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

[voice]

[skelebro]

I'm lookin' to learn more about it, tibia'nest

[See? A joke. Everybody likes jokes. They really lighten the mood, right? Right?]

[voice]

[tongueamok]

[He does like wordplay. The other part, however...]

I don't teach.

[He's placing his bets on Kate having said he would. She was trying to get him to do some lectures at the clinic. He agreed to one, Kate. ONE LECTURE.]

[voice]

[skelebro]

Don't, or won't?

['Cause that's some pretty handy info he's withholding from damn near everyone else if the latter happens to be true. Just puttin' that out there.]

[voice]

[tongueamok]

[A pause. He knows what Sans is getting at.]

It doesn't matter, now does it? Either way, I'm not doing it. There are other magical healers in the city you can ask for such things. Have you tried that green fellow?

[voice]

[skelebro]

I ain't askin' to be healed.

[For one, that'd be a pretty useless skill to apply to a guy with 1 HP.]

Monsters? We're made of magic. Gotta natural talent for it and everything. It'd just be real nice if I could figure somethin' useful outta it.

[voice]

[tongueamok]

[Another pause as he tries to stifle that urge to cave to his natural sense of curiosity involving magic, especially in how it may be adapted in other worlds.]

Right. So you've said, I believe.

[Not caving.]

Look, lad. Healing is a difficult craft that requires a lot of control over one's energies, and if you're literally made from those energies, it could either go fairly well, or horribly wrong in a matter of seconds. I'm not looking to be responsible for if you suddenly disintegrate.

[That's not a yes. He's not caving.]

[voice]

[skelebro]

Buddy, I could literally disintegrate if I get a pillow thrown at me.

[His tone is flat. That's actually nearly happened, multiple times. 1 HP don't leave you with a whole lotta integrity, it turns out. One trip on a faulty step, one day when his reflexes don't snap out quite as quick, and he's dust.

Not that he really shares this information with the world at large. But the kid that killed him already knows it, and so do his former roomies. So really, what's he got left to lose?]

You can't break somethin' that's already non-divisible. You dig?

[voice]

[tongueamok]

You're not exactly inspiring confidence that you should learn the art of healing, lad.

[He lets out a long-suffering sigh. NOT CAVING.]

Why is it you're suddenly interested in this? Because if you're looking to accommodate for your own frailties, I can tell you now it won't help. You'd be better off picking up some of those trinkets from the clinic.

[voice]

[skelebro]

Thanks, pal, but that ain't why I'm askin'.

[Like he said, it's non-divisible. The only thing that'll up that pitiful allocation of HP is LOVE, and he ain't goin' that route if he can help it.]

I'm not much of a fighter, but plenty of people I know are. My bro gets himself in a scrape, and I can't do a thing to help him out.

[Not that he's really a confrontational sort, but he sure as hell wants somethin' outta this conversation.]

I'd kinda like to fix that.

[voice]

[tongueamok]

[Oh, it's... a family issue. There's another kind of quiet sigh on his end, one more timid, as though he's a little embarrassed he asked at all. As someone who has lost everyone in his family line, he can't help that Sans' reasoning stirs him.

Well, assuming he actually has a brother. Sans has mentioned him once before, as well.]

Is... is he a skeleton too?

[voice]

[skelebro]

Papyrus? Yeah.

[His tone lightens marginally. His brother tends to bring out the only good parts of him, and even with the gravity of the situation and his own recent history - can't help but soften his smile a bit.]

Best brother ever. Way better than me.

[voice]

[tongueamok]

I believed you mentioned that before, as well. That he's the nice one of the two of you.

[He's not soft, he reminds himself. He's not caving. He just... doesn't feel like watching someone deal with the crippling despair that is losing one's family.]

I suppose we could at least see if you're even capable of learning such a craft. Test it with a glyph or something and see if that wears you out.

[... Okay, so maybe he's caving a little.]

You said you're made of it, but do you have any experience with using magic yourself?

[voice]

[skelebro]

[Sans, for his part, chuckles. Still, interesting that the mention of family is what causes Carlisle to hear him out. He files that one away.

Always good to know.]

'Course. Monsters use magic for just about everything. Cooking, for one.

[voice]

[tongueamok]

I do not want to know what kind of horrible things magical skeletons eat.

[Probably the magical flesh of magical living people. This is a terrible idea.]

Would you rather I bring a glyph by now to see how well this might go, or do it later? I'd rather not prepare for a lesson only to find that this will absolutely kill you in the process.

[Which he is still sure is a thing that can happen.]

[voice]

[skelebro]

Hot dogs. We eat hot dogs. Spaghetti, if my bro ever figures out how to make it edible.

[Sans has the good grace to sound reasonably offended at the idea. Why, what'd Carlisle think they eat?

He probably don't wanna know.]

Suppose I could scrape a little time outta my daily nap to scope things out now.

[voice]

[tongueamok]

[He said he didn't want to know. WHY DOES NO ONE LISTEN TO HIM.]

Fine. I'll bring something by the, er.

[No, not the library. The aforementioned green fellow is usually there, and he seems like a pest.]

The bar, if that's convenient.

[He's going to need a drink.]

[voice]

[skelebro]

[Library's probably not the best bet, no. Sometimes kids end up in there. But, uh, speakin' of which...

Maybe some kids would like to know a thing or two about healing magic.

He'll keep it in mind.]

Sure thing. I can even bring you a hot dog.

[voice]

[tongueamok]

[He has no idea what a "hot dog" is or why anyone would want to consume it, and that hesitant, disgusted noise he makes says as much.]

I'll pass.

[Hanging up now. He's positive he's gonna have a bad time.]

[action]

[skelebro]

[Magic and grease, mostly. But what's not to like? Even Papyrus enjoyed 'em, and he detests most things grease-based purely on principle.

True to Sans's word, he's at the bar in a few minutes. Blips himself right on over, perched on a stool and swigging what appears to be mustard right outta the bottle.

There's even a hot dog on a plate. It's completely unobjectionable, Carlisle, really.]

[tongueamok]

[For a tiny skeleton with short legs, Sans does certainly move fast. Carlisle wasn't even far from the bar, and he already had a few easy glyphs made up, and yet he wasn't the first to arrive.

No matter. He smooths his hair, straightens his tabard, and makes his way over, his eyes flicking to the plate only once before they're back on his proposed pupil. Despite him jokes and relatively harmless appearance, Carlisle is still clearly riddled with his own nerves.]

Good. You're here. You did, ah. Show up after all.

[Yep. This is a thing he agreed to.]

[skelebro]

[Well, he did wanna know about that whole magic deal, didn't he? Shortcuts ain't exactly the most conventional magic out there, but they'll do in a pinch.]

Sure I did. We made a date, remember?

[He takes a sip from his bottle of mustard - somehow without opening his mouth - and offers the bottle to Carlisle with a grin.]

You wanna sip? Stuff's Dijon.

[tongueamok]

[Carlisle may come from a world without things like Dijon mustard, but he knows enough about it to recognize it's a condiment, not a drink. His nose wrinkles as he is indeed reassured that he does not want to know any more about what magical skeletons eat.]

Right, [just going to move right along and pretend that that's not happening a few inches from him,] glyphs. I've brought brought a few of varying strengths, but seeing how you at least know a thing or two about magic, I assume you will know what it feels like when you use it. Energies tugging and such.

[He reaches into his satchel and retrieves a few pieces of paper with some odd circles and crude symbols. His handwriting leaves something to be desired.]

Do you have healing magic where you're from? Or any kind of mending, really?

[skelebro]

[Well, hey, willful denial is just as valid a reaction to Sans as anything. He's lightening the mood somewhat, but if Carlisle prefers to stick to business, that's fine too.

Glyph-based stuff is entirely outside his wheelhouse, but that don't mean he can't learn. Somethin' to be said for imaging and the like, but most monsters produce the kind stuff they have natural. Energies tugging sounds a pretty obscure way to describe it.]

Sure. We got green magic - good for healing and defense and the like. Just never learned much about it myself. For monsters, magic's about as natural as breathing. [Or, uh, whatever the equivalent is for a monster lacking lungs. But, y'know. Details.]

[tongueamok]

[He's never heard of "green magic," unless that's an odd, otherworldly way of speaking of the earthen element, but he supposes that if he's going to teach this magical skeleton how to heal, there are going to be a lot of discrepancies.]

The natural acquisition of magic does not necessarily translate into control, but I suppose that comes next.

[After setting one of his pieces of paper atop the counter, he rounds it to the other side and grabs a glass. After a second of hesitation, he hits it on the countertop, leaving a sharp crack all the way down it and a huge chunk shattered from its side. He uses one of his other sheets to sweep the pieces onto the glyph on the paper.]

Can you control how much magic you expel, Sans? Or does it constantly flow through you like blood?

[skelebro]

Yes.

[A flatly, decidedly unhelpful response as he watches Carlisle mete out some misplaced sense of justice upon a poor, defenseless glass. A second later, he inclines his skull faintly as he elaborates.]

Both, essentially.

[He opens his phalanges, and a small collection of knucklebones form in the air, hovering there harmlessly before they dissipate.]