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

[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