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[portalling]

stephen strange

crystals · correspondence · private scenes

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[portalling]

This is he. ( He picks up and unconsciously answers like he might answer a phone, and there’s the brief pleasant surprise at being referred to properly as doctor. Not everyone here remembers. )

Who am I speaking to?

[tadpoled]

My name is Tav, I’ve been told you’re in need of an herbalist.

[Sucks in a breath.]

I’m a druid, so I may be able to help.

[portalling]

Druid? Like the guys with the standing stones, shaved heads, funny robes?

( Pot, kettle, black. The comment is flippant, but he follows it up with more sobriety: ) That would be excellent, actually: the infirmary always needs more curative herbs and we’ve been intending to grow our own this season, once the winter warms up a bit. But I have the opposite of a green thumb. Kept accidentally killing the rooftop garden back home.

Do you have any experience with growing elfroot?

[tadpoled]

[Tav takes the jibe in turn with a chuckle.] Something like that, yes. We also dress primarily in leaves and spend most of our time talking to animals.

[Back to business, though,] I’ve recently grown some jasmine and crystal grace from provided seeds. I’d be happy to try elfroot.

[portalling]

Fantastic. Do you have some time now? I can meet you down by the garden, such as it is; see what we’re working with.

[tadpoled]

I’d be delighted. All I need are seeds, for context.

→ action!

[portalling]

( The infirmary has — thankfully, knock on wood — been quiet lately, so it’s easy enough for Doctor Strange to cut loose from his work and go meet their new arrival in the herb garden. It’s a fairly large space, closer to the old mages’ tower than the templar tower: plots of empty earth squared in by walls, with five trees ringing its edges, their branches barren for the season.

The month of late Wintermarch leading into early Guardian means the weather is wet and cold, and the garden is still empty. But Strange has a couple pouches of seeds hanging from his belt, standing with arms crossed, surveying that earth and envisioning what it could become.

Noticing movement on his periphery, he turns and looks. Does a mild double-take, an arched eyebrow at the shock of white hair, the milky-white eye, the notably pointed ears. He’s polite, however: )

Tav, I presume?

Re: → action!

[tadpoled]

[Tav looks up from where he’s sitting cross-legged on the ground, fingers glowing a bright green as he tries to reach into the ground for any dying plants. One sprig seems to have some hope with further nurturing, but the moment Tav turns away, the little sprig falls back to the ground.]

Doctor?

[He climbs to his feet and offers a smile.] Sorry, I left my leaves back home.

[He knows he looks strange with his mismatched eyes, his scars, his “knife ears”, and the half-braided hair.]

[portalling]

( Strange has met literal aliens and been strangled by a few, so after that initial beat of surprise, he manages to smooth over his reaction: it’s not the most unusual appearance he’s ever seen, but he wasn’t expecting it. He chuckles at the joke, then holds out a hand for a professional handshake: the fingers gnarled, scarred, shaky. )

Yeah, I can imagine they’re out-of-season this time of year, fashion-wise. Bit too breezy round the, y’know.

( There’s an amiable affableness to his demeanour, that constant lurking dry humour even when he’s in working mode. But he’s looking at the other (man? elf?)’s fingertips, which had just been glowing green a moment ago. Not shard magic; he would’ve recognised that. )

So, what does being a druid entail, for you?

[tadpoled]

[Tav laughs for what may be the first time since he's arrived and perhaps he chuckles for a beat too long, but oh it feels so good to simply laugh about his situation.]

Ah, yes. For me, it's about balance; we use nature as much as it uses us in turn. I restore plants and herbs to their healthier forms and they join me whenever I need defending.

Though, I would rather do more of the growing than the battling. Seen enough of that for one lifetime.

[portalling]

Oh, I know the feeling. As a doctor, I technically swore an oath to do no harm, but— the universe keeps having other ideas. ( The corner of his mouth flickers in a rueful smile, and then he continues musing over Tav’s description of those abilities. One in particular stands out: )

When you say “join” you… does that mean, like, a gigantic moving plant uprooting itself? Fighting by your side and eating your enemies?

( Strange is picturing Little Shop of Horrors. He desperately wants to reference Little Shop of Horrors. In a feat of Herculean self-control, he does not drop the pop culture reference. )

[tadpoled]

[Tav considers for a moment before he targets a statue in the courtyard.]

Veco vinae! [A massive vine rips through the brick of the of courtyard and lashes the statue in question, ripping it to pieces.]

More like that.

[portalling]

Oh, like that.

The Master of Works probably won’t be a fan, ( Strange remarks, bemused, as he moves a little closer to the statue: taking in the vine where it slithers and uncurls, and surveying the damage itself. There’s a professorial air to the way he assesses it, sizing up the magic expended. )

I usually try to save my arcane demonstrations for outside the Gallows for this reason. You don’t happen to have one of those neat bibbity boppity boo spells which can magically fix stuff, can you?

[tadpoled]

Ah, my apologies. [Tav dips his head in remorse.] I don’t have any repairing magic, only nature magic, really.

[He notices the seeds and perks up.] Is that the Elfroot?

[portalling]

Yes, it’s—

( Strange fishes distractedly around at his belt, fumbling a little — his fingers seem a little too clumsy to untie the cords — but then he eventually detaches the two pouches. Tosses them in Tav’s direction, a slow underhanded volley. )

Elfroot and Spindleweed, to start with. We’d also be able to make use of Crystal Grace, but you mentioned you’d already started on some of that.

There are other plants which would come in handy for curative potions: Arbor Blessing especially, although it’s supposed to be very difficult to grow. We just want to get the herb garden started for spring, and broaden its selection. There hasn’t really been the manpower to tend to it lately.

[tadpoled]

[Tav catches them successfully and pulls out one of the seeds to inspect them. Shouldn't be too complicated to grow in good soil.]

The Crystal Grace is currently around the pigeonholes, but I can work it to produce more flowers and hence more seeds.

[Listening thoughtfully,] I'd be happy to tend it. I'm not allowed to go on missions overnight anywhere.

[portalling]

Why not? Night blindness? ( he quips, blithe,

and entirely, utterly oblivious to what the answer actually is. Oops. )

[tadpoled]

[Tav goes fidgets with the seeds as he tries to come up with an answer other than "I'm the son of the god of murder."]

I have a condition that can make me dangerous at night. I am required to return to my room at least two hours before the last ferry, and essentially before nightfall.

[portalling]

( Strange blinks. Scrutinises the elf with a steady, level expression, turning that piece of information over in his head— and perhaps it’s the word condition which ticks him over into clinician mode, more intellectual than alarmed. )

Oh, a nighttime transformation? Like a… ( Werewolf, he thinks, but for certain reasons he buries that word. Selects another option: ) Vampire or something?

[tadpoled]

Not every night. [Tav tries to reassure.] It happens in episodes.

[He sighs as he gets to work burying the Elfroot in the garden beds.] I am reduced to murderous urges. But the Captain and I are working to keep the rest of the Riftwatch safe.

[portalling]

Er. Oh. Yes.

( Tav’s just settled in and started sifting through the earth with his bare hands as if that was a very normal thing to say, leaving Strange standing above him, at loose ends. Did he hear that right? )

That’s good. That you’re working with Rowntree. ( Okay, no, he has to be sure: ) —Sorry, did you just say murderous urges?

[tadpoled]

[Tav starts a couple springs of Elfroot growing beneath his hands before turning back to Strange, eyebrows furrowed. For a moment he continues his work before he withdraws his hands and sits back on his feet.]

Yes, sir.

[He drops his gaze back down to the dirt.]

[portalling]

That’s. Interesting.

( Interesting probably isn’t the right word to fit the situation, but. He can’t help that scalpel-slice of his curiosity, of wanting to know more, to understand: )

And it only happens at night?

[tadpoled]

Only at night and only the occasional night. It hasn't happened for a while. [Tav keeps his hands palm up in his lap. Not a threat. Not hurting anyone.]

[portalling]

( The gesture is appreciated, and helps tamp down some of that strangled alarm in the sorcerer’s demeanour. To be polite, Strange moves closer and then perches on the nearest garden bench, leaning forward. Physically lowering himself a little so it’s easier to look at Tav and not just loom over him, without having to actually hunker down in a crouch. (Have some mercy on the knees.) )

Well, good. Is there…

( There’s a pause. )

It sounds like you already have an arrangement with the Captain, but I’m the Head Healer, as mentioned. Is there anything you need in this regard? Medically?