deernet | voice | un: karma

Entry tags:

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?]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[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.

[He nods once to that.] Not all of what I say must be kept secret, if you wish to share or use it. That which does, I will say, and it does not bother me that you put it to paper so long as you keep it safe.

[It occurs that if he becomes a repeat patient that will spare him having to share his secrets more widely.

He makes a note to ask about that after.]

Your questions?

Your name, age-- [a pause, before he reminds himself of circumstances and moves to elaborate.] Age when you died, and how long you've been undead.

And if healing potions still work for you.

For safety reasons, I wont attempt any medical-related experimentation with your blood outside of the one I'm planning. [which negates quite a lot of the standard questions nehan has, and the undead part just... removed a good number of them as well.]

I would ask you use an alias for me.

Six-hundred fifty, give or take a decade. [They did keep accurate records; it's a Long Story why he has that much error on his age.] I have been undead for the better part of four years.

Yes, though they may not work very well in many cases. It varies by ingredient.

Can you share what it is you are planning? [A pause.] This is curiosity, not a prelude for an objection.

A personal file for you, if you come back here for treatment. There are specific things I need to know about my patients, just in case their bodies don't react well to the potions I give, or they need specific treatment that I need to learn.

[his methods are just brusque, because he's used to dealing with bratty adults, and then children.]

Mmm. [He lapses silent to consider that for a solid quarter-minute.]

How are you at suturing? I presume you are not a necromancer.

I use light magic, not dark. [and that's his answer about his elemental affinity, as well.]

And I know how to suture. I reserve it for people who either do not want potions, or shouldn't take them.

[Oh well that explains everything.

...Actually, it doesn't, but that's entirely a deficiency of Illarion's metaphysical framework when it came to magic. He frowns faintly.]

"Light" is not an element I am familiar with. [And elemental magic, period, is something he's...vague on.] But I presume it makes you inclined to life, over death?

What goes into these potions?

[nehan shrugs, he could say that-- it's not as if nehan knows the philosophies behind the elements, when he's just a man who plays with plants.]

Flora and fauna-- more the former than the latter. But the exact ratios and ingredients depend on whether or not I'm brewing it as a healing potion, or a stimulant. [and he gives a partial list of them. caffeine, ginseng, tea extracts, fruit extracts, so on and so forth.]

[Illarion listens to the whole list attentively.] Some of these would be poisonous to me, if I still lived. And--

[He pauses, holding up a finger as he works through this thought.] --my blood is still alive, even if I am not. I do not know what this means for a potion. Something like what you describe would heal me a little, back home, but have no stimulant effect.

[Now?? No idea.]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject