June 23

[aurabble]

[No way in hell he'll be sober enough on the 21st-22nd. A cheerful voice assaults your eardrums.]

Uhm, hi! Stubbed your toe? Got stung by something? Bleeding out? Lucky you! Not on the nearly dying part, but just call me on this Scroll-Stone thing and I'll put my Aura in you and leave you 100% better in no time.

[A long pause.]

Unless I'm too late. Hopefully not. It's not like I'm going to use it for anything else. [He starts rambling.] It probably won't hurt. I never got to ask. But it's better than dying. Anyway--!

Incredible, it's just as awkward as using a real scroll...

Comments

[aurabble]

No. I'll be fine.

[He's confident of this much. He isn't sure what would happen if he uses his Semblance too often, but he expects he'd just end up tired. Not that he cares if he gets tired, and he wouldn't even mind if he got hurt. If it means Drifter can live, it's worth it.]

[hyperlit]

[...]

[There is no harm in trying. If they must rescind the request, then they shall. There is nothing wrong with that.]

CURRENTLY ON ENSŌ
TEMPLE OF THE GOD

[aurabble]

Okay. I'll see you in a bit. [He feels Drifter's fate weighing on him, but he can't give up.]

[hyperlit]

VERY WELL

[And sure enough, if he looks for them, they'll be there - the Storyteller's Temple, currently leaned up against one of the walls near the entrance, their sprite hovering passively at their shoulder.]

[aurabble]

[Jaune walks in looking like he went to the store and ended up on the wrong continent. Looking around, he spots them and waves, walking up and smiling.

Wow. They look badass.] Are you the person I spoke to on the uhh...rock? [It sounds so weird saying it aloud.]

[hyperlit]

[Perhaps slightly less badass is the way they adjust their red mantle over the lower half of their face, shoulders jerking in a short series of coughs. At least they're not spitting up blood this time.]

[Their sprite issues the words in text, clear pink over their shoulder:]

spoke of an
aura

[aurabble]

[Quickly, Jaune puts on a brave smile to attempt to look reassuring. He may not be a leader any longer, but he needs to believe he can do this for both of them.

Still, there's a genuine spark of light when he notices the sprite.]

So cool... [Like a floating scroll. Wait. Stay focused!] Uhm, right. Basically it's a manifestation of the soul so... Let's do this! You might wanna sit.

[hyperlit]

[This is how it is: sometimes there are bad days. Sometimes there are days when the weight on their chest is too heavy, too insurmountable, for them to feel as though they can so much as move.]

[They move anyway, because that is the sort of person they are.]

[They're already leaned up against the temple wall, so it is simply a matter of sliding down to sit onto the sand beneath them. Their head tilts to one side, eyes slitting half-shut.]

have we met

[He seems familiar.]

[aurabble]

[Despite they not stating anything, the way Drifter slumps down makes Jaune realize his error. He feels a pang of guilt, but he doesn't bring it up. He'll just be more careful from now on. Sitting next to them, Jaune holds out his hands. Focuses. Taking a deep breath and trying to remember how it felt before. His eyes seem to dull for a moment.]

Maybe. I was here before. But I don't remember it, I'm...I'm sorry.

[He worries his lower lip and shuts his eyes. He doesn't want to lose Drifter- or anyone. He can't lose anyone. A gentle light emits from his hands and he opens his eyes, staring. So far so good, now he has to try and connect to Drifter's soul. Before he did everything on autopilot, so attempting to do so consciously is more of a challenge. He glances at them uncertainly.] Is it okay if I touch you? It might be easier.

[hyperlit]

[There's a marked hesitation before the Drifter glances down at their hands - gloved, naturally. Their skin is not, by nature, generally exposed to the elements save for the stripe of blue that is their face, peeking out from beneath their helm, set with jet-dark eyes.]

skin contact necessary?

[Or does he merely need to...access their physicality?]

[aurabble]

I- I guess not. It's okay. I can do it this way.

[He breathes in again, shutting his eyes. It's a lot like meditating. His aura envelopes Drifter in the same pale light, attempting to connect to Drifter's soul should they allow it, his soul manifesting into the physical as he attempts to mend cells, then tissue. He isn't sure where to begin, but the lungs (or where he thinks Drifter's lungs are) seems like a safe bet.]

Do you know where the source is? [He opens his eyes again now that he's made the connection.]

[hyperlit]

[The source?]

[Home, mostly. An Immortal Cell poisoning the world in the slow inflorescence of its tendrils rooting deep into the ore-rich earth and tainting everything with its sickly pink light.]

the land i come from
that is the source

[aurabble]

[Jaune's eyes widen in alarm.] Your...whole world?

[How is he supposed to fight that? Well, they're here now, so maybe he won't have to. He continues to work.] I think I can feel it. The sickness. [It's hard to verbalize, but Drifter feels like strength and mental fortitude. Whatever the disease is clashes with that. It feels wrong. He sends more of his Aura in with the desire to protect at the poisoning and Drifter's soul, watching them for any signs of pain or discomfort. He can leave a fraction of his Aura in Drifter if he needs to, to keep the illness at bay.]

Do you feel any better or worse?

[hyperlit]

[That is the source. Judgment, its black-spiked ropes of shadow coursing into the world’s veins and pumping it full of poison - that had been the start of it. The perfect cell that proved impossible to control.]

[The Drifter tenses slightly. For a moment, it...eases. It’s like a shot of a health pack to the arm, or the way they felt up in the clouds; briefly untouchable, invincible, soaring with something as simple as a clean bill of health.]

[It swells like a lit candle, and gutters out.]

[It can only take them so far.]

for a moment
a little

[aurabble]

[It's better than the opposite, or no reaction at all. The dimness in his eyes brightens a little in hope. This was only his second attempt, there was nothing to say that his abilities would get stronger with practice. Maybe he could actually help someone, for once.

He sends more of his aura into their soul.]

When it starts acting up, just come see me. It might take multiple treatments, but I'll heal you until you're better. [He won't stop until they can breathe and move without pain.]

[hyperlit]

not a cure

[That much was...obvious. It was not a cure, but merely an alleviation, temporary and brief. They are not disappointed; they simply must try something else, as always.]

no need

[aurabble]

No. I guess not. [He looks down, his eyes hidden by his bangs, mouth a small line. What good was he if he couldn't cure what person?

His head snaps back up and he shakes it adamantly.]

Look, I'm not using it, and if it does help you until we do find a cure, then I can't just not do anything. Please let me heal you.

[hyperlit]

small gain
little point

[They’re already standing, as if the matter has been decided. As far as the Drifter is concerned, it is. The application was limited and thus, it will not serve as a long term solution.]

[aurabble]

[He looks down again, eyes boring into his hands. His fists curl against his knees, and he's silent for a moment.]

I'm sorry. [His voice echos in the temple, the apology bitter in his mouth and as useless as his attempts to help them.]

[hyperlit]

not your failure

[Their hand falls over their own chest, that frail thing that houses an equally frail body, where lungs flutter and struggle and wither gradually over a period of days, weeks, months.]

there is no cure
still searching

[aurabble]

[He doesn't argue. But he doesn't agree. He's quiet until he gathers himself, putting his walls back up to try and look strong.]

Then...I'll help you find the cure. [Extending a hand out for Drifter to shake.] I'm Jaune.

[It's probably a good idea to be on a first-name basis with the person who admitted to you that they're dying.]

[hyperlit]

i am

[There's a moment where the introduction arrests them. But they've learned how handshakes work, by now, so they take his hand carefully. Perhaps he can feel it in their grip: despite the strength in those wiry fingers, the subtle tremor of sickness hums underneath.]

a drifter

[aurabble]

[He shakes it firmly but not enough to hurt. He feels the tremors and he feels the emptiness inside him growing a little broader.]

Cool. So, uh, what's your name?

[hyperlit]

a drifter

[A simple repetition; that's the only name anyone has ever needed.]

it is what others call me

[aurabble]

[Biting his lip, he eventually nods.]

Okay, I'll call you Drifter! It sounds cool. Mysterious. Kind of like you.

[hyperlit]

[It is for the best. Most call them that already - it seems a bit late to assume some other title that may merely end up confusing others in the process.]

thank you
for trying