OTA - Let that yawn out;

[20likes]

Who: Heartman and OTA, plus a few closed starters
What: Good News: Heartman knows how to make warding amulets against the Darkwalker. Bad news: he's got Pneumonia because of it.
When: Just after the latest darkwalker attacks + just before the town meeeting
Where: Heartman's makeshift lab + cabin

Content Warnings: TBD

i. closed to Fraser;

[ To say he's grateful to the Mountie once he sees him would be the understatement of the century. To Heartman's credit, he's managed to walk most of the way to his cabin by himself before he has to lean against the nearest wall, out of breath, the room spinning. It's not an unfamiliar sensation but it is a very, very unwelcome one.

He doesn't regret it. Heartman's sweating in the cold, his coughs are painful and his heart feels like it's working overtime despite his issue being a lung infection--he suspects he may still be immunocompromised in Milton as well, considering his condition--but if he just takes a few minutes to rest...

He looks up after trying to stop the dizziness, pushing off of the wall only to see a familiar sight: clean shaven, square jaw, red uniform. He half-waves. ]

Is it safe to presume you're rescuing me a second time? [ His smile is faint, face pale as he fights the urge to fall--best he lean back on the side of the wall again. He's clearly visibly relieved despite his small, tiny joke. ]

ii. OTA - visits while ill;

[ The door to his cabin and makeshift lab remains unlocked as it always does. Courtesy of a few kind people looking out for him, there's a constant fire as Heartman stays underneath thick, warm blankets on the couch. He's no stranger to falling in and out of sleep, although it's perhaps a sign he really is sick when his body completely stops its natural 20 minute cycles and he remains napping for a long, long while, only his own coughing or someone entering waking him up.

He keeps busy: he reads books, some found in his place already and some from the library if he can sucker a poor soul into going for him. He's always welcoming guests, even if he's drifting in and out of it. Dief is curled up at his feet or on top of him at times, clearly a very important part in healing.

That's not to say he isn't bored. Restlessness comes easy when he feels like he can do something--should be doing something--and a visitor who gets him on one of these moments may get him attempting to sit up, speaking after a flurry of coughs. ]

Please, stay--company would be wonderful. I'm in dire need of someone to fill me in on what I've missed. What happened while I've been gone?

iii. OTA - darkwalker warding;

[ When he feels well enough--at the very least when he can actually concentrate on something other than a few pages at a time in whatever book he's got on him--he'll get to work. After the town meeting, if anyone comes in there will be two small piles of stones on the coffee table by where he's lying or sitting down. Heartman, knife in hand as he's in the middle of carving something, will raise it slightly in a greeting. ]

Do forgive the mess.

[ It is rather cluttered. Asides from the two piles of stones and the stacks of books scattered around his spot there is also an absurd amount of scraps of paper strewn about with his handwriting as he theorizes and tries to put together pieces of a puzzle he's unsure if he'll ever solve. Stranger or friend alike, the half-smile is the same. ]

Did Fraser reach out to you about the talismans? Please, have a seat.

Comments

[20likes]

After a few seconds of shuffling through papers, Heartman mutters something that sounds very much like he's mourning having a viable working computer on his person despite constantly wearing his M-Link handcuffs at all times. Luckily, he manages to find a scrap of paper and a simple pen after only a few seconds.

More importantly than his fever addled brain lamenting lack of machines with a mumble: Svetlana seems just as excited as he is. He'd show it a little more if he wasn't doing so poorly, but the hand that holds the pen flashes a strong, pointed thumbs up, hovering for a fraction of a second with a smile before he returns his attention to the little doodle, sketching it briefly and handing it to her without hesitation.

"This."

[balancedlight]

Svetlana inspects it carefully, turning from all angles and shaking her head. "I don't recognize it," she says with a little huff, sitting back on the floor with her legs crossed so she can stare at it longer.

"What's the meaning of it? What does it do?"

[20likes]

Heartman, for most of this conversation sans the coughing, has had a very mellow, calm way of talking. Even in his enthusiasm his voice is measured if hoarse, face relatively stoic save for staring off into the distance as he wraps himself in thought. Easy to read, but pleasantly steady.

Usually there would be the thinnest trace of something. But it's gone now, a reflection of Heartman's worry.

"Science and speculation is far less intriguing when there's lives on the line," he confesses. He's dealt with urgency in general, the end of the world, yes, but the immediacy seems to be hitting him because of Svetlana's perfectly legitimate question.

"I'm...not sure what it does," he confesses. "Nor am I the meaning. But if there's a chance it might work, however slim, I'm willing to try."

[balancedlight]

She hums a little and reaches over to trace it. "How do you create the talismans, then? Simply draw the sigil?"

It all seems so simple to her, and she wonders if she could draw on the Twilight, what it would be able to show her. Not for the first time, she's frustrated that she can't do anything about it.

[20likes]

"We carve them into small stones," Heartman says easily, nodding slightly.

"I wish there was more to go on. Parameters, some sort of hard line. But it appears we're in the dark." From his voice, it's not something he's particularly thrilled about.

"If I had my things, the means that I have back home, I could do something more, tests, research with appropriate funds and equipment, but this..."

[balancedlight]

She shakes her head at that statement. "No," she tells him softly. "We aren't in the darkness. There is light, I promise."

It might not make much sense to him, but she is not going to let a human succumb to the darkness, to the Dark, to the Twilight.

"We can still experiment," she assures him.

[20likes]

"We have no choice," Heartman agrees, even if there's still an edge to his voice. This woman--a doctor, she'd said?--is right, though. Just like Randvi, just like Billy.

"What would science be if it wasn't a challenge?" He asks it thinly, more of a rhetorical question, cut off by a large wave of coughing. He shifts, trying to get comfortable, and continues.

"What was it you said? The darkness, and the light. A quote?" It's what he assumes it is. "I'm rather fond of the rope and the stick one, myself."

[balancedlight]

"Oh, no. It's - something I've heard and I liked it." She sits up. "Do you mind if I listen to your lungs?"

She's eager to change the subject, but there is definitely something she doesn't like in that cough. She doesn't want it getting worse. Not out here.

[20likes]

"Of course. There's scarring from a few operations for my heart condition, please take that into account when you listen to that general area." He's sitting up a little more properly, fully used to being poked and prodded. If he was able to do it himself, he might as well, just as an experiment--not that he's a medical doctor. But science, it's fun!

He's not unaware something happened, some sort of shift with her, but commenting on it doesn't seem like the right choice for the time being. Not that he's ever been one to read proper social cues. He decides on the safest line of conversation.

"A great thing for a Doctor such as yourself to be here, as unfortunate as it is that you left your home. Dr. Goodsir must be over the moon to receive help."

[balancedlight]

"What's the scarring from?" she asks as she crosses over to him, sitting on her knees in front of him. With a doctor's precision, she places a hand on his wrist, feeling for his pulse, leaning in close to his chest to see if she can hear anything from his talking alone.

[20likes]

"Myocardial cordiformia--my heart is deformed. Twisted, like a tree. It looks remarkably like a cartoon heart--I'd show you, as I usually have the X-Rays with me, or rather, in my laboratory, but we're here so you'll have to take my word for it."

He should by all means, be dead. His heart is faint, beating irregularly and softly. He raises an index finger.

"It's actually fascinating. I believe the aurora has done something multiple systemic surgeries haven't been able to achieve."

And, perfectly calmly: "I've not died a single time since my arrival."

[balancedlight]

That's a new one, and Svetlana almost asks for clarification in case it's some strange English word she's never heard of. But she's distracted by the sound of his heart, the feeling of his pulse.

Without much ceremony, she leans in close again, pressing her ear to his chest.

"Deep breath, please," she murmurs, almost automatically.

[20likes]

Heartman does so, quite content to keep on babbling away. Social cues? What are they, really?

"It really is such a great thing to have another medical doctor. I have limited anatomical knowledge, but I'm happy to help if you need with any autopsies. I'm quite interested in homo aurora and possible commonalities, though my focus is the weather phenomena itself."

[balancedlight]

"You're interested in - what?"

She pulls away, leaning in again on the lower part of his lungs, listening to him breathe. She's concerned about what she's hearing, but there isn't much to be done about it except hope that he can fight it off.

[20likes]

"Us. Interlopers sounded...." How to phrase this? "...less hopeful to me. I'd been theorizing on the recategorization of humans before my arrival--bit of a fun past time--and decided to further that here." He's rambling, lost in his own world.

"Us. Homo Aurora. Another project to add to the pile. Lighter fare than the current ongoing crisis."

[balancedlight]

She tries his pulse again, frowning at the state of it. "Well, you are still very ill," she warns him. "I hope that you are resting. The talismans are - well, I'd very much like to have one. But the rest. Please sleep."