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]

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[tongueamok]

[Less benevolent and more desperate deities, then. The gods of other worlds are so different than his own that he can't help his curiosity, want to learn about them and see how they compare to his goddess. It will wait, though. For now, he nods, and after a moment of careful consideration on exactly where he should place his hands upon the king's knee, he gets to work.

The first sensation Regis might feel is only a slight stinging as Carlisle closes his eyes and expels only the barest amount of his energy, trying to feel for the wound from the inside using his channel alone. It trickles in like the beginnings of stream, the channel bumping against both muscle and bone, rippling back against itself as it finds something amiss. Carlisle's brow knits: there is magical residue there indeed, something that taints the wound just enough that the clergyman can sense it. It could have been left there from a spell gone wrong; it could have become trapped there as magic cycled through the king at some point. However, Carlisle suspects that Regis is right, and that siphoning from that Crystal of his left such a deposit there; it then festered much like a physical wound, drawing in excess energy with every subsequent use of magic, eating away at both it and the kings' physical frame without his ever knowing. It will need to be cleansed.

The stinging intensifies as he prods further, invisible tendrils seeping into Regis' body, faster as they delve ever inward. A normal man would only feel an almost electric stinging, but someone with magical ability is generally more attuned to the sensation of energy flowing through them, and thus, Regis may be able to pick up on the way what energy is pouring into him from Carlisle's palms flows into his chest, down through his limbs as the clergyman uses his own magic to scan for further injuries. Carlisle's brow hardens but, finding nothing particularly of note, the energy recedes, pulling itself back to the wounded knee.

With a quick breath to steady himself, Carlisle works on mending the root of the problem, and what had simply been a fevered pulse amplifies to a white-hot searing, something akin to fire in the veins. Carlisle's fingers curl, his nose wrinkling as he grits his teeth and focuses his channel, using it to flush out the dregs of old magic that prey upon Regis' wound, eating away at him. It takes nearly a full minute, but he finally relents, the decaying magic washed away so that he can continue his work.

With that healed, he redirects his channel again, this time honing in on the scar and what damage lies behind it. Muscles have long-since healed over, but with the right coaxing, such scars can be undone, forced to repair themselves in the correct way. However, it took more out of Carlisle than he thought it would to oust that remnant of magic -- he will do what he can for the aged injury. Getting Regis walking again is within his reach, easily -- if he wants the limb fully mended, Carlisle will have to come back for a second pass at it once he has recovered himself.

But for now, 'get him walking' is the goal, and that is absolutely doable. That fiery searing intensifies again, focusing now on the muscles and bone, old tissues being compelled to rend themselves from their places to move back into the correct ones. As one can expect, that part is probably unpleasant for just about anyone.

Carlisle finally pulls his hands away, gasping, stifling a series of coughs. The scar is still there, as is some of the damaged tissue behind it, but Regis ought to be feeling better than he has in years... well, save for all that burning and pain he just went through to get to that point.]

[kingslight]

[A faint hiss escapes Regis once the stinging intensifies. No stranger to pain and certainly accustomed to agony, Regis could feel the healer's magic seep deep within his flesh in a valiant attempt to draw out the impurities of his wound. It hurts quite a bit. The old king is slightly taken back by the agony and it shows upon his aged face. His brow is knitted together in discomfort and his lips sullen downward into a mighty frown.

The slight jolt of energy that flows into him from Carlisle's hands causes the king to recline some in worry. This is the first time he relied on such foreign magic and Regis is on edge. His mana flares subconsciously in warning to the invading entity that lingers within giving Regis the faintest hint of light around him. His magical aura always been quite white and airy, much like celestial glimmer of the moon. While he knows Carlisle means no harm, Regis is still on edge. He's had one too many attempts at his life not to be wary.

Once the remnant of the Crystal's malady is cleansed from him, Regis drops his guard at last and sighs. A wave of relief rushes through the elderly king once the worst of this session is done. He gives Carlisle a rare smile, a token of his sincere appreciation. However, that quickly changes once the healer starts mending the flesh and bone itself. A sharp hiss of discomfort escapes Regis once he feels every nerve and muscle being meticulously mended into place. He sighs deeply and leans against the cushions of the couch more as he forces his eyes closed.

It hurts that damn much!

Once all is said and done, Regis is jolted out his reprieve when Carlisle starts coughing a little. It's a choking sound that catches Regis off guard. His hand rests upon the healer's shoulder out of worry. While he's ignorant as of how this kind of healing technique works, Regis is worried for Carlisle's health. He knows that healing the wounds of others can be a tad difficult at best.]

[tongueamok]

[Carlisle holds up a hand as Regis places one on his shoulder, a gesture to signal that he's all right -- he just needs a moment. When given a brief reprieve from his hacking -- it does indeed sound more on the choking end than a simple tickle in his throat -- he rasps out a few words.]

Try it out. [His fingers curl, and he wonders if he should go for the empty jar, or the tea first.] Couldn't fully repair it at the moment, but— [probably the jar] —I can come back another day, if that is not adequate. Old wounds take a bit more energy to mend.

[kingslight]

[Regis eases his hand off of Carlisle's shoulder hesitantly. It seems that the healer is anything other than "fine" but Regis won't coddle him. He gives the young man a skeptical look before glancing back at his leg.]

The pain is no longer there. [The old king mutters as he rubs his fingers along his knee.] Even for partly healed, I must say I'm somewhat impressed.

[After a few stretches here and there, Regis rolls down his pants leg and attempts to stand. There's no immediate pain or any indication of that awful limp from earlier. For the first timr in a long time, Regis Lucis Caelum stands tall.]

[tongueamok]

[Despite his coughing, Carlisle smiles at that response, reveling in the results of his craft.]

I suppose I'll call that a success, then. I'm frankly surprised you were able to tolerate the wound at all, given what a mess it was.

[He stifles another cough and, despite his earlier inclination, goes for the tea, downing it all in one go. Better to get it into his system and dulling the stiffness that overtakes his joints before the ink starts coming up.]