abraxaslogs | ( closed ) it looks so clean but i can see

[It doesn't take long for Stephen to reach out after this message. It's true that his schedule often feels full to bursting these days, but the injury in question was relayed to him as worrisome and wholly unpleasant; and far be it from him to leave a new Summoned in the lurch, especially after being requested personally to lend his aid.

So. A mental missive is all he needs to send to start. A quick exchange of who he is, what he does, who requested for him to help, and to arrange a time and a place. That time and place comes quickly enough, and Stephen's chosen one of many rooms in the castle utilized for study and research — the ones accessible to anyone who has a need for them, at least.

And it’s a wide expanse of a room, though it looks hilariously a bit like a wizard’s study at this rate. Replete with books and books and books, a whole line of towering and somewhat ostentatious shelving standing at attention behind a tall wooden desk clearly made for potion crafting. Tubes and tinctures and pestles and mortars, herbs ground down and set aside in their perfect portions. Something brewing itself into a thick concoction in a small vial, placed over a tiny blue flame, ye olde Bunsen burner-style. It scents of tilled earth and old, musty pages in here.

When he hears footsteps, Stephen looks up from one of his tomes splayed out before him to greet the newcomer.]

Didn’t have any trouble finding your way through the castle, did you?

[Hello.]

Edited 2023-04-13 13:39 (UTC)

[The injury is indeed entirely unpleasant, especially when you are the one who has been living with it, which Lord John Grey has done. It's been long enough that he's starting to get used to the eye patch, although that does not necessarily mean it is a good thing. John has grown accustomed to many uncomfortable things, over the years, but that does not mean he should.

John has a lot of trust in Claire's judgment. She has saved his life several times over, even if she may not remember it just now. If she trusts that this Doctor Strange is the right man for the job, then John will trust him for it too. He has put his life in the hands of strangers enough times before, and honestly. What does he have to lose at this point?

Between the missive from Strange and the message from Claire, John finds himself wandering across the castle, letting himself into the study the man had indicated he locate. He peers around the room discretely, finding the place oddly reminiscent of an apothecary, before offering the man who greets him a polite smile. Half of his face is mottled with bruising of various colors, a cloth eye patch tied around his head to hide the worst of the injury.]

Ah. Not at all. Thank you for your invitation, Doctor. Although I suppose I should be thanking Claire Fraser for reaching out to you in the first, as I understand.

[Given what Claire had told him of the injury, it's not exactly surprising to see the eye patch, nor the splotches of discoloration mottling his skin.]

That's right. Your friend was concerned about your injury, and rightfully so. And now I can clearly see why.

[Stephen closes his book and gestures for him to come closer. There's an empty chair in front of the desk in which John can sit if he likes; he is certainly welcome to.]

Nothing that a session of magic can't fix, at least for someone who's spent too long poring over the magical texts in this castle with the intention to hone exactly that art. Make yourself comfortable. Should I just call you John?

[It's odd, the informality of this place. A reminder, perhaps, of the strict code he has been living in for the majority of his life. His father was a Duke, an Earl. John, being the second son, did not inherit either of these titles, but the rules of courtesy dictate he be addressed as 'Lord' John, and this is the way it has always been. Only those people who are the closest to him have done otherwise.

It feels a bit silly to insist upon it here, and yet.

He's clearly thinking about it long enough that there is a visible pause, before he offers the other man a self-conscious smile.]

Forgive me. I... Might I ask how much Claire explained to you? Of my situation. Perhaps a more formal introduction is due.

[Stephen wanders over to the front of the work table and leans back against it, crossing his arms as he considers the other man. If John wants to be addressed by his last name (or a title, though Stephen does not quite know that yet), then he'd hardly mind doing so; considering he's often addressed as Doctor Strange, except among those closest to him, it would be hypocritical to do otherwise.]

She didn't go into details. And I didn't think it was really my place to ask.

[Though he did ask enough to garner a very, very vague idea of the circumstances.]

She's from a time long before mine, and you're ten years into her future. Other than that? She said her husband tried to kill you, and thus the injury.

[He leaves it at that. It really is about the extent of what he knows, but he also leaves it open for the other man to either expound, or confirm and simply move on.]

[Lord John inclines his head. He had not given Claire too many details with regard to exactly what had happened to him, but... It is her future, and besides that. The circumstances are delicate, to say the least.]

That is correct. My name is Lord John Grey, and the last I knew, it was mid-June, 1778 -- although as to the precise date, I could not say. I'm afraid it was difficult to keep track, circumstances being what they were...

[He gestures toward his injury, offering the other man a self-conscious smile.]

Mr. Fraser took objection to a conversation we shared. With his fist, as you see.

[It sounds like it to Stephen, too. Delicate. Delicate enough to have ended in some kind of explosive manner, ending with this man needing to come to him for a round of magical healing.]

I can see that. It must have been quite the strike to have done that kind of damage, too.

[It's not impossible, of course, but it's difficult. To shatter bone means the MCP joints have to have struck just right, with just enough force to have shattered or fractured bone. Must have been a pretty big "objection", he thinks.]

"Lord", though. [He was a bit off in just calling him "John", wasn't he?] I'll address you properly if that's your preference.

[His lips quirk in something of a self-deprecating smile.]

He is a large man. A highland warrior. And --

[He offers the other man something of a shrug.] He was rather unhappy with what I had to tell him, I suppose you might say.

But that's neither here nor there, now that we find ourselves here. Lord John will do just fine -- it is as most people address me. [Unless they are intimates. Honestly, the formalities (or lack thereof) of this place are going to take some getting used to, where Lord John Grey is concerned.

He gestures to his eye, and the eyepatch he has covering it.] More to the point -- you do think that you will be able to heal it? I can... Take this off, if you need to examine it more closely. I would warn you, it is not very pleasant to look at.

[He nods, and though he won't press for further information, it isn't hard to imagine. It's not like Stephen hasn't been thrown around once or twice by... individuals physically stronger than himself. The result is often is quite painful, to say the least.

And so, he nods. Neither here nor there. He knows it as cue to move on.]

Lord John it is, then. Please-

[He straightens and gestures at one of the chairs in front of the work table.]

Have a seat. And don't worry, I was a surgeon before I was a sorcerer. I've seen more than my fair share of "unpleasant" and then some.

[After a point, human anatomy is just human anatomy; even if some injuries are more unkind to look at than most.]

Edited (Please don’t mind me editing for a typo an age later aaaa) 2023-05-01 23:57 (UTC)

[John moves to sit in the chair that Strange has indicated, wondering slightly at that explanation -- surgeon before sorcerer...? -- but not wanting to pry. This really is a strange place, though.]

And I have suffered my fair share of the unpleasant.

[He offers the other man a rueful smile.] Whether in my position in the army, or simply by misfortune -- surgeons have saved my life more times than they have any right to have done. Though I cannot say that this injury is particularly mortal...

[He reaches up to untie the bandage around his eye, revealing a particularly nasty bruise purpling over his eye, which has swollen shut and looks to be quite raw from the tears that begin to run down that side of his face now the eye is exposed to the light.]

It is decidedly unpleasant.

((ooc: FORGIVE ME for how late a reply this is, i totally understand if its been too long, tl;dr a combo of RL stress/allergies/too much computer time at work ko'd me and i needed a semi hiatus from RP to recover -- i would be happy to continue and grow their cr down the road though if you're game!!))

(( OOC; NO WORRIES, as you can see this is also not the most expedient reply lol. I'm happy to continue if you are! ))

[He doesn't so much flinch at the sight, that purpled and swollen injury, though it's easy to chalk that up to his own experience as a doctor, and knowing what to expect before Lord John arrived. Still, he leans in a little to get a better look, his lips thinning.]

It doesn't have to be a mortal injury to affect your quality of life. And I'm going to say that this definitely qualifies.

[Stephen straightens, clasping his hands together.]

Let's hope this is the last time in a while when you're going to have to seek the aid of either sorcerer or doctor, all right? Now, you don't have to do much of anything, but I should tell you what to expect.

[A few more handgestures, quick and practiced, and amber light begins to trail and spark at his fingertips.]

This is what my native magic looks like. It's what I'll be using to heal you, in conjunction with what I've learned during my stay here.

( closed ) it looks so clean but i can see

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