understand."

they are good friends except that neither of them know how to be friends with people anymore, so "good" is not the right word here

Dr. Ashveil is so full of contradictions.

He's a doctor, but he's a wet cat around the idea of death. He'll dash into a fire to rescue someone without a second thought. He'll leave someone trapped in a nightmare for eternity because that's better than killing them. He's reckless in his research and methodical in his caretaking. He entirely supports the Liberation, and he dreads the day it comes.

He craves knowledge. He yearns for ignorance. He cares for people. He keeps them at arm's length. He's compassionate. He does what he needs to do. He thinks he can do anything. He's afraid he can't do anything. He plays the long game. He lives for the moment. He won't eat rats.