( 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?
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.
( 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?
[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.]
( 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: )
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.]
( 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?
I don't know what would or wouldn't help without... [Experimenting on him. More frequent episodes to experiment on him. He hangs his head before shaking it.]
Not to put too fine a point on it, but, ( he says slowly, trying to keep his voice delicate, because the fellow with the murderous urges also looks so desperately hangdog, like a kicked puppy, ) perhaps arranging a way to tranquilise you in an emergency? There’s some magic in the entropy school which can send someone to sleep immediately. Even if they’re… hostile.
( Without being able to shoot the guy with tranquilizer, perhaps someone else’s magic would have to do. )
There is? [Tav brightens up immediately, turning toward Strange.] Such a thing would be infinitely valuable if I'm ever too far from the Gallows when an episode starts.
( He’d been girding himself for some more adverse reaction: devastation at the suggestion, some woe about the mistrust, about his callous pragmatic calculations. But Tav brightens, and Strange seems to relax slightly in relief, too — moreso about having sidestepped the social fallout. He’s dreadful at bedside manner. )
I can’t cast it myself, since my own sorcery was— altered, on arriving here, but I’ll speak to the Captain. Find out who has the capability here, or if it could be imbued into a rune for anyone to summon. I’m sure we can find some further options. Contingencies.
( Strange has more questions, but from the sounds of it, presumably he’s not the first person to have interrogated Tav already. He pauses slightly, almost jumps right into that curiosity anyway, but then relents; there’ll be time in future. He tips his head towards the disturbed earth in front of the druid. )
[Oh. A bit of hope is dashed and Tav's shoulders sag ever so slightly.] I agree completely if such magic is found. A rune should be given to anyone travelling with me. Until a cure is found.
[He still has hopes that somehow Cosima will find something to try that doesn't involve hurting others. At the mention of his magic, though, Tav nods and returns to the fledging sprigs of Elfroot. He concentrates, murmurs to himself, and the sprigs begin to grow, soon enough sprouting into fully grown plants, ready to be harvested.
( A little bark of surprise. He’d been expecting… he doesn’t even know what, but he scoots even further forward to get a better look. In the end, Strange can’t resist the urge to just leave the bench; he joins Tav in the dirt, leaning in close to the plant to peer at it. It looks fully-grown. Harvestable. Not some shrunken anemic thing. Magical GMO, he thinks, with a huff of laughter.
With a sheepish twist to his expression, he turns, and delivers a patter of questions to Tav: )
Well, that’s deeply fascinating. Could you do that on crops, for food? What’s your magical stamina like before you peter out? Are there any other limitations to know of? Obviously we don’t want to run you ragged, but this’ll be incredibly useful to make the most of our limited space in the garden. Although I’m assuming we still couldn’t over-use the nutrients in the soil, presumably we’d still need to let some plots rest for a littl while… and it’s not like we have a full farm here, although there’s the thought we could upgrade it to a greenhouse if we can get a hold of enough glass…
( He keeps bouncing between topics, distracted by that tangent. Focus, doctor. )
[Tav offers a smile at Strange's surprise. It's nice to pleasantly surprise someone for once. He releases his hands from the dirt and sits back on his heels.]
Not sure about the limitation; didn't have one back home. Think I do have one here: passed out after casting Sunbeam, a rather high-level spell. Doesn't usually happen that way. Not sure if my healing or nature skills will do the same.
[Listening to the list of projects though, earns a wider smile.]
But I'd be happy to help with all of that. I can grow plants on almost any surface: vertical, horizontal, soil, peat, whathaveyou.
Oh, good, that means we can set up a plant wall in the foyer.
( Wait, to clarify: )
—That’s a joke. Vertically won’t be necessary. But the rest is fantastic. Just don’t push it too far; if your magic is anything like mine, as you’ve already noticed, it’ll have been weakened in coming here. You’ll tire more easily. It feels like slogging through deep water sometimes. Can be a pain in the ass, to be honest.
[Tav is already taking notes when Strange stops him. A plant wall would likely be very difficult and take more than a few days to build, but— oh. A joke. Tav chuckles but nods.]
That’s exactly how it feels! And some spells don’t work at all. I’ve tried Wall of Thorns and nothing’s happened.
( Strange hesitates. Lesser, is what he wants to say, but he hates those connotations: toothless, defanged. Instead he settles on: )
I think of it as, the magic in our home universes is like a song playing in another room. It’s fainter, quieter, harder-to-hear from here, but still present.
( He’s been absentmindedly touching the plants to verify their quality, the fact that they’re genuinely green and flourishing. Satisfied that they’re real — it’s not an illusion — he straightens up and dusts off the dirt on his knees. )
If you’re happy to just take this responsibility and run with it, I’ll get you any of the seeds I’ve been stockpiling, plus the reference material I have on herbology here, their growing conditions, seasons, etc. I’ll still distil them into potions and tinctures and pastes in the infirmary, but the herb garden can be yours.
That's an interesting view: fainter and just out of reach primarily.
[As for the garden, Tav brightens further. A project that doesn't require him lead anyone into battle sound perfect.]
I'd be happy to take charge of the garden. I'll read up as much as I can and put that to work in the garden. Let me know what you need for potions and tinctures and the like.
I’ll make sure there’s descriptions in the material. It varies by plant: sometimes it’s the leaves, other times the roots, etc.
( For a moment, he finds himself wondering: is this a good idea? Give the guy with murderous urges a hobby, and maybe it’ll help calm him down? Feng shui. Zen gardens. Bonzai trees.
In the end, Strange isn’t able to let it go. The part of his brain which keeps chewing over medical prognoses and causes and symptoms winds up asking: )
Sorry to come back to this, but I’ve got to ask. When you say ‘episode’, or ‘murderous urges’… Is it, what, a violent rage? Is there anything the rest of us need to know about this?
( On a scale of 1-10, how worried is the Captain? )
Hmm? [Tav looks up from digging around in the soil. He’s thought the conversation mostly over, but.
This particular conversation— about his episodes, his urges— it will never finish. The thread will never quite end and he supposes it’s only right that it continue, considering how dangerous he can be.
He sits back on his heels, brushing the dirt off his hands.]
The Captain and I have a …containment plan in order. For every day and in case an episode happens. If I get out of that containment, he’ll kill me. No question.
[He looks down at his hands and thinks of Alfira, how he could never stop washing them.]
I can be restrained with rope. I just need my warning. If I don’t get a warning, we’re relying on daily containment measures.
This is really fucking weird, Tav, you know that, right?
( The swear is dropped in there nonchalantly, but the man’s tone isn’t angry: Strange makes blunt, bleak jokes because that’s his default. But there’s something intent in his expression, some gears furiously and perpetually turning. )
But, okay. At least there’s some forewarning. Do you know what causes this? Or if there’s a cure?
[Tav hasn’t told anyone much of anything other than the whole son of the god of murder thing, but he’s come to his own quiet revelation talking to Bastien.]
The other murders were to prepare me to serve as my father’s emissary, but he shouldn’t be able to reach me here. The only cure should be to break the blood bond connecting us.
( Strange pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. Is this what it feels like when the locals talk to him and he blithely mentions reading from cursed books or reality-incursions destroying universes? He feels suddenly, vaguely contrite for how blasé he’d been with all of them. )
Okay, so, pretty standard father-son fated blood pact stuff. Got it.
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portalling) wrote2022-04-02 01:17 pm
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Oh, a nighttime transformation? Like a… ( Werewolf, he thinks, but for certain reasons he buries that word. Selects another option: ) Vampire or something?
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[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.
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( 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?
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Yes, sir.
[He drops his gaze back down to the dirt.]
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( 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?
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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?
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Without it happening more often.
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( Without being able to shoot the guy with tranquilizer, perhaps someone else’s magic would have to do. )
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I can’t cast it myself, since my own sorcery was— altered, on arriving here, but I’ll speak to the Captain. Find out who has the capability here, or if it could be imbued into a rune for anyone to summon. I’m sure we can find some further options. Contingencies.
( Strange has more questions, but from the sounds of it, presumably he’s not the first person to have interrogated Tav already. He pauses slightly, almost jumps right into that curiosity anyway, but then relents; there’ll be time in future. He tips his head towards the disturbed earth in front of the druid. )
Speaking of magic, though…?
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[He still has hopes that somehow Cosima will find something to try that doesn't involve hurting others. At the mention of his magic, though, Tav nods and returns to the fledging sprigs of Elfroot. He concentrates, murmurs to himself, and the sprigs begin to grow, soon enough sprouting into fully grown plants, ready to be harvested.
Tav throws a smile over his shoulder.]
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( A little bark of surprise. He’d been expecting… he doesn’t even know what, but he scoots even further forward to get a better look. In the end, Strange can’t resist the urge to just leave the bench; he joins Tav in the dirt, leaning in close to the plant to peer at it. It looks fully-grown. Harvestable. Not some shrunken anemic thing. Magical GMO, he thinks, with a huff of laughter.
With a sheepish twist to his expression, he turns, and delivers a patter of questions to Tav: )
Well, that’s deeply fascinating. Could you do that on crops, for food? What’s your magical stamina like before you peter out? Are there any other limitations to know of? Obviously we don’t want to run you ragged, but this’ll be incredibly useful to make the most of our limited space in the garden. Although I’m assuming we still couldn’t over-use the nutrients in the soil, presumably we’d still need to let some plots rest for a littl while… and it’s not like we have a full farm here, although there’s the thought we could upgrade it to a greenhouse if we can get a hold of enough glass…
( He keeps bouncing between topics, distracted by that tangent. Focus, doctor. )
Anyway. That’s remarkable.
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Not sure about the limitation; didn't have one back home. Think I do have one here: passed out after casting Sunbeam, a rather high-level spell. Doesn't usually happen that way. Not sure if my healing or nature skills will do the same.
[Listening to the list of projects though, earns a wider smile.]
But I'd be happy to help with all of that. I can grow plants on almost any surface: vertical, horizontal, soil, peat, whathaveyou.
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( Wait, to clarify: )
—That’s a joke. Vertically won’t be necessary. But the rest is fantastic. Just don’t push it too far; if your magic is anything like mine, as you’ve already noticed, it’ll have been weakened in coming here. You’ll tire more easily. It feels like slogging through deep water sometimes. Can be a pain in the ass, to be honest.
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That’s exactly how it feels! And some spells don’t work at all. I’ve tried Wall of Thorns and nothing’s happened.
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( Strange hesitates. Lesser, is what he wants to say, but he hates those connotations: toothless, defanged. Instead he settles on: )
I think of it as, the magic in our home universes is like a song playing in another room. It’s fainter, quieter, harder-to-hear from here, but still present.
( He’s been absentmindedly touching the plants to verify their quality, the fact that they’re genuinely green and flourishing. Satisfied that they’re real — it’s not an illusion — he straightens up and dusts off the dirt on his knees. )
If you’re happy to just take this responsibility and run with it, I’ll get you any of the seeds I’ve been stockpiling, plus the reference material I have on herbology here, their growing conditions, seasons, etc. I’ll still distil them into potions and tinctures and pastes in the infirmary, but the herb garden can be yours.
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[As for the garden, Tav brightens further. A project that doesn't require him lead anyone into battle sound perfect.]
I'd be happy to take charge of the garden. I'll read up as much as I can and put that to work in the garden. Let me know what you need for potions and tinctures and the like.
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( For a moment, he finds himself wondering: is this a good idea? Give the guy with murderous urges a hobby, and maybe it’ll help calm him down? Feng shui. Zen gardens. Bonzai trees.
In the end, Strange isn’t able to let it go. The part of his brain which keeps chewing over medical prognoses and causes and symptoms winds up asking: )
Sorry to come back to this, but I’ve got to ask. When you say ‘episode’, or ‘murderous urges’… Is it, what, a violent rage? Is there anything the rest of us need to know about this?
( On a scale of 1-10, how worried is the Captain? )
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This particular conversation— about his episodes, his urges— it will never finish. The thread will never quite end and he supposes it’s only right that it continue, considering how dangerous he can be.
He sits back on his heels, brushing the dirt off his hands.]
The Captain and I have a …containment plan in order. For every day and in case an episode happens. If I get out of that containment, he’ll kill me. No question.
[He looks down at his hands and thinks of Alfira, how he could never stop washing them.]
I can be restrained with rope. I just need my warning. If I don’t get a warning, we’re relying on daily containment measures.
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( He’s thinking of potential neurological causes. (He is, of course, on the wrong track.) )
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[Tav shudders.] Once I fall asleep, I’m not myself anymore until dawn.
Luckily I seem to prefer a knife instead of magics when I’m under.
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( The swear is dropped in there nonchalantly, but the man’s tone isn’t angry: Strange makes blunt, bleak jokes because that’s his default. But there’s something intent in his expression, some gears furiously and perpetually turning. )
But, okay. At least there’s some forewarning. Do you know what causes this? Or if there’s a cure?
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The other murders were to prepare me to serve as my father’s emissary, but he shouldn’t be able to reach me here. The only cure should be to break the blood bond connecting us.
Which means killing him… or myself.
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Okay, so, pretty standard father-son fated blood pact stuff. Got it.
Who’s your father, that he needs an emissary?
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possibly done, or over to you to wrap this one? <3
We can wrap right here!