[Somewhere Shepard is thoughtfully tapping her thumb along the side of her blackglass in consideration before she realizes any pause in communication on her end is probably more telling than the answer is. Still, a long beat then--]
FROM: shepard.lydia@cdc.org Is this some kind of security issue?
there are some types of magic that work themselves into your mind from exposure. dreams like those, theyre a side effect of that kind of magic. i have a spell that can separate it out
[He doesn't feel like he needs to mince words with her quite as much, but he also isn't sure how much Corvo has or hasn't told her. His instinct first is to protect the mage involved.]
FROM: anders@cdc.org
temporarily, at least. its been enough to help another recruit with a similar experience though
FROM: shepard.lydia@cdc.org How invasive is the work you're talking about doing?
["Magic." Some kind of biological energy manipulation. Whatever. If she asks a series of logical, sensible questions she can ignore the creeping feeling at the base of her skull that this whole conversation causes to prickle.]
i wouldnt be able to see into your mind, if thats what youre concerned over. it doesnt open your thoughts up to anything, or give me any kind of control. i wouldnt even need to touch you
[It takes her nearly twice that. For someone as painstakingly exact as Shepard, the lack of punctuality is pointed - speaks to something uneasy riding high in her chest as she climbs up through the hatch of medical rover. She hasn't been back since coming out of stasis - hasn't needed to and certainly hasn't felt any real inclination to being reminded of laying out flat for over a month standard time.
She pointedly ignores ninety percent of the crap happening in the rover for a whole list of reasons - moves instead to meet Anders once she picks him out.]
[It's not as if he's going anywhere, and for all that they aren't going to talk about it, he understands why someone might be leery of what he's planning to do. Dreams are no small thing, where he's from, and even if she isn't a mage it's been ingrained in him his entire life to be wary of anything that might jeopardize his connection to the Fade. He can't begrudge her some anxiety.
He gestures to one of the free cots they have for patients.]
Sit. It'll only take a few minutes.
Edited (i know how to html i swear) 2015-04-05 16:28 (UTC)
[She follows the turn of his hand without any argument - thirteen years in the service and running through medical and decontamination is habitual enough to slide past any characteristic muleheadedness about being poked and prodded -, perching on the side of the cot . If there's an urge to drum her fingers across her thigh, she shoves it down.]
Did Arbuckal's comm net you any more supplies? Sounds like medical's been busy.
[Is that small talk? Shut up, she'd never admit it.]
[He'd never say anything about it; patients react in different ways, and whatever differences they've had in the past, he wouldn't be much of a healer if he didn't know how to accept them gracefully.]
We have been, and yes, actually. [The spell probably does not actually take this much time to prepare. If he's slow in putting away prepped boxes of poultices, well, he's as likely to mention that as she is her small talk.] I think we may be able to say we're "cautiously optimistic" soon.
[It's a tug on a thread, that's all, and magic spindles out between his hands, a cloud that's bright and white-blue.]
Are you ready?
Edited (i almost left that typo there bc it was hilarious but nah) 2015-04-06 23:48 (UTC)
[There's something like a taste on the air as the energy hums out between his hands. And it looks just enough like the crackle of a biotic field that it doesn't quite get all the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end. If there's a line of tension in the set of her shoulders, she ignores it in favor of flattening her palms across her knees - tips the line of her chin up expectantly.]
[There's no more preamble than that; he lifts his right hand to her temple but does not, as promised, actually make any sort of physical contact. It's more involved than most of his healing spells tend to be, the way magic entwines with the mind always more complicated than the dig of a knife, and the line of his mouth thins slightly in concentration. It might be warm, vaguely tingly in the same way knowing you've forgotten something is, and then—
And then it's over. The light dissipates, his hand falls back to his side, and he takes a step back to give her space.]
Finished. How do you feel?
[He doesn't expect anything especially groundbreaking, not in the first few minutes at least. But it's a standard question to ask, just in case.]
[It feels like-- standing close to the Normandy's mass effect drive, something pulling in the air and through the metal of the deck under her feet. She breathes in low, swallows it and stares for a moment long and hard at the place where two of the rover's interior panels meet. The jointing, if she studies it hard enough, reminds her of the Normandy's shuttle.
And then his hand is falling away and Shepard's attention flicks back, the line of her back straightening the fraction of a degree that it's settled.]
Pretty much the same. ["Magic."] How do you know if it worked?
[The effects of Corvo's magic aren't nearly as pronounced as the effects of the seeping poison that had twisted Bartrand's mind. That makes the differences harder to see, but also, maybe, means the healing might last longer. He can hope, anyway. Time will tell.]
If the dreams don't go away, or they change, or anything else suspect happens— come back and tell me. All right?
Magic like this can come from a lot of different sources. Maybe Macha is rich in magical ore. [The easiest way he can think of to describe lyrium without using the word or getting needlessly pedantic.] Maybe the Veil here is thin. Maybe it is someone on the crew. [A shrug.] Whatever it is, it's affecting people's sleep. I thought I ought to help.
[It's an effortless answer, not even really a lie. If Shepard knows what caused it, she doesn't need him to point it out to her; if she doesn't, he isn't going to be the one to tell her.]
[So it could be anything as far as he's concerned. She runs her thumb absently across the seam of her pant leg just inside her knee - drums her fingers faintly in consideration.]
Is there some kind of signature or something you can track? Why come to me?
I can tell. [He touches two fingers to his temple, the closest he can reasonably come to an explanation that might make sense.] That there's something... off, magic that doesn't belong there. Not anything specific. I only knew what to expect because another recruit brought something similar to me first.
[She drums her fingers across her thigh, but if she has any doubts or reservations about what Anders is saying, it isn't really for him. There's a beat, brief, and then she shifts off the edge of the bed - satisfied for the moment, apparently. Or at least certain she won't get much else out of him.]
I'll let you know if I have problems. [She flicks her attention around the rover, then back to him.] Do you need anything?
[This exchange has already gone smoother than he expected it would. A thank you is a small price to pay.]
That's all. This is what I'm here for. [Or, well, what he's decided he's here for. He tilts his head toward the entrance of the rover, an indication that she can leave.] Maker willing, you won't need to be back for a while.
[And she's rocking forward, leading past with her shoulders. She's almost a solid five strides out for the hatch before she hesitates - turns. One more question, though this one has nothing to do with the magic or dreams or how screwed Corvo Attano is and everything to do with the knee jerk evasion she'd had to push down to answer his message in the first place.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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have you been having nightmares?
FROM: anders@cdc.org
specifically, about whale songs and rats and drowning. maybe someone standing over you while you sleep
[He can't be sure that her dreams would manifest the same way that Jasper's did, but it's all he has to go on.]
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FROM: shepard.lydia@cdc.org
Is this some kind of security issue?
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no. medical, if you want to call it anything
FROM: anders@cdc.org
i might be able to help, if youre interested. its not a permanent solution, but it might be better than nothing
FROM: anders@cdc.org
assuming you are having nightmares
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Help how?
[Hypothetically speaking, obviously.]
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there are some types of magic that work themselves into your mind from exposure. dreams like those, theyre a side effect of that kind of magic. i have a spell that can separate it out
[He doesn't feel like he needs to mince words with her quite as much, but he also isn't sure how much Corvo has or hasn't told her. His instinct first is to protect the mage involved.]
FROM: anders@cdc.org
temporarily, at least. its been enough to help another recruit with a similar experience though
no subject
How invasive is the work you're talking about doing?
["Magic." Some kind of biological energy manipulation. Whatever. If she asks a series of logical, sensible questions she can ignore the creeping feeling at the base of her skull that this whole conversation causes to prickle.]
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i wouldnt be able to see into your mind, if thats what youre concerned over. it doesnt open your thoughts up to anything, or give me any kind of control. i wouldnt even need to touch you
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Not worried about you having to/not having to touch me, doc.
FROM: shepard.lydia@cdc.org
Where should I meet you?
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couldnt hurt to clarify
FROM: anders@cdc.org
ill be in the medical rover for the rest of the afternoon. you can come by whenever youre ready
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Give me 20 minutes.
[It takes her nearly twice that. For someone as painstakingly exact as Shepard, the lack of punctuality is pointed - speaks to something uneasy riding high in her chest as she climbs up through the hatch of medical rover. She hasn't been back since coming out of stasis - hasn't needed to and certainly hasn't felt any real inclination to being reminded of laying out flat for over a month standard time.
She pointedly ignores ninety percent of the crap happening in the rover for a whole list of reasons - moves instead to meet Anders once she picks him out.]
Sorry I'm late.
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[It's not as if he's going anywhere, and for all that they aren't going to talk about it, he understands why someone might be leery of what he's planning to do. Dreams are no small thing, where he's from, and even if she isn't a mage it's been ingrained in him his entire life to be wary of anything that might jeopardize his connection to the Fade. He can't begrudge her some anxiety.
He gestures to one of the free cots they have for patients.]
Sit. It'll only take a few minutes.
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Did Arbuckal's comm net you any more supplies? Sounds like medical's been busy.
[Is that small talk? Shut up, she'd never admit it.]
no subject
We have been, and yes, actually. [The spell probably does not actually take this much time to prepare. If he's slow in putting away prepped boxes of poultices, well, he's as likely to mention that as she is her small talk.] I think we may be able to say we're "cautiously optimistic" soon.
[It's a tug on a thread, that's all, and magic spindles out between his hands, a cloud that's bright and white-blue.]
Are you ready?
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Hit me.
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And then it's over. The light dissipates, his hand falls back to his side, and he takes a step back to give her space.]
Finished. How do you feel?
[He doesn't expect anything especially groundbreaking, not in the first few minutes at least. But it's a standard question to ask, just in case.]
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And then his hand is falling away and Shepard's attention flicks back, the line of her back straightening the fraction of a degree that it's settled.]
Pretty much the same. ["Magic."] How do you know if it worked?
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[The effects of Corvo's magic aren't nearly as pronounced as the effects of the seeping poison that had twisted Bartrand's mind. That makes the differences harder to see, but also, maybe, means the healing might last longer. He can hope, anyway. Time will tell.]
If the dreams don't go away, or they change, or anything else suspect happens— come back and tell me. All right?
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[Which should reasonably be the end of it, though she doesn't move to slide from the edge of the bed just yet.]
You think a person is making this happen, right? Another crew member?
[It's a question she already knows the answer to, but whether Anders does or not--]
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[It's an effortless answer, not even really a lie. If Shepard knows what caused it, she doesn't need him to point it out to her; if she doesn't, he isn't going to be the one to tell her.]
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Is there some kind of signature or something you can track? Why come to me?
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[This is also not technically a lie.]
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I'll let you know if I have problems. [She flicks her attention around the rover, then back to him.] Do you need anything?
[Not technically a thank you.]
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That's all. This is what I'm here for. [Or, well, what he's decided he's here for. He tilts his head toward the entrance of the rover, an indication that she can leave.] Maker willing, you won't need to be back for a while.
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[And she's rocking forward, leading past with her shoulders. She's almost a solid five strides out for the hatch before she hesitates - turns. One more question, though this one has nothing to do with the magic or dreams or how screwed Corvo Attano is and everything to do with the knee jerk evasion she'd had to push down to answer his message in the first place.]
Has Dagger talked to you? Recently?
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Dagger? No, not for months. We aren't exactly what you would call chatty. [a beat. Slowly:] Why?
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