tongueamok | XOqNI

That's reasonable.

[And about what he expected to hear. They justify it in their own minds, never even knowing what happened. It's one of the reasons compulsions are so dangerous to begin with. At least, in his hands, it's benign... until he panics and is controlled by it, as well.

He focuses again, wondering how many cups of tea it will take before Lance realizes something is wrong.]

Make another.

[The answer is, thankfully, only one; although he does move to look for another tea bag, he only gets as far as reaching out to the cabinet door before he wonders why he's planning to make another mug of tea. He's not going to drink it. It'd be even more pointless than making the first one would've been.

But why not? It would, again, give him something to do besides think about how nervous he is about both allowing someone to use magic on him and trying to resist--

Oh.

But although he suddenly recognizes what's going on, it takes a far greater effort than it should just for him to let go of the cabinet handle and lower his hand to the counter top, curling his fingers tightly into his palm to try to keep himself from just reaching out again.]

How long does this last?

[It also takes a lot more effort than he likes to focus on asking the question, and it probably doesn't even make sense, but he hadn't asked Carlisle what exactly happens when you successful resist. He'd said something about snapping out of it, so maybe it's supposed to just shut off, but that hasn't happened yet; is he doing something wrong? Maybe he's completely overthinking this to begin with. Maybe he should just make another cup of tea and not be utterly ridiculous.

But for now, at least, he manages to keep his hand pressed against the counter.]

[The moment Lance stays his hand and his fingers curl into his palm, Carlisle can't help but smile just a little behind his mug. He's been found out so quickly.]

The fact you managed to put your hand down at all is a good sign. Give it a minute or so, and see if the urge subsides. Clearing your mind and focusing on regaining control of your faculties should help.

[And if not, well... they'll have to figure out something else. Fighting compulsions when there are no distractions is the easy part. It's when there is more going on that it's harder on both of them.]

A minute or so?

[That long? It's already taking a ridiculous amount of mental effort just to keep his hand still, and it's not even actually still; his fingers are shaking, on both hands, it's just impossible to tell with his right hand curled into a fist. But if it's this difficult, and all he's doing is not moving, and he's in his own kitchen and there are pretty much no stakes, then what chance would he have at managing this for something more important? Especially if it takes that long.

Maybe he's just terrible at this, and it was a mistake, and he really should've known better than to try in the first place. But no, okay, thinking that isn't going to help; he can do that after he fails, not before, and so he takes a deep breath and tries to do as Carlisle instructed. Clearing his mind and sorting through what he's feeling in order to make a purposeful decision is something he's good at.

Only it's still taking so much effort, and it's already mentally exhausting to do even this much and they've only just started. It's incredibly frustrating and discouraging, and he realizes suddenly that he didn't factor in just how big of an effect his own issues might come into trying to will himself to resist a compulsion; the only counterbalance to that is that his perfectionism is helping this time, in that he's too stubborn to give up.

But by the time the compulsion finally wears off--or however it works, with the end result being that he doesn't feel the need to make another stupid mug of tea--he feels more than a little drained, and almost calls for taking a break. It's too early for that, though, and instead he focuses on carefully uncurling his now very stiff fingers.]

I think it's gone.

[As the silence stretches on, Carlisle keeps sipping at his own tea, wondering what is going through the doctor's head. How is it to be exposed to magic when you're from a world without it? Some seemed to take so easily to it, like Emily. Others -- Marian, for example -- weren't able to comprehend it, and therefore felt it better to pretend it either didn't exist, or that it was utter nonsense even if it did. As for Carlisle, his world is so entrenched in it that he'd cannot fathom a world without it.

Perhaps it's a bit like the technology of other worlds, this one included, that so rattle him. It's easy to fear the unknown, after all, and to fixate on just how many ways things can go wrong. His eyes flick back to Lance, watching the tension evident in his muscles as he finally peels his fingers from his palm. Maybe it took him so long to free himself from the compulsion because he has no experience, or perhaps he was overthinking things, as Carlisle himself tends to do. Whatever the reason, he is free now. That's a step in the right direction.]

Good.

[He sets his cup down, his expression softening with concern.]

What were you thinking? Feeling during all that?

[It takes a moment to register that Carlisle is asking questions, mostly because Lance is still focused very inward, but once he does his answer is quick enough.]

That this is easily the most I've ever thought--and strongest I've ever felt--about making tea.

[It's an incredibly weak attempt at a joke, and also surely a transparent way to avoid actually answering the question. He knows that he shouldn't be doing the latter, and that he only is because it's a way to feel in control and stave off some of the defensiveness, but convincing himself to override that urge is completely out of the question at the moment. It can be difficult enough when he's feeling his best, let alone right now.]

I see.

[Carlisle knows an evasive answer when he hears one; he is often that way himself. He gives the doctor second chance.]

Take a moment to gather your thoughts, and then, perhaps, you can answer in some detail. Rest assured that no one ever mastered anything on the first try.

[He offers Lance a slight distraction, now that he is master of his own body once more.]

The first time I ever made tea for myself was after my uncles went missing. I had seen Uncle Boris make it so many times, and I thought, 'Ah, this won't be hard. You just boil the water, then let it cool, then put the leaves in... or is it put the leaves into cold water, then boil it? Or maybe I just leave the water at room temperature and see how it tastes?' It seemed as though it should be easy, and yet, it took me far more practice than I thought it would to get it right, and all because I kept second-guessing myself and how to make it.

[He smiles, his eyes locked on the cup in his hands.] I didn't focus on why the steps would be in a certain order, so fixated on my own failure.

[The reminder that it isn't reasonable to expect to succeed on the first try is appreciated, as is the chance to take a moment and focus on the distraction. The underlying meaning to the story Carlisle tells isn't lost on him, either, and he tries to internalize it; it's difficult not to overthink and second-guess himself, for a lot of reasons, but it doesn't help in this situation. He needs to be focused and determined.

After a few moments he moves closer to the table, taking a seat across from Carlisle and trying to center himself mentally once again. And, although he knows that the story was likely at least partially for his benefit, he still wants to try to help.]

I would imagine you were dealing with a lot at the same time, and that makes even seemingly simple tasks difficult.

[And if it had been after Carlisle's uncles disappeared, it wouldn't be a surprise if stress was affecting him.]

Indeed. I lost my father when I was barely an adult. My uncles were all I had, so when they vanished, I was the only Longinmouth left.

[And as anyone can guess, he's not exactly the best representation of what the family once was. Still, he'd managed to fend for himself for many years, and that had to account for something.]

[Lance nods, gaze shifting to focus on the table top for a moment; he lost his own parents within a few weeks of each other, just after he'd turned twenty-two. It's incredibly difficult, even as an adult, to suddenly be alone.]

I'm sorry.

[He means it, and he would have even if he didn't empathize as strongly as he does.]

How did you eventually figure out the right way to make tea? Was it trial and error, or did it just come to you when you stopped overthinking it?

[Carlisle smiles softly, feeling the genuine sentiment.]

A little of both, admittedly. Once I stopped being angry and damning myself for what was not failure, but a learning experience, it became easier. Many things do, in time.

That's a good way of looking at things.

[And one Lance tries to do himself, although not always with great success. But he resolves to try to do so with this, at least, and takes a deep breath and tries to pull himself together a bit more.]

Okay. I think I feel better.

[Even though he doesn't really offer any elaboration on Carlisle's original question, but that's fine, right? Might as well just move on to round two.]

[Though he notes that continued avoidance, Carlisle doesn't bring it up just yet -- not until he thinks it might be something inhibiting the doctor from doing this adequately.]

If you say so.

[He finishes his cup, setting it aside for the time being.]

Perhaps it would be easier to resist a compulsion that goes against your moral code, whatever it may be. Something that gives you scruples and would therefore be harder for you to justify to yourself.

Edited 2017-11-14 07:14 (UTC)

[Nevermind, he rescinds his previous feeling of 'okay' at that suggestion, because it's immediately a little terrifying. Sure, the logic makes perfect sense, but Lance can't think of anything against his morals that, if he failed to resist the compulsion, wouldn't make him feel guilty for the rest of the foreseeable future.

But maybe he's thinking too drastically, and he tries to take a moment to consider something that he'd normally be against but ultimately wouldn't be horribly upset to end up doing. Of course, that's easier said than done, and it probably isn't helping that he's a little mentally scattered despite his best efforts.]

I'm... I don't, um...

[Words, Lance.]

Although that might be effective, the potential consequences make it a large risk to take, especially as my success before was somewhat limited.

[Nailed it. That certainly didn't sound awkwardly distant or anything; everything's perfectly fine here.]

[Lance's outright hesitation is palpable, especially to someone like Carlisle, who so often feels discomfort creeping up his neck. Potential consequences are a risk, true, but if it's something Lance would not normally do, and something Carlisle himself would be relatively safe handling, it could be the key to helping his pupil recognize just what it is he should be resisting.

Lance wants to help; he's a doctor of some sort, so it comes naturally, perhaps. In the long run, this will help him, and perhaps help others. Swallowing his fears, Carlisle speaks again.]

I won't let anything happen to you, doctor.

[He means that, so gentle with his reassurance. It is soft compared to the command. He braces himself.]

Strike me down.

[Later, Lance will be particularly glad for having thought to shut his gun away in a drawer in a different room, rather than carrying it on him; he can draw, aim, and fire the weapon without a whole lot of thought, and it might've been a tossup whether or not he would've done it before he could think twice about it.

It only would've been questionable, though, because of the way the compulsion comes through to him. There's no feeling of anger or any desire to cause Carlisle any harm, both of which would immediately stand out to him as coming from an outside source, but rather it's a feeling of necessity; there's the underlying, urgent sense that if he doesn't do it, something terrible will happen. It's a feeling of having to resort to self-defense, rather than a proactive choice to want to commit murder.

But being in physical danger still doesn't immediately made Lance choose to react by fighting; sometimes that's the best way to stay alive, and sometimes--as has been the case much more often in his life--it isn't. And he's not even in danger at all as far as he can tell, despite his tension and suddenly rapid heartbeat, so there's no reason to do anything just yet. Not until Carlisle makes some sort of move that convinces him there's absolutely no other choice.

So he fights the urge to act, struggling to stay calm, and then it suddenly snaps into place what's going on. Which... Doesn't help, really, in that the fear-based part of the compulsion doesn't lessen--logically knowing there's no reason for it somehow doesn't have much effect--and he's also now angry on top of it.

But although he lurches to his feet, it isn't to move closer to Carlisle; instead he storms purposefully to the far corner of the kitchen and crosses his arms tightly over his chest, both to make it more difficult to end up reaching for anything potentially dangerous if he loses concentration, and also to provide himself some sense of calm and reassurance. It takes another few seconds before he's sure he has enough control over the compulsion to risk talking, although what he ends up saying is very simple.]

Turn it off.

[So he can properly sort out what part of his desire to kill Carlisle is because of the compulsion and what part is just natural at the moment. Sure, he understands what Carlisle's trying to do, but that doesn't mean he isn't distinctly unhappy about it.]

You're doing well resisting it.

[Carlisle watches from his spot as Lance makes his way to the corner, not budging an inch himself. He probably should have considered the possibility of guns or other weapons, but when one is a competent healer who feels so utterly in control of the situation, it's hard not to feel invulnerable.

But he shouldn't, Carlisle notes, chastising himself inwardly; his influence wanes as he does. That is a dark road, one a man with no qualms of dominating the wills of others would take. This is about the lesson, not the gratification he gets from feeling as though he cannot be touched -- as though, through his own power rather than in the protection of someone else, he is invincible.

He relinquishes his influence over Lance, but it will take a moment for the full effect to pass, as before.]

It's easier to recognize when it isn't something you'd normally do, isn't it? You can feel it lacing through your veins, pulling your muscles like a tight thread. Breaking the strings is harder, but you must know they are there to begin with.

Edited 2017-11-16 07:49 (UTC)

[Lance doesn't immediately respond, both concentrating on making sure he won't act on the compulsion as well as trying to control his emotions; his heart is still pounding, and he's trying to figure out just how angry he is at Carlisle for going ahead and taking such a risk with both of their wellbeing.

So he waits until he's completely sure the compulsion has worn off, glaring a hole in a wall off to the side as he does, before he's finally sure he can speak without risking any sort of loss of control. And although there are a lot of things he could say, and a lot of things he wants to say, he ends up just asking a simple question.]

And what if I hadn't recognized it?

[He heard everything Carlisle said, but he's not going to address it just yet. This feels a lot more important.]

I supposed you'd be trying to strike me down, now wouldn't you?

[Carlisle keeps his eyes on Lance, watching his body language; he sees that anger, well aware he has overstepped his boundaries, but uncertain he'd have made his point quite so thoroughly any other way. He gives the doctor an apologetic look as he tries to swallow the accompanying guilt... along with the ink that wells at the back of his throat.]

I wouldn't still be trying.

[He can't really say it for sure, especially since Lance isn't exactly the best fighter in the world, but he's definitely more capable than people tend to think. And if he'd had his gun on him, it wouldn't have even come to that.

He sees the apologetic look, but is absolutely not ready to forgive this just yet; maybe later, once he's thought about it a bit more, but not while he's exhausted and overstressed and being angry is a lot easier than trying to think calmly and reasonably about things. So instead he makes eye contact but doesn't change expression, now just apparently trying to stare a hole through Carlisle like he had been at the wall.]

Edited 2017-11-17 03:10 (UTC)

[As confident as he had been in his capacity to survive whatever injuries he might have sustained from Lance, Carlisle buckles immediately under the intensity of the stare he receives: though his lips tighten and his shoulders stiffen, his eyes are cast away with all the shame of a child being scolded. His hands fumble with his tabard as he waits for the doctor to fully regain himself; the tabard does nothing to assuage his feelings of ineptitude as a teacher.

As guilty as he feels, Carlisle reminds himself that the far worse end of this endeavor is with the one being dominated. He is the aberration here; it is only through using his abilities to help others that he will be, perhaps, acceptable in the eyes of his goddess. His eyes remain on the floor as he murmurs.]

My apologies, doctor.

[As angry--and everything else--as he is, Lance is still far too empathetic to just ignore that particular expression on Carlisle's face, especially considering the apology. So Lance gives a quiet sigh that's really more an attempt to calm himself further than anything else, and turns his gaze toward the ceiling. Although he doesn't uncross his arms, some of the tension lessens and his tone is softer when he speaks again.]

I understand what you were trying to do, and why. But you can't just put us both in a situation like that, especially when I told you I didn't think it was a good idea.

[And contrary to what some people think, Lance doesn't talk just to hear himself. But all of that said, he looks back at Carlisle once more with a much more neutral expression.]

So just... Don't do it again, and it'll be okay.

[He's still upset, but under that condition he can let it go. He's convinced Carlisle means the apology, and that's more than he usually gets from anyone in general let alone in this place.]

[Carlisle doesn't look at Lance long enough to realize the doctor is no longer staring a hole into him; his eyes remain firm on the ground, as though it might help him escape the scrutiny.]

Sorry, I- at least I suppose you now know wh- what it is you're trying to resist.

[He bites his lip from the inside, swallowing down another spot of ink as it tries to well in his throat.]

Not- not that I didn't think you could hurt me, of course. I was- I was expecting it, but as- as I have mentioned before, I am a healer, and- and I suppose I let that thought get the better of me in my eagerness to, um. Hm.

[Good talk.]

Edited 2017-11-17 04:41 (UTC)

[Lance watches Carlisle as he stumbles through the explanation, noting both his expression and the uncertainty in how he's talking, and although Lance is still upset he really dislikes seeing other people being so as well. Especially in this manner, and especially if it's in any way because of him.

So he takes another deep breath, briefly trying to figure out both what to say and how separate his emotions from the topic enough to do so in the way he wants to.]

Finding the right balance of confidence isn't easy, and there was no real harm done. So it's a learning experience.

[For both of them, in a few senses. Carlisle isn't wrong in that Lance has a better idea of what the compulsion feels like, although--in the same issue of confidence, just on the low end of it--Lance is also not sure he's recognizing it as well as he should be, rather than just noticing inconsistencies in logic.]

Indeed.

[Though relieved Lance doesn't seem too angry with him -- not frothing at the mouth or telling him to leave just yet, at any rate -- Carlisle still fights his own apprehension as it mingles with shame in his gut. It's not an uncommon feeling for him, unfortunately.]

Whenever you are ready, perhaps we could try a d- different approach, if you have any suggestions.

XOqNI

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