he's keeping busy as he's bleeding stones, his machinations and his palindromes.

[portalling]

WHO: Stephen Strange & you
WHAT: A sorcerer returns to being a doctor, although he never really stopped.
WHEN: Harvestmere
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: Catch-all for the month and a spot to stash scenes; open prompt in the comments about his promotion to Head Healer, but feel free to toss wildcards or anything else in here, and hmu if you want something bespoke. ♥

Comments

[portalling]

“Oh yeah, for sure. The first time I was faced with that bit of knowledge, it made me want to lie down face-first on the floor making low gibbering noises.” Musing, he realises, “Gwenaëlle triggered that existential crisis too, actually. It’s probably best to ease the new arrivals into it more gently. Maybe better to just not think about it too much all. But,”

Strange gives Cosima a sidelong look, mentally donning his doctor’s hat in order to assess her state. She’s not Viktor. She’s not visibly frail, deteriorating. She’s standing here in the infirmary healthy as anything, stacking the bandages instead of ensconced in one of those hospital beds.

“I’m tremendously glad it worked out for you. That whatever whim of the universe aligned to re-make you, and that it re-made you healed. Also because I’m not a spirit healer so you would’ve been screwed in that regard, but, y’know.”

(He’s allergic to sincerity, usually cuts it with humour; but he tries.)

[youwonscience]

"I don't know Gwenaëlle that well, but we've both been here long enough that I think it's fair to say gently isn't her strongest suit." The observation isn't unkind; she has other merits, for all she and Cosima have never been especially close.

She smiles at the visible scan he gives her; she knows enough scientists to parse that look. "And thanks. I'm ... it's been a few years, now, so I'm finally trusting it, you know? When I first came back to Thedas, it's not like I could run any tests on myself, I just had lack of symptoms to go on. But it's..." She sighs, almost a laugh. "Look, everyone in Riftwatch knows I'm not built for fieldwork. But it's nice to feel like I'm not an active liability, you know?" And if she has to choose, just vanishing one day when the Fade decides it certainly beats dying the way she saw some of her sisters go at home. "Now I'm just your standard-issue indoor kid who read too much."

[portalling]

“Not so standard-issue,” Stephen points out, with an arch of an eyebrow. (Those papers on the blood plague, still sitting on his desk: her research, her assistance with the eventual cure.) “A smart-as-hell indoor kid. Your work’s saved people and helped push our understanding further and Riftwatch is the better for it. And,”

Oh, he didn’t exactly mean to stumble into this topic, but she says not built for fieldwork and he remembers, of course he remembers, that time they brought Cosima back from fieldwork gone horrendously wrong, her body so eerily untouched except for the glasses—

A little stilted: “Us losing you once was enough, I think. I’d prefer not to have a repeat.”

[youwonscience]

She's ready to make a joke about explaining her thesis to him, as possibly the only person in Thedas equipped to actually understand it, but the turn in his tone derails the joke before she says it. Instead, her expression falters.

She can't help the sudden realization that the only person she'd really shown much emotion to after Granitefell was Tony. Thinking of Tony, at the moment, definitely doesn't help.

Involuntarily, her eyes get a bit bright and she blinks a few times. "Yeah, um. It's. The very first field work I ever did, back when we were with the Inquisition, we got captured by the Venatori. And at the time, I thought wow, I've maxed out how badly it can go my first trip out, but I guess I was wrong, so." It's a little wavery to be the joke it's intended to be. She badly doesn't want to cry in front of this man, who surely doesn't want to see her cry either. But even as stilted as it was, though, Stephen's assertion she'd be missed (was missed) gets her in a place she wasn't expecting.

[portalling]

If Stephen were better at this, he might know how to navigate this sort of conversation more elegantly: should he pause what he’s doing, and reach out to hold her hand, although those occasions are so few and far between? Do people hug at times like this? He’s not a hugger.

Then again, if he were worse, he might have avoided saying it entirely, would have tried to gloss over what had happened and never even address anything of import. Except that this matters — Stephen has been learning to accept that it matters — and, so, he tries.

“Murphy’s Law. Never tempt it. Life can always find some new, unique, bizarre way of fucking things up.” Her eyes are misty and that makes him blink, himself, darting his gaze back down to the tabletop in front of them.

Cosima’s technically his boss now, but oddly, that seems to draw the cord tighter rather than set her aside at an aloof distance. He has always bonded best with the people he works closely with: the excuse to see each other day in and day out, to delegate and trust one another’s competence, particularly when you carry that shared language and humour.

Tony had been that, for him, too.

So, clearing his throat again:

“Also. So that it’s said. You’re gonna do great.”

[youwonscience]

It startles her into a laugh, for all it's a little watery at the edges still. "Hey, thanks. You know, hang around long enough, you get promoted." Not that she'd have wanted it at Tony's expense, but she assumes Stephen knows as much.

She quickly brushes a stray tear from her cheek, but the threat of actually crying seems to have mostly passed. She has to assume they're both relieved about that.

"It's good to have you here, you know. I know our worlds aren't exactly the same but ... closer than a lot of them. And now I can delegate the you should really wash your hands campaign at least some of the time, so that frees up a lot of brain space." It's warm, but it's only partially a joke.

[portalling]

“Oh my god, speaking of, you should see this.” Stephen sets down his stack of bandages and moves to start rummaging through one of the larger drawers of the desk. It’s a pivot which lets them both escape from these weightier, more emotional subjects, like pulling the ripcord on a parachute and bailing right out of there — but it’s also not only that. He thinks she might genuinely get a kick out of this.

Digging around, he finally finds a rolled-up paper. He hands it over.

“Please witness our first handwashing PSA poster. Edgard made it. I’ll be using his pain scale drawings, but this one’s for the recycling, unfortunately, and you’ll see why—”

if you want, we can wrap in the name of post-tower chats

[youwonscience]

The way she laughs in unguarded and genuine. "I mean," through giggles she can't quite suppress even after the initial suprise, "you could just cut it in half, there's a paper shortage and the top part is good." It's probably not that funny. But she and Stephen have both had a long few weeks and it's so genuine in its he's a little confused but he's got the spirit execution.

The release, either way, is real enough. Every now and then, it helps to have someone else see that something in ridiculous, the way impromptu common room karaoke helps, or even the pancakes that no one's ever gotten quite the same as Jude's. It's good to remember that their lives are not just their lost friends and bleakly long lists of war objectives. Not only that.

perf 💕

[portalling]