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portalling) wrote2022-04-02 01:17 pm
portalling) wrote2022-04-02 01:17 pm
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“Yeah. They worked together and were… friendly, from what I could tell? But she said they never really quite figured out what they were to each other.”
Whether she's manipulating him or not, she doesn't press for any more of a response to point three, just lets him move them right along to—well, in her opinion, it's the one he's most likely to agree with.
"Even if Isaac were here, there would be some reason not to move forward. An upcoming battle, or one of us needed on a mission, or a concern about my health, or yours—Doctor, you know better than I that ideal conditions don't exist. To put off a time-sensitive procedure with an unknown expiration date waiting for them is folly.
"That does not, of course, excuse recklessness," she allows, anticipating that particular rejoinder, "there's a difference between waiting for survivable conditions and an elusive ideal. But even in that case, Stephen—"
Ness's eyes have been focused on Stephen's this whole time, tracking his every twitch and hum to gauge how her arguments are landing. She doesn't look away, now, but her eyes soften, dropping the logical mask to let her true feelings shine through.
"Who could have a better chance of seeing me through this than you? You have knowledge of technique and science that no one else on this entire continent could even dream of, decades of experience, and a track record that speaks for itself. Yes, it would be better to have Isaac—but you are a doctor, not a healer, and of the two I will take preference for the doctor, any day."
It's hard to believe that they haven't even known each other a whole year. Stephen has become so important to her in such a short period of time—half a year, a little more than, and she's ready to put her life in his hands.
"Even if Isaac were here, there would be some reason not to move forward. An upcoming battle, or one of us needed on a mission, or a concern about my health, or yours—Doctor, you know better than I that ideal conditions don't exist. To put off a time-sensitive procedure with an unknown expiration date waiting for them is folly.
"That does not, of course, excuse recklessness," she allows, anticipating that particular rejoinder, "there's a difference between waiting for survivable conditions and an elusive ideal. But even in that case, Stephen—"
Ness's eyes have been focused on Stephen's this whole time, tracking his every twitch and hum to gauge how her arguments are landing. She doesn't look away, now, but her eyes soften, dropping the logical mask to let her true feelings shine through.
"Who could have a better chance of seeing me through this than you? You have knowledge of technique and science that no one else on this entire continent could even dream of, decades of experience, and a track record that speaks for itself. Yes, it would be better to have Isaac—but you are a doctor, not a healer, and of the two I will take preference for the doctor, any day."
It's hard to believe that they haven't even known each other a whole year. Stephen has become so important to her in such a short period of time—half a year, a little more than, and she's ready to put her life in his hands.
Stephen exhales. Even now, he has a tendency to combat earnestness with humour, and so he says, “Flattery is a low blow, Ennaris, but it does get you everywhere.”
He instinctively straightens more of the paperwork, and out of the corner of his eye, sees point four on the list like a meeting agenda. Continues, “And I dunno, I’d still like the magic. I’d actually feel better if we were cutting open your skull vs chopping off your limb. I’m not a cardiovascular surgeon. Cardiovascular surgeons are assholes.”
Some of that professional mask had dropped, his tone turning lighter in reflexive defensive response to all that heart-open desperate faith and trust. They’ve reached the end of the list. He’s stalling.
He instinctively straightens more of the paperwork, and out of the corner of his eye, sees point four on the list like a meeting agenda. Continues, “And I dunno, I’d still like the magic. I’d actually feel better if we were cutting open your skull vs chopping off your limb. I’m not a cardiovascular surgeon. Cardiovascular surgeons are assholes.”
Some of that professional mask had dropped, his tone turning lighter in reflexive defensive response to all that heart-open desperate faith and trust. They’ve reached the end of the list. He’s stalling.
Usually, Ness respects his recoil from earnest emotion. She doles her affection and admiration out in small doses, titrates up every so often as he develops more of a tolerance—there is no surer way to put someone off a thing than to force it on them, after all.
"Stephen."
She says his name, and stops there. She won't continue until he looks at her, and perhaps when he does he can see the exact moment that she decides to approach his desk, to lean forward and hold his hand, the way he had held hers in the library.
"I trust you. I trust your mind, and your medicine, and your hands. My skull or my arm, it makes no difference to me."
"Stephen."
She says his name, and stops there. She won't continue until he looks at her, and perhaps when he does he can see the exact moment that she decides to approach his desk, to lean forward and hold his hand, the way he had held hers in the library.
"I trust you. I trust your mind, and your medicine, and your hands. My skull or my arm, it makes no difference to me."
Edited (i didn't want you to think i was rejecting your subject) 2025-03-28 02:32 (UTC)
And it’s not the physical touch, or the emotional appeal, or the compliment, or the exacting list of back-and-forth rationale and justification. It’s all of the above, like the ceaseless tide wearing away at a rock until it finally crumbles into the sea. As Ness takes his hand, Stephen feels the moment that he gives in at last, and feels his reasoning falling away.
There’s a defeated sag to his shoulders, a twist of his mouth, his hand squeezing hers back once.
“Alright,” he says. Because he’d promised, too, that he would at least consider it if she gave it time. Didn’t rush it. Came back to him after a year. It’s sooner than planned, but all of his arguments against it have been punctured and meticulously deconstructed. “It’s your choice.”
And if anyone’s going to do it for her safely, of course it’s going to be him.
He always has to be the one holding the knife.
There’s a defeated sag to his shoulders, a twist of his mouth, his hand squeezing hers back once.
“Alright,” he says. Because he’d promised, too, that he would at least consider it if she gave it time. Didn’t rush it. Came back to him after a year. It’s sooner than planned, but all of his arguments against it have been punctured and meticulously deconstructed. “It’s your choice.”
And if anyone’s going to do it for her safely, of course it’s going to be him.
He always has to be the one holding the knife.
He says alright like he's just signed her death warrant, with such defeat it hardly even feels like a victory—but it is a victory, albeit one she won't be crowing over any time soon. Ness squeezes Stephen's hand back, then lets it go.
"Thank you," she says, sincere as ever, "for trusting me back."
There will be time for them to discuss the particulars of how they're going to accomplish this later. For now, Stephen's just agreed to something he'd prefer not to do, and Ness won't make him deal with her any more today. She gathers her notes, says her goodbyes, and leaves Stephen to contemplate what he's just signed up for.
"Thank you," she says, sincere as ever, "for trusting me back."
There will be time for them to discuss the particulars of how they're going to accomplish this later. For now, Stephen's just agreed to something he'd prefer not to do, and Ness won't make him deal with her any more today. She gathers her notes, says her goodbyes, and leaves Stephen to contemplate what he's just signed up for.
Sure, [ he says, and this time it is an exit — ] Be good to Barrow, yeah?
Cosima nods. "I think that might be easier, if I were in that position. Like ... relationships are weird, you have to hit the timing just right. I can imagine the world where the good feeling was still there, I still liked that person, but the stars just didn't align, you know? Not saying it wasn't wild for you."
But then again, in a very different way, with Herian's return she sort of has an idea of "person you cares about knows who you are but doesn't feel the way you'd expect them to." It's different, but close enough to make an imaginative leap.
"...on the run across the multiverse, huh?" Because that is quite the sentence to throw in as an aside.
But then again, in a very different way, with Herian's return she sort of has an idea of "person you cares about knows who you are but doesn't feel the way you'd expect them to." It's different, but close enough to make an imaginative leap.
"...on the run across the multiverse, huh?" Because that is quite the sentence to throw in as an aside.
And we didn’t. It’s in a separate storeroom elsewhere in the Gallows, for that very reason.
[ A pause. Strange has been carrying around Mobius’ neatly-written notes for a year and a half now, but between recent regrettable developments, between everyone else except Orlov still being on the lyrium…
He pauses. Considers, before adding: ] I have a guide on how to use a templar’s philter box and prepare a dosage. Would you like to learn? It’s not exactly part of the regular healer curriculum, but I figure— more of the people at the infirmary ought to know. Just in case.
[ A pause. Strange has been carrying around Mobius’ neatly-written notes for a year and a half now, but between recent regrettable developments, between everyone else except Orlov still being on the lyrium…
He pauses. Considers, before adding: ] I have a guide on how to use a templar’s philter box and prepare a dosage. Would you like to learn? It’s not exactly part of the regular healer curriculum, but I figure— more of the people at the infirmary ought to know. Just in case.
There is a small part of him that recordscratches and pauses when Cosima asks about it, because: oh shit, Wanda. She just showed up, is he going to have this conversation now, he was finally ready to talk about his romantic drama but the finer nuances of this particular adventure are best buried deep deep underground —
So there’s a brief fleeting trepidation that flickers across Stephen’s face; unusual, for a man who’s usually such a motormouth and ready to talk about any sort of bizarre, distressing adventure that might make a Thedosian child faint.
After a moment, he manages to fit some words together, and says, “That one’s… complicated. I’ll have to tell you the full details another day, I think, I’m too goddamn blitzed right now. But yeah. It’s also why I wasn’t particularly fazed when I first showed up in Thedas: I’d done the world-hopping thing before, after all, and met other versions of myself. Seen a world which was really big on sustainable greenery and pizza balls. Saw a dying world split into pieces. Another where everyone was just kind of blobs of paint. The multiverse is, genuinely, astounding.”
So there’s a brief fleeting trepidation that flickers across Stephen’s face; unusual, for a man who’s usually such a motormouth and ready to talk about any sort of bizarre, distressing adventure that might make a Thedosian child faint.
After a moment, he manages to fit some words together, and says, “That one’s… complicated. I’ll have to tell you the full details another day, I think, I’m too goddamn blitzed right now. But yeah. It’s also why I wasn’t particularly fazed when I first showed up in Thedas: I’d done the world-hopping thing before, after all, and met other versions of myself. Seen a world which was really big on sustainable greenery and pizza balls. Saw a dying world split into pieces. Another where everyone was just kind of blobs of paint. The multiverse is, genuinely, astounding.”
She takes the evasion gracefully; either they'll talk about it later, or she'll grant him the out. "It's so wild. I mean, physics isn't my area, but I knew about the possibility of the many-worlds theory. But it took me a week or two to feel fairly sure I wasn't hallucinating when I first came to Thedas. It's unreal to imagine coming through a rift when you already knew your world was just one among many."
Cosima smiles, and adds, "I don't know if this is at all consistent with your experience but like ... it was kind of weirder seeing a New York with superheroes or a Seattle overrun with zombies than getting used to Thedas. I mean, they were Fade projections, but they felt real enough for it to be unsettling. Does that make sense? I mean, don't get me wrong, it was plenty weird. But starting from whole cloth in a lot of ways was like, okay, I'm here now, let's learn the new rules. I didn't have to, like, imagine if there was a version of me in the world already who died from fungus zombies or if that world never had a me at all. And here you've straight-up met alternative yous."
Cosima smiles, and adds, "I don't know if this is at all consistent with your experience but like ... it was kind of weirder seeing a New York with superheroes or a Seattle overrun with zombies than getting used to Thedas. I mean, they were Fade projections, but they felt real enough for it to be unsettling. Does that make sense? I mean, don't get me wrong, it was plenty weird. But starting from whole cloth in a lot of ways was like, okay, I'm here now, let's learn the new rules. I didn't have to, like, imagine if there was a version of me in the world already who died from fungus zombies or if that world never had a me at all. And here you've straight-up met alternative yous."
“I could see that,” Stephen muses. “Like a whole uncanny valley thing. When the situation’s more vastly different from what we know, at least we can meet Thedas on its own terms instead of scrutinising where it does and doesn’t differ from our own history. But also I will point out that technically you’ve met wayyy more alternative yous than I have.”
Which begs the next question: “Do you have a favourite? Out of them. Your sisters. Your sister-yous.”
This really is remarkably good elfroot.
Which begs the next question: “Do you have a favourite? Out of them. Your sisters. Your sister-yous.”
This really is remarkably good elfroot.
Yeah, that'd be good. (If there are politics hidden behind this decision Abby doesn't think on them — to her, it's simply a measure of being prepared for anything.
... And because she wants to complain a tiny bit, actually, she adds,) He knocked out Clarisse.
... And because she wants to complain a tiny bit, actually, she adds,) He knocked out Clarisse.
Edited 2025-04-30 23:38 (UTC)
Her laugh is big, genuine as it is surprised. "Oh my god, OK, first of all, do you consider identical twins alternates of each other? Because clones are way more like twins than we are anything about alternate universe. And second of all you can't just ask people who their favorite sibling is, that's the most only-child-ass question I've ever heard."
She doesn't give him a little shove, though it seems for a moment like she might. She has also not denied having a favorite.
"I guess... I've met a bunch of them, but there are three who are really, like, part of my life on an ongoing basis. Well. I'll say four. One of them died, but I'd still count her. And like, with the asterisk that I say my life but it's you know, the Cosima back in Toronto. Since none of them are here right now. But you know what I'm trying to say." Possibly.
She doesn't give him a little shove, though it seems for a moment like she might. She has also not denied having a favorite.
"I guess... I've met a bunch of them, but there are three who are really, like, part of my life on an ongoing basis. Well. I'll say four. One of them died, but I'd still count her. And like, with the asterisk that I say my life but it's you know, the Cosima back in Toronto. Since none of them are here right now. But you know what I'm trying to say." Possibly.
( Mildly alarmed, catching up: ) Which one? Lazar or Barrow?
There’s a tug at the corner of Stephen’s mouth, a grim bleak little smile that he can’t quite fix into place.
“I wasn’t always,” he says. “An only child, I mean.”
This is what happens when you’re habitually, incorrigibly, pathologically secretive about your personal life, Stephen, people make assumptions —
But he’s still mellow enough that there’s no bite to it, and that well of grief feels shallower today and easier to face. He seems to waffle on whether to say anything or simply hurry the conversation along and stuff it all down to face it another day, but since Cosima just mentioned it herself too, it feels like there’s no better time:
“Dead sister club. But yeah, I suppose there’s— maybe notsomuch favourites, but the ones you’re closest to. She died when we were kids, but I still count her, too.”
Even as he never speaks of her.
“I wasn’t always,” he says. “An only child, I mean.”
This is what happens when you’re habitually, incorrigibly, pathologically secretive about your personal life, Stephen, people make assumptions —
But he’s still mellow enough that there’s no bite to it, and that well of grief feels shallower today and easier to face. He seems to waffle on whether to say anything or simply hurry the conversation along and stuff it all down to face it another day, but since Cosima just mentioned it herself too, it feels like there’s no better time:
“Dead sister club. But yeah, I suppose there’s— maybe notsomuch favourites, but the ones you’re closest to. She died when we were kids, but I still count her, too.”
Even as he never speaks of her.
"Oh shit." She's aware of having stepped in it, even if it wasn't quite her fault. She's not going to press, but she does say: "...Beth. Beth was my sister who died." A little offering of sorts; she hasn't talked about Beth to many people in Thedas, and it feels as if he's earned the right to that much. "They do till count."
Stephen’s gone two years without mentioning this to anyone outside of Gwenaëlle; but after having done it the once, it seems it’s a little easier to crack the door open the next time, to shake off all that rust and dust and touch on the wound you’ve been avoiding for decades straight.
“Donna,” he says, after his own pause. His own offering.
It’s just a small skip in the record, but they do manage to recover after that; the conversation finds its flow again and continues its chaotic sauntering path, the night wearing on until the elfroot runs out, the conversation a little less heavier for having shared it.
“Donna,” he says, after his own pause. His own offering.
It’s just a small skip in the record, but they do manage to recover after that; the conversation finds its flow again and continues its chaotic sauntering path, the night wearing on until the elfroot runs out, the conversation a little less heavier for having shared it.
Ah.
Yeah, he was— pretty out of it, by the end there. Didn’t realise the guy was quite so strong.
( Broken doors, smashed furniture, a mess for the Head Healer by the time he made it back to the infirmary. )
Yeah, he was— pretty out of it, by the end there. Didn’t realise the guy was quite so strong.
( Broken doors, smashed furniture, a mess for the Head Healer by the time he made it back to the infirmary. )
—Wait, really?
( And not when he was in a crazed lyrium mania? )
( And not when he was in a crazed lyrium mania? )
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