i'm the motherfucking ungrateful

[inkdamage]

Who: SEVTEL
What: Martel fucked himself up with magic. Severus gets to fix it.
Where: ~the apothecary basement.
When: AHAHA A REALLY LONG TIME AGO
Notes: SO BACKDATED, SORRY
Warnings: Comic book WIZARD SCIENCE, some mild eye gore.

He has no clear idea what to expect, or what sort of fool has managed to get himself in this situation, but a job's a job, so he's learned; Severus knows that he could easily employ far more mercencary methods to acrue wealth, but he prefers this. Tedious as it might be, he's remained hidden for longer than he anticipated. (It nags at him, the paranoia - he knows it's closing in.)

It's not his borrowed laboratory, and it's certainly not the dungeons, but it'll do; the apothecary's basement was filthy and wretched before, but he's transformed it. Brick stands smoothed, illuminated by uncanny floating orbs, lined by meticulous, thick-packed shelves. Desk, work table... examination cot.

He's not a fucking healer.

But he waits as one, regardless; this is work for a man with an eye between science and spirit. He can provide two.

Comments

[apostatised]

The fool in question arrives in a timely fashion - he stables Kalten nearby and walks the final distance, regretting it with every step and flinch - though he's dubious of whether or not this is going to be of any use to him at all. To the psychically sensitive, the problem is almost immediately clear; the gaping chestwound he suffered aside, the forbidden sorcery he practised should have killed him a decade before. It bleeds sluggishly inside him now, psychic scarring torn open by the exertion of what he'd done for Anna Demirovna, and his sanity and stability are currently being held together by spit and string.

The alteration of his power recently is acting against him, in this way; if he were still bound to a god, he wouldn't have so much power flowing through him unbound, feeding the parts of him stained by Azash. If he answered to a god, now, then he would fall under their purview and the encroaching pain and madness would be something that they might protect him from-

-but he did this to himself, ultimately, and for a while he'd thought to himself, so now it ends. It doesn't, though; death was no release, he suffers for his mistakes. His choices. And he comes down here to the alchemist's basement, thinking he might've preferred simply to die.