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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]

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.]

[tongueamok]

It depends on the glyph. Evocation, illusion, abjuration. I was practicing that last one. A minor Glyph of Warding.

[He should probably learn to be specific, though to be fair, he would likely be so if he wasn't fighting a headache.

It's his turn for a question.]

Why is it you ask? You are capable of apparition, something I've seen no Forest Folk do. Why does simple glyphcrafting even interest you? Or healing, for that matter, now that these trinkets are readily available?

[tongueamok]

You didn't even— [He cuts himself off, bewildered.] I mean, you're a Forest Folk. You're a talk hedgehog! How can you not know that?

[tongueamok]

You're a talking animal. That's Forest Folk. And they're all about your size. Wear more clothes, though. Why don't you wear pants like the rest of them?

[tongueamok]

Well neither are most of the humans here, but we all still go by 'human,' now don't we!?

[Why is he yelling? Why are they yelling? His head hurts. Stop yelling.]

[tongueamok]

[Oh yeah. The 'ultimate life form.' That was what Kate had called him, wasn't it? And he'd laughed at the time, because the idea of a Forest Folk as the 'ultimate life form' is just hilarious.

Oh dear. He's laughing again, right now. It starts low in the back of his throat, an unfamiliar rumbling rattling through his chest, and then explodes. So much for wanting quiet to combat his headache.]

[tongueamok]

[Yep, he is indeed laughing at him. He keeps going only for a moment longer, the laughter dying down in his chest. He rubs at it, as though it was a painful experience.]

My apologies, Shadow. Truly. Forest Folk are barely capable of magic where I come from, so to think of one as the 'ultimate life form' is a laughable idea. But of all people, I should know better than to judge by one's appearance. Surprises often come from the most unassuming of places.