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[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]

[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.]

[tongueamok]

[Carlisle just narrows his eyes at Sans' display, as nothing he's doing is making him feel any better about this, nor is it providing him with the answers he's looking for.]

... Right. At least if this glyph goes horribly wrong, neither of us will end up dead. Probably.

[He gestures to one of the little arches on the paper that leads off the main circle.]

What you'll do is just put your hand here, and the glyph will do the rest. Ideally, the glass fixes itself. Not-so-ideally, it either doesn't do anything or it explodes from too much energy being drawn into it all at once.

[Hence the 'probably.']

[skelebro]

So it ain't just healing. It's...fixing. Puttin' back together what's been undone.

[For the first time, Sans sounds interested rather than simply lazily amused. It's an intriguing aspect. He'd been figuring it was something rooted in the organic or the magical - something utterly dependent on the knitting together of fibers or blood vessels or the magical fabric that comprises a monster's whole being.

A glyph drawn, and then you channel your energy. Makes sense.

Sans complies, reaching to place his hand on the location designated. He pauses, phalanges hovering an inch or so above the paper.]

Is it somethin' that feeds off my energy naturally, or am I channeling something?

[tongueamok]

With glyphcrafting, it happens automatically once you put your hands on the contact point.

[He trails his finger along the minuscule symbols drawn between the two main circles.]

Normally, a glyph will only pull how much energy is required to activate and complete its task, but as this is a test, I have inscribed it to pull from you until the glass is fixed. If your magic is compatible with that of my world, it should take only a minimal amount, at best, to mend it. And if nothing happens, then I guess at least I didn't waste any time writing a lesson plan.

And if you're very compatible, or you don't know how to cut off the flow of your own energy, I'm expecting the glass will be too fixed. If it starts glowing white hot, I recommend you pull your hands off the glyph and duck.

[skelebro]

[He doubts bein' too compatible will be an issue, frankly. 1 HP don't give you a lotta room for buffer. He's got a bit of a buffer thanks to all the naps he takes, but that don't last forever, and he has to "recharge," so to speak, frequently.

If it goes all pear-shaped and he dissolves into dust on the spot, well - Carlisle did warn him and all. Decent of him.

Sans closes the gap, settling his hand down on the paper. For a moment, there's only stillness. Then there's a minute shiver and - hey now, it feels kinda like throwin' up a line of bones. Only instead of thrusting out an attack fully materialized, it's like watchin' it build itself up piece by piece. It's the same way green magic works, in principle, but simply released via another mechanism.

Like opening a door.

His HP goes untouched. He's got plenty of magic to accommodate the fixing required, and it don't hurt. It hums the way magic does when it's being actively used, but that's something he can well tolerate.

The glass starts to piece itself together.]

I thought I hit this back! My bad!

[tongueamok]

[And together it goes after a moment, melding back together as though it'd never been broken at all. Carlisle nods, seeming pleased.]

Good. Good good good. And you're not dead after all, so I suppose we can call that a, ah.

[And then the glass starts glowing along the cracks that had just been fixed, extraneous magic starting to seep through them. That's likely what he meant by it being 'too fixed.']

no problem!

[skelebro]

[Whoop. He withdraws his phalanges from the glyph. Won't do to come across as somebody with an excess of magic - ain't very true, for one, and for another, it completely screws over the picture of a lazy, profoundly unmotivated skeleton that he works very hard to maintain.]

All right-y. Guess now we know to cut that flow off before it gets to be too much of a pane.

[tongueamok]

[He would laugh at that wordplay, but for the moment, he just gives Sans a This is serious, lad look.]

Probably comes from being made of magic. These kinds of glyphs aren't really written for beings who are made entirely of the stuff.

[The ink on the paper starts to bubble, evaporating away with the excess energy. Carlisle doesn't seem terribly concerned -- that part must be normal.]

[skelebro]

Do you gotta have natural magic to make it work at all?

[That ink sure is reacting to the aftereffects of it, though from the way Carlisle just up and lets it happen, Sans can only assume that it ain't much to worry about. He plants an elbow on the counter, heel of his palm rising to meet the rounded edge of his skull that constitutes a chin.]

[tongueamok]

[He slides into the next seat over, moving the glass off the paper once the ink is completely gone.]

Yes, actually. There are loads of people where I come from who are excellent glyphcrafters, but haven't any magic in their blood to actually activate them.

[skelebro]

[Yeah, he's gonna assume that's normal.]

Interesting. And the ink is...a conduit, I'm guessin'?

[The visual representation - once the glyph is used up, it fades out. Makes sense, don't it? And now he's gotta wonder if it's somethin' that has to be readily definable as "magic" - or if it can be somethin' else.]

[tongueamok]

That's right. Where you put your fingers is the contact point, and what magic is pulled into the glyph is drawn from there. Obviously, the bigger the glyph, the bigger the contact point must be, and some require multiple contacts for multiple people.

[But that's when things start getting really complicated.]

[skelebro]

Not a bad setup.

[Not as simple as the way monsters can pull the magic out from their SOULs and fingertips, but he was never real great at that anyway. An alternate method ain't so terrible, in that case.]

I'd, uh, be interested in learning more, if that's not too much trouble.

[tongueamok]

Well, I suppose since the magic of my world is indeed compatible with that of your world, I could set up some lessons. Teaching one to channel magic specifically for healing starts with the same premise as glyphcrafting. It just gets dangerous after that, but... since you seem adept enough with the flow of your own energy, it should be all right.

[Should be.]

[skelebro]

Yeah, I figure as much.

["It should be all right" is one of those phrases that goes up on a famous last words tombstone, but...eh, it'll probably be fine.

And then Sans laughs, 'cause nothin' says "lightening the mood" like a quip about human law systems.]

Don't worry. I won't hold you liable for any screw-ups on my end.

[tongueamok]

You say that now, but if something goes wrong while you're trying to heal someone, I won't be the only one who'll have a bone to pick with you.

[He slides off the chair and gathers up his papers.]

Regardless, I'll come up with some plans for lessons. Don't expect to learn everything all at once.

[skelebro]

That so?

[It's forgivable, maybe, that Carlisle don't quite know just how much Sans bases his system of morality on accountability. And if nothing else, he's gonna hold himself accountable.

Sans scrapes his stool back and crams his hands in his pockets, winking.]

Yeah, yeah, all right. I'll pace myself.

[tongueamok]

Everyone says that. Even I did when I first started.

[But perhaps Sans will heed his advice. He tucks his things away into his bag.]

I'll alert you when I'm ready to start lessons, if that's all right. I cannot say I'm the best teacher for this.

[skelebro]

You're teachin' me. That's enough.

[He's got no call to believe Sans, and that's fine. But he weren't lying. There's nothing appealing in rushing things whatsoever. Now a certain determined little kid, on the other hand...

Well, that's for another time.]

[tongueamok]

I'll try not to leave you too disappointed.

[At least, unlike with Emily and glyphcrafting, it won't be someone inadequate teaching someone who has much more of a natural talent for such things, to the point where she surpasses him in a week. He gives Sans a nod and departs for now -- time to write up some lesson plans and hope this isn't just one more thing he's a failure at.]