Overheard at Camp Melai; Does this mean Robbie's Klinger?

[balladin]

Who: Robbie and anyone (special starter for Dixon and Sirius)
What: OVERHEARD AT CAMP, Robbie accidentally figures out the healing thing. Someone tell him about it in the morning.
Where: Camp 1 - Melai Temple
When: Shortly after arrival. All conversations will pre-date that with Dixon and Sirius.
Warnings/Notes: "Overheard at camp" is basically my idea for posting several quick, one-off lines that can be taken out of context (or maybe in context) and seeing what people make of them. Possibly some talk of Dixon and Sirius' injuries.

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[ 1: In the kitchen. ]

Dibs on the fleshhook!

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[ 2: In the main hall, as he dumps a collection of wood-ish things in a pile in the center of the room for an anticipated fire. ]

Yay, carbon monoxide!

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[ 3: Anywhere. ]

Hey, V- guys? This old Enya statue won't not stop undressing me with her eyes. It's freaking me out.

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[ For Dixon and later Remus. ]
[ When Robbie heads over to Dixon, he doesn't have a specific plan in mind. He's got what small bits of cloth he could find, not wanting to cut up blankets; anyway, he's unsure how to bandage a face without mummifying Dixon. He remembered to clean them by boiling and to boil separate water for cleaning the wound, which has him feeling rather pleased with himself. He's no doctor, and he wouldn't call any of this sanitary, but Robbie's doing what he can. ]

Hey, I figured you might want to... I don't know, get the day's crap off of that.

[ He looks pointedly at the burn and then resumes talking to Dixon's face as a whole. ]

Or whatever your doc told you to do. If it's one of those things where you flinch too much to do it yourself, I'm not skeeved out by it. I can help.

[ Infections are nasty business, and his pockets don't have any Tylenol. You get a high fever - you're dying. ]

Comments

[awfulcer]

If I don't have dibs I'll just punch out anyone ahead of me in line... []Dixon has very different ideas of what he'd use the alcohol for than Robbie does; just the mention gives his heart some kind of Pavlovian jerk, like it starts to rush its pace again the way it has intermittently all day, making rude and cacophonous demands behind his ribs. He doesn't have long to fixate on the fantasy, though, because then Robbie moves for his face and starts glowing.]

Hey...!

[It's not that Dixon doesn't feel the tug of flesh on his face as Robbie heals him - the unsettling sensation of skin moving without muscle or touch to guide it, knitting into scar tissue in unnaturally fast procession - but that it's an entirely secondary thought to the almost god-like state Robbie's in, glowing and lit up and then, just like that, a young man unconscious on his feet, headed for the ground.

Dixon lunges to his feet and grabs Robbie in his arms, bearing the load of his weight before he injures himself. It's not a particularly artful move, but it keeps Robbie's head from smacking on the floor, and that's all that can really be asked right now.]

Someone help! Man down! [He lowers Robbie to the floor, checking Robbie's pulse and noticing with the hand against Robbie's neck that the burn on palm and wrist that was such a source of agony seconds ago has turned into nothing but mottled scarring.]

[prisonerofsasskaban]

[Sirius avoided everyone at first. He'd talked to more people today than he had since the war. This past year his best friend had been a cat for God's sake. But eventually he stepped closer, close enough that Robbie's healing magic affected him as well.

No longer suffering from a split lip and a swollen eye, Sirius didn't have time to appreciate the sudden lack of pain.

He was at Dixon and Robbie's side in a few moments.]

What happened?

[He'd seen the light, but missed the build up.]

Magic shouldn't do this.

[awfulcer]

[Dixon hasn’t met Sirius, but he has seen him lurking around the camp, the other guy with a fucked-up face. Which is no longer fucked up. Figures this guy knows magic, which it seems literally everyone but Dixon has some sort of experience in. If there weren’t an immediate crisis, Dixon would have some time to build up resentment.]

He started glowing and then he collapsed. He’s got a pulse. [Dixon turns Robbie to his side, trying to pick up on any signs of trauma, but aside from being completely unconscious Robbie looks totally fine.] You know magic? You know any magic that can wake someone up?

[prisonerofsasskaban]

Nothing I can use.

[Bitter? Oh, yes. But who wouldn't be?

Having crouched to get a better look at Robbie, he mulled over the possibilities.]

This magic has different rules. But if I had to guess, I'd say say he overexerted himself. He probably needs a few minutes, maybe hours. We should keep an eye on him to be sure.

[awfulcer]

He doesn't look like he's seizuring or nothing. [Dixon's not totally sold on 'just overexerted', as some of the worse options haven't exactly been ruled out. What if they're just sitting here while this kid's dying of an aneurysm? He pulls off his jacket and bunches it up, rolling Robbie back and then elevating his feet. At least if the kid's just fainted that'll get him up and moving sooner.]

Didn't your face used to look like hamburger? [Says the guy who up until two minutes ago had half his face as open second-and-third degree burns.]

[prisonerofsasskaban]

[Sirius sat back, quietly amused at how Dixon manhandled Robbie. He might have intervened, but Robbie had insulted his beloved nickname. The way he saw it, there was no need for concern yet. While magic could go catastrophically wrong, it was rather obvious when it did. He couldn't imagine that being any different.]

And you don't look like minced meat. Whatever that was, it was a powerful healing spell.

[awfulcer]

Do you think we need to find someone who has actually useful magic?

[Dixon checks his shaky hand, the one he and Robbie were working on getting the gravel out of moments ago. The injury is gone, replaced by scar tissue - he runs a hand up his neck and face and finds the same thing there, the texture making it clear that whatever healing happened didn't do many cosmetic favors. But he's not going to complain about having no open wounds getting bitchslapped by every breeze or picking up grime, begging to get infected.

He looks back at Sirius, squinting a little, trying to size him up.]

Do you know this kid? I basically just met him.

[prisonerofsasskaban]

[Sirius shot Dixon a dark look at the comment about magic. He wasn't wrong though. Sirius was largely useless without his own.

He held Dixon's gaze. His own hollow eyes said enough about just what he'd been through, as if his physical condition didn't tell plenty already.]

We just met today.

If you want to look for someone else, feel free. I'm sure there's someone here who hasn't had all their magic taken from them.

[awfulcer]

[Dixon’s a little taken aback by the hundred-yard stare in Sirius’ eyes. The first thing he thinks of is Mildred, the way that hollowness was there even behind the steely intent. The horrors of a woman who lost a daughter.

Dixon doesn’t show it on his face, though. He stays kneeling, keeping an eye on Robbie, watching the rise and fall of his chest. Not struggling to breathe.]

You really think he’s okay? Because I don’t want to go hunting for people who know as much as I do if he is.

[Fucking magicians.]

He said his name’s Robbie. What’s yours?

[prisonerofsasskaban]

I do, yeah.

[Sirius didn't say that if Robbie weren't, there wasn't much they could do for him. Even Muggles needed those unusual instruments to do most things or so he thought.

He sat back and turned his attention to Dixon for now.]

I'm Padfoot. And you?

[awfulcer]

[He watches Robbie, looks between the two of them again, and sits down. May as well just watch the guy and hope he comes to. He fidgets a bit, uncomfortable that Robbie provided such help and that the most he can really do is elevate Robbie’s feet and make sure a wild coyote or whatever doesn’t eat him.]

We can at least put a blanket on him or something.

[He snorts.]

That Navajo or something? And I’m Dixon.

[prisonerofsasskaban]

[Sirius should have gone with Orion. Or Stubby Boardman. But no, he had to pick Padfoot. Oh well, too late to change it now.

He rested his hands on the ground and leaned back. He envied Robbie a little. Passing out was tempting.]

Navajo? What is that?

[His History of Magic class never covered world history. Or maybe it did. He never paid much attention.]

[awfulcer]

Some kind of Indian. Fuck if I know. [He gives Sirius a bit of a skeptical look.] You okay? I don't need two people passing out on me. Can't watch and go get help at the same time.

[prisonerofsasskaban]

[Sirius refused to straighten up again. He might not be able to take a nap but he deserved this much.]

This is nothing.

[He pointed at Robbie.] Especially after that. I should write him a thank you letter.

So. You're American? Is that where you were before this?

[awfulcer]

If you say so. I'm going to have to sign that card too. Didn't think to bring my prescription with me to go saving the world.

[He touches his fingertips to the healed burns, the waxy scars he knows are there from the touch and from the like ones on his hands and wrist. He'd been on a lot of painkillers over the last few weeks.]

Yeah. Missouri. You sound some kind of English. [But hey, who even knows anymore, for all he knows Sirius is from Mars. He puts a hand to Robbie's shoulder, like he's trying to make sure the guy knows somewhere in his subconscious that they haven't up and abandoned him.] They're getting us from all over but it seems like us Americans still got the majority.