[ open; ]

[amonfire]

Characters: Amon, Various, and OPEN
Date: April 22nd
Location: WA-3A: Amon's apartment & Free clinic in the Earth Sector
Situation: Amon takes an apprentice, and hears a rumour about Charter magic spreading.
Warnings/Rating: Apprehensive no

Earth Sector:

[ Amon suspected his cheekbone had nearly been broken during arrest; he hadn't been able to wear his mask since without dull yet constant pain. It made interacting with others in person...a task, to say the least. ]

A Marius Pontmercy, and a gentlemen who answers to Javert; I don't want the letters sent close to each other.

[ Amon slipped a few extra juulan in the kedan woman's hand to compensate for the eccentric request tagged onto the end. Kedan displayed a willingness to work with Amon once he immersed himself in the poorest district of the Earth sector at the clinic, and knew when and where his juulan would serve his interests.

Neither of the two missives were personal or even very interesting; he never did enjoy writing letters. To Marius he wrote a simple thank you letter for his actions on the stockade that then bluntly shifted to comment on his difficulties in finding employment, and his readiness to return a favour. The letter to Javert was far more terse to the point of almost being inimical. There were oblique hopes that their last...encounter didn't sour any impressions and well-wishes that the last few days treated him kindly. With little preamble it broke into a strong wish to see him after hearing about 'a girl with bells throwing water at people.'

Missives sent and Amon disappeared back into his clinic, alone. The wind chime the hung outside on the sandstone window frames was quiet in the still and stifling afternoon air. Amon took it as a sign he should close the doors and trap whatever cool breeze was left before going back to his desk. They were low on antibiotics and fresh frozen plasma. They were low on a lot of things. The only thing he wished to be short of was visitors. ]


Water Sector: Closed to Sabriel


[ That night he left for his apartment when he stopped and disappeared into the wrong alley way. Armed with a hunch that had put through the rumour mill one too many times, he ended up at the front door to Sabriel's suite. He knocked only once. ]

Comments

*Sinister music plays*

[bindsthedead]

[Sabriel had taken what she saw as reasonable precautions- she'd placed magical locks and protective spells over every possible entrance to her suite, so it took a moment before there was a faint clicking sound and the door swung open.]

Yes? [If Sabriel was a bit curt, it was only because she had been about to make dinner, and hadn't been expecting any visitors, though her eyes widened when she saw who was there.]

Amon? What are you doing here?

dun dun duuuumb

[amonfire]

[ Amon made every conscious effort to hold himself in a relaxed disposition. There was split-second decision to drag the truth out of her by her volition without arousing suspicion. ]

I'm sorry to disturb you, [ Eyes behind the cut of that damnable mask that pressed almost painfully into his skin leveled with Sabriel's ] but I was hoping take your counsel. Something came up at the clinic today, and I wanted your opinion as practitioner of magic.

[bindsthedead]

Oh? [Sabriel's eyesbrows rose, and she motioned for Amon to come inside.]

Well, come in- I'm happy to help. Was it a magical accident of some sort, or something more deliberate? ['Accident or curse' were the first two things that came to mind when Sabriel thought of magical incidents that might cause someone to seek medical attention.]

[amonfire]

[ Amon stepped into the apartment trying to continue to feign a casual demeanor. Only with mixed results as recent injuries and natural bearing kept his posture awkwardly stiff and foreboding. ]

I'm lead to believe it was an accident, but I can't say for sure. [ The layout is the same as his own and almost subconsciously Amon wandered into the living room where he hovered before being given leave to sit. He did still have a sense of propriety. ]

They were burned, I suppose.

[bindsthedead]

[Sabriel settled herself into the chair opposite him, her hands neatly folded on her lap as she ran over different possibilities.]

And the injury isn't responding to normal treatment? [She rather doubted he'd come all the way to her suite if it was.]

If it's simply an accident, and they attempting something that they shouldn't have- well, it should fade with time, or a healing spell- I've burned myself that way a few times before, and always recovered.

If it's something deliberate- [Sabriel frowned, and her hands clenched into fists.] Then time won't be any help, and I'll need to see the injury to know what I can do to help.

[amonfire]

[ Amon followed suit as was common courtesy. ]

Ah- [ 'Normal treatment was certainly one way of putting it. ] No, it did not; I even attempted less conventional avenues with no result.

[ Watching her carefully for any tells she was catching out. He tried to approach the matter in greater detail without giving himself away. ] I don't think it was deliberate, but I fear if left alone the damage will be permanent. I don't suppose you could explain, or even demonstrate fire magic? Anything that might burn someone.

[bindsthedead]

I see- well, I don't mind offering a demonstration.

[Sabriel holds out her right hand, conjuring an orange and yellow fireball twice the size of her fist.]

This fire would burn you- but only in the way any nonmagical fire would, and would respond to the same treatments.

[In a sudden wash of hot air, the fireball dissipates, and is replaced by gold and silver flames. Careful observation would reveal the Charter marks visible in them.]

Burns from this flame would not. Particularly if the individual was Dead, a creature of Free magic, or a Free magic sorcerer.

[amonfire]

[ Amon watches carefully without a word; his eyes fixed on her display of Charter Magic. ]

Not far removed from firebending [ Realising he was commenting without added context he turned it back to Sabriel. ]

The 'individual' was as far removed as magic or anything of its kind as one could be; I still not certain it was anything less than a spell that 'burnt' their skin.

[bindsthedead]

I see. [Sabriel's expression was pensive as she considered her next words.]

I think I'd need to see the injury in question to tell you what I can do to help- or can you describe the injury and any unusual effects in a bit more detail?

[saisamour]

[ The letter could not have come at a better time. Although Marius had succesfully purchased the ring for Cosette, the trade-off had been lack of sufficient funds for food and other daily living expenses. He had been alarmingly close to selling his bedframe and mattress, in fact.

So without a second thought he headed over to the Earth Sector, pausing for a moment when he arrived at the foot of the road that diverged to Cosette's dwelling. He wanted nothing more than to go to where she was, but he knew he needed to secure a source of income if he were to even have a wedding. And yet, the road looked so inviting...

And so what had meant to be a quick visit to Cosette ended up taking hours, and soon Marius was making haste to the clinic before the hour of the night turned inconvenient. When he reached the location, he gave the door a couple of knocks and waited as he tried to level his breathing. ]

[amonfire]

It's open!

[ He called, not yelled, from his office. There was never a time he had raised his voice in frustration; he only spoke up when he needed to be heard. Not when he was threatened with getting lost in his own temper.

Still reeling from his time spent in incarceration, Amon was slow to so much as get out his chair. Bruised ribs were still healing as well as a battered ego. It took a sizeable effort not to bite off the head of whomever came knocking. He quelled his temper when he remembered he made arrangements for visitors today.

Clenching his teeth, he pulled himself away from his office desk and walked slowly out to the main room of the clinic. ]

[saisamour]

[ He stepped in and, once inside, took off his worn-down coat and slung it over his arm. His eyes scanned the interior of the room before they settled on Amon. ]

Monsiuer Amon, I have received your letter. [ No, that was too obvious a statement, wasn't it? And so he decided to add, ] I have come to speak with you regarding employment.

[amonfire]

[ There was brief consideration of correcting Marius referring to him as he had, but time spent with Javert taught him such things were a simple courtesy ingrained in their culture. Not something he had any business arguing.

The clinic as a whole was very small but with enough space to host two rooms aside from the front entrance, a store room that could more accurately be called a hole in the wall, and Amon's similarly cramped office. Still it was immaculately clean and well cared for- in want for nothing that would adversely affect his duties. ]

Yes, I apologise for the suddenness of it. Given everything you've done for us at the stockades it was discourteous of me not to come to you in person.

[ Amon gestured to a coat rack set beside the door and a set of chair lining the entrance that made for its waiting room. ]

Right to the point, I'm looking for an assistant with a knack for the dominant languages among the foreigners. Someone with a good head on his shoulders that I can trust them with managing supplies and dealing with all this legal jargon when it comes to keeping the place running.

Your actions as of late speak well of you; you appear to be a bright and adaptable young man. A well paid position here is the best I can offer in gratitude.

[saisamour]

[ Marius, being unused to praise, felt his ears burn at Amon's words. ]

I did what any other decent man would have done.

[ He spoke as he hanged his coat on the rack to distract him from the uneasiness and general awkwardness that he was presently feeling. When that was dealt with, he turned back to Amon and gave him a short nod. Well, his skills certainly was a good fit for the job, and he had to admit that the well paid aspect of it was more than he could have hoped for. ]

I can speak and write in English, German, and French, and have experience working as a translator. I have also been a student of the law. If that is acceptable, then I would gladly accept the position.

[amonfire]

Decent men are few and far between; we were fortunate to have you among us.

[ Amon smiled- awkwardly with only one side of his mouth twitching upward in a poor attempt at gratitude without pretense. ]

You will take my office for the time being until I can make arrangements with Wayne Enterprises for a much needed expansion. I don't expect you to take any medical duties so I'll have you start slow. You'll begin as my clerk and then we can see if you're comfortable taking on tasks such as requisitions orders and keeping track of rare legal disputes.

Those really only arise if we have one of our neighborhood caped vigilantes leave injured criminals on my doorstep. Unpleasant, but it happens.

[ Pulling up a chair after standing on aching legs for too long, Amon slowly sits down with hitched breathing. ]

It's only fair I tell you now that this is not the safest district in the Earth sector. Crime even among the kedan is abnormally high and the gangs are active here.

[saisamour]

[He was silent as he listened in attention to Amon, nodding occasionally. It seemed like a fair arrangement, and he was not unfamiliar with living in unsafe neighborhoods and walking along dangerous streets.

There was an issue that bewildered him, however.]

"Neighborhood caped vigilantes"...?

[I'm sorry, Amon, but he has yet to be acquainted with that part of the foreigner population! (Not that he had been making much of an effort to acquaint himself with many aspects of the Turtle, however, not since Cosette arrived.)]

[amonfire]

Chances are I will not have you working late hours, and you will most likely not have an encounter. A woman usually, though on occasion I've caught brief glances of them working in pairs. Nothing to say of them beyond their proclivity for stalking the streets at night and picking off any would-be ne'er-do-wells. Robbers, rapists, or the occasional gang affiliate; I am tasked with their tending to their victims or the culprits themselves.

[ He and batfam need to share words about the protocol for dropping people at his doorstep. ]

Unless it is dire emergency, and only if I'm convinced you've picked up some techniques with my guidance, you will not take it upon yourself to handle any patients. Are we clear?

[saisamour]

[Just. Blinks.]

I... [Well, he certainly is glad to hear that he is not required to work late hours, because then he would have more time to spend with Cosette. Still, hearing about the patients does give him concern.

There is a slight pause in which he makes an attempt to overcome his timidity, and then he says,]

Are you certain you will not need assistance in the treatment of them? It appears to be strenuous, for you to do such a task alone.

[Marius do you even know how to help treat patients.]

[inseine]

[Javert surveys the clinic facade with a critical eye, comparing the address to the letter in his hand.

It is unassuming enough, carved directly out of the sandy stone outcroppings common to the Earth Sector. There is nothing to indicate maleficence in the neutral, warm palette, blending unobtrusively into the neighborhood block with no blaring signs or huge advertisements. A chime hangs just outside the window frame, and Javert pauses below it to examine the oriental style with a vague kind of interest.

Amon's sense of timing is impeccable. The letter arrived almost immediately after Javert's conversation with Amon's esteemed brother, Tarrlok. He is not completely sold on Tarrlok's warnings, but currently he is not certain what to make of the two siblings. So he chooses to use his own instinct and attention to detail to guide him.

What he does know, however, is that Amon has more influence than Javert initially figured. How else would he have heard of Javert's encounter with the Sabriel girl and her witchcraft?

With his thorough examination of the exterior complete, Javert folds the letter in quarters and drops it into his pocket, out of sight. He takes a moment to confirm that his bangs are combed over his forehead. Then he raises a fist, raps sharply, twice, and waits.]

[amonfire]

[ The windchime rattles in the wake of what sounds like chair being toppled over. The slow and heavy sound of footsteps with a mismatched rhythm follow after.

Amon is leaning heavily against the doorway; his face covered in yellowing bruises in lieu of a mask. Still he smiles with all the dispassion as the one carved into favoured white wood.

I was afraid relying on the kedan to translate my missive would have left you at a loss. I'm happy to see that isn't the case. [ He steps with a slight limp out of the threshold to allow Javert to duck in. ]

Abounding traffic in and out of the clinic all day made coming to you in person and impossibility. Hang your hat by the door; we have plenty to talk about.

[inseine]

[Javert's pupils silently dance over the yellowed patterns etched into Amon's face. From his attempted revolt in Atam? The politician brother may have spoken some truth.

The morbid humor of Amon's injury does not escape Javert: now he has a temporary disfigurement with which to cover with a mask. It occurs to him also that he does not look quite as bad as Javert did when he first arrived, with his own ugly purples and reds and yellows slathered across his jaw and throat. But that is no wonder. Fisticuffs in the street are no match for a broken neck and a river-battered face.

Javert's face does not reveal his thoughts in the slightest. He murmurs blandly,] All I need for a translation is a clever lad and a bit of coin. It is a half hour of legwork. That is no trouble.

[Javert grants Amon an abrupt, acknowledging nod and slips into the threshold. He pauses there to carefully remove his hat and, with a moment's hesitation, his coat, to hang at the prescribed hooks by the door. His long and rather lean shape might come as a surprise to his tentative acquaintance. With only a waistcoat-and-shirtsleeves ensemble, he lacked the sheer bulk and heft given to him by his thickly padded shoulders. No longer was he a black bear. Now he more closely resembled the wiry strength of a leopard, cold and calculating.

Javert quickly finger-combs his hair back into place and faces Amon properly.]

Where is your office, your sitting room? Lead on and talk.

[amonfire]

I'm giving the office to my new assignment, but it will be mine for the evening.

[ Amon leaned heavily against the back of his desk chair as he watched Javert go through the motions like a rolling storm on graceful cat feet. He found it a sight to see him in such a state with exposed shirtsleeves- it was almost indecent for such a controlled man, and he had seen the man three sheets to the wind. ]

We had a saying in Republic City: There are two people in your life your should never change, your doctor and your lawyer. Apparently the kedan subscribe to similar adages and my profession fortunately lies somewhere in the former category.

[ Pulling the chair around the desk, Amon straddled it and propped his elbows over the back. ]

I wouldn't call it amicable, but they trust me not to ask them for anything that might negatively impact their already strenuous lives. A few who live close to me in the Water sector were even kind enough to be my eyes when I need them to be.

May I see your forehead?

[inseine]

[Javert silently lowers his chin into his primly buttoned collar and paces in a lazy circle around the center of the room while Amon speaks. He listens with an intensity disguised by his wandering gaze. The man is a dark detective by nature, and he lets his exacting eye snap to each fixture, paper, and knick knack of interest that he could find. He thoroughly commits the whole scene to his memory, knowing that Amon is a force to be reckoned with and a mystery to crack, and knowing as well that everything he sees has the potential to clue him in on his character and capabilities. The only clear indication that he is indeed listening to Amon's droning speech is a clipped nod at the bit about kedan and earning their trust.

Javert does not quit his plodding tread until Amon's direct request. He stops abruptly, a shot to the breast that does not quite fell him, and he raises his head to search Amon's battered face. A small grimace pinches his jaw.]

A doctor. [Wry.] Fine.

[The tone could not be any more unreadable. His arms unravel and lift away the bangs away from his forehead. His brow floats up, but his eyes pierce. Amon intrigues him -- earnestly intrigues him. And if this bloodbending ability is as formidable as he has heard, there is perhaps something that could come of this visit.]

So what can the doctor do for this that the quack priestess could not?