((Oooh. I figured you two could find an excuse to hang out on this day. Right? lawl.))

Tristaan thought it best to find some time in the craziness of last-minute Circus preparation to slip away and pay a visit to Ivan. He realized the doctor would probably want to know about his diablerie experience before, not during, their up-coming business. It was tricky work, getting things done in a timely enough manner to duck back into town before dinner. He had since decided it was unfortunately worth his time to travel armed, even if he was not particularly thrilled with the occasional stare he received for the blade over his shoulder. So far, it had never turned into anything unpleasant, and it was his sincere hope to keep it that way.

By the time he found himself standing in front of the surgery door on Friar Road, the passive realized he had no idea if the doctor would even be home or occupied. If the doctor wasn't home, he briefly mused that he could always find someone else to visit while in town.

With a slight adjustment to his hat with one hand, he rapped his knuckles firmly on the door with the other, unsure of whether to speak up or not, hovering quietly as Smirk ruffled his feathers at the movement of his perch.

The sound started dull, like a faraway wide skinned drum, and slowly came into focus as a full bodied woody sound. His door.

Ivan had had more than his fair share of visitors this week, and for a moment he considered pretending he wasn't home. His weak resolve was largely due to the vast quantity of isolated alkaloid he'd ingested. It would seem that goats had slightly higher tolerance to its effects than humans, or that goats lacked the proper communication skills to inform Ivan that they were "so totally stoned". Either way, Ivan now knew roughly how much a person should take if they want to lose a day.

He crawled to the door.

The passive wasn't sure if he should leave. He thought about knocking again. He really could go find some better company while he was actually in town, but he also kind of really wanted to get this all out in the open with the doctor. So, he hovered indecisively for a few extra moments. Something was moving inside, but it was very slowly. Had he woken the human? Was he busy with a patient? With a --

Then, the door opened.

Tristaan did his best to keep a straight face at the wraith of a familiar man who somehow managed to be standing upright, blinking, and possibly breathing in front of him. He began to speak, but his whice was faster,

"Junta!" Said the bird, too loud and too clear. The runt of a thing ruffled its feathers and peered with it's tiny, beady black eyes at the doctor as if it knew everything ... everything!

The passive chuckled, hooking his right thumb into the leather strap that held his blade across his back, "Hello again, doc. Is ... uh ... is this a bad time for you? Should I come back?" He tried to hold it all in, but a smile was leaking out of the sides of his face. He really wondered if he was getting himself into the right kind of trouble after all.

Ivan winced.
"Ugh, how do you do?"



"Ah Tristaan, hello. This is unexpected."

Ivan stretched and yawned, almost disengaging his jaw. He started to massage the side of his face, rubbing his week old bristles up and down.

"Ugh, I feel like a fried egg. Come in, sit down."

They moved to the waiting room area. The furniture was a little worse for wear now after the riot, but Ivan hoped he'd have enough mony left over next month to be able to repair or replace all the damaged items.

"Umm, sorry I didn't get the door. Doing a drug trial on some painkillers, side effects include fatigue, nausea etcetera."

More stretching, more yawning. He felt like cotton wool.

"So, what do you want to talk about? Would", another yawn, "you like a drink?"

The whice blinked, chattering noisily in response until Tristaan reached up and cupped his whole hand over the small thing with a grin.


The passive followed the groggy man into his waiting room, taking a moment to let the condition of the place sink in. He slid the blade off his shoulder and propped it unceremoniously against a table. Adjusting his hat, he then picked a chair without really bothering to be concerned about its state; he had figured this place was busy after the riot. Quietly, he was thankful he missed it. Especially now.

With an almost chiding laugh, he raised a slim eyebrow at the doctor, "You're tryin' your ... medicine out on yourself there, doc? Ent there better ... options?"


Tristaan shook his head at the offer, "Ne, I'm fine for now. But, if you need somethin' yourself, I'm a patient man." He grinned, but his voice was serious, "I'm here t'answer a previous question ... 'bout my diablerie."

"Well as you probably know, human's aren't permitted to publish research. If I can't play their game I wont play their rules either."

And I think they might take particular exception to the kind of research I'm doing.



Ivan eyed the Glenfockett, then caved and poured a small shot.
Looking back to the passive, he felt his fatigue fall away.

"Oh?"

Tristaan couldn't help but laugh, even if it was not amused so much as distantly pained, "Oes, I understand that one ..." He knew that at least to some extent, their repression by galdori was similar, even if the sense of loss was perhaps markedly different for the passive.


He sighed, "Now, I didn't lie when we met, if that's what you're thinkin'. It just so happened that I—" His brows furrowed as he considered the best way to talk about what he considered unpleasant, as well as how much detail to really go into, "I found m'self in a rather unexpected situation th'other evenin'."

Shifting in his chair to lean forward with his elbows on his knees, he let his grey eyes look heavily to the floor but a thin smile still managed to creep across his face, "Let's just say I was a little more unprepared for a barfight than I'd like t'admit. I was enjoyin' conversation with someone who apparently attracted more than just my attention—"

He coughed, deciding not to get too distracted, "Th'lugger had his mind set on stranglin' me into th'afterlife, but th'mona who otherwise has ever wanted nothin' t'do with me had other plans. I ent sure exactly what happened, but I know it was my diablerie. For th'first time I can remember, I definitely had a field. Accordin' t'one witness," His smile widened with a hint of something pleasant at the thought of the lovely dancer he was referring to, "I seem t'mess with peoples' thoughts. To what extent, I ent able t'say. It didn't seem t'affect me, save for a headache."

The passive leaned back again with a shrug, returning his gaze to the doctor, "The man attackin' me didn't survive, but whether that was th'result of my diablerie or my daggers, I ent able t'say. As far as I know, no one else was ... physically hurt. I wasn't really in th'state t'notice afterwards, an' I haven't been back t'ask questions."

"I s'pose it was an act of self-preservation, but I thought you should know ... in case you feel th'need t'change your mind 'bout me." He smirked, having since decided it was worth it, even if he didn't feel that way at the time.

Ivan listened intently to Tristaan's recounting of the tale. He tried not to let on that he knew precisely to which incident the passive was referring, hoping to compare his story to the various accounts he'd heard from the B&B.

He'd been summoned to help with cleanup, and to deal with the body. Ivan had concluded the cause of death was SNT (Sudden Nerve Trauma), something he'd seen only five times. Each was a result of a high level perception spell that went off in close quarters. Four out of the five had been those casting the spell.

The cause was unmistakable - in the post mortem the joints between nerves were clearly visible. The neurotransmitting enzymes were denatured and changed to an opaque black. The brain was cut off from the body, and the thug was dead before he hit the floor.

The reports from the other witnesses had been varying and confused at best.

Wonderful, Ivan thought, perceptive magic. My favourite.

Ivan decided that hiding his knowledge would not prove advantageous any longer, and so he showed his cards.

"Yes, it was quite a mess you made there. I was called out to act as mortitian. He really was very dead."

Ivan lit a cigarette, happy to avoid depressants for a little while. He looked thoughtful.

"Think you could do it again?"

Tristaan's eyes widened, first at the admission that Ivan was more than just in-passing aware of what happened, second at the doctor's nonchalant sort of question, "Do it again? Are you jokin'?"

He scowled; the question dredged up something heavy. Regardless of the warmth in his heart Sarinah had kindled by calling his diablerie an asset, dismissing years of being labeled cursed and dangerous was not something that took a mere handful of days, "Even if I'd want to, I can't control it. You know that, right?... I ent a golly."

Judging by the grating of his last words, that quiet after-thought was obviously not Tristaan's favorite admission, even if he was comfortable with being mistaken for anything but himself.

There was a hard swallow and the passive made an effort not to get offended at his own words, for he genuinely felt there wasn't enough difference between himself and those he once considered his family to warrant the stigma he'd endured, "Th'mona has their own clocking plans, an' they have yet t'include listenin' t'me."

He smirked, but his expression was distant, "However, I s'pose if I find myself near-death again, maybe th'mona will show a bit'a'savin' pity once more."

The galdor walked briskly, a package in her hands. She was happy. It had been a quiet day, and out of sheer inspiration she had been sketching and painting. When evening had come, she had sat alone in the studio, staring at the piece that was slowly coming together. Alone. Ivan was alone. Putting down her brush, she'd thrown on her cloak and left. Stopping into a tavern on the way, she bought a bottle of Gioran Whiskey to replace the one he'd used on her.

Reaching the doctors door, she reached up hesitantly, then knocked. Standing slightly back, she waited.

It was important to probe and to scope out the limits of a person if one wanted to predict what they might do in a certain situation. Ivan could see that the passive took no pleasure in his unique position of uncontrollable power, and that he had a realistic sense of consequence.



And he could see the advantages too.

"It's certainly not something I'm banking on Tris. In fact, I have a particular dislike for experiencing close range perception attacks, especially with an area effect."

There was a knocking. It was visitor number "more-than-fair-share-plus-one". He excused himself, and went to answer the door.

The galdor patted her hair as she waited, wanting to be sure it was settled properly. She adjusted her cloak and...

The door opened on a very weary, very spaced looking Ivan Mottoni. Khymarah stood with her mouth open for a moment, before she noticed there was someone else inside the surgery. She snapped it shut.

"Oh! I..um..right. Sorry Ivan, I..just thought..well...here!" The flustered girl thrust the package into his hand. Tucking her hair behind her ear she nodded.

"Right then! I should..maybe go? Yes, I should go. I didn't know you had company and...were..sick?" She warrented a guess at his appearance.

Tristaan opened his mouth to respond to the doctor, only to find himself closing it again as he went to fetch the door. He had to remind himself that Ivan was human, and perhaps a slightly more privileged one than he chose to recognize. The passive was a little unsure as to whether he had spoken too much of his mind, and he frowned a little as he glanced curiously to catch sight of Ivan's visitor.

Oh. She looked familiar. What little he could see, anyway. Wait. Was it the woman from the bakery? With Wendy? In Brunnhold? Strange ... Anaxas was a little smaller than he thought after all. He wondered if she'd stay. Or get invited inside. Maybe he could ask about Wendy.

He forgot his fatigue instantly.

"Don't be silly, you've only just arrived!"

Ivan reached and took her flinching hand, pulling her inside playfully.

Khymarah made a little shriek as he pulled her inside, the toes of her boots catching the door frame. She stumbled a bit and gripped his hand tightly to right herself, reaching out with the other. Steadied, she straighted and realized she was only inches from the doctor now, holding his hand and resting the other on his shoulder.

All form of speech had left her momentarily as she looked into his eyes and down at his seemingly soft lips. Her own parted slightly as she felt a flush rise to her cheeks. Looking back up at his gaze, she was almost frozen. The galdor wondered what it would feel like if he just leaned forward a little and kissed her. Goosebumps raised all over her at the thought. She had to do something, this was getting ridiculous, he must have thought she was an idiot standing there this long. With a great deal off effort, she made one breathy, small sound.

"Oh."

It was a far away voice, as though her brain had disengaged. The tone seemed to suggest it was a sort of surprised oh, the type that came from standing on top of a mountain and looking down on the world for the first time.

The passive smiled bemusedly from his vantage point in the waiting room, recognizing not simply the guest but the familiar tension in the air between the two fumbling awkwardly in the doorway. Tristaan was comforted by the thought that he was not the only one with a new sense of motivation to stay on top of his game during their trip to Old Rose. Some rewards were definitely more worthwhile than others, in the grand scheme of things.

Ivan leaned in on autopilot, then remembered that he had a guest.

Business, pleasure. Hmph.

He stopped himself just short of her lips, her face filling his vision. Something he could get used to. Ivan grinned and turned to the waiting room and a bemused Tristaan.

"Khymarah, this is Tristaan, a business associate of mine."

Khymarah's heart raced and her cheeks felt hot, her body anticipated the sensation of his lips on hers.



She furrowed her brows for a moment, slightly confused by the words, not quite on the same plane as the other two men yet.

"Huh? Wha..OH!" Her head turned and she snapped back from Ivan with a bright red face. She'd forgotten there was someone here. Holding her cloak and making a little curtsy, she spoke.

"I am so terribly sorry, Mister Tristaan, how awfully rude of me! My name is Khymarah Theraldon and...wait.." Her dual colored eyes narrowed a little as she remembered something.

"I believe I've seen you before, sir, but I can't recall where." Shrugging a little she smiled.

"Business associate? Are you a doctor also Mister Tristaan?"

The man laughed warmly, standing and tipping his hat in a fluid motion, grey eyes twinkling with too much amusement. There was a brief flurry of disgruntled feathers, a bit of chirruping, and then silence from the little whice, "Oes, we've met before, m'lady Theraldon, but not here. It was in Brunnhold 'bout a week ago at th'Half Moon Bakery, an' it was under less ... pleasant circumstances."

He let his gaze briefly pass between the galdor and the human, not at all hiding the mischievous implication he was making, "An', ne, I ent a doctor." Tristaan grinned, his sword visible against the table near where he was sitting, "But I've had t'learn it's good t'have a few skilled ones around just in case."

He held back asking about Wendy, though curious if the galdor woman had kept in touch with her.

Hmm, this could become complicated very quickly.

"Yes Khymarah, I'm out of town for the first week of Bethas, got to replace the medical supplies used up after the riot. Unfortunately a lot of the medicine I need is rare in Anaxas, and I'm getting it imported to Old Rose Harbour from abroad. Needless to say, the Harbour is not my environment, so I've hired Tristaan as...a guide."



Ivan was curious to know what these circumstances were.

Khymarah raised her eyebrows and nodded slightly.

"Oh yes, I remember. That was a tad bit silly. I have to apologize Mister Tristaan." She inclined her head slightly.



Her gaze traveled over to the sword and for a moment her eyes widened. She looked between Tristaan and Ivan with a little frown.



Her frown stayed, and she looked at Ivan sternly.

"I've heard things about Old Rose. It's very dangerous. Are you sure someone as valuable as yourself should go? Can't Mister Tristaan get your medicines for you?" She really didn't want to never see him again, but in her head, thats what happened when people went to Old Rose.

The passive realized that there were some things that the doctor had obviously kept between them. He cleared his throat and waded in with some words carefully, "Oes, I s'pose it might sound like the Harbor is dangerous from here'n'Vienda, but perhaps it's just less subtle." He was hinting at the riot and general Wick unrest, "Besides, I'm confident th'doc will be just fine on his trip, between th'two of us. It's just a simple matter of findin' his way 'round."

He lied behind a convincing, confident smile, but only because he didn't tell the whole truth. There was a lot more to what they had planned than simply finding their way around, and Tristaan was certainly hardly a guide.

Ivan almost laughed at this. He'd never considered himself valuable, not since his military training. He supposed he'd be a valuable target to the seventen for Party matters, but he didn't consider that the same thing.



"It is imperative that someone is there with a medical certificate to verify the goods. In a week's time, a lot of my patients are going to run out of painkiller medication for their burns, and they will be coming back to me for refills, which is why I must do this now."

Ivan regarded her with mild annoyance combined with genuine glee, which usually happened when someone close fussed and fretted over him.



"Yes, Tristaan has a lot of experience in those parts, I fully expect the trip to be highly uneventful."

She looked at the smiling man with a lingering frown, still not convinced the doctor should go.



The idea of people being in pain was not something Khymarah wanted. She sighed and nodded, putting on a small smile.

"I suppose your right, Ivan. But please, be careful. Vienda would just be lost without her doctor." Her face was soft as she looked at him, then she reached out and took the whiskey from him.

"Shall I take this upstairs? Or would you prefer to keep it down here?"

Tristaan was beginning to see that his presence was no longer necessary; he had no desire to become third wheel or the one-too-many. He looked to Ivan as he reached for his blade, "Well, now that you know th'whole of th'matter, I think it's best for me t'get back to the Circus. I'll keep an eye out for you there, of course."

He smiled warmly at Khymarah, sliding his weapon over his shoulder with practiced ease, "It was benny t'see you again. Would you be so kind as to give my regards to Wendy in person, should you see her again? I've taken t'sending her letters through Rosie." He chuckled, "But it's always nice t'hear a friendly word from a familiar face."