closed: onboarding with hr

[dirthsal]

WHO: Talin Shira'nehn, Bene, Stephen, Gwenaëlle, Clarisse
WHAT: Talin (finally) completes his onboarding
WHEN: Hella backdated to his arrival at the end of September
WHERE: Various area of the Gallows
NOTES: Individual starters in comments!

After helping get the fennec family relocated, Talin is finally free to actually go about signing up for Riftwatch. It's mostly a boring affair, giving his name for records, making his mark on this paper and that. Who would have known saving the world involved this much paper?

It takes a long while, but the end result is this: he's an official member of the Riftwatch now, with all the protections and responsibilities that provides. His first mission: meet with the various leaders and answer any questions they have for him.

Comments

[portalling]

“Oh, well—”

A surprised noise, but then Strange understands what the man’s doing. He rises and circles around the desk to get closer to Talin’s back and assess the old injuries. And they are old: years gone, so it isn’t exactly the sort of thing which seems to require active monitoring, but…

But the specific location on the back gives him pause, and brings it closer to his realm of expertise.

“Were those from a sword?” the doctor asks, and perhaps it helps that there is absolutely no attempt at warmth or pity in his voice. They’re complete strangers to each other, newly met. He doesn’t actually care. This is another blue sheet-wrapped carved-up body for inspection and analysis. A professional puzzle, a file to jot down.

“It looks like they’ve healed up well enough, but spinal injuries could cause ongoing issues. Did it seem like it nicked the spine at the time? Have you had any lingering pain or loss of movement or sensation in the lower half of your body?”

[dirthsal]

It's far from usual for Talin to have his back bared for such scrutiny, but if he's uncomfortable, it doesn't show. He holds still under the doctor's professional assessment, breathing with nary a tremble or clenched fist.

"Hard to say what I felt at the time," given everything else going on around him, how the physical pain was hardly a needleprick to the pain in his heart, "it hurt. I fell. Face-down, almost drowned,"

in a puddle—barely a puddle, just a soggy patch of underbrush, wet enough to clog the noise and obstruct the lungs,

"got infected, that might have gone deeper in the spine than the sword. I don't remember any of that, I woke up healed. Magic, I was told, as complete as could be managed. No pain, no paralysis. Just the scars to remember it by."

🎀

[portalling]

“Ah, well. That’s good.”

Absolutely none of it is good, but Strange is clearing his throat and hemming-and-hawing his way through this particular stage of the talk, trying to skirt those conversational potholes.

Back to more solid ground, fumbling his way back to professionality. He doesn’t ask what circumstances might have left Talin Shira’nehn face-down drowning in a puddle, a sword in his back. He drums through the rest of the rest of the consultation at businesslike clip, foraging only pertinent details as needed, along with a polite little You can put your shirt back on now.

There’s a story there, there must be, but he doesn’t pry for more. The other man’s history is his own.