Closed [Soothing Waters] Touch and Chill (Ethan)

[Wanda Endust]

OOCSorry for the big wait! RL got way busier than I was expecting these last couple weeks.

Wanda frowned inwardly as her fingers finally found a good rhythm about their work. The rosy color returning to the flesh let her know that she was succeeding in returning blood flow to the area, but what about the internal bleeding. It was practically a given that, with such an ugly blow, at least some of the veins had been damaged somehow. Unfortunately, it was a too difficult for her to tell much more than that. The muscle was relaxing, but the surrounding flesh was still too callous for her to feel through.

The frown only deepened at the man's nonresponse, though she couldn't blame him for shrugging it off. No matter how much Wanda said she liked change and variety and new experiences, she sure stubbornly clung to her opinions. It was odd, though, for her to become so argumentative. Hadn't she always been a happy-go-lucky kind of girl? She'd been having trouble just going with the flow, and it'd taken a toll on her relationships. Normally, she'd never had any problems becoming fast friends with strangers. Now she realized it was almost as if she was pushing everyone away one way or another.

Gods, Wanda, she cursed herself, lifting a hand from the man's skin momentarily to brush the hair out of her face. Get yourself together, girl. Go with the flow.

There was a bit of a pause as the conversation fell dead between the two and Wanda wracked her brain, floundering for another, safer, topic to salvage the conversation. Luckily, he jumped in with an introduction before she could come up with any awful ideas.

With that, her face immediately brightened. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Mr. Ironhorse! You can call me Wanda. And don't worry about it much -- I didn't mean to spew words at you just then. Figure I've had those thoughts bouncing around inside my head for a while now, and I'm just now letting them out."

She glanced up at his face, offering a lopsided grin. And, really, it was nice to just vent a little bit and get her thoughts off her chest, no matter how jumbled they had sounded. Now that she'd already worn herself out talking so much about one thing, it was easier for her to focus on the topic of magic -- which usually got her a bit wound up too.

But a simple conversation was preferable right now, compared to the one they'd just had. "Magic, hm?" Wanda cast her eyes about the room and returning after catching sight of a nearby healer. "I don't really know much about those gnosis mark things, to be honest. I mean, that healing stuff isn't any kind of dangerous as far as I know, but it never quite sat well with me, how they can just touch a person and bam! they're cured." She shrugged.

"I'm perfectly fine with the whole magical bit." Of course she was -- she wasn't that big of a hypocrite. "But that's an awful lot of power to just have. Sure, they gained a god's favor and all that. But I don't think I really respect them as much as I do someone who actually spent years of their life working and studying and actually improving themselves."

She increased the pressure on his arm gently, switching from the pads of her fingers to the heel of her palm. "Personally, I'd prefer to use my own talents and my own two hands!" she chuckled. "'Course, gnosi aren't the only kinds of magic, right?" At this she leaned forward and mockingly lowered her voice to a conspiratorial tone. "Between you and me, I find the other magics -- the ones you actually have to work at -- more fascinating."

With that, she leaned back and waved an attendant over to where Ethan's armor laid. "Besides that, I haven't heard of anything our laundry workers can't clean!"

[Ethan Ironhorse]

Ethan smiled at the blond healer as she told him her name. Wanda, that’s a good name, Ethan thought. Ethan relaxed as Wanda continued to work, at times he grimaced at the pain that would flare up at a touch, but he kept his pain to himself knowing that if the little healer could do anything for him he would be grateful. When she gave him a lopsided grin he grinned back and gave her a nod that everything was ok between them. Ethan listened to Wanda as she explained her thoughts on gnosi marks and the chosen people who wielded them. He had to agree a bit with her, Ethan had seen Ros work with his arm at the forge and the way he had just gripped the metal and bent it to his will, as if it was clay, sent a spike of jealousy through him. However, Ros wasn’t just the type of man to go about surviving on that one trick. No he had learnt a great deal about smelting and normal forge techniques to help increase the lost knowledge of blacksmithing. So when Ros choose to pick up a hammer and forge something, he was a better hand at it then anyone Ethan had ever seen. The man had the knowledge and the power, which when thought about was why he was a master of his craft and his talents sought after throughout the whole region. So Ethan wasn’t sure if the healer with gnosis marks still didn’t learn medicine and the like. To him it would seem like a waste to constantly use their gift, perhaps they would prescribe medicines instead of using their power to allow people to heal on their own. Perhaps the Goddess required them to understand something of medicine in order to determine when to use their gift or not. As Wanda leaned forward, Ethan smelled the soft flowery scent of her hair, and for a moment the thought went through his head that this would be the perfect scent of Hadyn. Ethan clapped down on the thought realizing that imaging Hadyn right now hair done up and with open willing arms was going to get him trouble. So he blinked for a moment and concentrated on what Wanda was saying. Smiling when she told him about his armor, Ethan spoke up. “Well I am glad, I was worried that when I wore the armor people would think I am some kind of professional killer.” Ethan smiled gently and in hush tones spoke to Wanda as well, “I must admit it is a forbidden and secret desire of mine to learn some of those other magicks. Granted I don’t want to learn something that only hurts people, I want to learn something I can use to create. Something I can make with my own hands. For instance, Reimancy scares me a great deal, but I have heard of mages using it in amazing ways. There was talk about a mage that knew fire reimancy that could create a flame so hot that it would melt metal. He used his skills to wield pieces of metal together. Now that’s amazing, but sends shivers down my back at the thought of how dangerous that could be. Create a flame that hot and throw it at someone.” Ethan shivered as he looked over at the fighters in the beds. “I know I wouldn’t do something like that as a joke, but if my back was against the wall and someone was going to kill me, I am not so sure.” Ethan shook his head a little. “Sorry, didn’t mean to get back on that conversation. But you’re right, secretly I like the idea of magic and all it can do, it’s just the stigma that people attach to it makes me second guess myself. Besides teachers…” Ethan thought about his experience with Devandil and his teaching methods, “need to be trusted before one starts, and how does one build up that trust? I suppose through long conversations and perhaps some type of trial a teacher could determine if that person would be worthy of their magic. Yet it seems like a lot of work for something that would become a stigma later in life.”

[Wanda Endust]

The attendant that approached seemed a bit haggard, already exhausted from running between this cot and that to help with whatever needed done. At Wanda's gesture, he quietly and efficiently scooped up Ethan's leather armor and took off in the direction of the laundry rooms.

Wanda's own ministrations had ceased in that short time period, but now she returned both her gaze and her hands to the man's arm once more. The aloof grin faded from her face and was replaced with a look of concentration as she focused on his words and the task the task she had at hand.

Honestly, she had to respect the man. He might fight, but he certainly wasn't the stereotypical fighter she'd been so stubbornly sure he was. Really, as far as she could tell, he was far wiser than she -- which made sense, given his supposed age -- and there was far more to his character than she'd originally assumed.

Still, he had to be one of the only men she'd met who seemed so internally balanced. All he wanted to do was create, to make things with his own two hands. It was a sentiment Wanda understood, though her own particular interest was less in what she could bring into the world and more in what she could take out. To pull pain from a limb, to chase away aches and demolish distress... When she touched people, was she creating comfort or simply destroying the discomfort? Was she creating or destroying?

She would have liked to not answer that question, but a part of her already seemed to know the answer, and she swiftly tossed the idea from her current mind. She didn't want to ponder it. She'd never been very good at making anything to begin with.

He was right, though -- magic was an incredible responsibility and, sometimes, even a burden. But which was worse -- to have the power and abuse it, or to have the power and not use it at all? And what was Wanda doing with her magic? To try and stop petty arguments? Was that a worthy use, or was she simply looking for any excuse to draw on the power of djed? Wasn't she only using it when it was convenient for her to do so?

At the mention of teachers, Wanda's mind flashed to the only logical image it could associate with the word: her father. Jarvis Endust. She loved him, of course, and cherished his memory. But, in this very specific moment, the memory was tainted with something less pure than daughterly admiration. Ethan's words struck a small chord and, in place of the reverence Wanda held for her father, she felt... slighted. She hadn't dared to consider it much before, but hadn't he, in a way, pushed it on her?

Well, she had been the one to question him about it. But she had been young at the time. Too young. And he he was an adult, a full grown man fully aware of what he was getting his daughter into and fully capable of denying her that fate.

Yet, if she were given the chance, would she want to un-learn what she knew? Would she give up what little bit of magic she found herself tampering with? No. It was a door to something greater. It was a small door though, and Wanda, of course, had no clue what she wanted the door for in the first place.

Her mind was once again beginning to reel with one thought, then another and, to keep herself on track, she took in a slow-drawn deep breath through her lips.

Focus on what he's saying, she told herself. Don't wander. Focus on something. So, as she listened, Wanda focused on dividing her attention between Ethan's words and his arm. Her palm worked the skin, rubbing in a downward motion towards his own hand as if she were guiding the blood, then back up again in tandem with his circulation.

The repetitive motion continued a few moments after Ethan had stopped speaking, and there were a few ticks of thoughtful silence from Wanda before she had reeled her rampant thoughts back in enough to form a coherent idea.

"Well, what kind of stigma do you attach to it?" she queried, lifting an eyebrow with a momentary glance into his face. "I mean, we can worry all we want about how other people will feel about it, but I don't think it'll ever really do us much good. Sometimes we've just gotta... I dunno, let go of what everyone else thinks we should do and just go with what our hearts tell us to do." She topped the statement off with a shrug.

"As for teachers... Yeah, trust is probably the most important part of that kind of relationship. And it is a lot of work and I don't suppose it's easy at all, but if it's for something that a person wants -- like, really wants -- then maybe they can withstand the negatives? After all, there'll always be someone to share those same interests, I think," she concluded, lopsided grin returning as she gestured between the two of them.

"Also, is this starting to feel any better?" she prompted as her hand returned to his flesh.

[Ethan Ironhorse]

Ethan felt the gentle pressure on his forearm began ease and though it was still tender, the majority of the pain was settling down allowing more than slowest of movements in his wrist. “Aye, its feeling better. I still have a bit of tenderness, but the overall feeling of heat and spike of pain I get from movement has disappeared.” Ethan was quiet for a moment as he thought over Wanda’s words. “If you are asking me about my thoughts on the matter, I suppose I think of it as… a dangerous tool. On the one hand, magic can create great and wonderful things. Some of the reimancers are employed by the Ironworks to create stone moulds or go into the mine and find ores. Yet when you talk to them, they are cautious about those that ask questions. I was curious one day after someone had asked about his nephew apprenticing to a reimancer, and asked why the reimancer had not just refused but had told the man to go ahead and kill his nephew if that was what he wanted.” Ethan grew quiet for a little bit. He thought about the book he had read from Devandil and about what he knew from overgiving. He wove his own knowledge into the story. “A mage must have a quiet soul, the reimancer said, for the mage must forever balance the need to perform his craft against the risk that his craft will drive him insane. It is in the quiet of the evening when, he sat by himself that the need to perform on more elemental transformation would come. For as we talked, he told me of his first apprentice, a boy that was just on the verge of manhood.” “The boy fell in love with a girl, as they are often want to do. The boy was of a studious nature and not physically as strong as others. However, he knew that his love was strong for the girl, so he performed a bit of magic in private for her. The girl not understanding the consequences of the boy’s actions and finding the forbidden display impressive, she asked for more, the boy seeing that his magic impressed her did it again. He was careful at first making sure that his magic was under control, and the reimancer said that it almost seemed like the boy was naturally talented at it, since he saw improvement in him daily. Yet the reimancer had been trained in the signs of an ill at ease mind. He thought that the lad was practicing with him to hard, so he had the lad stop, and work on his education in other things. It seemed to help for a while, instead of the boy being dark and brooding he slowly began to cheer back up. Then one day the apprentice didn’t show up for at his master’s door.” Ethan paused, adding to the suspense. “You see, the boy often sneaked away at night and display his magic to the girl. The reason why he was progressing as fast as he did was because he was learning new tricks to impress her with. Pressing himself harder and faster to impress the girl, well when his master stop showing him new things, the boy used his own imagination to come up with ideas and practiced them in his spare time. The night he disappeared, the knighthood found three bodies charred to a cinder.” “The girl had been courting several lads, not just the young apprentice, though she favored him more. However, the master reimancer found the boys journal, over the course of the season it seemed the boy went from stealing a few kisses to believing that the girl didn’t just love him but it was their destiny from Cheva to be in love forever. His thoughts had become warped and centered around the girl, so much so that when he saw her courting other lads, that he thought they were forcing their attentions on her. The master visited the family of the girl and found out that a miller’s boy had been courting their daughter, and she had decided to accept his pledge to her that day. The master could only assume that the girl and boy met with his apprentice to tell him to leave and never haunt her doorstep again. The reimancer assumed that in a fit of rage the boy murdered all of them at once.” Ethan sat quietly thinking on the tale he had heard from a reimancer, a cautionary tale that was meant to scare those young and foolish from power, but one that the reimancer had not just heard but lived through. “He said that the scary part was that when you read the boy’s journal, it sounded as if it came from a sound mind and kind lad, just one not experience in love. It wasn’t till the master saw a change in his writing and that he wrote of blood and fire for all others that would challenge his right to possess the girl that the Master knew magic had twisted his mind. He told that was how magic worked, at first it whispered to you to perform one more trick, asking to push oneself a little harder so that one could grow in strength, and once you gave in you realized that the voice was right that by pushing yourself you became slightly better, slightly more powerful. So you do it again and again, then the voice, that sweet whisper warms your imagination to show you how to accomplish a task with magic. Whether it’s lighting a candle or digging a hole, you find that your life becomes a little easier. Then one day, you don’t really know why but you think magic becomes the only answer instead of just one of your tools. So you use it more, or try to find other magics to compensate things that you can’t do. Its on that day you lose yourself to magic and it has control.” “He said that after his apprentice had killed himself, he stopped his own progression in magic. Trying to find comfort in doing things with his hands and picking a wife to start a family with. He said that at night, after his wife and two daughters go to sleep, he lays awake wanting and thinking about his magic. The only way for him to stop is to turn to his wife and know that should he press himself to hard, will he burn his entire family as well.” Ethan stopped his story and looked at Wanda. “The stigma, I attach to it isn’t that its destructive or power hungry people only want it. It’s that fear that by pushing one’s self a little harder, I might not realize when I step over the edge. Do I have that quiet in me that the master shows to know when and where to apply magic? Am I capable of allowing temptation to pass me?” Ethan wasn’t so sure, but he had chosen to learn Shielding and Glyphing, and at first he had the itch to shield everything, to push himself beyond all boundaries and find his own strength. It wasn’t till his own brush with overgiving that he realized the temptation and the price he would pay if it ruled him. His enthusiasm had waned, but like anything he had chosen to take a slow approach performing magic only once every ten to fifteen days. Making sure that he only stressed his meager abilities by fractions. “I don’t know those answers, but I do know that if I stress myself in training with the sword, I might get bruises or broken bones, but I can recognize from the pain of my body when to stop. Would I recognize the pain of my own mind, before it was to late?”