Yes. The more concrete connections drawn, the fewer Amsels we may hope to see.
[ isaac is not a hopeful man. hope didn't drag him from the loyalists, or feed them to new friends. but it takes more than good people to make a better future. ]
When Cumberland attempted to reconvene the College, they proposed to restore Tranquility, imagining themselves immune. There will be more such drafts, letters, and meetings — oh, mages love a meeting —
We cannot control how Amsel reports her attack. But she will not be alone to investigate it. Can she and I rely upon you?
Yes. ( The answer comes immediately, no hesitation. ) People targeting mages, meddling with and damaging their minds— all of these things would be relevant to my concerns before, as a sorcerer and a healer, and that hasn’t changed here.
And regardless who might be pulling the strings at the end of the day, I’d want to investigate to find out and stop it.
Yes. I’d heard of them before, read about it, discussed the practice with other mages, but this was the first time I’ve ever met someone Tranquil. Let alone one so— fresh.
Some irony in the feeling it provokes. My Circles kept them in the Infirmary a few days — those are, mn. Among the more difficult. It asks time to adjust.
[ he isn't speaking of herian. the rasp of paper and packet, a cigarette muffles for the edge of his mouth. ]
What did she make you think of?
[ there's ever something. a memory, a face, some old injustice; the tranquil are often as mirrors. ]
( It wasn’t a personal memory or strictly firsthand experience which had made him recoil so; thus it takes him a moment to sort out the words, neat and precise, to explain again exactly why it revolted him. A professional indignity. )
In my universe, there’s this outdated practice— I’m sure other places have resorted to this monstrosity as well, but regardless. Lobotomy. It was a supposed method to cure various mental disorders by purposefully damaging the brain, severing connections in the mind, leaving the patients… reduced, afterward. Personality and intellect and emotions blunted.
My medical specialty is all about the brain, the mind, the nerves, repairing damage and restoring function.
Say your job is to restore precious and fragile vases, and here’s someone going around grabbing those vases and irreversibly smashing them on the ground. I hate to see it.
[ mused agreement: kostos may speak more of reversibility, but strange is both a doctor and a damaged man, he knows well as isaac that the cleanest scar yet seams. ]
Limn the pieces in gold, and you’ve still a different vessel. She’ll be changed of this no matter how matters proceed.
[ an injury of craft. irritating in the abstract, the egotistic — fucking smothering up close. wasted energy, wasted suffering; to watch the eyes fade, the teeth blunt. waiting for the art and joy of life to ash itself. he's wondered a time if inaction might better caution. let voss limp, allow rowntree to struggle for grip. perhaps they'd think twice to throw themselves upon the sword.
(but he doubts it. but he needs them to, they all so desperately need it.) ]
Kintsugi, [ Strange says absently, just the way his brain ticks relentlessly onward and fishes out useless trivia. ] That artistic practice of limning in gold, I mean. That’s what it’s called where I’m from.
[ It was, of course, a metaphor he’d considered over those long months of reforging himself, what with those literally-golden runes carving out the shape of spells. His new future woven in gold thread. He shakes off the brief distraction, reorients himself, answers the question. Isaac’s been close enough to heal Strange’s arm and see the scars, and they’ve worked closely enough in the infirmary for the other man to witness the doctor’s physical limitations, so it’s hardly something to be cagey about.
The explanation is abridged, however, with the inkling that there’s a great many details being skimmed over: ]
Broke my hands in an accident, and wasn’t able to practice surgery any longer. Heard some rumour and hearsay about the existence of magic, and followed it halfway around the world and pounded on sorcerers’ doors until they agreed to teach me.
[ a tongue over the shape of it. of trivia. he listens to stephen’s abbreviated explanation, so stridently casual. as though it were nothing at all. the shape of it: desperation written between steps. why else chase a ghost?
(a world without magic. herian’s new life is near to it as they’ll get.) ]
Hunting for a fix?
[ no judgment in that. a world without magic. he finds the gap where a tooth should stand, an old sting; mingled blood and magebane. ]
[ Which is a short confirmation, and once again an elision: the desperate want, the yearning, the breaking himself open to see what he could find on the other side, forged and remade. ]
So there’s a difference, then, in how our abilities came to us. You had no choice; this life was foisted upon you. I reached for magic and chose it, over and over.
[ Huh. He’s never actually been asked that particular question; never had to ponder it. There’s a pause on the crystal. ]
With the context I had: I think yes. Magic wasn’t a commonly-known thing. It was a surprise. It breaks the rules. It’s like walking around your whole life surrounded by locked doors you can’t even see and then, one day, being handed a key you never knew existed.
But if I’d grown up with it, if it was everyday and commonplace and came with endless strings attached, I’m less sure.
Although at the end of the day, being able to set things on fire with your mind is, y’know, still very cool.
[ too many people he'd set on fire with his mind (gwen) ]
I don't, I suppose... I was rather young. I don't recall much of life before magic. Pictures of moments, like a dull dream. If forced to reapproach it, from a place of absence, I can't say that I'd do so in the same manner.
I mean to say: You're well-positioned to help her, with or without her faculties. More, perhaps, than a native mage.
[ a mender of precious vases. they grind up porcelain, clay. use it anew. ]
[ It’s a tidy way of hauling the conversation back to the original topic at hand, and Strange is grateful for it. Safer territory. Work. ]
Well, you’re a bit more useful for the whole infected wounds part, [ he says, light. Isaac’s magic with its rot and decay and reversal thereof. ]
But you’re right, I do have some experience with sharp career pivots. I’ll be working on that angle with her. She also mentioned she’d like to assist us in the infirmary, in general. She— takes orders well.
[ A good quality for an assisting, for another pair of helping hands, and he wishes he could be gladder for it; but the context in which she came by these traits was less-than-ideal. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ isaac is not a hopeful man. hope didn't drag him from the loyalists, or feed them to new friends. but it takes more than good people to make a better future. ]
When Cumberland attempted to reconvene the College, they proposed to restore Tranquility, imagining themselves immune. There will be more such drafts, letters, and meetings — oh, mages love a meeting —
We cannot control how Amsel reports her attack. But she will not be alone to investigate it. Can she and I rely upon you?
no subject
And regardless who might be pulling the strings at the end of the day, I’d want to investigate to find out and stop it.
no subject
[ a pause. at last, a less clipped pace, ]
I presume this was your first such encounter.
no subject
Yes. I’d heard of them before, read about it, discussed the practice with other mages, but this was the first time I’ve ever met someone Tranquil. Let alone one so— fresh.
no subject
[ he isn't speaking of herian. the rasp of paper and packet, a cigarette muffles for the edge of his mouth. ]
What did she make you think of?
[ there's ever something. a memory, a face, some old injustice; the tranquil are often as mirrors. ]
no subject
In my universe, there’s this outdated practice— I’m sure other places have resorted to this monstrosity as well, but regardless. Lobotomy. It was a supposed method to cure various mental disorders by purposefully damaging the brain, severing connections in the mind, leaving the patients… reduced, afterward. Personality and intellect and emotions blunted.
My medical specialty is all about the brain, the mind, the nerves, repairing damage and restoring function.
Say your job is to restore precious and fragile vases, and here’s someone going around grabbing those vases and irreversibly smashing them on the ground. I hate to see it.
no subject
[ mused agreement: kostos may speak more of reversibility, but strange is both a doctor and a damaged man, he knows well as isaac that the cleanest scar yet seams. ]
Limn the pieces in gold, and you’ve still a different vessel. She’ll be changed of this no matter how matters proceed.
[ an injury of craft. irritating in the abstract, the egotistic — fucking smothering up close. wasted energy, wasted suffering; to watch the eyes fade, the teeth blunt. waiting for the art and joy of life to ash itself. he's wondered a time if inaction might better caution. let voss limp, allow rowntree to struggle for grip. perhaps they'd think twice to throw themselves upon the sword.
(but he doubts it. but he needs them to, they all so desperately need it.) ]
How did you find a new path?
no subject
[ It was, of course, a metaphor he’d considered over those long months of reforging himself, what with those literally-golden runes carving out the shape of spells. His new future woven in gold thread. He shakes off the brief distraction, reorients himself, answers the question. Isaac’s been close enough to heal Strange’s arm and see the scars, and they’ve worked closely enough in the infirmary for the other man to witness the doctor’s physical limitations, so it’s hardly something to be cagey about.
The explanation is abridged, however, with the inkling that there’s a great many details being skimmed over: ]
Broke my hands in an accident, and wasn’t able to practice surgery any longer. Heard some rumour and hearsay about the existence of magic, and followed it halfway around the world and pounded on sorcerers’ doors until they agreed to teach me.
no subject
[ a tongue over the shape of it. of trivia. he listens to stephen’s abbreviated explanation, so stridently casual. as though it were nothing at all. the shape of it: desperation written between steps. why else chase a ghost?
(a world without magic. herian’s new life is near to it as they’ll get.) ]
Hunting for a fix?
[ no judgment in that. a world without magic. he finds the gap where a tooth should stand, an old sting; mingled blood and magebane. ]
no subject
[ Which is a short confirmation, and once again an elision: the desperate want, the yearning, the breaking himself open to see what he could find on the other side, forged and remade. ]
So there’s a difference, then, in how our abilities came to us. You had no choice; this life was foisted upon you. I reached for magic and chose it, over and over.
no subject
[ this thing that he found, beyond the fire. ]
no subject
With the context I had: I think yes. Magic wasn’t a commonly-known thing. It was a surprise. It breaks the rules. It’s like walking around your whole life surrounded by locked doors you can’t even see and then, one day, being handed a key you never knew existed.
But if I’d grown up with it, if it was everyday and commonplace and came with endless strings attached, I’m less sure.
Although at the end of the day, being able to set things on fire with your mind is, y’know, still very cool.
no subject
[ too many people he'd set on fire with his mind (gwen) ]
I don't, I suppose... I was rather young. I don't recall much of life before magic. Pictures of moments, like a dull dream. If forced to reapproach it, from a place of absence, I can't say that I'd do so in the same manner.
I mean to say: You're well-positioned to help her, with or without her faculties. More, perhaps, than a native mage.
[ a mender of precious vases. they grind up porcelain, clay. use it anew. ]
no subject
Well, you’re a bit more useful for the whole infected wounds part, [ he says, light. Isaac’s magic with its rot and decay and reversal thereof. ]
But you’re right, I do have some experience with sharp career pivots. I’ll be working on that angle with her. She also mentioned she’d like to assist us in the infirmary, in general. She— takes orders well.
[ A good quality for an assisting, for another pair of helping hands, and he wishes he could be gladder for it; but the context in which she came by these traits was less-than-ideal. ]
bowmoji?
[ tranquil, or otherwise, and who can say what amsel would like any more at all?
(is that a bit heavy, when they've just moved on? riftwatch doesn't pay him enough for a positive attitude.) ]
I'll update the notes before I go.