ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ (mysticism) wrote in valloic, @ 2021-05-26 14:30:00 |
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Entry tags: | !: action/thread/log, ₴ inactive: stephen strange, ₴ inactive: thurvishar d'lorus |
WHO: Dr. Strange & Thurvishar D'Lorus
WHAT: Thurvishar gets a memory update, literally needs the fainting couch
WHERE: Magical Research @ the DOA, then the Chakrabarti Clinic
WHEN: This morning
WARNINGS: Brief mentions of medical stuff, trauma, a Kraken, you know - all those happy things
STATUS: Complete
It had been an ordinary morning in all regards. Thurvishar D’Lorus had slept past when he should due to having stayed up reading too late (a common occurrence), and after throwing on clothes and enchanting them to be unwrinkled, he’d gotten a particularly strong-brewed cup of coffee with cinnamon at one of the shops along the way to the DOA. On his roster this morning was a meeting with Bonnie, but he was also expecting Stephen Strange to stop by sometime during the day to chat. Thurvishar’s office was neat, clean, not a book out of place. People tended to believe him to be a competent, responsible individual, and he was, mostly, but a lot of it was feint along the way: he cleaned up well and always presented a certain image. And that certain image certainly did not include getting hit with an unraveling pool of memories nearly as soon as he’d taken a seat in his chair. That had been the only thing that had kept him from falling and smacking his head on the corner of the desk; as it was, he slumped nearly immediately, smothering the rising panic that suddenly engulfed him: Memories that hurt, memories that revealed. Enemies gained, friends lost, small victories, larger losses. The return of the Stone of Shackles, and gaeshing. The Kraken. Senera. It was like being caught in a flood, frantically grasping for floating, solid objects to haul your body over to stop going under the deluge. It might have lasted two seconds or sixty; there was no telling, because as soon as it stopped, Thurvishar’s grip slackened and he pitched straight to temporary unconsciousness, exhaustion claiming him completely. Ever since the time of the Vultures and the salt mines (so very long ago, somewhere over the rainbow), there had been a lending library in place - to help facilitate some kind of peaceful book acquisition, nothing where anyone could keep the specific dark tomes, ink and onion-skin paper and the scent of woodsmoke, but more of an exchange. Stephen had a couple in his possession that he was due to bring back - and he said he’d come see Thurvishar in his office on the way to the clinic anyway, so it was killing two birds with one stone. Or three birds with one stone - because he also brought along breakfast. Despite the fact that this wasn’t Earth (maybe a variation?), there was still kind of a universal obsession with donuts, chocolate, and pumpkin spice - or, well, he knew Thurvishar was obsessed with pumpkin spice. There was a bakery that made pumpkin chip donut holes year round, so he picked up a box and toted them to the DOA building; if he got to talking and ended up a little late for work that’d be okay - hopefully consulting and general practitioning could continue running at a normal pace, and Godzilla wouldn’t appear from the forest to cause an influx of patients. He arrived promptly at Thurvishar’s office and knocked on the door. “Just me, I brought books and donut holes. Which sounds dirtier than it is.” No response. Okay then. Stephen just knocked again. “Is this a bad time?” Still no response - and he didn’t think this was a good sign, but the door was unlocked so rather than use a kick as a battering ram (that hardly ever worked) he just went in, and if Thurvishar didn’t have any pants on that was his problem. “Oh.” Pants were still on, but Thurvishar was just unconscious - no big deal, Stephen remained calm. Merely felt his heart leap into his throat as he set down books and breakfast and went to check if Thurvishar was still breathing - the answer was yes but he was out cold, so Strange used a steady hand to draw a sling ring portal; the circle expanded, the edges sparking with Eldritch magic, and the clinic lay beyond. “It’s okay, don’t move - “ That was a joke (a dry one), “I’ve got you.” He hoisted Thurvishar into proper recovery position (slapping him awake wasn’t the wisest course of action despite what television shows may say) and then - through the portal they went. Assessing how he ended up passed out in his office would be better in a medical facility; they could get him hooked up to an IV and monitors and - oh shit, he left the donuts behind. Fuck everything. Thurvishar, who was blissfully unconscious for nearly all the embarrassing bits (and thus, in retrospect, was even more embarrassed), woke up a few moments later when he was already at the clinic and being seen to. Some acted out when upset; Thurvishar merely became more withdrawn, observant, mulling over his new memories as he was poked, prodded, and made comfortable for a few hours, fading in and out of sleep. Upon seeing Stephen come in, he smiled a pastel, watered down version of a smile. “I bet you don’t have that effect on everyone,” he cracked, and then immediately regretted saying anything at all; his voice croaked like he’d been stuck in a desert for a year. Oh, right - back home he’d spent six hours yelling orders and warnings while fighting a Kraken. He wanted to fidget, but didn’t - IV. “I hear I have you to thank for my new location.” “Something like that,” Stephen responded dryly, but there was a bit of a twinkle in blue eyes, stormy waters - mostly he was just glad that Thurvishar was okay. He’d definitely been poked and prodded upon being admitted to the clinic - one of the worst parts was peeing in a cup - and it had been determined that he was severely malnourished and dehydrated. Thus, a lovely cocktail of vitamins and minerals was currently being pumped into him through those IVs, along with fluids so his organs didn’t shrivel up and poof into dust. Or stop working. “I portaled us here but - I was on my way to work anyway, so I just got here early.” He was now in his scrubs, lab coat thrown over those - he didn’t look like any Sorcerer Supreme. Just a doctor who wore an expression of concern, complete with furrowed brow. “Those are pumpkin chocolate chip, for when you’re ready for solid food,” he added, nodding toward the box near Thurvishar’s bed. Of course he’d gone back and gotten them. Hashtag save the donuts. “What - happened, exactly?” he inquired, pulling up a chair to sit. Thurvishar perked up visibly at the thought of pumpkin spice anything, being a basic bitch and quite proud of it, but he didn’t reach for a donut hole quite yet. Their time would come. Instead, he faced Stephen with a grim sort of acceptance as he sorted out a response to the question. “Memories,” he answered simply, although it was likely obvious to Stephen despite the other man not having been here as long as some. “They were unexpected on their own, of course, but the physical effects - the exhaustion - compounded the shock. We were fighting--” His voice trailed off as he put his memories in order - easier said than done - and decided it was too complicated to get into. “--a lot of things, but primarily the goddess of revenge who had enlisted a Daughter of Laika - a Kraken - to give us some trouble. And she did.” Gods, he hoped that Sheloran would make it. “The way our magic works,” he continued, figuring this sort of thing would be right up Stephen’s alley, “is that it’s an energy drain. We replenish our magic after use, but of course, if you overextend yourself, rather than having your magic stop altogether, it starts feeding from other sources of energy. Fat, then muscle. Hence the exhaustion,” he said, with a limp gesture. “A witch and I were fighting the Kraken with magic, and by necessity we needed to be up close. It was too much.” Right, memories. Stephen was unfortunately familiar with that brand of bullshit - especially after Wanda went through the ringer with them, and then Rosalind. They were pervasive and annoying, especially because there was little you could do about them - people were here, not there, and it took some time before things righted themselves in the ol’ noggin. “So that drain carried over - the exhaustion did,” Stephen narrowed his eyes, a squint that still held a hint of concern. If he hadn’t found Thurvishar, who knows what would have happened? Then again, there was little sense in thinking of things like that - he couldn’t go down that road. It led to a lot of potholes and being flung from the car. He shifted in his chair, leaning over to check the monitors and assess what the readings were - things were on track, luckily. Thurvishar would only need to stay a day or two, for observation. And then lots of rest at home to get his strength back up. “Did things turn out okay? With the Kraken?” he asked. Thurvishar was polite enough not to comment on Stephen showing actual human and not reptile emotions, but it was noted nonetheless. With a slight inclination of his head to acknowledge Stephen’s having been in the right place in the right time, he answered the follow-up question. “It could have been much worse. Casualties, of course. And a friend was worse off magically than I was. But-- I think for the most part, we made it. Of course, there’s a bigger fight against the asshole who orchestrated all of this to come…” Thurvishar’s tone turned icy; he couldn’t help it. Relos Var just kinda brought that out of people. He didn’t add that the asshole in question was his grandfather; that just seemed a little too much cherry on top of the shit sundae. With a clearing of his throat, Thurvishar tried to look fluffier. “But then, it’s always one more thing, isn’t it? You certainly know that much.” “Unfortunately, I do,” Stephen agreed. Satisfied that Thurvishar’s organs wouldn’t explode (his blood pressure and heart rate seemed on the side of normal, maybe a little on the lower end but they’d stabilize that soon enough), he sat back in his chair and tried not to fidget. “I started going gray in my early twenties but being in Vallo just kind of added to this,” and he motioned to the silvery streaks he had at his temples. Especially after that merry-go-round trip forward in time, multiple timelines - he’d done it to see the outcome of the upcoming skirmish with Thanos, using the time stone in the same way the other Masters did, but when he held it in his hand it was like being punched in the face repeatedly by Father Time. Forward and back and sideways and around - he briefly forgot how old he was even supposed to be. “Though if it’s of any consolation, I’m glad you’re here now - that neither of us have to deal with bullshit back home. Of course - “ He shrugged, lifting one shoulder. “That doesn’t change the way it feels to be updated about home. But you have a fair amount of people who will check on you and will help you get back on track. Myself included.” See? His bedside manner was so many steps up from ‘what was your name again?’ and so forth. Maybe he would even make a casserole and bring it by - okay, maybe Wanda would make the casserole and Stephen would just drop it off, admitting it was from her because he wasn’t stellar in the kitchen. It was growth, or something. Thurvishar’s telepathy was much stunted here at Vallo, a fact he was both annoyed about and grateful for. But it was just strong enough to pick up on a myriad of Stephen’s emotions just then, a mix of “this is how you people, right?” and reflection. It made him smile, just a little, because even smiling hurt, dammit, but it was funny to hear Stephen Strange of all people referencing the power of friendship. And, of course, it was effective. “I appreciate it,” he said, and his honesty was apparent in the simple words. “I went without much in the way of anyone caring about me for a long while. It’s not something I take for granted now. If any additional bullshit from home shows up, I’ll let you know. In the meantime, feel free to utilize the Lighthouse for any of your projects while I rest up - you’re on the wards.” It was honestly the same for Stephen - he’d gone without as well, and had accepted that this was the way it happened to be. That he had undergone all this trauma, fought his way through, and emerged a different person who had been put into a position where he was standing between his world, Earth, and other worlds - other dimensions. And he was standing there alone - isolated from the very people he swore to keep safe. Here, he was beginning to see that perhaps it didn’t have to be that way. And perhaps he was learning that it was okay to get close to people - he didn’t have to do everything on his own either. “On your wards,” he repeated, with a bit of a drawl to the words. “Fancy. That sounds nice though - I’ll probably stop by at some point, when I want a change of scenery. You’re always welcome at the Sanctum too, by the way. And when you’re up for it, I’ll have to give you the official tour of everything that’s there.” That could take awhile. They’d make room for tea breaks and maybe pizza portals. “I’d very much enjoy that.” Probably. Thurvishar had a few ideas of what the Sanctum entailed, and of all the magical things housed within it that Stephen guarded. He made a mental note to wear comfortable shoes that day. “With any luck I’ll be back to myself in a week or two.” He could scarcely comprehend that it would take that long, but it wasn’t as if he had any option other than waiting. With a nod, he added: “Thank you once again for seeing to me. If you’d like to put a good word in the paper about your heroism, I’ll be happy to verify it. After, I think, a solid twelve hours of sleep.” Stephen chuckled a little, low and smooth, as he patted Thurvishar’s knee over the blanket and stood up. “I’m always uncomfortable about that hero thing,” he admitted. Maybe because his own journey to emerge as one (he guessed) was marked with a lot of physical pain and kind of a literal transformation - he couldn’t go back to his old life, which was why he was here at the clinic doing general practitioner work rather than complicated surgeries. Still, do no harm was what he lived by - he became a doctor to save lives, not take them, as he once told Christine. “But get some rest,” he added pointedly. “Doctor’s orders.” Though he doubted Thurvishar would need help in that department - his body was exhausted, his magic drained; that had to also be a whole other bag of worms. Not being able to tap into those particular resources - Stephen would feel like something was missing, a part of himself. It would be a long week or two, when one couldn’t access their magic. He’d do what he could to keep the optimism going - the magic would come back, it just needed to replenish itself most likely. “I’ll check on you later. See how your vitals are.” Thurvishar didn’t reply with words, but he caught Stephen’s eye and smiled, just a little, to show that being uncomfortable with the hero thing was… understood. So often, doing the right thing to him felt more like penance than… the right thing. However, that was a conversation he needed to have all his wits together for, and he was phenomenally unwitty at the moment. “I’ll see you in a bit,” he said with a slight, limp wave, leaning back against his pillow and trying to turn off the part of his brain that was replaying the last battle he’d been in over and over. It felt both very real and very like a half-remembered dream: memories overlapping onto real life. He was, at least, safe and the room was quiet. Before he was quite prepared, Thurvishar fell into a heavy, lumbering sleep. |