( log three | june catchall | come follow me right now )

[dedikated]

Who: Kate + anyone and everyone
What: Catchall log for June
Where: The clinic | the bar | spire 4 | riverside | caves & rage's temple
When: Any time this month, really!
Warnings: Alcohol, violence, injuries, the usual things + philosophies on killing


[wildcard | anywhere] come on hey brother, someone stop these kids

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[carlisle | spire 4] why are you stuttering?

[dedikated]

[ hey, hey, Carlisle. What's that noise outside your door? And why is there paper slid underneath?
Is that... Yep, that's a sex ed leaflet with the attached note 'Makes sense? Y [] N []
-KG'

What do? ]

[tongueamok]

[Why. Why.

That same note gets shoved back under her door, though with some addenda: there's an X in the box for Y, and below that is written I'm not sure why you're asking my opinion on this.]

[dedikated]

[ because she wanted the opinion of someone who didn't work at the clinic?

After a few minutes, another note finds its way under Carlisle's door.

You were the first person I thought of.
-KG ]

[tongueamok]

[Oh. That's a much nicer answer than Carlisle was expecting, as thus far, he's been met with a fair amount of strife, given his position as a clergyman.

He supposes he could go over and be nicer to his neighbor, perhaps introduce himself in person. He's never really had a proper one: his family estate in Bear Den was a fair distance from the actual town, and as for the base at the wreck of the Tranquility... it was a camp, and everyone was everywhere. Even then, he'd made a point of settling at the edge of it, as far from most as he could get while still within the limits of safety.

So that's what he does. He takes her note with him and knocks on her door.]

[dedikated]

[ well, she wasn't expecting the company, but whatever. She leaves the scrap paper filled with a weekly schedule draft on her table and heads to the door, opening it. ]

Hey. [ so this is her neighbour, huh? She steps to the side, more out of ingrained habit than anything else. ] Come in.

[tongueamok]

All right.

[Today is just full of surprises. He steps inside, giving her a polite bow.]

I'm Carlisle. We spoke on the network, though ah... You probably know all that already.

[dedikated]

[ Eh, she could use the company, she supposes. Kate nods at his introduction, closing the door behind him. ] Kate. Want something to drink? [ by something, she means water, since the only other drinks she likes are served at Delight's bar. ]

[tongueamok]

No, thank you.

[He watches her close the door, too stiffly formal to do anything but stand there. Sorry Kate -- he doesn't go out of his way to make new acquaintances often.]

I have been meaning to ask about your place of work. The clinic, right?

[dedikated]

Aye? [ she gestures to the couch while going to fetch herself a glass of water from the kitchen and returning. ] What about it?

[tongueamok]

[He eyes the couch a moment before taking a seat.]

I, er... was wondering how your attempts at education were going. Aside from what you shoved under my door. Is it just you and the doctor working there?

[dedikated]

We have a couple other people who come and go, but we do the majority of stuff most days. [ basically, yes. She flops down on the couch and places her water on the table - no coaster. Her dad would have had a fit. ]

[tongueamok]

[Carlisle probably would too, if coasters were a thing where he comes from.]

I see. With everyone being so, er... forward on the networks these days, I thought there may be more of you.

[dedikated]

[ she shrugs at that. ] That's just people. Least they're talking about it. [ and isn't that far better than the alternative, not talking and making things a disaster zone of illness and unwanted babies. ]

[tongueamok]

I suppose, though I would think there are far more important topics to discuss, given our overall predicament.

[He, on the other hand, does not want to talk about it, if his stiff responses are any indication. He idly picks at the ink-stained bandage that covers his right arm.]

[dedikated]

Yeah, doesn't stop people from wanting to be normal. [ and sex was one of the most normal urges for people. But she's beat the fuck out of this horse on the network. ] You been up to much since we spoke?

[ small talk, forever boring but always the easiest way to make a conversation go if you don't have several drinks in you. ]

[tongueamok]

I'm not sure I'd consider our last interaction as 'speaking,' but no, I have not.

[And here's a short pause. Small talk must not be Carlisle's thing, much like silence. Time to fill that void with words.]

I'm, ah... afraid most of what I do is not often in demand -- not that that's necessarily a bad thing, as I'm sure some people here could use guidance of the religious nature, but with the restorative arts, a good rule of thumb would be that less is better. That unfortunately means I have a lot of time to myself, which, too, is not a bad thing, as that gives me time for meditation and study, though most people wouldn't find that an interesting topic of discussion in any setting, I'm sure.

[Yep. Words.]

[dedikated]

[ well, thank you for the spiel, that actually makes things easier. She now has things to ask about, rather than uselessly probing until she finds something. ]

Less? [ it sounds almost like healing back home, where she has to watch healers carefully for their energy levels in case of exhaustion. ] Uses a lot of energy, healing? [ she tilts her head, curious about the way this works. ]

[tongueamok]

It can, depending on the extent of the injuries and the, ah... individual being healed.

[That's his nice way of saying that ice aliens are tough jobs.]

[dedikated]

[ so, yeah, like home. ] Do you just... Fix it? Or do you have to take on the injuries? [ the latter was a reasonably common version of healing back home, yet more reasons to keep an eye on your employees at a clinic. Not everyone had unlimited regeneration. ]

[tongueamok]

Just 'fix it,' I suppose. The kind of restorative arts I practice are about channeling magical energy into the patient, then manipulating to mend the wound once you have ascertained where it is. To take on the injuries would be a form of empathic healing, I believe.

[dedikated]

[ it does sound similar to healing powers back home, maybe - probably, really - slightly different in practice, however. Definitely sounds like Jon's sort of healing. But there were so many variations in how healers channelled their powers or how they manifested. ] I see. We always called it 'injury transfer'. [ the latter. But empathic healing is also a pretty good description. ]

[tongueamok]

Different terminology, but the principle is the same, I'm sure. Where I come from, there are several kinds of healing, but so long as the job gets done, I suppose it matters not which method one uses.

[Looks like he's gotten past his initial awkwardness, now that they're talking about something he knows. He's even making eye contact.]

[dedikated]

Same. [ there were some pretty weird ones. ] Met a girl, once, whose spit could cocoon injuries and heal them like that. [ that remains easily the weirdest method. ] Weirdest thing I felt in my life. [ seriously, it was effective but uncomfortable as fuck. ]

[tongueamok]

That... sounds just awful, actually.

[His nose wrinkles, his hand back to picking at that stained bandage on his arm as he mutters under his breath.] And I thought my method had some disgusting consequences. Cisth.

[dedikated]

[ s h r u g. ] Not like anyone cares if they've been ran through with a sword. [ it was, somehow, completely hygenic. She never asked that much about that variation, really.

But thanks for the curiosity, Carlisle. She does note the bandage picking. ] Like what?