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( closed ) i was happy in the haze of a drunken hour

WHO: Stephen and Ambrose
WHAT: Stephen's been caught snooping around the castle. Whoops. Ambrose wants to talk about it.
WHEN: Slightly forward-dated to sometime within the latter half of July.
WHERE: Castle Thorne, an interrogation room.
WARNINGS: TBA

[Stephen has been waiting for an age.

Or at least, it sure feels like it. If he were to consider the situation more realistically, it’s unlikely he’s been sitting for more than an hour, staring at the entrance as the seconds tick away. Funny, how being swept up by a pair of castle guards, then rather courteously deposited in an interrogation room and being asked to wait stretches the length of an hour into an eternity.

His mind whirs in the interim. It’s not as though he’s been detained like a proper criminal—his hands are not bound, and he taps a finger idly against his knee—but being treated in this fashion means that he has done something he shouldn't have. More accurately: he has been caught doing something he shouldn't have. Snooping around behind doors that should have been locked, but weren’t. Rifling through information that he shouldn't have seen.

Yes, he has a very strong notion of why he might be here, even if the consequence of his poking around has come at least a week late. He guesses this proves it, he thinks wryly: the castle walls do have eyes and ears and everything in-between. He should have been more careful. He should have expected it.

Nothing for it now. Time to face the music, whatever that may be, and Stephen exhales as he resigns himself to waiting a little longer.]

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[ To Stephen's benefit or to his detriment, those eyes and ears often lead to one man: Ambrose. Anyone familiar with the High Mage is used to the sound of his footfall as he draws near to the interrogation room. When the door opens to allow him inside, there is a level of tiredness that is even extreme to him. ]

...Hmh.

[ He regards Stephen with a harumph as he moves to the open chair. ]

You've been making use of our facilities.

[Stephen straightens in his seat at the sound of approaching footfalls, recognizing their tempo immediately. He knows who he'll be speaking with, now -- and when Ambrose makes his entrance, this practically confirms it.

He takes time to watch as the High Mage crosses over to the unused chair opposite where he sits; the man looks tired, he thinks to himself, and Stephen leans forward to rest an elbow on the hard surface of the table before him.]

You did give me access to them.

[He considers playing dumb but discards the idea nearly as soon as it graces his mind. There's no point; if he's already here, there's a reason for it, and there can be no other reason than his recollection of sneaking his way into an area usually restricted to him.]

But you're not talking about just the research labs, or else I wouldn't be sitting here in the first place. So, does my telling you 'the door was already open' make the situation better or worse?

[For him, specifically.]

[ Ambrose let's a heavy pause sit between them as he takes his time sitting down. As he does, he rubs his temple and rests his left hand on the table's edge. ]

For you?

[ Another pregnant pause. He does have a penchant for the dramatic from time to time and with his patience already ran thin, someone else can suffer a bit too. ]

You, Strange, are a curious one. Hungry for knowledge and answers, hm? I won't fault you for that.

[ He lowers his hand to rest on the table with the other. ]

But I will fault my apprentices for leaving areas explicitly designated as "approved personnel only" unattended.

[He does suffer a little under the stretched silences--even if his previous conversations with the man should leave him expecting nothing less--but the most Stephen does is lace his fingers together, otherwise keeping relatively still.]

Try to go easy on them.

[His intonation's dry, but the request is sincere enough; the last thing he needs is to be left feeling guilty about someone else having to bear the inauspicious blame of the High Mage.]

In the end, I was the one poking around. And if it helps anyone's case, I haven't shared it with anyone.

[He still doesn't know completely what to make of it. The imaging, the implications wrought from a bit of follow-up research from the library.]

[ Ambrose gives another harumph. But it is, once again, more exhausted than angry. ]

I like to think I'm not a cruel man, but they will be dealt with accordingly.

[ An accident it may have been, but the implications of the information getting out is something that Ambrose takes very seriously. He straightens in his seat in defiance of said exhaustion as he continues. ]

It's good that you haven't as you will now be their replacement and we will expect the same level of care and secrecy that your predecessor did not have. Congratulations, Stephen Strange.

[Stephen blinks, registering what Ambrose had said. Congratulations, Stephen Strange. Why does it feel like something's just been dropped unceremoniously into his lap? He raises his hands, scrunching up his face and shaking his head slightly.]

Wait, hold on- What? Their replacement?

[Stephen is no stranger (no pun intended) to responsibility. He's grown used to the weight of it by now; he carries it around like a second skin. But he would like to know just what he's gotten into. Just exactly what he's supposed to be treating with care and secrecy with more clarity.]

Look. I'm flattered you trust me enough to even consider it, but do I get the privilege of knowing exactly what I'll be doing? What it is, precisely, I was even looking at?

[The papers in there, the imaging -- he could puzzle it together out of context, his experience as a doctor, and a bit of research. But the details in-between were lacking, and those are what truly niggle at his curiosity. True, Ambrose could just tell him it wasn't his right to fish for more information, but if this new restricted room in the castle was being sidled under his purview, does it not make sense to want to know? The opportunity to pry is now, and far be it from him to overlook it.]

[ Ambrose raises a singular bushy eyebrow in the vein of did I stutter? But Stephen will still be afforded a more lengthy explanation for his promotion. ]

Don't be foolish. We wouldn't-...no, I wouldn't extend this level of trust without the background.

[ Ambrose claps his hands twice. From outside the room, one of the guards shuffles in and presents the High Mage with a leather wrapped tome. Without any thanks, Ambrose waves the man off and the door shuts quietly behind them.

He unwraps the tome with more urgency than he had shown making his way to this interrogation turned job faire. After flipping through various pages, he lands on one in particular and lays the book open on the table, turning it so that it can face Stephen upright.

What Stephen will see are a list of initials, most likely names but clearly redacted for privacy reasons, as well as dates and a series of minute measurements beside each date. The earliest dates are from late December. The measurements themselves are stable. ]

What you and your team set up is a network not just for measuring fluxes of activity from the Singularity itself, but also the magical output. As I'm sure you've noticed in your own pursuits, the magic that comes out of the Singularity itself is unique. So unique that everyone but the Summoned can't interact with it without risk of injury, sickness, but most often death.

[ He taps his finger to the measurements themselves. ]

...And it seems that the risks we took with the Dimming this past year had some unintended consequences.

[All right, so more information is still pending. Stephen's brows raise even higher as one of the guards shuffles in with a leather tome, leaving the two of them with it. Eyes flick down as the book's splayed open and turned in his direction; information, data. Initials and dates and measurements.]

Magical output?

[He murmurs, leaning forward to get a better look, as though it would add more understanding to the information presented to him. Ambrose, instead, is the one to give him context, the kind that rings ominous in his ears and makes his stomach drop a bit like lead.]

These initials... Are these all the names of people who are suffering from these "unintended consequences"? The papers I found earlier implied symptoms that looked an awful lot like radiation poisoning.

[ Once the words "radiation poisoning" leave Stephen's mouth, Ambrose's lips turn downwards, increasing his already prominent frown. ]

That is, unfortunately, exactly what we're dealing with.

[ Ambrose leans back then, lacing his fingers as his gaze looks to some nondescript point past Stephen. ]

Our usual protocol is to send just one casket to the Singularity which normally takes the life of the elected deliverer. With so many Summoned now within our midst, we took a chance in sending several which includes taking them out of storage.

[ He lets out a long, grating sigh and refocuses his gaze to Stephen properly. ]

This sort of effect is unprecedented. If only a fraction of the Singularity's power can do this to people who are close to it...

[ Surely Stephen understands where this is going. ]

[He does, enough to finish Ambrose’s thought with his own without much hesitation at all.]

Then I’d hate to think about what it could do if its power fluctuated beyond its standard capacity. How this effect might spread without warning.

[Rippling outwards. It’s a blessing, indeed, that they have some kind of system in place to track the monolith’s output, even if Stephen might have appreciated knowing the truth of the matter beforehand.

Still, his doctor’s proclivities drag themselves to the forefront of his concern. If there are people sick, right now, seeing how he can help is his first priority.]

The people affected by this now, let me help. Let me tend to a few of them and see what I can do to lessen the symptoms. Or even help look for a cure.

[ The High Mage nods once. He doesn't need to impress the importance of this any further nor the need for secrecy. The alarm that would spread throughout Thorne before they have a solution to the problem is not what they need right now.

When Stephen asks to the see the afflicted, Ambrose's frown increases for a few seconds. The man was a doctor in his other life, this much Ambrose is aware. However... ]

Making them comfortable is all we've been able to achieve. Every attempt to cure we've tried has ended in failure.

[ "Failure" is a word that Ambrose does not use lightly, the weight of it holding contempt in his voice. ]

The cure may not lay in Thorne...

[ He reaches out for the book again and turns the next page of notes for Stephen to read. ]

What we have been able to gather is that it attacks the blood. Those who were already feeble, too young, or too old are at the highest risk.

[The word "failure" weighs heavily on Stephen's mind, too, even though he is not the one to utter it. The sorcerer reaches out to scoot the book closer to him, eyes scanning the page, his mind whirring, whirring-]

The usual when it comes to susceptibility, then.

[The young, old, those already weakened. This doesn't surprise him, and his vision rakes across the book, committing what he reads to memory to go over later.]

If the cure's not in Thorne, then we look elsewhere. [Just as one focuses their attention away from a general practitioner to a specialist, should need be.] Ikorr... Don't they wheel and deal in blood?

[Insofar as the news has recently spread.]

Do you think they'd have some insight into this problem? The opportunity to ask might not come again for a while.

[ Ambrose's brow wrinkles further. Stephen's thoughts appear to match the High Mage's own... from a practical perspective. As High Mage, he regrettably cannot ignore the politics involved. ]

Disclosing Thorne's sensitive information to foreign parties is out of the question. Having said that...

[ He purses his lips, the dissatisfaction evident on his features. Stephen is correct in regards to Ikorr as well as their access to blood or possible cures. Ambrose reaches out once more to close the book. A deep exhale follows. ]

If- if- you discover a discreet method of gaining insight into Ikorr then I will want to hear it. In the meantime, our priority is to alleviate the symptoms of the people affected.

[ He places a pointed emphasis on the word "discreet." Stephen does not need a reminder that he has only received this arguably undesirable promotion as a result of someone else's failure in judgment. ]

[Sensitive information. Discreet. Right. Stephen knows where the priorities lie — in keeping classified information exactly that: classified.

His lips tighten into a thin line, and he reaches out to run a scarred finger down the list of initials on the page of the open tome.]

If I’m going to help these people, then I'll be more effective if I'm allowed to be a doctor. To treat them as patients, not just research goals and nameless studies. Do I get to see them? To oversee them? Or am I just going to have to deal with initials on a page?

[He doesn't know how this job operated beforehand, but it's obvious where his own preferences lie.]

[ Ambrose straightens up. He adjusts his glasses with a note of impatience. ]

Yes, yes. I am a practical man, Stephen Strange. Two of the patients are being treated within these walls in separate wing of our infirmary.

[ Ambrose taps two names on the list: Catriona Glas, middle-aged Castle mage, and Josep Billings, a young mage-in-training who fell ill before he could graduate from his studies. Stephen will find the two patients in a slow deteriorating condition. They are not conscious. Rather, they are currently held in a deep magical sleep. ]

You'll have access to their private wing. No one can know why you're there. This includes your colleagues and friends, I will stress. Make up a story if you must.

[Meanwhile, Stephen’s impatience appears to abate when he’s given names to commit to memory. Catriona Glas and Josep Billings. Good — people he can help in person, even if they remain unconscious, which will make it easier for all parties involved. He nods, his brow still stern but his features a little more acquiescing.]

I don’t plan on letting this slip. [Certainly not in the castle, at any rate.] But if this keeps happening, there’s only so long anyone’s going to be able to keep it quiet.

[A drove of people suddenly suffering from magical radiation poisoning will raise more than just a few brows, and if this compounds over time? It’ll be too obvious to obfuscate for very long.]

[ Mild consternation appears on Ambrose's face. His hope has been that with the caskets safely secured at last, there will be no more victims will fall ill but this remains to be seen.

Problems in the castle are multiple for the High Mage. ]

Yes, well, we shall cross that bridge when we come to it. Now- if you'll excuse me, I have another meeting to attend and you have work to do.

[ He trusts Stephen will be in contact as necessary. If Stephen won't ask anymore questions, Ambrose will exit with the same curtness he's prone to demonstrating. ]

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( closed ) i was happy in the haze of a drunken hour

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