deernet | voice | un: karma

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voice | un: karma

My name is Nehan-- I'm researching how medicine works here, and how to merge it with the methods I'm used to. If my research goes well, for instance, I will be able to act as a doctor and pharmacist, among other roles found here.

To that end, I'm requesting samples of blood from fellow Sleepers. I understand it can be quite personal, so whoever does not want to do that need not respond. Those who do, so I can perform the phlebotomy myself, and can privately send you my address, and answer questions you may have.

Whoever wants to help but doesn't want a needle in their arm, I still have a job for you, if anyone is interested.

[very straight to the point, almost unwelcomingly so. but at least people know what they're getting into if they decide to deal with him?]

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I am. [though nehan is in no hurry to get off of his chair. despite it being old, it's comfortable.]

But if you want to keep to business, my professional name would be Karma. [like the username.]

Karma. [He echoes it like he's tasting the name. Might even be, to put it in memory.] Just so. I do not have a use-name for this purpose, [blood donor,] so you may call me what you will.

[Or nothing at all, he's not fussed.] What do you wish me to do?

[so. all he can do is call this man "the darkblood". fortunately, even if nehan gets more darkblood assistants, he wont get confused because he wont be so scatterbrained or forgetful.

perhaps he'll just call him "Darkblood #1" for simplicity's sake-- and for his files.

the erune pushes himself up into a standing position, leaning his weight on the crutch strapped to his right arm.]

I have a backyard we can do this in. [because if they do it inside... well, it might ruin something and possibly force nehan to move.

he beckons with his right hand, before opening the front door.]

["Darkblood #1" wouldn't be the worst name Illarion's answered to; it's downright kind, compared to some of them.

He nods once at Nehan's instruction, heading toward the sound of the opening door--and only pausing once to give a birdlike twitch of his head before he starts carefully up the stairs.]

And I have brought extra incense, if you need. [This little bloodletting shouldn't be a problem, but it was better to be safe than sorry where it came to corruption and roaming beasts.]

Feel free to set it up outside. [nehan waves a hand towards the back door, almost exactly across from the front door.]

I just have to get my tools from the kitchen.

This, I will do. [Illarion turns in--roughly--the direction indicated, then crosses to the door with an odd gingerness. He puts out a hand to feel for the handle, finds it, and eases the door open as quietly as can be managed.

He shuts it as solicitously behind him, rather than let it slam.

Once outside, he unslings the pack he's carrying from his back and removes--a Lamp Friend, placing it on his shoulder before digging out a small tripod and an incense bowl. It takes a moment of hunting to find the right place--a back corner--and fill the latter with incense, but within short order he has it smoldering away and perfuming the air of the backyard.

Having suitably warded the place, he gently pries the Lamp Friend from around his neck, tucks it back in the bag, shoulders it, and settles into a corpse-still parade rest to await Nehan. The whole process takes three minutes, at most.]

[nehan takes less than three minutes to fetch what he needs, most of his tools in a bag, and the rest separate in another box, all in relatively the same area and within easy reach. he's a fastidious man out of need, and sees no need to break old habits when they still serve him well.

everything slung over his right shoulder as he ventures out, he wrinkles his nose at the smell. but he supposes it would have been worse if he were infected, and whatnot. he has to wonder though, if he can make incense that doesn't stink to his nose, yet still does what it's meant to do... a thought for later.

but, seeing as the man is still working, nehan waits until he's done.]

Are you ready?

[The particular blend Illarion's brought with him is nose-blinding but at least inoffensive to his own--oddly functioning--sense of smell. Whether there was something that would work to ward off beasts that didn't also ward off anyone with a beast's ability to scent their prey was also an open question of his.

But for now, protection dominates.

He turns his head toward the sound of Nehan's voice.]

One moment. [He skins the glove off his left hand, transferring it to a pocket, then unbuttons the cuff of his fatigues and rolls the sleeve up past his elbow to expose the veins there.] Now, I am.

How will you do this? [Ah, there, his curiosity finally unburied itself from beneath mechanistic order-following.]

[nehan's yard is bare save for some cobblestone that were once a path, everything else had been cleared out long before the erune moved in, not even plants live here. he's annoyed by that, because he would have liked to grow some to make his life easier, but the land is infertile, he knows nothing will grow.

for now, the fact that it's barren is a boon, because he can drop blood onto it and not worry about ruining plants. after rolling up his sleeves and strapping on sterile gloves and a face mask, nehan places a basin at his feet to catch any stray blood, draws a gleaming scalpel from his tool bag, and beckons the man to come to him.]

Stand here, right before me, and offer up the arm you're willing to have cut.

I also have to warn you, blood magic fights me sometimes because of my elemental affinity, so this may be difficult for both of us.

[He steps over to Nehan with the same hesitancy he showed inside, actually halting with a foot in the air as he gets near the bowl. It takes an awkward little shuffle before he's standing before the Erune with his left arm held out and mostly over the catch-basin.]

Ah? If you do not wish the practice, I have done the spell to congeal my blood before. [Otherwise, the notion of it being "difficult" doesn't seem to bother him. A physician--a Blood Minister--would need to know how to draw Darkblood; it's better Karma get that practice on someone who feels minimal discomfort (and no instinctive distress over it).

Illarion makes a fist of his hand, putting the veins in the crook of his arm in better relief. They're still noticeably sunken.] By way of trade, I will warn you my blood does not flow so strongly, even congealed.

What element, and how are you aligned to it? [Were there worlds where one could be devoted to an element as one's Prince?

Probably not that.]

[too many comments, so little time. nehan may be more focused than many other people, but even he would prefer to have a more simple conversation, especially over a procedure like this.]

Later. [but even as he grips his blade a little tighter, ready to draw blood, it gains a little tint of sunshine yellow, enough that any other person would just think it a trick of the light.

he prods the veins with a gloved hand, clicking his tongue. they're still sunken, and that's going to be difficult to draw from.]

You're dehydrated, aren't you?

[Later it was. Illarion dismisses his own curiosity with a roll of one shoulder--his right--and returns his focus to being a good blood donor.

As good a one as he can be, given--]

I am dead. [Worse than dehydrated.] By rights, I should not have blood at all.

[But all Sleepers did, thus so did he.]

[the erune snorts, as if he's not talking to an undead person. by all accounts, this is not the first dead person walking he's interacted with.] That would do it.

[so, to do this, nehan needs both hands to force the matter. with his left arm, forcing it to move the way he wants it to despite the weakness he still feels in his muscles, and gives the arm a few good pinches to locate the veins better, while his right hand raises the scalpel.

the incantation of the blood magic needed is spoken softly, his soft voice even lower, as he cuts a wound deep enough to draw that blood.]

[No better bedside manner Illarion could think of from one of the living than total acceptance. One corner of his mouth curls up in a smile that doesn't dim even as Nehan digs in with the scalpel.

He can feel the pain of it, dimly, but it's just another (precious) sensation without the fear most living felt of being hurt. Stranger is the sensation of actually bleeding; Darkblood wells up, thick and sluggish, conjured by the injury and forced into liquid form by blood magic. It's not flowing fast, but it is flowing.

So far, so good. Illarion tightens his fist, for what little it increases the rate of bleeding.]

Nothing strange yet? [he mutters; he couldn't see it, if there was.]

[nehan has to be quick to work, especially when he has little time for the blood to be viable and not tainted by anything. he immediately pulls out a small, thin glass vial from his coat with his left hand and yanks the cork out with his teeth, putting it right against the man's wound and pressing against it to extract as much blood as he can. he keeps up with the incantation, because anything already falling through the air into the basin below is not viable.

he wont be able to talk until the vial is filled, and it's only when he has pulled the cork from his teeth and sealed the glass container does he manage.]

This is fine.

[As soon as Nehan stops the spell, the blood still flowing from the wound sublimates into so much glitter. Illarion keeps his arm extended for the moment, head canted a little to one side. The effort that went into that is obvious even to a blind man, but he hasn't worked out yet how to verbally appreciate it without seeming crass or patronizing.

So maybe he doesn't, at all, and simply tries to be a more compliant subject.]

Well enough. Will you need more than that?

[Another vial would hardly be unsafe for him to give. He's not even sure what his limit might be (and considers, fleetingly, that it might be fun to find out).]

This is fine for now. Any more, and I'd be at more risk.

[as he says that, he cleans up both the scalpel and vial, and drops the paper towel into the basin with the blood in it. tucking his tools away, nehan draws a match, holds his face away, and raises his eyebrow at the man before him in warning.

because he's already lighting that match and dropping it into the basin to burn its contents.

in a corner of the yard, unseen by nehan but unnoticed with the way his ears turn towards it, a wolf is suddenly sitting, alert and watching them.]

Edited 2021-11-09 09:17 (UTC)

[Of course, there is blood pollution to consider. Illarion nods at the wisdom of this--and takes a hasty step back at the sound of the match. Darkblood's not particularly incendiary as-is, but fire is as terrible for the undead as the living and he wants no part of it, thank you.

His attention snaps toward the ((feel)) of an Omen at the periphery of his senses.]

Something is the matter? [he addresses the creature directly.] Or you are merely cautious?

Don't mind him, he comes when he likes. [with a kick, nehan upends the basin when the fire has consumed the blood and paper and smothers it against the dirt ground, to snuff it out before it tries to eat anymore.]

He's like a pet rather than a guardian.

[This gets a hmph out of Illarion, a noise near a laugh.] Understood. I am not in the habit of ignoring omens, [a pun,] but for him, I make an exception.

[Though his caution remains heightened. He trusts they've made themselves as safe as they can, but nothing was safe enough in Trench.

At least his own Omen has not deigned to put on an appearance.]

Though if you do not mind, I will leave the incense until it burns down. [Not that there was much left, at least.]

[the wolf leans itself against nehan's left leg, snuffling against him and licking his gloved hand. nehan looks down at it briefly in acknowledgement, before he returns to adjusting his tools and wrapping up the vial of darkblood in thick cloth to keep it safe.]

Best to do that anyway, Willful Machine is a hotbed for beasts.

[then a pause, as he pushes the basin back upright.]

Do you have time? I have a few questions I want to ask, to open a file on you.

Unfortunately so. [As both a Disciple and an occasional Hunter, Illarion's not fond of that fact. It comes through clearly in his tone.

At the question, he nods, palming his Omni out of the pocket he keeps it in to check the time with a swipe of his thumb over the face. He doesn't even look at it before putting it back.]

Most of an hour before I am needed elsewhere. I am at your disposal.

It will take ten to fifteen minutes at most. Less if we do it right now, and I wont spend time writing anything down until later.

I just need physical data, and blood information.

Then we will do this, to spare you time. [His own, he's not so worried about spending.]

Before we begin the questions: This is something you will keep private for your own research, yes? [~~are nehan's notes hipaa-compliant~~]

Yes. And repeat patients, if anyone decides to come by. If I have to, I can simply keep everything memorized, but putting them on paper will make organization easier in the long run.

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darkblood #1, mambo no. 5

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