hadriel | 005 [video]

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005 [video]

[It's really tempting to do this post in text but there's a few reasons why he decides not to, including the main point of this post that he intends to bury under some other things. So he offers the camera a small, hesitant smile of greeting before starting.]

Hey. I um... I hope everyone's doing okay after that whole... Thing. H-Has it um, worn off for everyone now?

[He hopes so; it seems to have for everyone he's talked to, but that doesn't necessarily mean much.]

On a less depressing subject, Em and I finished some more emojis. The new pack is here; all you have to do is download and install it like last time.

Also uh, we're working on a deal with Delight about getting like, good coffee at the bar, so... That's hopefully a thing, soon.

[They just all need a chance to recover from the event before they can really manage that whole thing. Especially since he can't exactly walk right now, which leads to the actual main point of making this post.]

I also wanted to um... I know there are like, some doctors and people with healing powers and whatever here, and I was hoping I could talk to one who might be willing to help out with something. So... Yeah.

[That's that. He seems to be considering if there's anything else he wants to add, but then decides against it and ends the feed.]

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[Chris actually prefers living alone--he lived alone on campus, though that happened through a series of special and not-so-happy circumstances--but living with his friends here has been the best for all of them for many reasons.

Offering a small smile in greeting, he sits up straighter on the couch so there's room for Carlisle if he wants to sit down himself. He's normally dressed pretty casually but at the moment he's even more so than usual; the jeans he likes are bloody so he's wearing sweatpants, as well as a slightly hideous but comfortable orange hoodie. With everything going on fashion is not exactly something he's concerned with, though he does kind of want to see the look on Emily's face whenever he sees her today.

He notices the bandage on Carlisle's arm and frowns a little, concerned, but he'll wait to ask about it for the moment.]

It's no problem. Thanks for coming over at all.

[He really does appreciate it.]

Yeah, there's a lot to this place, especially for it being like... All underground. New stuff keeps showing up too.

[If the way Carlisle eyes the couch as though it'd devour him is any indication, he prefers to stand, or at least to keep his distance between himself and people unless he's working his craft. It's not Chris so much as it is pretty much everyone he comes into contact with -- when one tends to cast spells through his hands, it's just easier to not get too close to folks.

He makes no comment on Chris' attire -- at least he's wearing a shirt, unlike some people with no shred of decency -- as he replies.]

I suppose I will adjust. This is unfortunately not the first time I've been spirited away from everything I'm familiar with.

[But he sure hopes it will be the last time, because twice has been plenty, thank you very much.]

Now then, shall we get to work? Are you familiar in any way with healing arts, or shall I explain this?

Edited 2016-04-27 04:46 (UTC)

[He watches Carlisle closely, paying attention to his expressions and reactions; it isn't that he's suspicious of Carlisle in particular or he wouldn't have told him where he lives, but he's just a little jumpy and paranoid after everything that's happened in the last few months. Weirdness is totally fine as long as it's harmless; he just has to keep checking that's the case.]

I um... Magic isn't really a thing, where I'm from.

[So an explanation would be great, not just so he knows what's going to happen but because he's curious. He also wants to make sure--]

Are you, um, okay to do this? Like, does it hurt you or anything?

[Because from what he's heard about the only other healer he he knows' power it can be a serious risk to use it, which is why Chris hadn't asked that person earlier. He wants to be sure it isn't the same case for Carlisle.]

[Another person unfamiliar with magic -- so many worlds seem to lack what is a fairly common skill in his own, yet they have incredible technology he can hardly fathom. It's fascinating: as far as he's concerned, the communicators might as well be the product of sorcery.

While he's not entirely shocked by Chris' lack of magical knowledge, he is surprised by his concern, especially given his likely unfamiliarity with the craft. He gives his new acquaintance a sheepish smile.]

Ah, no. It doesn't hurt, per se. And I come prepared.

[He pulls his hands free of his gloves and starts digging through the badger-pelt bag he has hanging from his shoulder, continuing his explanation.]

Now, I will need to put my hands on you to channel magic into you.

[That's not super reassuring language--per se is not very confidence-inspiring--but after a moment of deliberation he decides to trust Carlisle's word. He nods at the last part, a little nervous, and almost wants to ask if the healing will hurt him but he's just going to suck it up and deal if it does. It can't be any worse than his knee feels already.]

Okay. Um... Is there something I should do?

No, nothing. It should be a relatively painless procedure.

[Inspiring implications, indeed. He finally finds what he's digging for in that bag -- a wide-mouthed, glass jar of some kind -- and makes his way over to the couch. Setting the jar on the floor, he finally does have a seat, eyeing the other man's legs as he silently determines how to go about this.]

Right. Now which leg is it? And how did you injure yourself, exactly?

Okay.

[That's... Slightly more reassuring, but kind of countered immediately by the sight of the jar. Still, he'll try to ignore that, and hope no one's about to drained of their blood for a virgin sacrifice or something.]

It's uh, the right one. I don't know exactly what I did to it, but I guess I just... Landed a jump wrong. Back a few hours before I got here. Then when I got here I had to jump out a window so I wouldn't get eaten by a monster, and that just made it worse, but um... It's been healing for the past few months, but a few days ago someone... Kicked me.

[Really hard. He's not angry about it--Maketh had done it to try to save his life--but geez, it had really hurt. The original injury, after running on it and climbing out the window and the other general abuse to his knee, had ended up being the relatively mundane problem of a torn ACL. Being kicked with the knee already weak and unstable though had caused the new injuries, which are additional torn ligaments and bone bruising.]

I suppose it could have been worse, but it does help to know a little about the problem. Wounds I can see are much easier to treat, as I know where I need to direct my casting. Ones that are less visible are more of a challenge, but with the proper concentration, I should be able to repair this. At least you're relatively human -- takes out most of the guesswork that comes with channeling magic through alien anatomy. Had to do that once, and would like to not do that again, thought I expect my luck on that isn't likely to hold in a place like... this.

[He has a single, nervous laugh to himself before shutting up. Sorry, Chris -- he knows he should probably work on his bedside manner.]

[The rambling is actually more calming than anything else has been, and Chris offers a small grin at it. He's totally curious and wants to ask about healing aliens--and correct that he is actually totally human, thanks--but he should probably contain that for the moment. At the comment about it helping to see the injury he's not sure if he means it's easier for things like cuts, or--]

Should I uh, roll up my pants leg? Will that help?

[He thinks he can get it over his knee, anyway. They're pretty baggy. And okay, he can't resist...]

And yeah, totally human here. Not complicated.

[Carlisle lets out a relieved huff, glad he was right in his assessment of Chris' humanity and that he didn't have to ask him to expose the injury.]

Yes, actually. That will help. Also, it'd be easier if you, ah... just put your leg up, like so.

[He makes this vague gesture with his fingers, directing the wounded leg up and across his lap, where it'd be easier to reach.]

Um, okay.

[He's more hesitant just because moving it is kind of difficult--and painful--rather than the whole thing being a little awkward, but that's there too. But okay, first thing first, and he carefully rolls up the pants leg; that's not too difficult, though underneath that he's wrapped his knee in a really haphazard and probably not too helpful mess of the remnants of an ace bandage and some spare fabric.

He figures out unwrapping that after a few more seconds, and... Ew. It's pretty terrible looking.]

Okay, uh, you're probably gonna have to help me here.

[Which he feels kind of pathetic about, but he can't really move it.]

[There's a visible wince from Carlisle as Chris unwraps his new -- Desth, that is just ghastly -- before he realizes he definitely should be helping.]

Ah, of course.

[He carefully (and after a second of hesitation) slides both hands beneath the injured leg, uttering a reflexive apology under his breath -- that'd be for the fact his bare hands probably feel like ice, a condition he's become well aware of in his time as a healer.]

[He's almost always cold so he's used to icy--normal icy, anyway--hands, though he's usually the one sneaking up and touching his friends on the back of the neck or something to torment them. But although he does notice the coldness of his touch he's much more distracted by how much it hurts to move his leg; he grits his teeth and takes a moment once his leg is still again to wait for the worst of the pain to fade once more.]

Okay. I'm good.

Good. We're all settled then.

[With the wounded leg across his lap, he's ready to begin. He takes just a second to figure out where to place his hands before gingerly lowering his fingers around Chris' knee. There's a pause before he starts where he makes a quick addendum:]

Also, you might feel a slight burning in your veins. Perfectly normal, don't panic.

[And without waiting for so much as a response (or clarifying that by 'might,' he meant 'definitely'), he closes his eyes and focuses, driving his energy through his fingers and down into the wound.

The healing arts are tricky in his world: it's commonplace to learn some very basic first aid, to be able to close up small cuts and smooth over mild abrasions, but to be a skilled healer takes both intense study and routine practice. Energy finds fresh wounds easily enough, almost without guidance; however, it's older injuries that are complicated, as scars create barriers and prevent the initial damage from being repaired. The one doing the healing needs to know where to direct their casting, has to feel the movement of the channel bumping back against the flow as it clashes on what should not be: muscles out of place, bones relocated, scar tissue, etc. That's where knowledge of anatomy comes in, as well as some improvisation for when things go awry (or for when one has to heal someone who is distinctly nonhuman, which is the more likely case, Carlisle has found).

Chris' newer wounds heal in a matter of seconds, but the rest takes longer. A minute, then two pass as Carlisle struggles to feel where the older injury is via magic alone, his expression hardening as he forces himself to keep concentrating. He can do this. Then, his hands twitch, that current pulsating back into him -- ah, there it is.

The magic is redirected and pushed out once more (sorry about the burning, Chris) as he mends the aged injury until the limb is completely healed, as though it'd never been damaged at all. The moment he's done, he pulls his hands from Chris' skin, breaking the contact so he doesn't expel too much energy by accident.]

There we are! Should —[he stifles a cough]— be good as new.

[Wait, a burning what?

He flinches on reflex when he feels what Carlisle is talking about but doesn't panic, tense but committed to this whole thing and really, burning in his veins or not if this works it's going to be well worth it.

He's not sure how long it's supposed to take--he probably should've asked--but doesn't want to interrupt Carlisle's concentration, so he stays quiet and as still as possible while Carlisle works. When he's finally done it takes a moment for Chris to really register the change but then it's pretty incredible.

The new injuries had been incredibly painful, but partially because he hadn't gotten used to them. He'd gotten used to the old, long-standing one, and not just used to it hurting but to the joint being unstable and stiff and having to be constantly careful with it. But now not only does it not hurt--he'd forgotten what it's like for it to truly not hurt at all--but he can move it, and he does so carefully off Carlisle's legs to set his foot back on the floor.

He thinks he should refrain from immediately testing it out, just because of old habits of taking care with it, but he offers Carlise one of the brightest and most genuine smiles he's managed in awhile.]

Dude, you're amazing. I... Thanks. A lot.

[He really can't say it strongly enough.]

Edited 2016-04-28 03:39 (UTC)

[Carlisle returns that smile with one of his own, satisfied with his work as Chris moves his leg off his lap for a tentative try. Ah, it does feel good to be useful. And appreciated. Both of those.]

It is both my duty and pleasure. I thought that the older wou— [cough] — er, wound might be more of a problem than it was, but I [and there goes his expression from pleasantly satisfied to nauseated] oh one moment.

[He's off the couch in a heartbeat, grabbing his jar on the way up and taking a step away as he coughs heavily into it. Up comes the bile he expected, the black, inky mass dripping from his mouth into the glass. It takes him a second to catch his breath, but:]

Fine! I'm fine. This is also normal. Like the burning, which I'm sure you probably felt. Still not panicking.

[Chris' expression shifts to concern at the first cough, and then alarm when Carlisle goes for the jar and oh god, is that blood or something else...?

He lurches to his feet immediately without a thought, reaching out to Carlisle's shoulders and gently nudging him toward the couch, though not hard enough to make him move if he doesn't want to.]

Sit down.

[His voice is calm and reassuring but firm, and he's really hoping Carlisle is actually as fine as he's claiming. But he's not interested in taking any chances until he's sure of that, especially not after seeing Maketh nearly die just a few days ago.]

[He flinches as Chris touches his shoulders -- it's more of a natural reaction than from any actual discomfort -- and takes another step away, words spilling from his mouth as fast as the ink is.]

I'm fine, I promise. I'm not hurting, it's —[cough]— inconvenient is all. Stains the tabard sometimes. Nothing to worry about. Just don't want to get it everywhere. Mess to clean up.

[Though as he coughs, he does see that Chris is on his feet. Impressive for a guy who, only a short while before, couldn't hardly lift his leg.]

Looks like your leg is work —[a cough, a heavier cough, painful hacking, and up comes the rest of the blockage, enough to fill up half the jar]— wo- working.

Edited 2016-04-28 04:23 (UTC)

Okay, well, if that's true then it won't hurt to sit down.

[He doesn't touch Carlisle again, but he's still hovering nervously nearby in case he needs to intervene for any reason. Maybe hacking up some sort of black substance is indeed normal, he doesn't know, but it doesn't look normal and part of him wonders if this is his fault especially when Carlisle mentions his leg.]

Y-Yeah, it's definitely working, but that's kind of not the most pressing thing right now.

[He's really worried, even if he seems more or less calm.]

[Carlisle drags the bandaged arm across his mouth, wiping off the rest of the ink before he digs in his bag for the lid. He caps the jar, his hands shaking as he finally does head for the couch to have a seat. He's trying his best to not let the fatigue that comes with his art show, but when he's spitting up copious amounts of ink, it's nearly impossible.

He does catch Chris' concern though, and tries to ease that.]

I'm sitting, there. See? Fine. No need to worry. Now, how is your leg?

[He's a little reassured when Carlisle sits down, and he really does seem to be... At least not getting any worse. Like this really is something routine.

Not that that makes it better, but at least less alarming. Hopefully it means he isn't going to need to make any emergency calls for the second time this week.]

Okay. Yeah, good. Still worried, but... What was that all about?

[He's concerned enough that he's intent on pressing for information, rather than avoiding prying.

He belatedly realizes he's been asked a question and decides to go ahead and answer this time; he owes that much.]

It's... Really good. I mean, even before I injured it last time it was totally messed up, and now um... It doesn't hurt at all, and I don't feel like it might just... Give out.

[Which had happened several times even when he wasn't doing more than just standing.]

Good. [Despite the ink still clinging to the corners of his mouth and the crevices in his teeth, he smiles at his handiwork.] Fantastic.

[Making sure the lid is secure on his jar, he shoves it into his bag, keeping it for later.] The black bile is nothing to be concerned about, I assure you. A side-effect of my craft in particular.

[Not even just healing -- specifically his healing.]

Right.

[He's not really convinced, but...]

Remind me not to accept statements that come with a 'per se' so easily next time.

[But okay. As long as it's normal, then he'll try not to worry about it.]

Your craft? Are you like, primarily a healer, or can you do other stuff too?

[He's curious, as crazy as all this stuff being real still sort of is.]

[He can't help but laugh just a little, even if it one nervous enough to match the rest of his disposition. He probably could stand to be a little more forthcoming with the nature and consequences of his art, especially when his ward seems so genuinely concerned regarding Carlisle's health rather than his own, but he's used to trying to keep some things under wraps. Not all healers where he comes from spit up ink afterward -- just the cursed ones.]

I am primarily a healer, yes. I mean, I can do a few other minor things, but I studied clerical arts.

That's pretty cool, freaky black goo aside.

[Hit sits up on the far arm the couch, now that he's pretty sure Carlisle is truly okay, and offers a smile.]

And thanks. Again.

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