2nd Metal / open spam covering the next few days

[godsays]

[ He never had thought of Mistborn powers as being an addiction, but this may force him to admit he was wrong. He craves the metals, craves the sensations that come with them. He feels as though his body has been wrapped in cotton; no longer can he distinguish the grains of wood through his fingertips, or hear the whisper of a heartbeat from a room away. He can't use lines of metal to sense movement and to chart his surroundings. Can't fall and fly. Can't lean on the emotions of those he meets. He's trapped in his skull, a prisoner of locked doors and gravity.

This is what drives him to some desperation.

There are many risks that come with seeking out metals not metallurgist-crafted. Alloys can be impure; they can be of an incorrect mixture. It's hard to flake off bits of metal. Chewing on them will only result in certain trace metals in the system, and those could be burned off easily and quickly without much benefit.

So: find him anywhere in a public area, focused on some sort of metal. Perhaps determinedly working at the tines of a fork or attempting to chew on a pipe. Licking, in an attempt to taste the composition of an alloy. (This is unsurprisingly ineffective.)

And then, at some point, he may succeed in flaking/bending off/acquiring some metal that can be swallowed. Unfortunately, alloys of incorrect percentage give him a blinding headache and leave him nauseated and down for the count. So feel free to also find him curled into a ball really wishing he hadn't just tried to do that. ]

Comments

[itstopped]

...but you swallowed it. [There is just nothing else he can say to that, weird new guy.]

[godsays]

Yes.

In order to burn it.

[ What's he going to do, burn it in his mouth? ]

For... [ He might as well make an effort to communicate. ] Powers. [ There, that should make sense to people on this boat, right? ]

[itstopped]

[NOT REALLY, NO. Well, yes -- powers, he gets, even if the word makes his skin crawl a little. Something imperceptible changes in his expression, something closing off in a not entirely quantifiable way.]

Do you feel better now that it's out?

[godsays]

No. Just means it won't hurt anything internal on the way out.

[ It has sharp edges. A little less sharp, now.

He catches that change and doesn't understand it. Maybe he's thinking too slow; maybe it's the headache, which is absolutely blinding pain, and he wishes he had pewter now more than ever. ]

...the damage is done. [ His travel over Felix's body, and move back up to his face. ]

[itstopped]

[Zane might notice that something seems a little... off on his right leg, something slightly unnatural in the way his trousers fall, as if there's not any muscle to fill them out below the knee. He certainly might notice the slight limp as Felix steps forward again, the way the ankle on that side doesn't bend at all. If he had steel or iron to burn right now, he would feel something surprising.]

I'm sorry to hear that. [It's very, very neutral, the way he says it. He can't say he's really all that sorry to hear that someone with powers was thwarted in their attempt to access them.] The infirmary is only one level down.

[godsays]

[ A reaction, to that. The infirmary?

(The oddities don't mean much to him, except that he concludes the man is injured, immobile in some way. It means Zane is less at the disadvantage.) ]

Do you trust them?

[ Zane has not allowed medical treatment of himself in years. Few have ever seen his scars. ]

[itstopped]

[It's an entirely reasonable question, enough that he has to consider the answer. Does he? He trusted McCoy, but McCoy is long gone. He hasn't been back since, except to deal with Tosh's dataport. But Banner had been... courteous, at least, and Merlin seems to mean well enough.]

I trust them enough.

[godsays]

Why?

[ He's truly asking. Why? What makes him give that trust? ]

[itstopped]

[Well, that's a novel question, and not an unfair one. He sort of wants to just distrust and dislike this newcomer on sheer principle, and a part of him does, but a part of him honestly respects the paranoia on display. He should be doing better with that, he thinks. He should be less trusting.]

I don't know the current doctor very well. The one who was here before him helped me. But this one seems to have the basics of "first do no harm" down, at least.

[godsays]

First do no harm. [ He echoes the words back, searching his mind for any mention of them. A slight shake of his head; a questioning look. That sounds like - a rule, a quote, an adage. What is it from? ]

[itstopped]

The medical oath? [His world has no Hippocrates, but the ethics have turned out to be the same in this regard.] They have to take it to be licensed... on my world, at least. [He frowns; this is the first time it's occurred to him that Earth may not be the same on this particular detail.]

[godsays]

Licensed, yes. That's an oath I've never heard.

[ A frown. He lets the train of thought distract him. Compartmentalizes the pain. ]

Impossible, too. They can't avoid responsibility by doing no harm themselves, if they heal those who do harm.

I won't take a healer. This will pass.

[itstopped]

If you say so. [He's certainly not going to push. He'd be unlikely to even if Zane were human. He tends not to get involved to that extent, not for anyone he doesn't know.]

And I believe-- [He can't quite resist, because in whatever tiny spark is left of his childhood soul there's a voice saying that he could have almost been a doctor himself, once.] --the argument is that it's a doctor's responsibility to heal without prejudice. That even those who might do harm are still worthy of being healed. It's not about avoiding responsibility -- it's basic human morality.

[godsays]

[ Brows furrow. He does not really understand this. His own actions are his responsibility - he sets in motion schemes within schemes and he is responsible for all of the possible outcomes. ]

They can't take a role in changing lives [ because that's what healing is - it's changing lives forever ] and choose not to acknowledge what comes from it. It's not morality. It's willful ignorance.

[itstopped]

[It pushes a button in him he didn't even know he had, but he can't help but think of Cottle; Cottle saving his life at the expense of his leg, only for Felix to turn around scarcely any time later and throw the entire Fleet into chaos. Should Cottle have just let him die on the table?

He wants to tell himself it doesn't matter, because he's a traitor who was executed anyway, but it does somehow.]

And how do you make that call? Or your hypothetical doctor. If you put it that way, you may as well not heal anyone, right? You never know who could wake up one morning and decide to change the world.

[It's dry, sarcastic, not outwardly heated, but there's a note of anger under it.]

[godsays]

[ His eyes are piercing; being under his gaze can be somewhat uncomfortable. ]

Men are not gods. All consequences can't be anticipated.

But we are not animals, either. Many can.

[ He doesn't find that a valid argument. ]

[itstopped]

And if we asked our healers to make that decision, we'd be asking them to be gods. No, thank you. I don't even like to deal with the gods that are gods, and it's bad enough they can do... [They can take a man's leg even when he begs them not to. He knows it had to happen, but that doesn't make it sting any less.] ...they make enough decisions as to what happens to the rest of us as it is.

[His voice is decidedly colder now. If he falters under Zane's gaze, he doesn't show it.] You can make it back to your quarters?

[godsays]

[ Clearly Zane touched on something personal here. But - he finds that he actually likes this one. He has some respect for the anger he sees there.

He settles back against the wall. Doesn't believe he's in any danger here. ]

If I couldn't, you wouldn't be the one to help me.

[ Not fooling himself into believing that the liking is mutual. ]

[itstopped]

According to you, it's a rare man who could. [Would he help if Zane was truly in danger? It's been a while since he had to ask such a question of himself... at one time, he would have unequivocally believed the answer to be yes, but at one time he would have also believed that strangers would do the same for him.]

But if you're well enough not to go to the infirmary, it's a moot point, anyway. [He dodges the barb thus and flashes a thin smirk, turning away with his strangely stiff gait.]

[godsays]

Not a rare man who could - just a rare man who wouldn't close their eyes to anything that happens next.

[ His voice rises, calling after Felix. ]

If I saved your life, and you killed a man, I would burn the body myself.

[itstopped]

[Too late, he thinks, thinking of Sharon-- of Eight. Which doesn't really count, anyway, he reminds himself.

But the other blood on his hands, then.]

And what would you do with your own? [He stops, but doesn't turn around.]

[godsays]

[ He finds his fingers pressing against a hard lump at his breastbone. An odd sensation, in his mind, as though there's something he should be thinking about.

He - misunderstands, perhaps. ] With the bodies I've left behind?

I leave them. For whoever cares to see.

[ Whoever cares to feel responsible. ]

[itstopped]

[It most definitely is a misunderstanding, enough that Felix turns back to look at him, eyes narrowed and clearly disgusted.]

I meant with yourself.

[godsays]

[ A shrug. ] Whatever's next.

[ He moves on. He faces the next obstacle. Always. ]

[itstopped]

[He snorts.] So much for the lecture on taking responsibility, then. I'll stick with Dr. Banner, thank you.