XOqNI

[tongueamok]

Hello, this is Carlisle. I mean, it's not Carlisle as in I'm actually answering you right now, so if you're trying to reply to me at the second, you should probably save your breath because I'm not really here. This is some kind of a recording of my voice, but this is my communicator. I'm going to assume these devices are as common here as they are in other places — not my world, but others, ones more technologically advanced than where I come from— so if you'd like to leave me a message, then you may do so here, or er... Right. Here is fine. So just leave yo— [beep]

Comments

[tongueamok]

[As it turns out, Carlisle is home -- he's just not up and about. After Kate left and he replied here and there on the network (because she insisted he do so at some point), Carlisle had promptly crashed on the couch in a manner most unbecoming for a man of his profession. Of course, most clergymen wouldn't have been drinking copious amounts of alcohol either, but given his frustration over his inability to properly draw glyphs, he couldn't be bothered to care.

He's not fully visible from the window, but if Shadow looks carefully, he can see the lanky cleric's foot hanging off one end of the sofa, his arm outstretched over the other end.]

[tongueamok]

[Not even mild intoxication (relatively mild for him, which means probably enough to get the average person absolutely plastered) can unwind his ingrained nerves. As Shadow pulls him onto his side, Carlisle jerks suddenly, using his hand to push himself upright... or he would have done that had his hand not been off the edge of the couch. As it is, he has nothing to push against, loses his balance, fails to catch himself with his free hand, and goes tumbling off the side of the seat. He scrapes the edge of the coffee table on the way down and hits the floor with a thud.

The aforementioned intoxication apparently isn't dulling the pain much either, as he groans loudly once he's on the floor. He fumbles for his glasses, pushing them back onto his nose before resuming his face-down position. While not the perfect picture of a drunkard, he is definitely more disheveled than he usually is, his hair sticking up at all angles, his tabard hanging by the door, his jacket partially unbuttoned.

It might take him a second, Shadow. Give him some time.]

[tongueamok]

I'm aware.

[He finally lifts his head up a second later, a delayed reaction. His eyes narrow as they hit Shadow.]

Ah. Are you a hallucination, or are you real? Because I can think of less pleasant things to torment me.

[tongueamok]

In a sense.

[He peels himself off the floor, still sitting on it as he leans against the couch and runs a hand through his hair. His eyes trail to the door.]

How... how did you get in here?

[tongueamok]

Ah. A hallucination, then.

[Also said seriously. He pushes his fingers behind his glasses and rubs at his eyes.]

And what do you want, oh figment?

[tongueamok]

Goodness, aren't you demanding?

[He chuckles to himself. Yeah, he's definitely still foggy.]

She makes them. I just provide the 'healing' part.

[tongueamok]

[He pushes a breath through his nose in a huff. Kate and Shadow both, both of them wanting to know how things work and demanding explanations. With the beginnings of a wicked headache welling behind his eyes, he mutters out an answer.]

You'd have to ask her how they work. I'm a healer, not an enchanter. All I do is channel into them, like I channeled into you. You do remember that, don't you?

[tongueamok]

They're safe enough. We must've tested them a dozen times.

[Or more. He lost count. He uses the couch to help him to his feet.]

So long as you're not smashing them against rocks or trying to heal a missing limb with them, they're fine. You'd need an actual healer for something like that, but they're good for minor injuries. Saves people a trip up the Spire to see me.

[And saves him from having to deal with said people.]

[tongueamok]

I'm aware.

[Said with all the venom of a man who knows well enough he isn't as useful as he'd like to be.]

[tongueamok]

No. Kate probably has some next door, if you want to over and ask. She was just here a while ago.

[tongueamok]

[He stiffens with annoyance, but manages his temper with a deep breath, in and out, and sinks onto the couch, looking at the papers that litter the coffee table. They're all covered in runes, symbols painted with ink, names scribbled beside them. Some pages are clearly practice sheets with the same rune drawn over and over.]

Healing is a complex and difficult craft. It's not like glyphcrafting that practically anyone can do.

[He lets out a sigh, his tone sinking.] And the hardest parts can't be taught. You either have talent, or you don't, and if you don't, you're better off finding something you can be good at.

[tongueamok]

I couldn't tell you. I suppose it's a matter of seeing them do it and thinking, 'Ah, how nice it is that what I have studied for years came so easily to them.' Not the healing, obviously, but glyphcrafting. I'm good at the former, and not so much at the latter.

[He pulls some of the papers off the table, flipping through them before tossing them aside. His despondence over them is probably why he's been drinking.]