st_ormchaser | [Voice Test] Lara and Stephen

[Voice Test] Lara and Stephen

The library was new, since Lara had last been at the Inn. And it was truly fantastic in its variety, literally so; there were books in languages she’d never even seen before! All-new syntax to puzzle out, new patterns of thought... new to her, anyway. Some of the books were quite old.

One such book, on a shelf too high for her to reach conveniently, had words on its spine it was looked intriguingly almost like Mongolian script. Rather than cast about for a stepladder, Lara had simply climbed the shelf, ignoring the just-a-sting-really in her rock-abraded leg. Once she had the book, though, it seemed like a good idea not to jump down. Even if black yoga capris wouldn’t show blood, having to change and maybe explain that she’d reopened wounds because of impatience seemed like a hassle.

So she stayed where she was, considering other ways down that were gentle and wouldn’t force her to abuse the book.

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"Medical, right. Specialized in neurosurgery but lacerations and punctures are simple enough. You get that sanitized?" Nonplussed, Stephen extended the book back towards her. Whatever manner of delightful tropical bacteria swam around on a feline's claws and teeth could easily turn a cut into an amputation.

Lara accepted the book and tucked it under one arm. Later, the almost-Mongolian language would be poked and prodded. For now, she had company. "No, no, the leg was pinned under a rockfall in a cave-in... sort of thing. The jaguar maul is on my back." She pointed over one shoulder with her free hand.

"I'll ask how you got from spelunking to literature later. Do I have consent to treatment?" A surgeon in his former life Stephen Strange may have been, he took the tenants seriously. Also, her irreverence was worrying, to say the least. Foreign dimension or no, it wouldn't do to have someone keel over on his watch.

Lara almost laughed at him, but of course he had no idea that her current array of wounds counted as minor to her, so she womanfully suppressed the mirth. It probably showed up on her face anyway, a bit. "Yes, all right. I don't see what it would hurt."

Stephen nodded for her to turn, simply to appraise the wound. "I take it this isn't a novel experience." There was, of couse, better bedside manner to be done but it seemed wasted on someone so easy-going.

Easy-going wasn’t a word people used to describe Lara, usually. Driven, yes. Obsessive, yes. Crazy-ass, on more than one occasion. But she was in a good mood and there was no clock to race: easy-going wasn’t the worst descriptor at the moment.

She turned as indicated, then looked back over her shoulder. “I don’t actually know what’s back there. All my friend said was ‘it’s not pretty’.” Which probably meant more scars, eventually.

"Your friend was correct." Never one to mince words, Stephen squinted at the lashes covering the fair skin. "You're either in shock or I'll go out on a limb and say you're not the av-er-age bear." He punctuated the last few words and stepped back. Enhanced beings (through medical or mystical means) were no surprise to him.

"Either way, I can patch you up before your next big adventure or send you off with some soup and a recommendation to check back in a week."

“It’s not shock.” Lara knew what shock felt like. She reached around to tap a scar to one side of her lower back, an almost gunshot through-and-through (she thought) looking thing. “I got this after a madman hung me upside-down in a sack from a cavern ceiling. I fell on a piece of rebar or broken arrow, it went right through. After that, I was probably in shock a bit. I’ve got used to these things now.”

It didn’t hurt that, as Jonah had said, when she had a puzzle in view, everything but that sort of disappeared.

While it was tempting to outright ask if she needed the help, Stephen was already looking her over. Might as well go all the way with it. In his time since becoming the New York Sanctum's guardian, there was plenty of books to read and enchantments to learn, and healing was among them. While he couldn't use such magic for his own gain, there was no reason not to take it up. He was a doctor at heart, no matter what title he bore.

Stephen passed a hand over Lara's skin, inches away. It was warm, which was a good sign. Though too much longer, and it would have been burning with infection. A soft glow rose from his fingertips and passed into the skin, closing up the open skin. The scars, he left. The flesh had done its own work mending.

He'd done... something. There was an odd feeling, then itchy almost-burn of the jaguar bites and scratches faded and disappeared. Lara already knew she couldn't see her own back, and it would have been ridiculous to twist around in a circle and try, so she did the next best thing.

She looked back over her shoulder at him. "What did you just do?" However much better it was, it definitely wasn't medicine. That tended to sting more.

"Healed you. With magic. I do that, too." Stephen was entirely offhand, kneeling to get a decent look at her leg.

“Really.” She hadn’t been suspicious quite yet, but now she was. Magic, from her limited experience, was dangerous and often the province of her enemies. “Have you ever heard of a group called Trinity?”

"The school of business?" Stephen knew many things, especially as they pertained to the supernatural, but there was nothing bearing that title of any significance beyond the Holy Trinity. He positioned his hand over the wound on her leg, giving it the same treatment.

Lara pushed his hand away. Until she knew the price tag, no. “Not likely.” Possible, a little too obvious for them, but better safe than sorry. “They’re a group who’ve put a lot of time and resources into looking for exactly the kind of power you’re showing off. Among other things.”

Stephen raised an eyebrow, lowering his hand. The glow faded. Apparently, a switch had been flipped.

"I'm not familiar, but they can join the club. I'm from an ancient order dedicated to thwarting mystical threats. There's very little cross over with common society, and that's the way we like it."

Very little crossover? Well, maybe. Certainly no one Lara had encountered was as free with power as this man seemed to be. And he hadn’t done anything the way she’d have expected Trinity to... but then, if they still wanted to ‘recruit’ her they’d know they needed to be tricky.

And none of it should matter in the Inn anyway. Lara smiled as pleasantly as she could. “I’m sorry to be so suspicious. My previous experience with magic has been rather on the apocalyptic side.”

With a sigh, Stephen pushed on his knees to stand. Apocalyptic, she says. Yes, he was all too familiar.

"I have tales of my own. None that bear mentioning--they were resolved. But, enough that I can understand your leeriness on a visceral level." He paused to dust his jeans off. "No side effects to the replenishment enchantment, by the way."

"Good to know. Thank you." The leg hadn't been the pressing wound, anyway - it was painful but seemed to be healing. If pressed, Lara would have admitted that her back had worried her much more. It was fresher, more open, and she'd been alternately dousing it in mud and Amazon river water. Not the best. "Trinity is... an organization focused on gaining power through exploitation of supernatural elements. They're not here, and I shouldn't be worried, but... I can't really help it." They'd killed her father, but that really felt like one of the smallest things that Trinity had done, even if it wasn't small to Lara. "I don't suppose you've heard of Kitezh?"

"The Russian Atlantis." Stephen was familiar with the legend. His travels never brought him there himself, but no doubt one or several mystic arts practitioners had found their way to the city that rested beneath the lake. After all, legends had a way of being more than legends where he came from.

Russian Atlantis, a good description. “According to some of the legends in my world, Kitezh was the hiding-place for a mystical power source, hidden there by the Prophet who founded Kitezh and capable of granting immortality.” She’d wanted it for other reasons. It had seemed reasonable that near-limitless magical power could be used to get her back to the Inn and Kitty. Somehow.

It hadn’t worked out that way. “Trinity wanted it. So their leaders could be immortal, or they could make miracle medicines and hold the world hostage, I don’t really know. Trinity wanting something is enough reason for me not to let them have it.”

"Pardon my bluntness, but what does that make you? I'd take you for some manner of peeress crusader." To say nothing of what she was wearing, which Stephen respectfully declined to comment on. He could have simply caught her at a bad time--in more ways than one.

"Good at revenge, bad at proportional response?" It was almost a joke, or would have been if it hadn't probably been fair. Lara shrugged a little. "I try to sell 'archaeologist' sometimes, but I usually get called 'tomb raider' these days." Also 'infamous'. Sometimes 'adventurer' but that seemed overly romantic, so Lara almost never claimed it.

"Ah. A plunderer." Stephen rested his thumbs in his pockets. He was tempted to ask how many of her woes were caused by disturbing the very artifacts she sought after.

Lara shrugged again. It was a fair enough assessment, really. The big things, the major artifacts - she often didn't have much choice about what she did with them. But she did tend to have magpie hands for what amounted to random treasure/junk along the way. If someone didn't want Lara Croft eventually stealing it, they shouldn't hide it behind a massive climbing structure loaded with puzzles.

And certainly, both Kitezh and Paititi - mostly Paititi - were her instigation. Though leaving both situations alone would have been worse. She had to believe that. "That's the reputation, anyway. I think I'm better than the alternative. But of course I would, wouldn't I?"

"In a space-locked dimension, I'm sure my unsolicited judgements will do neither of us good." While in the past, Stephen Strange always found energy to bicker, he had at least graduated to Will Only Bicker If Prompted.

Somehow that struck Lara as funny, but she carefully didn't crack a smile. Serious older men who introduced themselves as 'Doctor' weren't generally known for their senses of humor. But she couldn't resist playing a little. "Yes, do wait to judge me until something has actively exploded."

Stephen cracked the faint traces of a smirk. "If you actively explode something, I am claiming no responsibility." From all appearances, there were surely plenty of other people for that.

"Don't worry, I take responsibility for my own explosions." Most of the time, sadly, there wasn't really anyone else around and/or alive to blame. Except Jonah, but he was generally the one trying to pump the brakes.

"Good to know." Stephen inclined his head an inch. "Unless there are other wounds you'd like attended, I'll leave you to your business of the literary kind." He gestured at the bookcase, as if she had been planning to go climbing once more.

“Right! Yes. Thank you again for helping.” Lara showed off her book. “It looks almost like Mongolian, I’m very interested to see how much it actually is.”

"Let me know your verdict." Stephen tapped on its surface. "The Mongolic language group boats some fascinating texts."

“It does,” she agreed. “I found a few in Kitezh, mostly personal accounts and unusually well-preserved letters. Nothing bound, like this.” So: a doctor who did magic and had a head for languages. Strange was an appropriate name! “Where did you find yours?”

"In my personal collection. It was inherited. Endless, almost." Few things were infinite, though the books in the Sanctum certainly could feel that way. He had taken to simply projecting his spirit during sleep to read. One night could turn into months of study.

"I'd be jealous, if I honestly thought I could sit still long enough for that much reading." Before Yamatai, she could have done it, Lara thought. Before Sam had decided that serious student Lara Croft needed to be taken out of herself. Before fights to the death with ancient queens, deathless guards, and insane cults. Before a lot of things.

Now she tended to twitch when things were quiet. "I mean, I'd love to try. But I'm not really set up to be a scholar anymore."

Stephen squinted for a moment. Hearing those words out of someone who appeared to be around half his age felt like a sign of the times.

"If I may be so bold, what are you setting yourself to be in the space we're in now?"

"I haven't decided. I was a bartender my first time here, but it seems there's enough on that." Lara shrugged. "Maybe I'll teach something, there was a sign-up sheet for that. Or offer translation services. Or hunt!"

Watching Lara go on was sort of charming. The woman was most certainly an utter maniac, but she had enthusiasm. And an unfortunate tendency to accrue injuries. Not unlike his late sister in the least.

He nodded at the towering bookshelves. "Crash course in indoor parkour."

"If I do that, it'll be outside. Better climbing on outside walls." Lara considered, then shook her head. "From what I remember, a lot of people here will already be fine in that respect. I'll stick with teaching or shooting things, I think."

Stephen reached forward to rap a few knuckles on her book. "If you find some quiet time to pour over that tomb of yours, look me up." With that, he made his exit. It was time for tea. Heavy contemplation called for something to clear one's head, though not while he was in the library. He had more tact than that.

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[Voice Test] Lara and Stephen

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