multiversallogs | take a good look in the mirror and tell me

The way everyone wants to meet him in restaurants isn't lost on Drake; such places are considered neutral territory by most. Neutral and public, but still with that ambiance that allows serious discussion with at least a minimal degree of privacy.

"Ah, I was right," Amberdrake says by way of greeting once he finds Severus here, approaching and standing beside his booth, "it's not as though I had the time to take a good look, but I was fairly sure I detected lung tar," and he offers a rather harmless smile, "An avid smoker."

Perhaps jarringly, it's not the War-Healer that Severus gets today; Drake's skin has lost its grey tinge, and the bloodied scrubs have gone away in favor of his usual kestra'chern garb. Beads and layers of fine cloth in an array of colors that would by dizzying patterns on someone with a different heritage, but is well-suited to his deep amber skin and his own very black, long hair. Feathers and braids and the occasional tiny bell...

Amberdrake is not from a modern, earth-clone world, to be sure. But even on his world, he stands out, and so he wears his foreignness with years of ease.

Occasionally, Severus permits clients to meet with him in his home, but between his current boarders and the climate of the city this week, he's not about to offer it to a stranger.

A stranger who is... making unbidden announcements about his biochemistry. All right.

Severus does not say anything at first, but merely gives Amberdrake a critical look head to toe, encased in that same distant psychic shielding, his emotions seeming to ping far away in some bleak echo chamber. It isn't the oddest fashion he's seen, but it does seem rare for this particular cohort. He himself is passingly Earth-normal, if sometimes skewing a bit 'Did you just fall out of a very dull D&D campaign or something'.

After a moment of observation he nods slightly, and makes an elegant gesture with his hand to the space across from him. Please, sit down. Severus taps the ash of the end of his cigarette into the tray, then leaves it there.

"We all have our coping methods," he offers dryly. Severus is well aware his already lackluster aesthetics have not been helped by his addiction, but he is long past the point of caring.

Edited 2012-10-13 10:44 (UTC)

It isn't as though Severus doesn't know that Drake can heal people with his miiiind powers. He's simply made it known that there's some analysis to it as well, and that he'd noticed a few things even without operating on the younger man.

"I am familiar with the idea," Drake gracefully slides into the seat opposite. Sanzo, of course, smokes as a coping mechanism as well... but would probably never actually call it that, dryly or otherwise.

Even though that is absolutely what it is.

"What you did to my tea the other night was a huge help," Amberdrake continues, apparently utterly unphased by Severus' critical stare or demeanor, "I didn't get the chance to thank you at the time, so, thank you."

Severus isn't about to call it a vice.

He inclines his head slightly, as if saying 'You're welcome', without actually saying anything or engaging the subject - he doesn't want to talk about the riots, because he doesn't want to talk about politics. He's fine with leaving his actions as PR for his business.

"I do a fair amount of trade re-creating substances that don't exist here," he says instead. "Given the difficulty of finding exact ingredients from throughout the multiverse, most professionals prefer to craft their own stand-in for whatever purpose a client needs it for. I find that to be rather limiting."

"Professionals who you re-create things for, or professionals who do what you do?" Amberdrake asks, tipping his head a little to one side. One of the little bells in his hair rolls loose from a neighboring braid and chimes quietly. "I arrived with a cache of herbs from my world, but of course it won't last forever. It's good to know what the options are before it can begin running low."

Granted, it's not likely to run low anytime terribly soon, but kestra'chern rarely do something for only one purpose. And this guy knows what he's doing, so he may even have improvements.

"Most of what I work with probably will never need your assistance, unless you are incredibly bored. But the really important things..." Drake spreads his hands, "I'm no alchemist. I know how to make the specific things I was trained to make, with the specific ingredients. You may even have improvements, since you know what you're doing."

"The latter." He does not call them his competition. Because they aren't. (Severus has a very high opinion of his capabilities, in the event that was not evident.)

"What is it that you may need, in time?"

Ah, but the saying on Drake's world is that it isn't bragging if it's true. He's used that one a few times in regards to his own abilities as a kestra'chern!

"That tea you met briefly is probably the most critical," Amberdrake considers, "I can't afford to over-extend my Gifts and end up bedridden for a week again, and that tea is my primary defense against that outcome whenever any kind of huge medical disaster strikes. I am not actually primarily a trauma Healer, despite my Gift and extensive training with it."

He is, in short, more open to the side effects than most Healers from his world are. It means he's still amazingly useful in a pinch, but not something he does full-time. Smaller injuries, old injuries, physical therapy and that sort of thing falls into the realm of kestra'chern, and he uses his Gift with far less danger to himself in those circumstances.

"I would be curious to see if you had a way to make it more effective, of course, but having it essentially work the same would be fine."

Is that the most mild 'how good are you?' challenge that has ever been uttered? It may be! He's not at all above prodding at someone's pride a little, so as to better compliment it later.

"What does it do? Very specifically. Metaphysical descriptions are fine." It seems to replenish something within him, yes, but he'll need to get an idea of what's missing and what's being restored, what additives do what, why - he might need to observe Amberdrake in a loss state, eventually, if he is to improve it.

But of course he can.

Severus sips his coffee, then finds it cold. Without expression, he leaves it on the edge of his table and glances for the waitress, catching her eye and sending her skittering over to ask them both if they'd like anything.

That could be... interesting; Drake's never over-extended on purpose, before. He is much more pleasant to the waitress, of course, offering her a smile when he asks for (very normal) tea.

"It would be easier to describe what it counters, I expect," Amberdrake sounds a little apologetic, there, "I've never observed exactly what it does in another, and my Gift doesn't work on myself." And on a world without things like blood tests and the like, a lot remains shrouded in mystery unless a Healer is watching it happen.

"The Healing Gift takes its power from normal, mundane, physical energy. A little from my patient, whenever I do more than merely look them over," so no, he didn't take any of Severus' physical energy with that glance the other night, "and more from myself. The more complicated the procedure, naturally the more energy it takes. Splinting bones with it is easily the most intensive, next to re-attaching whole limbs."

Which yes, he's done.

"The Gift comes with a couple side effects for its user, but over-extension is easily the most dangerous one. Over the course of many patients, all that energy use adds up, and over-extension is what we call it when a Healer hits the absolute bottom of their energy. Doing it often enough can even make our bones brittle. The tea seems to cushion the landing, a little. It gives a tiny energy boost, just enough to make a completely over-extended Healer still have the energy to, say, breathe."

A little important, that breathing thing.

"It seems to make one's reserves come back faster than otherwise, and some Healers have claimed it helps with their Aftershock. That hasn't been my experience, but perhaps I just haven't noticed."

Severus listens, and then takes out a small notebook and a pen (he does not touch quills outside of Hogwarts, thank you). "Does over-extending yourself using your gift feel the same as over-working yourself physically? Is it the same as running for an entire day without water?" And he is, of course, taking notes; he's already writing something in cramped, nearly chicken-scratch handwriting.

"It doesn't cause dehydration, if that's what you mean," Amberdrake can't see his own exact fluids and energy levels and patterns, but he's familiar with the sensation of dehydration. And starvation and illness, for that matter.

"But the general idea is like that, yes. Healers can go into shock if the loss is too sudden or too deep, but even an experienced Healer has a difficult time so much as breathing once over-extension truly sets in. It doesn't seem to be a physical effort, breathing, until you're that low on power."

Naturally, he tries to avoid letting it hit him that hard. And he avoided it this time, else Sanzo would have had to drag him home. It wouldn't have been the first time someone did so, not by a long shot. Being an emergency Healer during the Mage Wars had led to quite a bit of over-extension.

"Have you experienced physical fatigue to the point of breakdown, outside of over-exerting yourself with your gift?" Severus does not sound conversational - he isn't ignoring Amberdrake's asides, he just... isn't very chatty. But he continues to take notes. If he sounds pedantic, it's just because in different worlds with different cultures and terminology, he prefers to err on the side of asking ten stupid questions to shake out every detail versus spending an hour trying to instruct someone on how to answer on his terms.

"Is 'aftershock' a specific phenomenon, or merely extreme tiredness?"

When their drinks arrive, Severus accepts his coffee, and his pen carries on writing without him for a moment.

"I have in the past, yes," Amberdrake remains unphased by Severus' demeanor; he's used to professionals as well as the socially-stunted, and it's not uncommon to find both in one person! "But not in many years. It's the same for every Healer, however. Very standard."

If Severus was thinking that previous ailments or experiences may have shaped his over-extension... it hadn't. It's a very standard issue for those with the Gift.

"Healer's Aftershock is a separate part of being a Healer, and I would be surprised if there was a way to counter it. We experience echoes of what we Heal, usually the morning after."

And since he doubts that's enough of an answer, Amberdrake goes into a little more detail; "Broken bones that we Healed in others feels something like bone-bruising, and so on. For parts we don't have direct analogue to, such as wings, it settles in the closest equivalents. As an example in the case of said wings, it translates roughly to shoulder blades and upper arms."

Why yes, he probably didn't do much more for days after the riots but soak in hot water and try not to drown. The Healing Gift is kind of a son of a bitch!

He's actually trying to determine how alike being drained by this 'gift' is versus being just tired; tiredness alone does not eventually leech bones of their density, and he suspects that there are other, more subtle issues of energy dovetailing there, but he'd have to get a closer look further down the line to be sure. For now it's merely something to note.

"Is it purely sensation, or have you ever experienced bruising, muscle tension, any physical manifestations in your aftershocks?"

Amberdrake did say that some people felt a lessening of their aftershocks with correct application of that tea, thus it's worth an inquiry. He's gone back to writing with his hand now, versus whatever runoff of magic was auto-piloting for a moment.

Drake stops watching the pen once Severus is back to using his hand. Fascinating, the things this guy just casually does with his magic.

"It's purely sensation," he answers easily enough. "I'm not entirely sure how full-time Healers cope with it, since as non-injuries it can't really be Healed in turn by another. I've always suspected any reports of the over-extension tea helping were psychological."

And he considers for a moment, and then offers:

"I could show you the type of energy the Gift uses, by burning a little of yours. It's not a conventional use of the Gift to just do that, but certainly easily done."

Severus has gone through a lot to be able to have his inherent magic be a part of his life. He doesn't even consider hiding it.

Meanwhile - the notes he takes there reflect the thought that the entire experience is psychological, as most sympathetic or phantom reactions tend to be, metaphysical in nature or not. Indeed worthy of further investigation, should their business relationship get to that point. But then...

Severus gives Drake a look that's subdued (he's hard to read) and yet, to a keen eye, plain for what it is: intense, searching skepticism. Unlike most socially withdrawn people, Severus makes a lot of eye contact, and now is no exception. For the first time, it seems like there's something weighted in his gaze, but-- then, no, maybe not.

"Verywell."

Perhaps not the reaction anyone could have expected, after that look. But Severus is curious, and he also knows that the second anyone tries to pull a fast one on him, they'll be in many tiny pieces, across the room.

Edited (my writing is starting to get incoherent, perhaps i should sleep) 2012-10-14 09:44 (UTC)

Amberdrake's serenity doesn't so much as ripple in the face of that stare. Urtho's own former kestra'chern and the Black Gryphon's sworn brother is quite familiar with dealing with those who could kill him in an eyeblink.

(Really, almost anyone could if they did it faster than he could paralyze them. He's not a combatant!)

"I would offer to work on that lung tar while I'm at it," Drake puts his hand out on the table, palm up, "but I would have to be much more efficient about energy to do any actual work. Another time, perhaps?"

And then, in the exact same easy tone, "I'll need skin contact, your hand will do."

The Gift works a little like electricity that way. He could bridge the gap without touch, at this range, like an electrical arc... but it would burn his own energy twice as hard, and that isn't the point of this little demonstration.

At that, his reaction is notably more pronounced - but really, it doesn't take an empath to guess that this man (body language just so, covered completely except his hands and face, no warmth about him) does not like to be touched. Severus can't help the brief flicker of his gaze down to the older man's hand, almost as if he sees the offer as him brandishing a weapon.

He isn't so phobic as to recoil, however, and is quite capable of sucking it up for moments like these. After only a brief hesitation, he reaches out and lays his hand against Amberdrake's, palm to palm.

Severus' hands are almost-calloused, long-fingered, his cuticles and nails forever dyed faintly greyish-brown from his work. To those sensitive to magic, it's easier to peg him for slightly corrupt, when touching (a dark magic brand seared into a person's arm will have that effect), but besides that, he's just a man. A man who looks like he's tolerating something mildly vexing. He says nothing about his lungs.

Amberdrake just waits patiently while that little process goes on, as serene and calm as any top-notch kestra'chern ought to be. Especially when knowingly pushing at someone's boundaries, even if the reason given was perfectly honest and legitimate. But he himself keeps almost all of his skin covered, and he certainly noticed that Severus keeps even more under cloth than he does.

The kestra'chern's hand is very warm, and lacks any apparent callouses despite his previously-observed abilities to stitch others up. His daily use of massage oils on others is to blame for that, making the skin quite soft. It would be, if one wasn't repulsed by touching people at all, rather pleasant. He's deliberately offered the hand that doesn't have Sanzo's lotus ring on it, so that it's nothing but a bare hand and the trailing edge of his open robe's wing-cut sleeve.

"Tell me when to stop, and I will," he says quite mildly, and allows the Gift to wake up. Amberdrake's very blue eyes go slightly out of focus, no longer only seeing the surface of living things -- or in this case, Severus.

The Gift threads in through the younger man's hand, feeling a little like electricity to someone magically sensitive. It gives the Mark a wide berth, if that's the hand offered, and otherwise just trails up Severus' arm until it's covering enough territory to most efficiently burn energy.

It is an actual heating sensation, although nothing burning. And slowly, energy dissipates. It's a little like bleeding to the point of wooziness, a little like participating in a triathlon, like swimming against the waves in the ocean. It's a tiredness that, though it's a very minimal level here and now, would leech what warmth Severus' very bones have and press him down into and perhaps under the earth.

Not that Drake would let it go quite so far as any of that, but it's that type of energy nonetheless.

It has a more final, inescapable feel to it than mere tiredness, even though it will regenerate. Something that wizards and muggles and humans and gryphons and hertasi and everyone has. And even undead creatures, in Amberdrake's own experience, because something has to power them.

It's his right hand, fortunately; he tends to avoid shoving the Mark at people who might be able to sense it - if not for privacy, then to minimize distractions. Severus is not repulsed by contact, but he doesn't trust it. Not even in the slightest. If someone's not going to hit him, they're going to patronize him, or want something out of him, and a lifetime of this being completely true has carved his reactions deep. Logically, he realizes this is not the case for everyone, but he also realizes that his own life has never adhered to logic.

As the sensation creeps through him, Severus watches their connected hands, as if tracking the progress of it visually. He shows no signs of being effected by the feeling of it, though he pays full attention to how it works. It's easy for him to see magic, where even others of his kind can't, and so this is a very illuminating lesson in how Amberdrake's abilities work. He is so focused, in fact, that he forgets to wonder if the other man will notice the old, unhealable scars on his right shoulder, cornered from the Mark. (He forgets he has those, most of the time.)

After a few moments he says, "All right," having gotten a very clear idea. He is, helpfully, a quick learner.

Edited (i'm good at directions) 2012-10-14 22:26 (UTC)

Drake's hand doesn't so much as twitch a fingertip during this entire process. It just lays there quite passively on the table, being all hand-like, fingers only curled that little bit that relaxed tendons creates naturally.

As soon as Severus gives the word, the draining sensation cuts off. And then, for someone adept at reading magic as Severus is, the Gift can be felt backing its way out faster than it had threaded in. After all, it's not having to go over new territory on the retreat.

"Obviously the drain isn't normally nearly that rapid for the patient," Amberdrake says, "and being on the receiving end of the Gift has never, say, brittled someone's bones. It's only a stupid Healer who over-extends too often who risks that particular side effect."

Let's ignore the fact that I am often a stupid Healer.

Although to be fair, he usually only comes in during emergencies, when burning that last bit of energy can keep someone from bleeding out. He'd never be dumb enough to over-extend on something routine! Certainly not the little taps and touches of the Gift he uses in his normal line of work.

Drake leaves his hand where it is once the Gift is withdrawn, curious. How fast will Severus retreat?

Double purposes, double uses. This, too, is an assessment. It isn't just Severus who is doing a professional consultation, today! He's just the only one doing it out loud.

Severus removes his hand without lingering, though without acting as if he's being burned, either. A completely unremarkable act done in completely unremarkable time. On purpose.

"That explains a lot," he says, "Thank you." His tone is not terribly thankful, but he seems satisfied enough having had a demonstration. He does feel slightly more tired, but it isn't anything that bothers him. Tiredness is a thing that seems rather boring after things like extensive curse damage. He takes a few more notes.

"Between this idea and your pre-existing tea, I'm sure that I can continue to make it, and most likely develop something past it."

Which combined with every other sign Severus has shown, reaffirms that he's used to concealing (or perhaps just forbidding access to?) his damage.

Fair enough. Almost everyone does that, Severus is just better at the acting aspect of it than many.

"Well then," Drake smiles faintly and folds his hands together on the table, "that's excellent news for me. For some reason, I would prefer not suffocating face-down in a ditch somewhere after the next medical emergency crops up." And it will. They always do.

And while he doesn't intend to over-extend anymore, because Sanzo had been right about that issue, he knows it will probably be necessary again anyway. What if the priest gets a hand chopped off again? Drake's certainly not going to hesitate to fuse it back onto the stump, thank you.

"What did you do to that thermos the other night, if you don't mind my asking?" he's been curious about that ever since, at least during his coherent moments. Amberdrake didn't see him do much of anything to it, but it had been a fresh batch afterwards. Obviously it had been magic, but if Drake was content with 'magic!' as his only explanation, he'd be a poor kestra'chern indeed.

Severus refrains from making some kind of backhanded remark about throwing ones self into such emergencies. He'd shown up all on his own, after all. Something he doesn't quite has an excuse for. Instead, he raises one eyebrow, and then picks up his half-empty coffee cup, holding it forward.

"Duplication." He taps one finger against the side of the cup - he doesn't need to, it's just for show - and it's suddenly full again. "Most substances can be stretched a little like that before they begin to break down and make manipulation impossible. It's difficult to create something from nothing, if I don't know what my intended something is, but when it's within reach, it's easy enough."

(Holy shit, more than three words!)

Drake is fully aware that he's an idiot about such things! Although it's not really in his nature to sit back on his hands when the War slithers out from its hiding place in the shadows and feeds.

Thankfully, his own form of coping with his PTSD, at least when the shit hits the fan, is to roll up his sleeves and get to work. His instincts in fight or flight situations is almost always to take action, even though he is a non-combatant. If his mind worked any other way, he'd have been dead a dozen times over by now.

But here in the present time, he peers at the cup when it's held forward (leaning forward a little to do so) and blinks when it fills. He sits back again during the explanation.

"That's amazing," Drake knows better than to compliment when he doesn't mean it, and right now he certainly does. "That has to be infinitely useful, especially in your line of work. Does it work on non-liquids as well?"

Edited (Don't mind me, I just realized how to phrase a whole paragraph better. YOU SAW NOTHING.) 2012-10-15 17:18 (UTC)

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