RP:Regaining Consciousness
Frostmaw Fort Infirmary
In the infirmary of Frostmaw Fort, Satoshi has had Ezekiel bundled into a bed and tended to be a pair of Elven healers while she occasionally pokes her head in to oversee the flectomancer's recovery. It's with a great deal of impatience that the kit awaits Ezekiel's return to consciousness, eventually culminating in her commandeering the lead physician's desk for her own so that she can read and go over paperwork while still in easy sight of the fellow. Satoshi isn't exactly -concerned- for Ezekiel's welfare as much as she's curious, as any magely scholar would be, just what might result from a human enduring that much raw mana coursing through their veins. Even having magic-filled blood, Satoshi finds herself still jittery and overcharged from her brief contact. She cannot begin to imagine what Ezekiel must feel like...but she'll be damned if she won't find out once he wakes up! Which is why she's currently sitting at the desk, chair leaned back, and feet propped up, while she slowly reads through an old spellbook.
Have you ever been electrically shocked? Or had a limb fall asleep- a leg, a foot, anything. Perhaps the blank numbness of a dentist's novicane? How about this; have you ever felt all three at once? Ezekiel was sure did. Waking up was one hell of a roller coaster ride, the up's and down's, and flips both his brain and stomach did nearly made him vomit. Though, if there was one thing this man could do, was keep his stomach down; several nights of hard liquore and lack-of sleep were his conditioning. Ezekiel was quiet for the most part, the only sound he made was that of a groggy mumble. "Sh-shut it off.."
Vulpine ears swivel forward, followed shortly by the kit's amber-flecked eyes fixing on the flectomancer. Had he spoken? She's fairly certain that was him mumbling and not the continual griping of the uprooted physician. Marking the passage she's on in her book, the magus closes it, sets it on the desk, and makes her cautious way toward Ezekiel. Slowly she leans over the man's bed as whiskers give a twitch, catching the radiation of magic he's still giving off, before a hand is brought forward to lightly poke a claw against his cheek. "Still alive, Rabbit?" Satoshi asks in a low voice.
Ezekiel didn't even have a chance to sit up, before the blurred outline of Satoshi filled his eyes. See, this wouldn't have been so bad- yes, she was close and violating his little 'personal' bubble, but he could deal with this. The poke of her claw though? Out of line. Even though it took a second or two to fully register, that single touch had the poor man flailing away. It was like he had just seen a massive spider in his bed, and feared for his life. It wasn't long before he toppled over the edge, and slapped the cold, hard ground dragging the blankets with him. Dazed, he inched backwards, till he was up against the wall, holding a bloody nose; he couldn't catch a break, could he? "The battery- You. Why are you- why am I? What.. happened..?" Gibberish and disoriented crazy talk, he was going to need a moment to wake up. "Satoshi?"
Reflexes have the foxkin backpedaling once Ezekiel begins to flail, but not quite quick enough to avoid receiving a backhand from one of those permanently gloved hands. The impact sends Satoshi reeling, a hand clasped to her cheek and a yelp on her lips. While Ezekiel is scrambling against the wall, the magus is staggering, free hand groping for the bed post and guiding her into a graceless seat upon it. It's then that Satoshi warily draws her hand away from her face to stare down at the droplets of blood staining satin gloves. "You... you scratched my face..." Already the chill in the air is dropping at a rapid pace, crusts of rime beginning to creep across the room's surfaces while a ghostly breeze gathers around Satoshi, tugging at her clothing and lifting her hair like stark white wings behind her. In truth, the unintentional smack didn't hurt all that much, the harm to dignity only a bit moreso, and the scratch is minor, making this more than such a slight overreaction... a mark of just how dangerously vain Satoshi can be. Blazing eyes are turned on the flectomancer as Satoshi opens her mouth to utter some form of incantation... right when one of the elven doctors peeks into the room with a chipper, "Is everything well~?" Instantly Satoshi's focus snaps to the elf. Her hand rises, fingers outstretched toward the healer, before they're brought closed in a pinching gesture. The elf gives a jerk and her hand flies to her mouth, where it's been sealed solid by frozen saliva. Eyes wild, the healer scrambles out of the room, knocking over a sidetable laden with a food tray in the process. The clatter of metal, glass, and food striking the floor seems to startle Satoshi out of her self-induced rage, the kit's eyes blinking rapidly as they look down at the mess spreading across the flagstones. "Oh. Ahem." Looking toward Ezekiel then, the magus smiles as if nothing has happened. It's already half-forgotten by the present-minded foxkin, now that the scratch has healed over, and she sets about answering his earlier questions without seeming to have missed a beat. "Whatever you did to link yourself with the fluorite reservoir resulted in you being trapped when it became overcharged with magic, it'd seem. You were flooded by a great deal of raw mana. I was forced to sever the bonds before you could be removed from the current. You've been unconscious and here since." How long has it been? A day? Two?
The flectomancer caught only the last seconds of the woman's irate features, and most importantly, the poor nurse's reaction. Mostly confused, he looked away while using the wall to aid in standing up. Little by little, it was all coming back to him: the blue flash, the current, the butterflies, even the jumbled explanation as to what he had found out. His heart had to have been beating a hundred miles per hour, while he warily took his time edging towards the opposite side of the bed. The blanket around him served as a new barrier, which would thwart off just about anything, in his mind- magic, cold, and most of all -curiously poking cyromancers. "I'm.. alive? I'm alive. I-imagine that.. No one else was-" Pausing to keep that gut sinking feeling down, he nearly whispered the rest, "You're fine too? You weren't, I mean I didn't.. everything is intact, yes?" Ezekiel had only been in Frostmaw for a few weeks now, and already he was on the verge of destroying parts of it. With what little studying he did on the device, he could have vaporized the arena, and maybe even then some. It was Frostmaw's very own, nuclear power plant, if one wanted to get into metaphorical terms. However, if that was the case, he was in theory a walking reactor of stored magical energy himself. It would at least explain the disorienting amounts of magicical presence in the room. "Please, forgive me, I had no intentions of- of letting it go that far. I didn't know.." Somber apologies for a paranoid man. Again he looked away, finding his hands for the first time since gaining conscious; what he saw he wasn't quite ready for. "How?" He turned each hand over, surveying the damage with wide eyes, the sinking feeling deep in his stomach rising once more. So many questions, so little answers, if he didn't faint from that alone, the topic of who dressed certainly would.
Satoshi's temper is as quick to die out as it is to flare up, meaning her moment of vain-induced rage has entirely quelled by this point--only present in the form as her oddball black tail thrashing among its sedate white brethren. Calm once more, the magus regards Ezekiel with quiet interest while letting him work himself through bubbling panic and stuttering recollection until he begins apologizing. At this, Satoshi raises a hand to halt him. "There is nothing to forgive. Experiments fail, succeed, and go in directions we never conceive. It is not something that requires apologies afterwards. At least, that's my belief. Especially when we've learned a great deal and no crippling harm has been done." A quick glance flicks between Ezekiel's gloves and the newest member of Satoshi's tail entourage, but she hardly counts these are more than byproducts of magical pursuit. All right, so the gloves might be a little more severe an issue than Asorial manifesting a fifth tail, she'll admit. To this, Satoshi says, "From what the healers can gather, the metal was melted by the sheer force of magic and it has since... ah, fused? To your flesh. They were unsuccessful in removing the gloves, and were fearful it'd cause more harm if they tried further." Personally, she thinks they look rather brilliant. But the flectomancer might not agree. "...we can attempt to get the aid of a terramancer or two, to see about drawing them off. My brother is one, and rather skilled with metal-singing."
Ezekiel shook his head, side to side, then diagnally, and eventually up and down. Ok- this.. this wasn't that bad. He could live with this, the leather was rather unsightly, but the poker-chip sized rings imbedded in his palms, were fine. If anything, this only meant he no longer needed the gloves, for they were apart of him now. It wasn't like he took them off anyways, so he could afford to be a little optimistic for once. "Did I ever tell you what the gloves were?" Little by little, he was getting calmer, and much more collected than when he had woken, several minutes ago. For a man who essentially bit down on a power line, he was taking this all pretty well; then again, how many people in this same situation, could he be compared to? "They were a key, for what little magic I could find. Only thing I ever found out about the metal, was it reacted to magic, like a magnet. It drew it out, pulled it away from what kept me locked up. Albeit raw and unstable, it was usable. Still wasn't enough for father, no matter how hard he fought the college." He was still inspecting his palm, turning it over time and time again, wondering if it was still usable. After their deadly brush with fate, he was trying to convince himself to simply forget about trying it.
As badly as she wants to move nearer to get a better look at the gloves and their metal, Satoshi resists the urge. She really doesn't want to be backhanded again, accidental or otherwise, as her cheek still smarts a bit. Nonetheless, the magus listens attentively to Ezekiel's story, the interest she shows more than just simple politeness. It's genuine. The expression of an eager scholar being show the invaluable material to her work obvious upon her face, a look Ezekiel might even recognize from his own passions for tinkering. In fact, his words are enough to get Satoshi wanting to try another experiment. Glancing furtively toward the ward's entrance, she leans in Ezekiel's direction, voice lowered, to ask, "Why don't you try using some magic now? Let's see what it's done to the gloves. Or perhaps you~."
"Are you even sure that's a wise idea?" After all, he was sitting in an infirmary for a reason. Their last brush with unknown magic could have taken his life, for all they knew; he owed this woman his life, on two occasions now. "I mean, what if.." What if what? What if.. he wasn't distracted for starters. Distracted by the radiating cobalt glow, starting small and dim at the base of his palm. Lost for words, the man simply watched while his mind took over, letting the overflow of magical energy within him, reach out. Never in his life, even since the creation of his prized gloves, had the essence of magic shown so bright, and with such ease. Like a well oiled machine, Ezekiel's talent was in full force now. It didn't stop there, however, for the intensity of the light grew till he was squinting, and almost forced to shield his eyes. Manifesting in his palm, could best be described as a sphere, rising about four-to-five inches off the ring. He was in shock and awe as he eased his mind, letting subtle focus take over. Its shape was rough, and hardly recognizable, but no one could doubt that the hovering sphere was evolving. Into what? They wouldn't know, for panic once again took over. He snapped his fingers shut, and pull his fist against his chest, trembling while he glanced up. "What was that? I've never.. it.. it- you saw it. Please tell me you saw that?"
When Satoshi suggests something, it is foolish to ask her if it's a wise idea. It's her idea, -of course- it's wise! After all, look how the flectomancer is already managing to conjure up... a painfully bright ball of light. Satoshi can't help squinting against the intensity while still trying to get a look at the shifting creation before... Before Ezekiel abruptly ends it. Blinking away spotty afterimages, Satoshi nods thoughtfully at his question. "Aye. I saw that. Raw magic. Like what was coursing through you. Monsieur Rabbit," Satoshi shakes her head sharply against her compromised sight before fixing Ezekiel with a piercing gaze, "I do believe you're a unique sort of spellweaver. If you're interested, I'd very much like to work with you in developing it. That is... if you're interested in joining the Mage Guild as an apprentice to me?"
"But.. we don't even know how deffinite this even is. For all we know this is, and could just be a freak accident. I already failed once, in underestimating the power of such a machine, I don't think we can afford another mistake like that again." Both hands would be in intense pain for the coming weeks, though nothing he couldn't handle. Still, thinking heavily on her invitation, he would have been lying if he said he wasn't excited. The sole purpose for his work, was to further understand and explain his lack of magic, and the skill he wished to posess. It was the same reason he was disowned by his father, and possibly why he chose to leave home at such a young age. This freak accident was the key to his calling, and Satoshi the door to his success. Just like that, she was willing to take him in under her wing- into the guild at that, on the spot of the moment. "I don't know. What if.. it doesn't work? I mean, I've already wasted enough of your time by simple putting myself here." He would have been chewing his fingernails if he could get to them, with how nervous and tense he was.
A shrug is given, Satoshi not seeming to find Ezekiel's arguments all that worthwhile. "Truthfully? I don't -care- if this is a freak accident, temporary, or the games of some bored God. Whatever it may be, it is exists currently, it is unusual, and it should be studied to the best of our abilities. And -that- is through the Mage's Guild. We are masters of the Arcane there. Through me, you will have access to books, tools, and knowledge you probably didn't even know existed. There may be answers we can uncover through these means. As well, further... ah, mishaps, can be done in a safer environment. The Mage Tower, unlike the arena's workshop, is fortified by centuries of the land's best mages to endure exactly that: the land's best mages pushing experiments to their limits." It hasn't collapsed yet despite some of the Guild members' best--mostly accidental--attempts. The thought draws a smile on Satoshi's face as she stands, looking toward Ezekiel. "My offer stands. Take it or leave it. I would like to join you in figuring this anomaly out, if you'd accept. I consider it the very opposite of a 'waste of time', honestly."
Ezekiel was sold at the mention of books, tools, and knowledge. For more than a good portion of his life, his number one goal, and reason for pushing the limits of reality was to understand the study of magic. Something robbed by an unknown reason, something he never had the talent for. Artificially forging, and forcing it as he did, his dire attempts left him hitting more dead ends than an alchoholic trying to find salvation at the bottom of a bottle. The gloves, the traveling- the break in at the arena; all in the name of study and analysis. All it took was a near brush with dead, and an extreme overload of magic to find that door. "As of that nights incident, I owe you my life. I think that's reason enough to offer a helping hand in understand just what happened that evening under the arena- and perhaps what becomes of me now." Still sitting at the foot of the bed hidden almost entirely in his blanket, Ezekiel held his hand out. Now.. it was covered by both blanket, melted glove, and hesitation for physical contact- but none the less, it was offered. "I accept." The poor man even managed a brief moment of eye contact, for what it was worth.
Satoshi isn't aware just how massive of a breakthrough this gesture is, only seeing it as a minor victory in convincing the flectomancer that she's not going to suddenly eat his face off. But she'll take whatever wins she can get, including an offered hand and eye contact--the latter getting a fleeting wink from her. Her own hand, the one crafted from ice, clasps Ezekiel's extended glove then and gives it a firm shake before releasing it. "Your first lesson will be to make your personal motto 'What's the worst that could happen?' If that thought doesn't cross your mind before an experiment, and if you don't plunge onward nonetheless, you're not fit to be my apprentice~. Cower from the powerful, cringe from death, flee from fears, but never flinch away from the unknowns of magic~." The words might be viewed as joking, were Satoshi's tone not chillingly serious. She is a firm believer in charging forward in the pursuit of arcane knowledge. She grins then, a positively vulpine expression. "Now we'll see if I can break my curse as being the One Lesson Lady, eh?"
The poor man with the melted flesh, gloves as a substitute, painfully cringed. That was indeed, a horrible idea- a hand shake. Even though it was behind more than one layer! That would take some time to heal, but nothing he couldn't deal with. With a hiss, he'd speak with a cracking tone, the discomfort obvious. "Y-yes.. yes.. what would g-go wrong. I pr- oh dear gods -omise that shall be my.. I mean really now- shall be my motto." With haste the flectomancer pulled his hand back, and craddled it against his stomach like the pansey he was. The deal was sealed, and he was content; some much needed rest was in order from this point on.