( log five | closed | a butterfly before it flies )

[dedikated]

Who: Katydid and a city in Cumbria (dedikated and tongueamok)
What: Just two neighbours. Using their powers. Planning things.
Where: Spire 4, the disaster floor (floor eight) - Carlisle's apartment.
When: Slightly backdated to the 7th.
Warnings: Nothing atm, but maybe later? IDK! Plans. Plans involving Kate. AKA disaster zone.


[ God, she's glad for the flow of her powers in her body again. If not for the constant reminder of what she did, at least for the fact that she feels whole again.

She can, at least, bear the guilt a little better with the ability to run across rooftops regained, with all her jumping and agility skills back to their full potential.

And she has... well, better ideas than the last ones. If she can get Carlisle to agree to them.

Hence the knocking on his door and the armful of papers with notes on them. ] Hey, you in? [ Why is she asking that he's always in ]

Comments

[tongueamok]

Er. I suppose.

[He gets to his feet and heads to the kitchen, coming back with an empty wine bottle.]

Will this do?

[dedikated]

[ She glances up and nods, reaching for it. ] Great. [ It is unlikely that something would go wrong enough to break it anyway, so a wine bottle is a perfect start.

She's just going to tap away. It seems a much longer process than the sunglasses did. Sorry about all the drawn out silence, Carlisle. She's engrossed. ]

[tongueamok]

[While Kate does... well, whatever she's doing (enchanting, Carlisle assumes), he heads to the bookshelf near the door, eyeing a collection of mason jars he keeps there. He grabs one of the empty ones and brings it back to the easy chair with him, setting it on the table.

That's not for Kate. He'd rather she ruin a wine bottle than his jars.]

[dedikated]

[ He'd be assuming correctly. After a while, she looks up and glances at the jar on the table. ] More stuff for this? [ She assumes, anyway. Hopefully the wine bottle won't break on the first attempt, but stranger things have happened. And they are working with something that is a lot of memory and a fair amount of educated guessing. ] Try this, but take it slow. [ She offers him the bottle. ]

[tongueamok]

[He takes the wine bottle back warily, eyeing it as though it may explode.] All right.

[With a quick breath in, he gets to work. Channeling into an inanimate object is a foreign feeling to him: there's no intrinsic flow of energy from a willing patient, no current to manipulate in finding a wound that isn't there. He starts off slow, but he's not sure how much energy to expel in the—

And then, the bottle cracks loudly in his hands, fracturing along the seam. Carlisle jerks in response, startled, and drops the bottle as he pulls his arms back to block himself defensively -- it hits the floor with a dull thud, white-hot energy spilling from the cracks and crevices in the glass, dripping to the carpet as a tangible ooze.

Carlisle just looks at it, his expression a mixture of bewilderment and disgust.]

That's, ah... hm.

[dedikated]

[ W e l l.

She's up like a shot, reflexes automatic as she reaches for the bottle, tapping the glass and disenchanting it.

Whatever magic Carlisle had channelled into it dissipates into the air with a sizzle like water against a hot stove. ]

... That's new. [ She doesn't remember any of the prototypes doing that when they made them at home. Then again, none of them were made of glass either. ]

[tongueamok]

Encouraging. [Said in the tone that implies it absolutely isn't. He sighs; perhaps they should try something smaller and less likely to shatter.]

A moment while I see what else I have to work with.

[Back to the kitchen he goes. He's in there only a few seconds before he comes up with his next idea. There's the sound of a drawer opening and closing before he returns to the couch, a small collection of corks and bottle caps in his hands.]

[dedikated]

[ While he does that, she's just going to... gingerly pick this thing up and take it to a bin. And head back to her notes, crossing out half a page. That clearly wasn't the answer. Maybe if she compensated for the wavelength of his power by slowing down the rate of absorption?

Let's try that. ] Alright. [ We'll go with this. And Kate will take one of those corks. ] If this doesn't work, we'll meet tomorrow. [ Because finicky enchantments like this were draining and she has no intention of repeating that power exhaustion. ]

[tongueamok]

All right. [He assumes that means she's going to go home to think of other solutions -- either that, or she's concerned about exhaustion setting in for either of them. It's not been terribly hard on him thus far, but he's no enchanter, and is unsure of how much energy it takes for Kate to run tests like this.

So he asks.] Is this taxing for you?

[dedikated]

[ She shrugs. The answer is a combination of both. ] One of the harder enchantments to do. Too many variables. [ Ergo, a lot of power expulsion, vibration, and other things that led to powers being used quicker than they would be for something simpler, like her sunglasses. ]

... You think it'd be better if I come over with a few and we test them out? [ She hands him an enchanted cork as she mulls this over. She could manage it, in her downtime at work. Create a few with variations, try them all out when she gets back to the spire. ]

[tongueamok]

I suppose, should this not work.

[He narrows his eyes, focusing on the cork as though sheer willpower would make it hold his channel better. Again, no pulse, no current of living energy coursing through it -- it's just a cork, after all. He goes slowly; a minute passes before he gives the cork a dubious look. It feels hot, but it hasn't exploded yet.]

Question: how are we supposed to know when it's, ah. Full?

[dedikated]

[ Oh. She forgot about that little thing. ] It feel hot? [ Usually they did. Or they glowed, if she pressed that into them. Which she didn't. She probably should, next time. ]

[tongueamok]

Ah.

[Just going to stop channeling now, holding the cork delicately.]

It's definitely hot. Don't know if it's working, but hot, yes.

[dedikated]

[ she gestures, hand outstretched, as if saying 'give it here, then'. That's a good sign, at least. Probably. The thing hadn't overloaded. All they needed to do was test the stability and the effectiveness. If it works, it should expel power when tapped and stop when tapped again. And for that, she didn't need to injure herself... yet. ]

[tongueamok]

[He hands her the cork, still certain it'll explode any second. Why hasn't it, though? Perhaps smaller is better in terms of trinkets, he thinks, or the material took to magic more readily. He's no enchanter, but it is a fascinating study.]

That seems to be [cough] working, then? Should I be saving every cork from every bottle I bring home?

[dedikated]

[ it doesn't, as far as she's aware. but maybe? things do work differently here. before kate says anything, or does anything other than look up sharply at his cough, she taps the cork once-

and it goes flying out of her hand.

well. ] Would be useful for these tests, at least. [ s i g h. at least that meant they had managed to store some power. ] ... Need to take this home, figure out what I've missed. [ and, if he's coughing, she would... rather make sure he isn't getting pushed too hard by this project. ]

[tongueamok]

[Carlisle's eyes follow the cork as it goes flying across the room, his shoulders stiffening for a moment in mild alarm.]

Right. Wouldn't want [cough] them flying out of some injured [cough] person's hand and straight into [okay, still coughing] into, um—

[He scrambles for that jar on the table, his hands unsteady as he tries to get it open, ink already seeping through his teeth. He finally gets the lid off and hacks into it, spatter of the black bile dotting his glasses from where it splashed into the jar.

He drags his mouth along that bandage on his arm before finishing his sentence, as though this is perfectly n o r m a l.]

Straight into their eye. Kind of defeats the purpose.

[dedikated]

[ Never fucking mind that right now. Kate starts, moving towards Carlisle out of immediate reflex, eyes narrowing because what the fuck, Carlisle. This is the second time you've hacked up after using healing powers and that is not normal. ]

Explain. [ And, by the tone in her voice - the one that's all blade-sharp and dangerous - she does not mean the bit about the cork shooting out.

Don't make her snatch the jar to emphasise her point. ]

[tongueamok]

[Carlisle holds up a hand defensively, setting the jar aside. He pulls off his glasses, eyeing the droplets clinging to the lenses as though they're more of an annoyance than anything.]

This is fine. It's just- it's something that happens.

[That probably explains the jars of ink he has on the shelf.]

[dedikated]

[ Carlisle do not be obtuse, deliberately or otherwise. ]

Why? [ Fine and coughing up ink? Not. The. Same. Thing. ]

[tongueamok]

It's a condition I- [clearing his throat of the last dregs of ink] I have. Nothing to be concerned about, I assure you.

[And after half a second's pause:] Though given I had an abomination made of ink terrorizing me just a month ago, I can see why you might be apprehensive.

[dedikated]

[ Gee, you think? Although, that was secondary to the fact that he could very well be doing something that could kill him just because she had yet another fantastic idea. ]

How harmful is it? [ Because it sure looks like you'd be doing damage to your insides to cough up ink. ]

[tongueamok]

It's— [Sigh. He really doesn't want to have to explain it, especially because this seems like such a good, promising idea. His curse has him doomed to failure, as usual.] It's not that kind of condition. [He eyes his bandaged arm, the linen as stained with ink as ever.] As I'm sure you can tell, this happens fairly regularly.

[dedikated]

[ S i g h. She's not about to get through to him, is she? Kate rubs her face with her hand and shrugs. ] Reet. If you're sure. [ That is the tone of someone who doesn't quite believe that it's true, no matter how regular this might be. ] Can only get so many of these done a day anyway. [ Which means they'll be taking it reasonably slow regardless. ]

[tongueamok]

[He gets the feeling from her tone that if they're going to be working together on this project, he's eventually going to have to cough up some answers. At least today is not that day.]

Of course. I'd say we have a good start. Wouldn't want to exhaust you, after all.