Spirits of the Earth

John Faraday thanked the carriage driver and tossed him what merge tip he could afford. He pulled his thick black coat about him against the bitter wind that blew through the streets and looked up at the familiar buildings of Uthlyn. He'd earnt some leave from the military where he served as a medic in battles he wasn't entirely sure he understood- Best not to question it, Just do as you're told. It'd seemed the rational choice at the time to continue working even after the mandatory enlistment period had been served, but maybe it was time to rethink some life choices... that was nearly two years ago.

In all honesty he wasn't really sure why he'd chosen to come back here rather than visiting his family but here he was, standing alone as all around him people moved with intent- with destination in mind. He had no such plan. There were friends he could visit; old artist's pads and bohemian squats where he could doubtlessly crash for as long as he wanted but he didn't feel ready to see them yet. He'd have to regale them with tales of battlefields he'd rather forget, stories of his dog like service to a crown who's motives he couldn't pin down with complete certainty. Faraday was not a fighter and while the blood and carnage of war did not bother him, seeing what monsters it made of men was haunting.

For a little while the doctor just stood, staring distantly at the tall looming collage tower and the rising moon that hung like a pale ghost in the blue sky behind it. He jumped when he thought he heard the sound of a musket firing behind him but it was only the carriage driver taking a large rock under one wheel. He suspected that the best thing for him to do now would be to go and get extraordinarily drunk. He toyed with the idea of visiting the brothel but- as it always had done even when he'd lived here- the rational, doctor part of his brain reminded him that he could do without a couple of sexually transmitted diseases, thank you very much.

He rummaged in his pockets for his pouch of tobacco and took a seat on a small ornate bench to roll himself a cigarette and try and shake the odd sense of confusion that had come over him since returning to the real world.

A number of people moved from place to place with purpose, as stated, but one of them appeared to have stopped close by with a different purpose.  A young woman - brown-haired with kind of a faraway look in her eye - had come within the vicinity with...okay, it looked strange.  Think of a device that appeared to be a...a sort of reinforced pistol, crossing maybe a grapeshot with wheel-lock setup, that appeared to be attached to a length of rope and with a grappling hook inserted in the barrel.

She looked like adulthood had come only recently, that she might either be a student of the college or some daughter of the faculty.  How close to the truth that was, you can only guess by looking.  What was known was that this woman in common everyday clothing was here with this device, rope included, along with a sketchpad and writing utensil...presumably to test-fire a device which would allow her to easy-fire a rope up a wall and scale a building.

Now, what did this mean for John?  Well, probably nothing, unless he didn't mind his quiet disturbed...along with the quiet of anybody else in the area.  Because regardless of what the thing was obviously suppose to do, it was still a gun.  She had a reloading kit on her belt, for loading the black powder and all.  It was not going to be quiet.  Who let her have access to something like this, anyway?

Faraday deftly folded the paper around the little shreds of tobacco and popped the thin white stick into his mouth. He rummaged first in his pocket, then in his scruffy leather satchel and then again in his pocket until he produced a matchbook and struck a spark to the end of his cigarette. He inhaled the first lungful of acrid smoke with a satisfied sigh, leaning back on the bench and letting his mind wander. Where could he find something stronger to smoke around here? What tavern should he visit first? For a brief moment he noticed the bleak and self-destructive direction of his initial thoughts but he dismissed it quickly. It was his first night in civilisation for a while, what was he expected to be thinking about if not getting completely twisted. Truth was he was sick of thinking about fighting and muskets and shoving young men's intestines back inside of them, he just wanted to drink until he couldn't think any more, was that so bad?

He knew that was a slippery slope that lead many men to their ruin but he was young and intelligent and that would never happen to him.

He released a plume of smoke into the air and watched the people coming and going. One woman in particular caught his attention. She looked fairly young, with brown hair and eyes and a very obvious intent to do... something.

The doctor tilted his head slowly, running his muddy eyes over the tools on her belt and the thing in her hand... it was a weapon. A cold sweaty feeling passed over him briefly as his mind muddled for what to do. Her intentions were unclear to him but one obvious potentiality was that she was about to start shooting people.

Faraday didn't consider himself to be brave by any standard (he was humble to the point of absurdity) but his instincts had been sharpened by the relentless paranoia of the battlefield. Maybe she was a mage spy? Maybe the weapon was some sort of magically modified musket designed for taking down buildings.

Without further hesitation he got to his feet and shoved his way through the passing crowds. When he got within a reasonable distance he dropped his cigarette (best not take any risks with that black powder) and threw himself towards the young woman, aiming to tackle her to the ground. It occurred to him as he hurtled through the air towards her that he might be about to do something completely inappropriate- she didn't look like a terrorist after all- but better to be safe than sorry and all that...

Test eighteen, ready.

From the perspective of the young woman, nothing about this scene was unusual to her.  For the past couple of weeks, Katherine Bellows had been working on this gun, switching out parts and remaking he handle to accommodate them.  Pistol design parts were not always modular.  The thickness or the design of the barrel changes everything, to say nothing of the means of igniting the powder charge.  The wheel-lock made things much easier, and she thought the grape shot would be much better because it was the most cannon-like...at least until something better AND lighter could be made.

Yes, we are backing up a little, because there are a few important things of note to take in.  Many woman of Connlaoth - yes, even the students - wore dresses, for instance.  It was a bit strange to see one wearing pants, but this one was.  That alone stood out.  Then, there was that look in her eyes.  That was because she lived in a world unto herself which only came out to see this one when she had to.  She lived in math, engineering, creative designing...  She sometimes forgot to eat or to sleep.  This, ladies and gentlemen, was an inventor.  Or at least, her official title would be innovator, and her job technically engineer.

Why is this important?  Well, it is important to note that while Katherine - or Kate - is smart, highly-perceptive, and certainly looking physically fit...she was currently putting all of her faculties towards the calculation of trajectories for this creation of hers, the Grappler Gun.  People moving around were no obstacle or worry.  She was aiming far over their heads, as it was her intention to grapple and then climb the building.  However, this went umm...a bit wrong on impact.

Trajectory set. Fi-

"Ugh!"

Tackled from behind, the gun fired wrong and the grappling hook flew lower than it should.  Weirdly, it didn't sound like a normal gunshot, no doubt because the charge was ddifferent and the payload strange.  However, that wasn't important right now, as the two of them would hear the sound of another impact...

Dink!

...even as they hit the ground.  Faraday would find that the girl was now covering her head.  He'd have just about glimpsed the grappling hook fly out when he tackled the girl, the rope following after it.  Considering it hit a wall, did that mean it was...coming back?  Well, let's check the mind of the expert.

Rebound arc has a high probability of impacting the noggin.

Yup.

He had moved fast, but not fast enough. The muffled boom of powder igniting and the whoosh of rope whizzing away into the air met his ears as he made contact with the young woman and took her sailing towards the hard cobbles below. He grabbed with one hand to pin her wrist to the ground and with the other to liberate the weapon but the woman had already dropped it and was covering her head. Faraday heard the 'ding' as the metal claw struck the side of a building and came sailing back through the air towards him. This all happened extraordinarily quickly and while his brain was sharp as a tack it was not a giant mathematical calculator and it took him a fraction of a second too long to figure out what was about to happen next. With an unmanly yelp he pressed himself down to the ground on top of the woman with little concern for crushing her temporarily.

For a moment he was cowering in a fox hole again, waiting for the dust of cannon blast to clear and wondering if this was it, or if he'd live to drag another mangled body away on a stretcher. 

By pure luck alone it was not a jagged claw that struck him but the flat hard front that made contact with his shoulder blade with a sickening crack. He cried out in pain and instinctively grabbed for his shoulder, rolling off of the woman and onto the ground with his teeth grit in agony, hissing a stream of impressively varied swear words. Knowing he wouldn't be able to grab the assailant if she chose to run he instead mustered the stones to confiscate the weapon, grabbing it from the ground and pulling the barrel of the weapon in close to his stomach to prevent her from taking it. He wanted to shout at her but he didn't have the breath between swearing and he certainly didn't have the enthusiasm to do anything other than lie down and suffer for a moment anyway. If the terrorist ran so be it, he figured he'd done his part.

Even now though there was a little part of his brain- that incessantly scientifically curios bit that tended to get him in trouble- that was wondering about the weapon and its intent. It hadn't exploded, or showered magic, and it certainly hadn't been aimed at any people... True it hurt enough but he got the impression that that might not have been its initial intention. He decided to reserve his judgement (on both the weapon, its handler and the medical condition of his shoulder) until the pain had subsided a little.

Cobblestones were painful.  If it weren't for the fact that Kate had been acted upon by an exterior force as she had, it would be easy enough to catch herself or even roll with the forces involved.  Because of all the factors in play, she hit said cobblestones and pushed the unwelcome flash of pain through her system.  She could not - at that moment - make a movement to avoid the possible impact of the incoming grappling hook, so she'd covered her head.

The result was a bit more of a shock than she had anticipated.

The grappling hook hadn't hit her at all, but when it hit whoever had tackled her, the commotion he made her spring away from him as soon as he moved enough for her to scramble out from under him.  By this time, anyone who was still out here had certainly turned and noticed the sudden commotion, but she wasn't paying it any heed.  Kate was not seeing anything right now, eyes wide with terror and mind temporarily off the hook as she intinctively backed away from he swearing man.  It took her a moment to calm down and take in the scene before her.

No...  Dad is...dead.  It's okay...  He's not my dad...

Once she came to terms with this, she was on all-fours - and I mean hands and feet - moving back to him.  He had her gun for some reason.  Why was he holding her gun?  Why had he hit her in the first place?  He was the only one around who could have done it.  Everyone else was keeping a respectful distance.  Cautiously, she went over over to where he'd obviously been hit and ran a speed calculation through her head.  It was cause for concern.  The pain in her chest would be nothing compared to the impact velocity of her Grappler's end.  She'd calculated that such an impact might cause fractures.  Maybe he was lucky?  Who knows?

She was still trying to sort out what to do with him when a couple of campus guards came over.

"What's going on?  What happened to him?"

"I..."

"Speak up, girl!  The man is in pain!"

"I think he was hit by a rebound impact from my Grappler Gun."

"A what?  You mean a ricochet?"

"Yes...  A ricochet."

"Why's he holding your gun?"

"I don't know..."

And not knowing was distressing her more than the fact that he'd been injured during one of her tests.  These guards, it should be noted, were somewhat aware of her status.  They weren't to bend the rules for her, but they knew that her tenencies were a bit on the eccentric side.  They didn't know who the man was, of course.  He was a stranger to the area.  At the moment, the two of them were deciding between hauling him up to send him to the campus doctor's office or bringing them both to guard station to fully hash out just what happened here and why.

He didn't pay any head to the girls panic for he was far too involved in his own circumstance. After a few moments of rolling around in agony the young doctor was able to collect his thoughts into some semblance of a stream of rational consciousness.  He sat up tentatively, still gripping the weapon in one hand and his injured shoulder in the other. The volley of swear words faded away as he looked around him, evidently dazed by the event and the coinciding rush of adrenaline that was now pumping through his veins.  A crowd had gathered, the inevitable circle of the nosy and curious drilling holes into his head with their intrusive gaze. He might have flushed a bright red at all the attention were his cheeks not already pink from exertion and pain.

His doleful brown eyes came finally to rest on the young girl who had- as far as he was concerned- been the cause of this whole mess. The fact that she was not running away but rather looking him over with some concern was enough to make him realise that he must have made a mistake.

Two guards trudged their way over and began to engage in casual conversation with the boyishly dressed girl. Faraday watched the conversation, his head moving from party to party as if observing a tennis match. The guards seemed to know her, and they certainly didn't seem concerned that she might be about to kill anyone. Faraday groaned to himself and cautiously attempted to rotate his shoulder.

It was probably about time he added his side of the story, he supposed.   

"I thought she was going to shoot someone with it." he pointed out to the guard when the conversation turned to the gun. The guard looked between Faraday and the young woman with an expression that stank of a sarcastic 'really?' as if he was the one at fault here for being a bad judge of character.

Faraday grit his teeth, a little pit of bitterness forming in his stomach. It'd seemed such a rational choice at the time and he didn't feel like he should have to justify himself for trying to do a good deed, but at the same time he didn't want to seem like a lunatic or a pervert who went around tackling young women for fun. He couldn't quite bring himself to explain the whole truth though, he didn't want people to think he was out for sympathy. Every adult here had served their time in military service, after all.

"Forgive me, it was my mistake. I guess guns just make me jumpy." He said with a forced smile, hoping this would be enough to dismiss the guards.

He looked down at the weapon in his hand, finally taking in the interesting design. Now that he had the time to look at it he could instantly recognise its intent. The claw like end must have been for grabbing onto things, and the rope for scaling.  Fantastic!

"does it work? It's for climbing buildings, right?" he asked, still squinting at the pain in his shoulder but happy to let it go for now in light of something more exciting. He supposed he ought to be thankful for the extra layer of muscle he'd developed on his broad shoulders from his time in the military. He suspected it was just badly bruised down to the bone, though a fractured rib was also not out of the question... He put the pistol base on the ground and pushed it towards her, indicating that she was welcome to take it back.  A little distance away he spotted the ember of his cigarette still burning in the dust and dragged himself over to it. Impervious to the judgemental gaze of the now dispersing crowd he returned it to his lips and sucked down a lungful of smoke thankfully.

"Did I hurt you?" He finally asked after a brief pause to enjoy his poison. Even though the pain in his shoulder was intense he still felt a certain duty to see to her before fixing himself with an inhuman dose of self-subscribed painkillers from his satchel.

Well, we can't really fault a doctor for being more focused on his own injuries.  That sort of thing comes naturally.  The guards had given him that look because they knew the girl wasn't overtly violent...at least, not without reason.  Nothing they'd encountered thus far, at least.  The crowd, of course, had murmurs on the matter.  They were drawing their own conclusions, none of which seemed to even register on Kate.  If public opinion really mattered to her, she'd be wearing a dress like other Connlaothian women.  The guards, sensing that this was just a misunderstanding, urged them to move along. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5NNOrp_83RU)

Faraday, meanwhile, had asked about the gun...which immediately got her attention with a small smile.  Right where she was, she sat and composed herself with legs crossed - neverminding either of their conditions for the present moment - as she explained.

"It is for climbing buildings, or trees, or rockfaces.  Whatever you can sately latch it to, really.  The principle is that, given the correct amount of gunpowder, a cannon will successfully shoot anything you put into it in an effective way.  It came to me that you could try something similar with a gun, even though they were made to fire bullets.  The idea does work, but I've been having some trouble with the design."

She took the gun back, taking practically no notice of his crawl for a cigarette.

"The barrel to determine force, the frame for balance and control, the ignition, the hook, and the rope - I've gone through alot of designs to try and find the right combination.  This all works, but it's not enough.  It's not practical."

She was indeed trying to make it work, and work well.  However, she had a feeling that the design was not streamlined enough, and the rope was definitely cumbersome.  Now then!  Somewhere amidst this speech, which came out way better than her conversation with the guards, she had failed to register that she was a little short of breath, thanks to taking a dive onto the cobblestones without bracing herself or anything.  So, when Faraday asked, Kate looked genuinely confused for a second, then poked her ribs experimentally, wincing.

"Apparently."

They must have looked an unusual pair, both sitting casually in the middle of the street like children as people went on about their business around them. Actually the pair probably had a great deal more in common than they realised at this point; perhaps intelligence, in its own way, breeds strangeness. John knew he had a tendency to come across as eccentric sometimes but after a while one stops caring about such things. He used to worry a lot about what people thought about him, but with age comes wisdom and the realisation that other people's opinions are but drops in the ocean.

When he mentioned the gun Faraday watched the girls face light up with obvious passion, watched the rest of the world fade into insignificance as she reeled of her information about her invention. He eyed it as she spoke, running the basics over in his mind as she explained it. It made sense to him but the logistics of making it work were far beyond his expertise.  She turned the gun over in her hands and Faraday was briefly reminded of a mother with a baby.

He pondered the predicament of practicality as he rummaged in his bag with one hand, wincing when he noted the shards of glass which had once been jars that now littered the bottom of it. His cigarette hung limply from his lips as he searched for something to ease his pain.

It was at this point- when the girl began poking herself in the ribs that he realised that she seemed a little... vague. Distant maybe. He wondered how much of her time she dedicated to creating grappling hooks and other such strange inventions. He didn't hold it against her.

The doctor found what he was looking for in his bag and extended his hand to the girl. In it was small metal tin filled with some dried root scrapings. "Take a small pinch, it will help with the pain." he said with a warm smile. Realising that he should probably clarify that he wasn't just a passing drug dealer he added, "I'm a doctor, it's griffon's root." and then, perhaps a little later than would have been ideal; "it tastes like crap though..."
Once she had taken or declined the offer he looked at what was left in the tin (considerably more than a small pinch), mused on the matter for a moment, and then poured the rest into his mouth with a face becoming of the unpleasant flavour.

"Did you think of using something else instead of rope? " he asked, grimacing as he forced himself to swallow the unprofessional dosage of griffon's root. The flavour was too much and he had to wash it down with a swig from his hip flask. To hell with it. It wasn't like he had a reputation to uphold.  "Maybe something like... uh... giant spider's web? I don't know," He shrugged dismissively of his own idea, shaking his head at the concept which must surely have sounded stupid to the bright young girl. He chastised himself for the input; he hated it when other people told him how to do his job.

Upon being handed the tin full of...something, Kate looked it all over like its dimensions were as importat as its contents, which she only took once Faraday explained that he was a doctor.  However, her application was too late for her to consider the taste, and so she ended up making a face of disgust right as he was warning her.  She passed it back as she made efforts to swallow and waited for the root to take effect.  Kate's training wasn't in alchemy, so she had no knowledge on the subject of different plants or...

"Why's it called Griffon Root?"

For all she knew, it was the root of a plant that thrived in areas where Griffons squatted to do their business.  She didn't know.  It was outside of her knowledge base.  She'd never even seen a Griffon before.  Still, when Faraday brought up giant spider web, the girl blinked...and seemed to stare at nothing for a moment.  She was considering...

Spider webbing is very strong, stronger than rope.  Sticky, though.  Have to be pulled apart, refined, entwined...

Her expression became more one of deep thought as she leaned on her hands with her brow furrowed, running some scenarios and calculations in her head.  Then, out of nowhere...

"It could work.  You'd have to either grab a web and run or actually milk the spider...and spiders hate to be milked."

Not so much a dumb idea as...difficult to put into practice, but at least it showed promise.

Faraday had not been expecting the young woman's question about the plant but when she spoke it his face lit up. Kate had her inventions and John had medicine and the plants from which they were derived.

He took moment to swill his mouth with whisky from his hip flask to clear the taste of the bitter root away as he rummaged with one hand in his pocket, cigarette poised between his teeth in absence of his fingers.  "it's really quite fascinating," he said out the corner of his mouth as he produced a dog eared notebook from his pocket, holding it low down in his injured appendage and flicking through it with his right hand. The pages were filled with meticulous sketches and near illegible handwriting detailing various plants and animals and the medicinal uses for their various parts. He found the page he was looking for and shoved it zealously towards the inventor.

The page depicted a small unassuming shrub type plant with large round flowers and jagged, gnarly looking seed pods. "See the seed pods are hard as rocks, but griffons love them. As far as we've observed they are the only creatures that eat them –maybe the only creatures with beak strong enough to crack them- and thus spread the seeds in their droppings, ding ding ding, we have a winner! "You mostly only find it on rocky outcrops near the eyries, and only the root it useful medically speaking- though the flowers do make a delicious tea..."
The Doctor took a moment read what else he had scrawled down about the plant, noting briefly the distant look in the inventor's eye as she ran his silly idea through the mental gauntlet. What followed was not the polite dismissal he'd expected, but rather a methodical breakdown of the potentiality of coming into possession of such an unusual thread. He pulled an uneasy face at the mental image of milking a giant spider.

"Are... you speaking from experience?" he questioned with curious scepticism, thumbing clumsily through the book for the half page on giant spiders. He hadn't written much down about them because he had never intended to come in close contact with one of the monsters. "well, apparently the hairs on their legs make good needles," he actually shuddered when he said that, imagining plundering the curled upside down corpse of a horse-sized spider, "and you can derive an antiseptic from their venom glands..."

He snapped the book shut and returned it to his pocket, taking one last drag from his cigarette which had collected a short stick of ash at it's tip before flicking it carelessly to the ground.
"Those things give me the creeps..." he added as he reached his hand round to prod at his injury, investigating the soreness before the medicine got a chance to numb it.  He wasn't entirely convinced the strange girl wasn't going to suggest they go off and find some of the arachnids. Gods knew there must be some smaller specimens hiding away in some abandoned collage buildings somewhere... It occurred to him then that he didn't even know the girls name seen ad they'd both become so engaged and distracted by their own subjects.
"John Faraday, by the way." he said, offering her a bright and cheerful grin as he extended his right hand towards her. 

In answer to her question about roots, Kate found a notebook being handed to her by the man.  She blinked at this for a second.  It was a very detailed sketch of a flower - the Griffon Root, no doubt - with a few notes and pointers for personal reference.  Faraday began to explain as she looked it over with interest.  Yes, it appeared that they were bonding over injury and invention.  Stranger things have happened, but it took her mind completely off of the episode that she'd had when he tackled her.  More interestingly, it seemed more like the young woman's eyes were here and now, at least for the time being.  The more she engaged, the more it seemed she would be.

Kate had had no idea that there was a plant out there that Griffons ate whose seeds were basically dependent on the beast's spore to spread their seeds.  It was a bit disgusting and she sort of frowned at the fact, hoping whoever cultivates these plants gives them a good rinse before use.  The tea was interesting, though.  She doubted it had pain-killing properties too, but it might be interesting to try.  It might be possible to get some, at some point.

Still, shook her head as the man inquired as to her personally attempting to milk giant spiders.  She'd read that somewhere.  Katherine Bellows was a reader of journals and other scripts of other people's achievements and downfalls.  Things people did was of interest to her.  It allowed her to get a firmer grip on how to manage herself.  For instance, several years ago, she wouldn't have acknowledged the distaste people had for subjects - like giant spiders - but nowadays she was able to see it like everyone else.  Everybody hated giant spiders, barring only dangerous people.  The point is that she could have an actual and reliable conversation with people...mostly.

It's just that when the man introduced himself...well...John had been her father's name.  Well, Jonathan.  Some small and indescribable dread always reared whenever she was reminded of him, though.  She had to keep reminding herself that her father was dead, so that that part f her brain could cool down.  Right now, however, she sort of looked at his extended hand like there was something growing out of it.  It was only after a small delay that she took his hand.

"Katherine...umm...Kate Bellows."

It'd taken her years to talk to people like a normal person.  Even then, you have areas where she'll either talk your head off, say things that you will not understand but will be perfectly straightforward to you, or just clam up entirely.  John Faraday - whom, mentally, she was just calling Faraday - was sort of lucky.  He'd clobbered her, but she liked his interest in things.

The young doctor had not seen the inner turmoil he had caused the girl when he'd tackled her to the ground but if he had he doubtlessly would have felt awful about it.  Despite an ever growing disregard for his own physical and mental health he cared a great deal for that of others. Naturally that was why he'd wanted to become a doctor in the first place- to help people. He'd always got a great deal of stick from his younger sister about being too much of a soft touch; about wanting to save every baby bird that fell from its nest when they were kids and generally being a complete pansy when it came to anything with even a suggestion of physical violence. He'd never been in a fight and he didn't intend to- not including the endless skirmishes with mage rebels during his conscription of course- but there was a big difference between firing the muskets and being the one patching up the holes and powder burns.

Still he could tell there was something odd about the girl. She was quiet- although he did have to keep in consideration that not everyone liked talking quite as much as he did- only shaking her head where others might have offered more information. When he introduced himself she looked at his extended hand like it was a snake that might suddenly leap out and bite her. Again he supposed he couldn't really hold that against her seen as only a few minutes earlier he'd been squishing her into the cobblestones, but it struck him as odd none the less.

"Kate Bellows," he repeated with a warm smile when she shook his hand, making an effort to commit it to his somewhat patchy memory. As silence fell the doctor absently ran his fingers through his scruffy brown hair and looked up at the buildings around them. "Say, it's a shame my shoulder's busted, I'd have loved to get a view of the city from up there." he said wistfully, gazing up at a the roof top where Kate's grappling hook should have been if he hadn't interfered.
In the distance he could hear the ruckus of the city and his mind turned to his original plan of drinking until he couldn't remember his own name. To be fair though the griffons root was starting to kick in which was almost as fun in its own way.  A normal dose would have no adverse effects but the large hit he'd taken was enough to make him feel weird and spaced out at the very least... Which was fine. The doctor was a connoisseur of feeling weird and spaced out. He enjoyed the feeling of relaxation, of mental insight or of blind confidence that came from drink and drugs. It was another one of those self-destructive tendencies that would have raised alarm bells if he saw it in a patient but that passed him by without concern.  No worries.
Of course he would never dare to be intoxicated if he had medical work to do- these bad habits weren't necessarily a problem- not yet, just a way to pass the time.
Sure, he still wanted to go and get wasted but there was no rush on that if he might be able to find somewhere to stay for free- the taverns would always be waiting and the wine would always be cheap. After a moment of consideration he then ventured to ask, "Hey, I don't suppose you know of anywhere I can crash for a couple of nights while I find somewhere more permanent? I just got back from service and I don't have anywhere to stay yet." he figured it was worth a shot; if you never ask then you'll never know. Looking up old friends was fine and all that, but he was still young and bold enough to favour the unknown. The world had not yet made him weary and cynical.

"Yeah, I wanna go up there too.  It's gotta be peaceful, unless they start yelling at me. Jealous!"

But yeah, he couldn't hope to go to a rooftop right now.  He needed bones to knit and pain to go away before he was suitable for that kind of action.  They were both hurt.  Might as well call it a day, since the country didn't like magic.  Because you couldn't get magic, you couldn't get faster-healing healers when you needed them.  Faraday was a doctor.  He knew that.  Well anyway, Kate was still looking up at the tower when he asked if there was anywhere about he could stay.  Actually, he said he needed to 'crash', which she'd never heard before, but understood because of the context, at least.

This brought a thoughtful expression to her face, and then she began to look around, as if scanning.  Well, in a way, she was, remembering locations around here like they had labels setup in her brain.  She knew what this place was, so she was trying to think if any of them would be open to HIM, an outside medical practicioner.  The conclusion momentarily put a frown on her face.  Unless he felt like asking around for the next hour or spending that time heading to an inn further out, he was going to be a bit disappointed.

"This is a college campus.  You won't find much here, so..."

She suddenly somersaulted backwards onto her feet, then reached for the hand on his arm that wasn't injured, smiling at him.

"We've got room."

Well, this was getting curiouser and curiouser, was it not?

((sorry I may be a little slower with posts from now on, but I'll aim for at least a couple a week ^^))
Faraday laughed brightly when the eccentric young woman spoke about being yelled at, mentally reprimanding himself for ruining a good opportunity with his brash actions. Yeah, in his time at the collage he'd had his fair share of verbal abuse for being in places he shouldn't have been, among other things. He'd sunk in with a liberal, bohemian crowd of art students and many of his tutors had not approved of his overly laidback attitude which then deemed unbecoming of a student of a 'real subject'. None of them could have denied his natural finesse for medicine though, especially in a city where magical healers were nowhere to be found.
Of course it was a subject which Faraday had thought long and hard about, and while he tried very hard not to harbour bad thoughts about anyone there was no way he could deny the bitterness he felt when he thought about magical healers. This was partially due to growing up in Connaloath of course, but there was some professional envy there too. It was cheating. He hoped one day to see more of the world but he knew that outside this country he was more or less redundant. Impotent. Who would pay a doctor to do what a healer could do effortlessly in seconds? 
John looked away from the tower and towards the brown haired girl as she pondered his question. He hadn't been expecting her know of anywhere so when she poke first he shrugged dismissively and was about to say it was no worry when the girl suddenly jumped to her feet in an impressive display of agility and offered for him to stay with her. His brief look of stunned amazement at her summersault dissolved into a broad grin.
"That would be fantastic, thank you!" he said, his mind instantly wandering to what awesome treasures and unique inventions her home might contain. He wondered if her room would be a hopeless disorganized mess like his would have been, or a neat mathematical blueprint with everything in its place. It could go either way.

He took her hand and allowed her to help him to his feet. The world spun pleasantly when he stood and he stumbled a little but managed to maintain his balance with a dazed smile. The pain in his shoulder was melting away into nothingness but he figured he ought to ask her to help him put it in a sling once they were at their destination.
"lead the way!"

It's funny, but a number of professors didn't seem to think much of Kate's attitude and methods either.  However, they couldn't really DO anything about it.  She was how she was, sometimes to the exclusion of all other things.  It could be problematic at times, but they accept that she at least appeared to be a learned student.  As for her opinion on magic users...well...no one had really ever asked her, at length, mostly due to the fact that anything not entering her sphere of interest might not have any meaning for her.  Of course, Faraday might hate healers, but it is a fact that - apart from Connlaoth - that they weren't exactly accepted in Essyrn, either.  Not as in being against the law.  Only certain types of magic fit that profile.  But you see...if it isn't geomancy or divinations of some sort, Essyrn's reaction to magic is a decided 'Meh'.

Katherine grinned at his excited reaction as she helped him up.  She was lighter than him, but then her understanding of leverage and counterweighting allowed her to shift balances perfectly to get him to his feet.  She picked up her stuff and, as desired, led the way.  Where they were going was not in any particular direction of a campus residence.  A bit of walking around the campus shops, and they would soon come upon a fairly-sizable but awfully quiet building.  This was...  Kate lived in a manor.  It was a two-story building of brick and stone, likely reinforced somewhere in there by metal.  There were steps leading up to the double-doors, which put the first story windows out of normal reach.  This much was normal.  The exterior of this building appeared to be normal.  However, that perception was about to change...

She came to the doors up front and unlocked it with a key that'd been hanging around her neck, but under her shirt.  Then, she pulled out something that looked like it was for winding up clocks as she opened the double-door to reveal a metal single door.  This, she inserted the new key into and began winding until the sound of something locking in place was heard, followed by a gear-turning sound.  The door came open and Kate pushed on it to reveal a normal-sized room that acted as receiving hall.  It, at least, was apparently clean.  It was calm, wooden, tiled, and bore a pair of exits, stairs leading up on the right side, and the painting of a cannon on the back wall.  Once Faraday got in, she would be closing them again, revealing that the metal door slid metal bars neatly into pipes embedded into the wall.  Kate indicated the door for a moment.

"Mom and I built that.  She thought the locks were too weak, so we made a better one.  They gave us this because of her plumbing and cannon work."

A state-funded home?  They must've awarded it to her for a good reason.

**SURPRISE! I'M NOT DEAD! :D **

It was a good thing the doctor had finished and disposed of yet another cigarette by the time they arrived at the manor because if he hadn't it certainly would have fallen from his lips as he stared up at the building with slack jawed amazement. hHe hadn't been expecting something so grand. Perhaps a student dorm or at best a small shared house. He blinked stupidly at the back of Kate's head as she fiddled with the key around her neck, wondering how on earth someone so young and unusual might be in possession of such a home.

The corners of his mouth twitched with half formed questions but his attention was swiftly stolen by the metallic clicking sounds of interior workings within the metal door. As they passed through them he touched his hand to one as if it might reveal its secrets through osmosis.
He drifted inside and watched as his new friend worked the mechanism closed again, a broad –if somewhat spaced out- grin spreading as he watched the bars slip into place. Fascinating! He felt simultaneously safe and a little trapped but the thought slipped from his softened mind like water from a duck as he spun in a slow, complete 360 degree turn to take in all of the room.  His eyes settled on the painting of the cannon at about the same time Kate mentioned the word. It made him feel twitchy and unpleasant so he decided not to look at it or think about the devastation he had seen them cause on the battlefield.

"it's Amazing" he said simply, eyes falling on the staircase. He was practically itching to see what other treasures the house might hold but he didn't dare be anything other than a polite house guest.

"uh, does your mother live here with you?" Faraday asked somewhat tentatively. He worried what the lady of the house might think about her daughter randomly bringing a hazy eyed stranger home with her, especially to such an exceptional and well-fortified building...

[OOC: My god! (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wURUin2j8FU)]

The house itself didn't particularly fill Kate with pride.  It was just a place to live. and she could've been just fine in a smaller house or a campus residence, as Faraday considered.  Except...  Well, she'd have to be able to deal with living with someone in a small place, a stranger.  Her social skills were still somewhat in question, though she was trying.  Her visitor would probably find that this place had the usual rooms within it.  A sitting room, a library, dining room, kitchen, supply basement leading to the kitchen, bedrooms upstairs, an indoor lavatory, and...a dedicated workshop room, though he hadn't seen any of this yet.  The door on the left led to the dining room - which he could see - then the kitchen, and from there the basement.  The door on the right led to the sitting room - which he could also see right now - that had the two doors to the library and the workshop towards the back of the house.

For the moment, though, Kate was near the stairs because he was looking for a room to sleep in and all of those were upstairs, along with the lavatory.  She stopped when he asked his question.  She turned, but...seemed to hesitate, unsure if it was alright to answer that.  Not because of any embarrassment, though.  There was another reason, which had been out of her mind until just now, because her desire to help had flung it aside.  She did answer, though, deciding that Faraday was alright.

"She does live here...when she isn't called away on business, like now.  Mom is actually trying to patent my weapons, to help me with some additional money."

It wasn't likely to be the grappler gun.  That wasn't really a weapon.  She must've meant something else.  Probably wouldn't be a pleasant topic for Faraday, who hated war and killing.

Faraday followed Kate as she headed for the stairs, ambling behind her and peering curiously into the partially open doors with an endearingly wide eyed fascination that may or may not have been at least partially drug-induced. It was a far cry from the dilapidated farm house he'd grown up in, or the cramped townhouse he'd squatted during his studies and it seemed to him the epitome of success. While he hadn't seen much of it yet he could guess from it's size and from nosily peering through the partially opened doors what calibre of home this was. It wasn't a great stretch of the imagination to assume there might be a workshop, maybe even a library! And if Kate's mother had been given the house partially in respect to her work with plumbing then it was a safe bet there might be an indoor lavatory too!

Without even realising he was doing it the doctor straightened his slouched posture and ran a hand through his scruffy hair, subconsciously feeling he ought to look a little less ragged in such a grand home. One day. One day, he hoped, he would own his own home with a practice and surgery downstairs and a neat little flat above. Maybe even a garden with greenhouse where he could grow his own plants! ah a man can dream!

His question seemed to catch her off guard and she hesitated before answering but there could have been any number of reasons for that. He was admittedly relieved that she wasn't there, though he couldn't pretend to agree with the fact that she was off patenting death and injury for profit. No. no he didn't approve of that at all but he wasn't about to start a moral debate with the lady who was offering him free lodging in her amazing home. Not yet anyway... Maybe after a few drinks.

He let it slide with a placid smile that didn't reveal more than a hint of his disapproval as he followed her up the stairs, running his hand along the polished banister. He didn't feel like silence was the right response either.  "you know they reckon indoor plumbing may be one of the greatest advancements for medicine in our time based on new theories about sanitation, so you'll have to give your mother my gratitude when she returns next" He said hazily, hoping he had tactfully diverted the conversation.

"She didn't invent it, just refined it after looking at the designs.  I'll let her know, anyway."

She had also said 'There's something wrong with the action of handheld firearms.', which may or may not lead her to discover rifling.  The conversation about the advancement of weaponry VS not doing so was going to be an interesting conversation with Kate.  She...didn't really have a problem with them at all.  Her moral compass pointed towards people being responsible for things, not weapons.  Still, that conversation wasn't happening yet, and she didn't even make any special note about Farraday's expression.  It wasn't especially anything to her, so it wasn't exactly important.  At the top of the stairs, she pointed left...

"My room, mother's room."

...and then she pointed right.

"Guest rooms.  Also, the lavatory."

She then turned around to see if he had any questions.  It should be noted that the guest rooms and the main bedrooms were actually uniform in basic appearance.  They had a decent bed, dresser, mirror on dresser, professional desk, nightstand, lantern, etc.  It was in the case of the two rooms occupied by Katherine and her mother that things were different.  Both of them, for instance, had a number of books and papers lying around, some with diagrams and some with alot of written words on them or mathematical figures.  Myra Bellows' room also had a few labcoats hanging up and heavy-duty rubber gloves on the dresser.  Kate's room had parts and tools on the dresser, the desk, and the nightstand.  She tinkered in there.

She also hung one pair of her claw weapons in there, the older pair.  There was largely nothing in Connlaoth's standing army like them, and that was what Myra Bellows was patenting for her.

Faraday sunk his hands into his pockets as they climbed the stairs, conscious of the sound of crunching broken glass in his satchel as he placed each echoing step. When Kate stopped at the top of the stairs the doctor very nearly barged into her back distractedly. Managing to stop just in time and putting a steadying hand on the banister he stepped round to stand beside her as she indicated to the rooms on the left and then the right, nodding his understanding at each allocation.


"thank you. This is more than I ever could have hoped for!" He said, leaning his weight against the banister and turning to his host.
"There must be something I can do for you in return," he mused, narrowing his eyes in thought and trying to figure out if it was inappropriate to offer a medical once over to someone by way of barter. Probably there were a lot of people who might frown at the idea of him going into a woman's home and asking her to take her top off. No. Probably better not.


"Do you drink? I have a skein of the finest honey mead you ever tasted; I can guarantee it!" he said with a broad, friendly smile. hrm. probably wasn't particularly appropriate to go into an empty house and offer young ladies alcohol either but the thought didn't cross his mind. He struggled sometimes to remember that not everyone was like him, and he personally would have been thrilled if someone had offered him a delicious refreshing beverage.  Anyway people who didn't drink were an enigma to him.

His stomach growled in protest at its prolonged period of emptiness but he politely ignored it. There was some bread and cheese in his bag which he would happily share if they ended up sitting down somewhere and they weren't full of tiny shards of glass. He hoped she would say yes to his offer as he felt horribly rude intruding in her home with nothing to offer in return. Besides it would be nice to talk to someone who wasn't a solder to readjust himself to the real world, and he hardly wanted to vanish on his host so quickly; his mother would have hit him for such poor manners.

She had smile with his profound gratitude, but then settled into something approximating confusion when he mentioned doing something for him in return.  You see, in her mind, she'd made the offer to help him out and he'd taken it, and that was that.  Kate wasn't thinking of any sort of reward, so the offering of one threw her for a moment, like it was a foreign concept.  She didn't mind gratuity, but when it came unexpectedly, the brain sort of has to stop and process this.

He had paid her back for hurting her before with his pain-relieving material, which was always good in her book, and he had an interest in science and machinery, which Kate definitely liked.  Finding people with an understanding - Nay, a joy - of the new age of discovery and innovation was a rare thing.  It was almost a reward in of itself to know such people.  It was important to her to find relatable people.  She didn't know very many...

The mention of the wine drew her attention back to the forefront, and a look of curiosity...if slight uncertainty.

"I haven't made a habit of it, but it isn't my first time.  Mother has wine, and when she invites me to have a glass, I've taken it.  It's fine, though...I've gone and made some very weird calculations later."

This, for some reason, produced a sheepish smile and even a blush.  What had she wrought while under the influence?  Was this science safe?  Still, his stomach had produced a definite 'Yorrrp...' and Kate had taken notice, with a raised eyebrow.

"I guess I'm not the only one who forgets to eat, every now and then?"

His own potentially-damaged food wasn't an issue, really.  I mean, they had bread, cheese, meat, vegetables, and umm...thou.  After all, what is a big house without any food in it?

John Faraday had grown up in the countryside in a small dustbowl village where most people, including his parents were small time farmers. His mother, however, had always been obsessed with the upper class and city folk and had spent a great deal of his youth lecturing him about manners and etiquette and being a gentleman. It'd been worse for his tomboyish sister who'd had to endure hours of needlework and ballroom dancing lessons which his mother had only read about or heard from passing strangers and housewife gossip. The outcome of this for young John was an overly inflated determination to please everyone and come across as polite as possible. College, and then the army had knocked a lot of it out of him but entering a grand house like this had caught him off guard and given him a towering feeling of indebted inferiority. Kate's attitude was a saving grace though. He wouldn't have thought she came from money had he not been standing in her impressive home. he supposed that many of the nobles had never had to work for their fortune as Kate's mother clearly had so that probably made a big difference.
He noted the hint of uncertainty in her expression when he mentioned a drink if only because he observed it with such intensity, trying to read her reaction and gauge if he might have found a kindred spirit to drown his demons with. It seemed he had no such luck and he wondered if in the short three years since he'd studied here students had stopped being recklessly irresponsible with their free time and money. Is seemed unlikely to him, but then again it seemed equally unlikely that Kate here was a fair representation of your average student.

While not overly enthusiastic her response was good enough and he was glad to get the chance to talk to her some more either way. He gave her a dazed smile as she mentioned unusual calculations.

"hah. I can imagine." he said, quietly amused by her sheepish smile. If she could dream up devices to pull a human instantly to the top of a tower when she was sober who knew what crazy ideas a buzz of ethanol might produce. Unfortunately for Faraday his science did not mix so well with alcohol which was probably a good thing really.

His own cheeks flushed a little when she called him out about the growl of his stomach and he shrugged. "Guilty as charged." Fact was that he drank enough coffee and smoked enough cigarettes that his appetite didn't generally rear it's head until it was urgent.

-   ((sorry, I'm steering a little bit here, hope that's ok, let me know if not and I'll change it!))
He let her lead him through the house again, back down the stairs and into the kitchen where he uncertainly pulled out a chair for her before slumping untidily in one opposite. He put his satchel on the table, opened the battered leather flap and peered into it with the apprehension of a man looking into a bag of scorpions. He sighed and rubbed the dark circles under his eyes as he tried to calculate the damage.

"If I might make a suggestion? Perhaps you could invent something like glass but more durable?" he asked with a meek smile, then, "oh, the blasted leeches..." He exhaled again, staring tiredly at the bag for a moment before deciding a drink was necessary before proceeding. He pulled out a wineskin and poured a liberal helping of the golden liquid into two glasses. He'd been about to pour the whole thing down his neck in one go before realising that he wasn't in the company of soldiers anymore and taking a more reasonable gulp before returning it to the table.

"It's honeymead from one of the villages I was posted at. They had fields and fields of lavender for perfume there and apparently the bees only collect their pollen from them so that's why it tastes the way it does. " he said with a sad smile, knowing full well that said lavender fields had been more of less obliterated in the skirmish and the likely hood of more of the mead being produced was small indeed. It was a shame because the drink really was exquisite; perfectly sweet and perfumed. It tasted misleadingly non-alcoholic.
After another polite sip he began to empty his bag of things that were not broken, brushing leeches from them where appropriate.

"So how long have you studied here for? Do the tutors still all have sticks up their asses?" he asked, a playful smile flicking across the corner of his mouth and twinkling in his tired brown eyes.

[OOC: No worries.]

Very unlikely that Kate was the average sampling of the student body around here.  More like the average sampling of eccentric geniuses, if one could behold such a thing.  Still, she could describe a few bizarre things she had tried to do while her mind was doing the tilt-a-whirl.  For instance, she had written up diagrams that could've been mistaken for M.C. Escher drawings in the future, laughed at it for about fifteen minutes, and then fallen asleep.  Kate was not the usual kind of woman, that's for sure.

Guilty of hunger as he was, she led him over to the kitchen, where there was a smaller table for a less-formal occasion, instead of eating in the dining room they had passed through to get here.  You wouldn't say that this place was like the Clue mansion, partially because it was much smaller, less creepy, and not a mansion, but it was asthetically pleasing enough, with a nice wooden finish and all.  It was here that Farraday began to rummage through his pack and grumble about glass...and leeches.

"Hmmm...  Durable material like glass?  I'm sure someone can make stronger glass, but it'll still be glass.  Lemme think about this a second."

She was honestly giving this some thought.  If he'd been joking at all, she hadn't picked up on it.  Why?  Well, because people could use more durable bottles, and the only way so far to do that was to enchant it with something wizard-y.  Not really likely a thing to happen in Connlaoth.  Still, the apparent mess in there aside, he poured two glasses and drank from one.  After Farraday described it, Kate took her glass and looked at it for a second.  She'd never had mead before.  She wouldn't know why it tasted one way while another tasted another, at this point.  For her part, the only way to know was to try and see for herself.

So, she drank...experimentally.  Taste, pause, sip, sip, pause, shrug, drink.  She waited for the effects of the honeymead to take hold...and found that she might be waiting a long time.  She didn't feel...different.  Was the mead not mead?  She'd have to ask about that, but not right now.  Not while the man was dealing with his things like this.  He had enough troubles, as is.  Besides, he had questions, and the second one immediately caused her to snerk.  Nice and blunt, that's what this guy was.

"Well, I've been here for a long time.  I was enrolled when I was old enough, or...maybe a year or two before that.  I learn fast, though I have had a few 'talks' with faculty."

Wow, you could hear those quotation marks...  Guess the tutors ARE a pain.

"I don't remember how long exactly.  I've just been doing it and learning more all the time.  How long were you here?"

Faraday looked up when Kate 'hmmmed' and began pondering the glass situation. It seemed that the girl took most of what she herd at face value. He could see there were disadvantages of takin everything literally (especially as he had a fondness for making such light-hearted comments) but that at the same time it was probably exactly that the sort of unusual way of thinking that led people like her to make new discoveries. He supposed that he was overly cynical and that was why he was a slave to the way he perceived things to be and not a pioneer in his industry. Oh well, at very least maybe he could continue to provide misconstrued half-hearted humour that Kate could play with. He blinked drowsily at her as he watched her run the idea through her mind like a man panning for gold, checking to see if there were any useful nuggets buried away in there and then returned his attention back to the soggy bag and its depressing content. Looked like a trip into town was on the cards for tomorrow then if he had any chance of earning some money while he stayed here.

He carried the basics around with him most of the time. Salves, needles and basic surgery implements- some of which looked not unlike torture devices to the untrained eye- plus jars and tubs of plants and roots with various medical applications and some suspicious looking mushrooms... Then there was a depressingly light coin pouch too, his tobacco, some food and a change of clothes, a few personal effects and a hip flask filled with strong brandy. Faraday observed the sum of his positions uncertainly as Kate tentatively tested the mead. He ran a hand over his unshaven jaw. He was sure he should have been feeling something about the soggy, leash-riddled mess in front of him but the griffons root made any sort of serious feeling or complicated thinking difficult so he ended up just staring at it numbly, though not unhappily. He didn't worry about it. not right now. 

He chuckled when she spoke about having 'talks' with the tutors, willingly distracted from his task and resting his elbows on the table. He instantly knew what sort of talks she was talking about because he'd been subjected to more than his fair share of those.

"I see." he said, bringing his glass to his lips again briefly. It seemed the young woman had spent most of her recent life here. He wondered if she had a social life or if her studies and inventions were all consuming. "me? hrm"

He furrowed his brow for a moment as he waded through his swampy mind for the answer.
"five years, I guess. Then two years of not really doing anything productive then one and a half in the service." he rolled his injured shoulder. There was no pain in it currently and the full range of motion put his mind at ease. "and now I've come back here for some reason" he laughed. The laugh was made of half bemusement as himself and half equally self-directed bitterness. "two months leave and then I'm going to a prisoner of war camp." Thinking about it usually stressed him out but for some reason he couldn't help but bring it up. He supposed he had become his work. How dull. Doubtlessly his lack of direction and disenchantment shone through as he spoke. "I guess they thought I needed a break from the front so they're sending me off to keep their torture victims alive instead" he said nonchalantly. Maybe that was a bold statement. He didn't really know what to expect but he figured it was best to assume the worst. He caught himself and shook his head in disbelief, "Sorry, I don't suppose that's a very cheery topic, is it?"

He forced a warm smile back over his face and emptied the remainder of his glass.

Kate was, of course, unaware of his money situation, or rather the lack of money.  She did have sympathy for the contents of Faraday's bag, but of course there wasn't much she could do about that.  She didn't know medicine, jsut knew OF medicine.  It was his fault that it had happened, but...well...let's be honest here.  Kate wasn't going to hold a grudge over that, nor was she going to take any pleasure in his difficulties.  Not when a guy like Faraday turns out to be so nice.  Yes, she wasn't seeing much of the cynic in him.  Then again, how much of it had he thrown out there, thus far?  I mean, they're both having a laugh over crusty old tutors.  That's not bad at all!

A point about her social capabilities, though.  While it was true that she definitely thought and acted differently from many other people, Katherine Bellows did not simply take everything literally or at face value.  Some things, perhaps, but not all.  The concept of either shatterproof bottles or an otherwise durable container that could replace bottles...  That was a legit attempt to see if such an idea was potentially within her capabilities.  She thought of it not as how other people viewed the problem, but whether it was impossible for her.  Sometimes, this was the case, but...sometimes not.  Take her gun, for instance...  She knew it was getting there, but she was already having ideas about it attaching to a belt and allowing a fall while it passes the line out, so that you weren't going to kill yourself, but just get lowered to the ground.  This, mind you, before solving the rope issue.

Anyway, back to things at hand.  Kate listened intently to his tale of how long he's been doing things, not just studying here in Uthlyn.  It was strange that he didn't know why he was here.  Most people coming to this town knew the reason they were here.  When he said the next part, though, she frowned, looking either concerned or shocked.  Maybe both.  Her eyes clearly said 'Why would anybody want to go to such a place?'.  She hadn't figured it being about army orders.  Even then, the idea was definitely unappealing, and what he said next...  She just stared in disbelief.  The whole thing...it was just a bit much.

No...you can't just keep beating and beating them!  Let them go or let them die...

His apology was something of an understatement.

"No, it isn't..."

Her voice seemed a bit small, just then.  She found herself shaking her head, trying to forget a different unpleasant thought.  After that, though, Kate gave him a look, earnest and almost pleading.  Something clicked inside of her, and she had to bring it out before she buried it again.

"Faraday, you're a doctor.  You have to help them...not set them up for more pain.  They're prisoners, but they're not monsters..."

She didn't know how, and she obviously didn't know what these prisoners ever did, but if he felt distaste over it, then it meant that they hadn't done enough to warrant this.

Faraday poured himself another drink, wanting desperately for the numbing buzz of the alcohol to hurry up and kick in already as they traversed the awkward conversation. He'd mentioned his new destination in rather an off handed manner, but when Kate spoke her voice sounded small and tight as if he'd dug an ice-pick into a sensitive nerve and he felt instantly guilty.

He focused his attention on the drink in his hand, swirling it absently and watching as the pale liquor formed a tiny shallow whirlpool. But from the corner of his eye he could still see Kate shaking her head as if trying to tremor loose an unpleasant thought. When she spoke again his fingers tightened around his glass and he swallowed nervously. This time it was his turn to feel the sting of her words like an arrow to the chest. He was a doctor. he was meant to help people, not prolong their suffering.

When he spoke his voice was low, with a forced, gravely evenness. "yes. well. unfortunately it's not as simple as all that, is it?"He said. It wasn't like he hadn't thought about it, but the fact was that he could only really see two paths ahead of him.

Option number one: they asked him to do something his moral compass simply could not allow, or his soft heart made him do something that might brand him as a traitor and they killed him.
Option number two: He ignored said moral compass, did what he was told and then had to live with his actions for the rest of his life.

Thinking about it made his stomach feel like a pit of black worms, wriggling and knotting till his felt sick. It was much, much easier to not think about it by getting drunk or high. Or preferably both.

He emptied the content of his glass and poured another, eyes still downcast.
"I might not be a soldier but I still have to bark when my master tells me. The crime for desertion is to hang by the neck, so there's that..."
He had to tell himself that those people were terrorists and monsters with information that could save many lives and that it was not worth laying down his life in defence of them.
"we just have to have faith in the crown; that their ends justify the means. That this is a worthy cause. I have to think that my life is worth more than a terrorist with vital information and that I can do more good alive than dead. Otherwise I'd never sleep at night.
Judging by the dark circles under his eyes he didn't sleep particuarly well at night.
"anyway... maybe it's not as bad as all that. Maybe the mage camps aren't what everyone says they are..." He was aware that he'd dragged their conversation down a pretty dismal path and he felt bad about that too. He straightened in his chair and forced himself to look up at her with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. " uh. Do you mind if I smoke?"
He always used to enjoy having philosophical moral debates but now it all felt far too close to home. He wasn't sure he could sustain the conversation without getting defensive or upset and he didn't really want to show either of those faces to his kind host but he wasn't really sure what else to say either.

It was those feelings of being on the wrong side of a beating, for her.  That was something she just wasn't going to really shake from her being, not for as long as she lived.  Kate knew that Faraday couldn't be comfortable with it.  He was a doctor.  Doctors become doctors because they can't stand the sight of another's pain and want to stop it, right?  But what do you DO when your actions can lead to more pain?  How do you resolve that?  He said it was complicated...but was it?  He spoke about the consequenc and of faith that it was all for a good cause, and maybe some of that seemed somewhat reasonable on the whole it it, but...

"What?  Smoke?  No, I don't care about that, not unless something highly flammable's around."

She wanted to believe that he was just trying to make sense of it for her, but her mind was working on this and seeing an inherent flaw in the whole thing.  It was already a topic her mind didn't want to work on, but it did so, anyway.

"I don't think...that the prisoners are ever going to talk if torture hasn't made them, already.  It's completely useless, by then.  If they're you're enemy, and you haven't gotten your information by them, you shouldn't waste your time...because if they get healthy again, they might hurt you."

In her mind, if you have an enemy and you can't get anything from them, you're not going to get anything.  They're going to make you waste your time, to spite you, and maybe wait to get revenge.  All they can see is you and the pain, by then.  They'll just flip out.  It wasn't...  Kate put her hand to her forehead.  She needed to stop thinking about this.  People in anger did things that...at the end of it...you couldn't tell whether they were good OR bad.

When Kate said that it was ok for him to smoke the doctor opened his tobacco pouch on the table and proceeded to roll a cigarette. He cast a suspicious glance around the room because he didn't put it past the young eccentric inventor to have something flammable at the breakfast table. He lit the cigarette, inhaling gratefully and watching as the smoke spiralled in gentle lethargic circles up towards the wooden vaulted ceiling. He was beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol, no doubt mixed and enhanced with the painkiller he'd taken earlier. Just the knowledge of it- the observation of the slowing of the world when he looked around- put his mind at ease and he leaned back in his chair, shoulders un-tensing. He tapped the cigarette with his forefinger to let the ash fall away into the broken glass he'd placed on the table.

"hmm, perhaps you're right." he shrugged, watching her through heavy lids across the table. Chances were anyone worth torturing would be dedicated enough to their cause to resist. He stared off into the middle distance for a moment, pondering the situation.

"but... I mean what are you suggesting I do Miss Bellows? Just start murdering people?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her. "And when the war is over and those men could have been reunited with their families?" he shook his head. "It is not for me to decide."
Of course he hated seeing people suffer but his job was saving people not ending their lives unless there was no other option. He didn't know Kate's angle. He'd never been in a position of taking a repeated beating but he had certainly seen his fair share of violence.

"besides. For every dying man who begged me to end their life I can assure you there were ten more who begged me to save it. In my experience humans want to live above most else." he hesitated for a moment, watching the ember of his cigarette. Would he see things at that camp that might change his mind about that? How much extended emotional and physical torture could a person endure before death seemed like the better option? The thought still distressed him but it passed by quicker now, lubricated as the alcohol performed its blessed magic. He leant forward, folding his arms across the table in front of him and continued; And anyway if they did flip out and want to hurt someone I should hope they might go for the man with the knife and not the man with the bandages..."

He seemed to at least see her point, that it may be an exercise in futility.  Of course, there were some people who made torture the point of their actions, but Kate didn't really want to think about that.  Some people were just horrible.  Still, Faraday caught her a bit off-guard with what he said next, a proper blink of surprise and confusion when he suggested murder.  He couldn't seriously think that she thought a doctor should do that either...  No, he was trying to point out that because they had lives too that he couldn't just take matters into his own hand.

It wasn't clear whether the doctor really understood where she was going with this.  Kate was honestly finding it hard to navigate it, herself, now.  He'd continued on and it sounded like he was really caught in a conflict about this, which made a fair deal of sense.  Where DO you draw the line in a situation like this?  And the reason that Kate thought some of his patients might just flip out was...well...apparently, she had an episode when she was just a little girl and someone was trying to bring her out of her shell forcibly.  Long story short, there was blood involved.  She now leaned on the table herself, since it was her turn to speak, at last.

"I don't mean that you should start killing them, but you should own what you do.  You're a doctor, an expert in a field.  It's like being me or mom, but with medicine instead of machines.  What I said about them not giving up anything if their torture didn't do anything...  You agree with that, right?"

It seemed to her like he believed that much, or at least entertained the notion.

"You heal them because you're a doctor.  You tell your commander it's useless to keep at them, because you're a doctor and you know how people are.  You're too smart to not think it's stupid.  It's an expert's job to show why he's the expert when someone's about to make an error."

The doctor took a long drag from his cigarette and tried to remind himself to let Kate get a word in edgeways. He knew he had a tendency to talk too much but it was sort of hard to reign in, especially in a subject that was so awfully close to him. Kate's expression made it clear that he had misinterpreted what she'd said and he wondered if he might have made the same mistake if he had been sober or not. No matter. Honestly the idea of a superior officer actually listening to what he had to say had never even crossed his mind.

When it was Kate's turn to speak Faraday listened carefully, determined not to make any more incorrect assumptions. When she suggested that he was an expert in his field he snorted in amusement. John Faraday was not the sort of man to take a compliment. It was a shame because he really was an exceptional doctor and could easily excel to the top if he applied himself and had more confidence in his own abilities. But he was a pessimist to the core and always eager to put himself down. She asked again if he agreed with her on her statement about torture and he had to admit that he wasn't really sure. He'd never been tortured but he was fairly certain that if he was he'd probably tell them everything they wanted to know. He didn't have the constitution for that sort of thing; he was sure that he was a coward.

"for the sake of argument I'd agree that it's true of certain individuals." he mumbled into his cigarette, feeling defensive now at Kate was directly leading the conversation. He felt sure he was about to talk himself into a corner.
When she finished he shook his head a little too enthusiastically.
"poppy-cock." he said, [/b]"Those men are probably experts in the field of... of obtaining knowledge though unpleasant means. You think they are going to listen to some bedraggled, bleeding-heart medic?"[/b]

Maybe he was just making excuses for his cowardice. Maybe a brave man might try. He bit down on the tip of his tongue as he ran that thought through the cogs. "I don't think those sorts of people will care about the wellbeing of their enemy enough to listen to someone like me. They'll just say that they deserve everything they get" His commanders would doubtlessly not be as uncertain as he was about the whole situation. He clenched his jaw and reached for the wineskin again. It was nearly empty and he felt bad for drinking more of it than his host but he really felt like he needed it right now.

There's nothing wrong with leading a conversation when you're trying to make a point.  Just wait your turn and all will be well.  It took a moment for Kate to realize, though, that he had a low opinion of himself.  'Bedraggled' was where she began to understand part of the problem.  He had little-to-no confidence, in some form or another.  He didn't expect anyone to listen to him, maybe not ever.  It was a little hard for someone who lived in a world of facts to understand this, sometimes.  People who believed something that was wrong were just wrong, no two ways about it.

"I know I'm not a doctor or a commander, but I know that people want to get things done, and when they can't get that to happen one way, they have to do it another or fail.  It's no different than loading a gun and firing.  If you do it in the wrong order, bad things happen."

She lowered her gaze for a moment, trying to get this out without putting too much thought into the terrible things going on in war or any sort of conflict.  She could fight, even kill, but it would be about what she's trying to stop the other person from doing, in the process.

"The soldiers are fighting in a war.  What's the use of trying to interrogate for information they're not going to get?  They're wasting the king's time and their own lives, doing it.  They should get back to the fighting, if the war is so important, and leave you to your work.  There's no reason why you can't lay it out plain, because it is true."

It's not as though this were a trick or something, some kind of ploy to get the soldiers to leave the torture victims alone.  It made sense.  If you can't find what you're looking for, you may be looking in the wrong fashion, so either a different approach is required or you need to go back to what makes sense.

Her analogy about the gun made him blink rapidly and he looked down at the table, jaw tensing as he tried to hold her in his gaze and not slip away into one of the vivid memories that were ever keen to jump to the forefront of his mind. Firing a musket without packing the powder down was a sure fire way to blow ones arm of off, that was for sure. He wasn't even really sure why he was arguing his point –arguably the point of the torturer- anymore. Out of the dog like sense of loyalty to his 'side'? or to try and justify the tides of guilt for his cowardice that lapped at his ankles. It'd be easier to just agree with her and let it go. It obviously wasn't doing either of them any good. None the less he listened to her suggest that the soldiers should just go back to fighting one another. suggesting that the young men got back to shooting eachothers aces off and shashing eachothers throats. He felt his temper stretch and replied snappily;

"Yes, well congratulations, in an ideal world you solved the problem. But people aren't all facts and straight lines- Its not just some simple equation, It's more complex than that."
It was like he was watching himself from a distance, watching his blunt tone of voice tumble from his lips despairingly. Ordinarily he was very laidback -charmingly polite even- especially after a few drinks but tonight his nerves felt millimetres long and frayed to breaking. His heart was racing.

"a-and anyway th- the point is moot because we don't know, do we? Maybe the difference between a valuable, piece of information is one blasted fingernail or... a- and it only takes on person to break, that could save lives or ever end the-"
His voice wavered as if it was about to break and he stopped abruptly. What was he saying?. Why was he...

He scowled at the grain of wood in the table, silently swallowing down the cocktail of confused feelings that seemed to be clawing at his throat and hissing white noise in his head.
He groaned ever so slightly because he couldn't quite trust his voice to carry an apology yet, bringing a trembling hand to his face and rubbing it vigorously as if he might be able to rub his last words away. The cigarette smouldered between his fingers and he focused on controlling his breathing and collecting himself before speaking again.

What...what was she doing?  The look on his face...  He'd gone from sour to angry to...  No.  No more of this.  She'd clearly disturbed him like someone - anyone - mentioning her father.  She'd delved too deep on this because all this talk of hurting people made her think of her father, about how much harm it does and how wrong it was to ever even begin that kind of horrid abuse.  The way Faraday was looking and acting was sobering, even though she wasn't anywhere approaching an un-sober state of being.

She'd forgotten, like an idiot, that other people go through things like she did too.  Kate didn't like it when people couldn't see her point of you on things like this because the alternative seemed deplotable to her, but right now...she realized that his point of view - not so different from hers - was what was harming him.  Her hand went out to his - the one that wasn't trying to push the nightmare from his expression - and gripped it, minding carefully not to get a cigarette burn, of course.

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry!  I didn't mean to put you on the spot.  I just thought you didn't understand.  I didn't know it was that bad for you.  I'm sorry..."

She had a look on her face that she reserved usually for 'I just broke something vital and expensive' and 'They're going to be absolutely livid over this', which...being honest...sometimes happened.  Currently, she was adding a new entry called 'I'm doing more harm than my inventions' onto that list.

It took a little moment for him to reign in his emotions, feel the pounding in his chest begin to slow and the feeling of anxiousness quieten back down to a normal level. He felt annoyed with himself; frustrated and more than a little embarrassed. What a mess he was. Of course he'd seen things like this on other people; in young soldiers who had watched one too many of their friends bleed to death, and he hadn't thought ill of them for it, but to now find himself in such a state rather a distressing surprise. Maybe he'd thought that because he'd seen it from the outside he was immune. Idiot. He shook his head slowly, willing the stinging sensation in his eyes to go away.

The doctor flinched ever so slightly when her hand came to his, not expecting it, nor the apologetic tone in her voice.
"No, no i-its not your fault." he said, feeling guilty because she felt guilty. To be fair misplaced guilt was probably a large part of the problem. Even though he knew it wasn't rational he couldn't help relive certain moments over and over and wonder if it'd been his fault. If he'd been less tired, or less stressed or ran a little faster how many of the young men in the ground might still be walking above it? And then there was the fact that he was here at all. While he was monstrously glad to not be on the front line anymore he couldn't help but feel bad for not being there while people were dying. Being back here in the normal world seemed both a blessing and a curse. One tends not to think about their terrible situation quite so much while it's actually happening and when you are in the company of other people to which it is also happening. It was easy to focus on his job in that place but now there was a great slab of spare time for his brain to screw with. Now that he was back he felt like a soggy puzzle piece; unable to fit back in to the space designated to him. Seeing the things men could do to each other was not good for the psyche.

He rather fancied for the world to swallow him up right then.
"It's me," he said, face still buried in the folds of his hand, "I'm the one who bought it up. I... suppose I didn't realise it had affected me so badly. I'm probably just tired from traveling all day." he drawled, though he knew in his mind it had been something more than that. The little adrenaline rush of the near-freak-out had made him feel rather drunk, but it seemed tainted and untrustworthy now that he'd seen his mood fluctuate so drastically. He pushed his half full glass away across the table In favour of resting his forehead on the surface instead. He swore to himself under his breath and tried not to think about it. Tried not to think about the fact that he had to go back to that other world because it made him want to sob and he was sure he couldn't bear the shame of being a grown man crying in a stranger's house. It sounded so... pathetic...

Faraday felt suddenly exhausted, the hollow of his stomach reminding him of his hunger and the heaviness of his eyelids of his fatigue. He realised that he was running on empty. On painkillers and alcohol and tobacco. You'd think a doctor might know to take better care of himself. He laughed a blunt brief note at himself and lifted his head from the table. He extinguished his cigarette in the broken beaker and gave Kate what he hoped was a reassuring smile- though it barely touched his brown eyes. The world swam pleasantly and he folded his arms across the table and rested his head on them like a child taking a nap at their school desk.
Eyes shut and voice somewhat muffled by the position of his head, he said "I'm sorry I'm afraid I'm being awful company." he half laughed into his chest, "You probably should have left me on the ground where we first met." his tone of voice suggested that had been a joke.

- ignore XD pressed the wrong button!

He believed himself the one responsible.  She supposed that if he insisted, she could accept that he was partially responsible, but...it didn't seem fair to lat him take all the blame.  Kate shook her head with a sigh.

"I probably shouldn't have been asking and saying so much.  It's something I do because...I need it.  Even if you blame yourself, I would say 'No' to being the only one to blame."

She needed stimulation, making sure her attention was focused.  The more often she focused on people, the more she remained cognizant of their needs, of the important things...  Focus on them, not the past.  Never on the past.  The point is to break out of the shell, not hide away until father's gone.  Father was gone.  He had been, and he'll never be back.  A person like Faraday was normal, but interesting.  She pushed him too far.  Maybe it was his subject, but she went too far because it bothered her to hear about pain and hopelessness.  It needed a silver lining, some small sliver that someone would do something, at least try.

Not Faraday, though.  She should have realized sooner.  He was trapped, cage, suffocated - and she'd rattled him by asking 'Why don't you DO something?' when he felt utterly powerless.  Of course, there was always a way to deal with terrible people.  Her mother taught her the way to handle that.  Some of the most simple and direct ways to handle the unreasonable and monstrous: Kill him.  Even still...the doctor before him was clearly neither the sort who would, nor would he allow such a line of reasoning, because...he was a good doctor.

Kate felt herself calming down, not because of the assurances given by Faraday, but because - regardless of how they'd arrived at the fact - they now understood each other properly.  At least, she thought so.  He made an apology, but...

"What kind of person would I be if I'd left you there?  And please, don't say 'A smart person'.  You haven't meant me any harm, even though that kind of happened.  I just didn't understand.  That happens...sometimes.  I've had...problems...picking up things from others.  Having other people around makes it easier to think, to focus, and you liked what I was doing, once you saw what it was.  More people like you should exist, Faraday..."