crystal

[undergrunn]

( Behold, a new voice on the crystals. Soft, good-humoured, with an accent that sounds Scandinavian / relative equivalent. The crystal catches a quiet breath of laughter before she speaks. )

I don’t know if you’re really lucky to have an engineer turn up, or if I’m really unlucky that I need to figure out the machinery.

I mean, learning about the infrastructure of a city in a whole different world isn’t even a “once in a lifetime” kind of opportunity, and pretending I’m some sort of genius at kinetic motion just because I know some mechanisms from home would be pretty fun, but…

Wow.

( Maybe that sounds a little weightier than her first "wow.")

Oh, I'm Abella. Riftwatch, you’re gonna have to have a lot more ramps by the time I’m done with you. Somewhere has to accommodate wheelchair users, even if it’s some kind of fairy tale world.

( Hmmm. )

Wait, can you just make them float, here? (More softly, ) Flying wheelchairs would explain the lack of ramps. I mean, this crystal thing is remarkable, so... let me know if I don't need to think about the ramps.

Comments

[elegiaque]

( gwenaëlle loves isaac's nasty teapot, which she has been actively trying to befriend when they're in the infirmary together. )

Like if a teapot were a spider, ( is definitely the most horrifying thing she could have said, but she sounds off-hand and pleased by it, her attention more immediately taken by the little pinecone pig, scampering between them to try and maximise how many hands it has available to it. given the cigarettes, about half as many as seems entirely fair, probably.

made of sticks and love is a phrase that will stick in her mind, but in the moment she doesn't examine the way it strikes her. surely that doesn't need to be looked at particularly. )

Working in the infirmary gives him the best access to put salt in people's wounds if he's bored, ( sounds like it's probably a joke, albeit a rude one about how isaac has a shitty personality. abella can draw her own conclusions when she meets him about its accuracy. ) We work together sometimes, I assist the head healer when I'm free.

[undergrunn]

There are so many ways to visualise that.

( Probably everything that's popped to mind is far more horrifying than the reality. She hopes so, at any rate. She's Seen Some Things.

It's easy to let her focus slip back to the little creature, the sort of thing she taught her younger siblings to make. Learning magic is real should explain it, and yet she's looking for any sign of a mechanism as she scritches the ridges of the pine cone. The way it moves don't seem at all mechanical. )

Do you help with applying the salt, or...?

[elegiaque]

Isaac isn't the head healer, ( she clarifies, ) or in need of any assistance to be a cunt.

( honestly, doing smashing work solo. really knocking it out of the park. you have to admire, etcetera. gwenaëlle's sideways glance betrays this for the joke it is, too: ) I let Dr Strange tell me what to do at work so he doesn't feel badly that I pay for everything at home.

( it doesn't matter that he isn't here to hear her make that crack; she knows what his face would have done if he heard it, and it's still funny. more seriously, ) I have a history with medicine, a little, so mostly it's alchemy, inventory, rolling bandages. Doing the sort of work any hands can do so that the hands we need for specialist work can focus. But sometimes—

( a shrug. )

Stephen — Strange — and I have done battlefield surgery, his knowledge of the work and my steady hands, I know how to clean and stitch and care for wounds, I can manage a dislocation with a second set of hands. I've overseen lyrium detox, now, though I doubt it's going to come up again soon.