multiversallogs | you're what happens when two substances collide

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you're what happens when two substances collide :: OPEN

Who: Sebastian LeMat and YOU.
What & Where: Various places about town: Nazca's boat, Hellsing's infirmary, etc.
When: Throughout the third week of Velldaren
Notes: If you want to set something up, let me know!

For the sake of safety and common sense Sebastian has been relatively quiet on the network, preferring to communicate via voice or text only, but that hasn't stopped him from making a few general appointments for others in his cohort and throughout the city. Most of his work for strangers has been in and around Sobek Croix, doing his part to keep Hellsing in the canton's good graces during the current blood shortage. At the guildhall itself, he's been working on getting the building ready for winter -- finishing windows, checking the roof for leaks (again), and making sure there will be enough room to dry their crop of tobacco.

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"I do, but I can't really show you much any more -- as a part of one of my injuries, a sort of stroke, I can't do most magic. I'm trying to relearn, but..." It wasn't really a stroke, but that's a fair analogy he's given to other muggles. "I've, ah, I've never been to a non-wizarding doctor before, so I'm not sure what comes next."

McCoy crosses his arms, eyeing the man thoughtfully. "Mind if I have a look at you first?" He pulls his tricorder from his pocket, clicks it out of sleep mode. "I'll see what I can identify, and we'll go from there."

"Will this hurt?" He doesn't sound bothered or nervous about it, but he would like to prepare himself if there's going to be any real discomfort. Either way, Sebastian motions that Velcro can go lay down out of the way, which he obligingly does. (Good dog.)

McCoy's tricorder will likely find a whole host of strange injuries (a patch of owl feathers on his back, a marble knee, nerve damage from the cruciatus curse) as well as more mundane injuries (early malnutrition, well-healed stab wounds or shots, the crushing injury on his right hand).

"Nope, you won't feel a thing." He moves closer, begins to move the tricorder slowly over the other man, eyes flickering quickly over the readouts. His eyebrows do some impressive acrobatics - up, down, in, out - and part of him wonders how this young man can still be alive with all this fuckery going on in his body. Seems he's held together with a string and a prayer - and marble.

"So - this damage is consistent with what I'll be seeing here, or is it unique to you?"

"I think there's a few others like me, but, ah, I went through a rough patch." He frowns, worrying at a loose thread on the cuff of his shirt before continuing. "I fought in a magical war from a young age and picked up my fair share of strange curses, hexes, and all that."

"We didn't really -- we had doctors and things when I started. When I was twelve, I had all the bones in my arm dissolved and then the nurse grew them back. It was miserable. But, as time went on, it was all 'meatball surgery'," he says, clearly unused to the strange phrase, but lacking anything else to describe what went on. "Between that and all the experimental magic that went on, well, even at the end, a proper doctor couldn't untangle the mess."

He's also died.

McCoy is all too familiar with meatball surgery, even if it's clearly an unusual phrase for LeMat, and he nods. The condition of his body makes a little more sense now, even if it's alternatives he would never consider: turn the knee into marble to save it, leave the owl feathers where they are after sterilizing to focus on a more severe injury.

'Experimental magic' indeed.

"Are there others here who are capable of - " he gestures to Sebastian - "this sort of magic?"

"At least a few working for Hellsing and presumably many more out in the city." At least McCoy will get to experience treating a variety of injuries?

"...I just, I had a thought. My world, there's no one applying any sort of scientific study to magic, it's all hidden, underground, but do you think with your whatever that is," he says, gesturing at the tricorder, "You'd be able to record what happens to a person when they do magic?"

McCoy's mouth opens, then closes, and then he looks at his tricorder, brows furrowing. "It ... would be worth a shot, I guess," he admits, frowning down at it. "What's the worst that could happen?" And then he answers his own question: "Besides from the damn thing exploding or something, or something going horribly wrong and killing us all."

"That's hardly the worst thing," he says mildly, before calling Velcro over to reassure him. There's no need to fuss, he's just going to nick himself and then a little magic. Good dog. "I, ah, should warn you that this will require a bit of my own blood. Ready?"

"All right," McCoy replies hesitantly, clicking the tricorder back on, casting a glance down at the dog. "Whenever you are."

Sebastian pulls out a small pocket knife that he handles with ease and confidence before drawing a line over the pad of his thumb and cupping his hand to catch the few drops that spring up. Once he's satisfied with the quantity of blood, he stills himself, focuses, and whispers the incantation to bring his patronus into being.

It is the one spell he has left and as the manticore forms between them, it's image is still strong, sharp and clear. "You get anything?"

The tricorder is going crazy, and McCoy taps a button on the screen to record the resulting readouts. His eyes flicker over the spiking and swirling screen, trying to make sense of what it's giving him.

"I got something," he replies, then jerks back as he notices the manticore standing there. "What the fuck is that thing?!"

The manticore lashes its tail and grins with it's double-set of jaws. Charming beast.

"That's my patronus. It's an external expression of a happy memory that can be used to fight off similar constructs made from sadness or torment," he replies settling into what sounds like a talk he's given many times before. It's not a great leap to assume that Sebastian once taught this sort of magic. "There are different sorts -- a proper wizard uses a wand and theirs is a bit less solid, by changing the media to blood, you can create a stronger, more battle-ready sort, or if you imbue it with breath, you can create a messenger."

McCoy stops recording, then hesitantly moves, not coming closer, but as though he's about to crouch. He glances at LeMat. "If I try and scan this thing, is it gonna rip my throat open?"

"She could walk through you and you wouldn't feel a thing." The manticore stretches and then jumps onto a nearby table to preen. "Although, I know that for wizards, if you touch another's patronus you might see flashes of the memory that created it. I don't know what it would do for you."

"I'm not touching it." Hesitantly, he taps the tricorder screen to start recording again, then holds it out to start scanning the ... thing. Whatever the hell it is. The tricorder is going crazy again, spiking with energy and impulses like he's never seen, and he keeps a close eye on it to make sure it's not going to explode.

"Are you getting anything useful out of this?" At the very least, it should help convince McCoy that magic is very real and while his technology might not be able t measure it, it must be quantifiable in some way. Perhaps he'll be able to set his tricorder to scan for a specific sort of crazy-pattern and that way he'll know a patient has been magically afflicted?

"I have," McCoy returns, "no clue. I think I am, but I'll need to sit down and analyze these one by one to get a better idea of what the hell I'm actually looking at. I've never seen readings like this before."

"If you want me to come back and recast, I can do that for you. I think, well, in theory that should help eliminate a few variables?" Science is not Sebastian's strong suit, but he has a talent for intuitive leaps of understanding.

McCoy nodded, tapping the tricorder to stop recording as he stepped away from the manticore, still eying it uncertainly, as though he expected it to rip his throat out at the slightest provocation. "Might help. You okay with that?"

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you're what happens when two substances collide :: OPEN

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