[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.
( Yeah, his head hurts. But he scuffs the dirt with the toe of a shoe, pondering the nature of the problem. The others have it under control, right? They must have it under control.
Maybe he’ll check with some of the others in leadership later. Just, y’know, to be on the safe side. )
Well, ( and it’s starting to sound like a gentle, polite dismissal, ) I’ll get you those books, as mentioned, and we’ll keep working on these herbs. And I’ll look into those soporific spells. And if you think of anything else you might need from me as Head Healer, don’t hesitate to ask. I might have more questions for you later; I’m interested in both medical issues and magical issues, and your… problem seems to straddle both.
[Tav sits back in the dirt, nodding along to Strange's words. He can only hope, and maybe even pray, that a cure can be found before another episode occurs.]
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portalling) wrote2022-04-02 01:17 pm
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no subject
That’s exactly how it feels! And some spells don’t work at all. I’ve tried Wall of Thorns and nothing’s happened.
no subject
( 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.
no subject
[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.
no subject
( 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? )
no subject
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.
no subject
( He’s thinking of potential neurological causes. (He is, of course, on the wrong track.) )
no subject
[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.
no subject
( 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?
no subject
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.
no subject
Okay, so, pretty standard father-son fated blood pact stuff. Got it.
Who’s your father, that he needs an emissary?
no subject
[Tav blows out a breath. Yeah there’s extra murder on top of the murder already there.]
no subject
Okay. I met some gods once. Mischief and thunder, so not murder, but like, pantheons contain multitudes—
( hhhhghhhhh )
I suppose we can’t help who we’re related to— I mean, I’m assuming you’re anti-, right? Anti-murder, on this whole topic?
no subject
Yes, quite anti-murder.
possibly done, or over to you to wrap this one? <3
( Yeah, his head hurts. But he scuffs the dirt with the toe of a shoe, pondering the nature of the problem. The others have it under control, right? They must have it under control.
Maybe he’ll check with some of the others in leadership later. Just, y’know, to be on the safe side. )
Well, ( and it’s starting to sound like a gentle, polite dismissal, ) I’ll get you those books, as mentioned, and we’ll keep working on these herbs. And I’ll look into those soporific spells. And if you think of anything else you might need from me as Head Healer, don’t hesitate to ask. I might have more questions for you later; I’m interested in both medical issues and magical issues, and your… problem seems to straddle both.
We can wrap right here!
It's all I could ever ask for, thank you.