[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.]
[If there'd been any urge to go with 'No reason, just curious' she's already thrown that option out the window by asking. Doesn't consider it.]
When the ship was compromised - Dagger made it very clear that working with me would be dangerous for other people. Like decapitation dangerous. [Her attention is fixed, sharp, shoulders square. Hence the lack of follow up, she wants to say, but screw it; explaining herself isn't really why she's saying any of this to him.] I didn't mean to put you in that position.
[But intention counted for approximately jack shit much of anywhere, least of all here. She punctuates the thought with an absent drop of one shoulder that isn't really a shrug and isn't really anything else.]
[He listens, the confusion in his expression solidifying into something too harsh to be called stoic. The whole debacle during that time had left a bad taste in his mouth, and he can't tell now if the boiling frustration in his gut is aimed at her or at the instructors. Maybe a little of both.]
If Dagger has a problem with me healing recruits, then he can take it up with Mothership. Otherwise.... [He shifts, crosses his arms, cants his weight back. It's a defensive posture, even if it's not necessarily in response to her.] What's done is done. It wouldn't be the first time someone threatened to take my head for something. I don't intend to let it change anything unless someone swings an axe at me.
[A pause. He considers how true the next thing he wants to say is, and opts to go for it anyway:]
[Right. For a moment it seems like she might say something else, something hanging just behind her teeth and her weight fluctuating up into the balls of her feet. Her gaze flicks around the interior of the medical rover - settles back with a fixed certainty.]
I appreciate you letting me.
[And then she's rocking back to heel, to turn - makes her way from the rover with a clatter of her boots on the hatch and out.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Not worried about you having to/not having to touch me, doc.
FROM: shepard.lydia@cdc.org
Where should I meet you?
no subject
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
no subject
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.
no subject
[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.
no subject
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?
no subject
Hit me.
no subject
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.]
no subject
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?
no subject
[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?
no subject
[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--]
no subject
[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.]
no subject
Is there some kind of signature or something you can track? Why come to me?
no subject
[This is also not technically a lie.]
no subject
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.]
no subject
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.
no subject
[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?
no subject
Dagger? No, not for months. We aren't exactly what you would call chatty. [a beat. Slowly:] Why?
no subject
When the ship was compromised - Dagger made it very clear that working with me would be dangerous for other people. Like decapitation dangerous. [Her attention is fixed, sharp, shoulders square. Hence the lack of follow up, she wants to say, but screw it; explaining herself isn't really why she's saying any of this to him.] I didn't mean to put you in that position.
[But intention counted for approximately jack shit much of anywhere, least of all here. She punctuates the thought with an absent drop of one shoulder that isn't really a shrug and isn't really anything else.]
Thought you should know.
no subject
If Dagger has a problem with me healing recruits, then he can take it up with Mothership. Otherwise.... [He shifts, crosses his arms, cants his weight back. It's a defensive posture, even if it's not necessarily in response to her.] What's done is done. It wouldn't be the first time someone threatened to take my head for something. I don't intend to let it change anything unless someone swings an axe at me.
[A pause. He considers how true the next thing he wants to say is, and opts to go for it anyway:]
I appreciate you telling me.
no subject
I appreciate you letting me.
[And then she's rocking back to heel, to turn - makes her way from the rover with a clatter of her boots on the hatch and out.]