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"Massster..." this came from a disembodied head floating in front of Raistlin's desk. The archmagus didn't look up immediately, busy scratching writing onto a piece of flattened parchment, the quill in his thin golden fingers practically vibrating with the speed of his notes.

Genessia was a land of fascinating marvels. He'd be sure not to forget a single one.

"Masssster pleasssse," the head tried a second time.

Finally, Raistlin glanced up, impatient at the interruption. "What?"

"Therrrre is an intruderrr in the Grrove."

That. That was interesting, and Raistlin's hand finally stilled. "In the Grove, you say?"

"Yesssss. The defenderrrssss have not been able to kill it..."

Extremely interesting. Something from Genessia, no doubt, nothing else would make sense. The blackrobe dabbed the last of the ink off the feather quill onto a pad and set the instrument aside, and then took the time to carefully close up the inkwell. This could take a while.

And so it was that whatever this stranger was doing, he suddenly wasn't the only living creature in the dark, ancient grove. Raistlin lurked in the deepest shadows, silently watching.

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"I'll wait." Wait until his skin stopped hurting so much. Wait, and watch Raistlin shuffle towards the door, having noted during all that staring the circles under the other man's eyes.

Of course he said nothing about it.

It'd be almost a half hour before he'd be up, dressed, but still moving just a little gingerly. Even if he wasn't burned anymore, new skin was sensitive. It'd take a bit for it to toughen up again.

He'd been forward thinking enough to pack a pair of pajama pants though, hope you like unicorns, Raistlin.

"Alright, here I am, where's the food? I'm gonna fucking demolish it."

Raistlin was sitting at his huge desk, cluttered with notes and books -- mostly those with modern bindings, because science -- but some with weathered spines from his own shelves. He was scribbling more notes and barely glanced up, stringy white hair hanging over his forehead as he wrote at speed, quill loudly scratching each line.

One got used to the sound. Like a loud keyboard, perhaps.

"By the fire."

And indeed, there was a tray on a small endtable, loaded down with cooked meat and cheese and bread. Standard fare. A full bottle of wine, and a fresh pitcher of water, and a few clean cups. None of it looked to have been more than very slightly picked at, if at all.

He'd be there and loading up in a heartbeat, not really bothering with any kind of plate.

Nope just going directly into his mouth, only vaguely better than a starving animal. Healing, after all, took a lot out of him, and coming back from virtually nothing?

He was surprised he even got up the stairs. The water wasn't even poured into the cup, this one was just downed as well. Perhaps someone elses stomach would have burst.

Wade didn't stop until the pitcher was empty, only then going to uncork the wine.

"You want any?" Food and wine of course, still some of the former here.

Raistlin's nose actually wrinkled at the thought, still scribbling notes like a madman. "No." Ew.

Ew at Wade's table manners, or at the idea of eating as well?

Yes.

"Suit yourself, shit's good." It was, again, noted however. After all, Raistlin wasn't exactly the picture of health, and his weight didn't seem to be an exception to this.

"Not even the wine? I burn through this shit like paper, it's gonna be mostly wasted on me." He'll drink it anyway, because a momentary buzz is better than no buzz at all.

"I have my tea," indeed, steaming from a large cup near his notes on the table, the astringent, foul smelling stuff that would smell suspiciously like the herbs he'd coughed into the other day. Week. Whatever.

That tea.

"I would imagine drunkenness is a lost foible, in your case." What with the regeneration always, always trucking. "As well as any other substance, helpful or not."

"... The stuff that smells like an herbalists armpit?" He glanced at the tea. Ew.

Well, not really like he could throw stones here, he'd pounded back cheap whiskey before, and there was a good chance that smelled worse than the tea. He wouldn't remember.

It was cheap whiskey, and he'd been a lot less immortal then.

"I mean... yeah, but I'm no quitter." Stated bluntly before the bottle was sucked down like a liter of coke.

"Yes, that." Please don't describe his tea anymore Wade, he has to drink it.

Something else to note down, then, that resistance. He's making note of just about everything, really.

"I think it will be some time before I am ready for a second attempt. I need to do more research into the related sciences, and study the samples I took from you before immolation."

Goddamnit Raistlin he was halfway through the bottle, you could have waited until he was done before you said that.

He chokes, coughing for a second, before quickly going to gather himself again, blowing a bit of wine out his nose in the process.

"Took what?" A what with the what.

"... Uh... what... did you take?"

Ew, Wade.

"Samples," Raistlin can't help but say it slower like he's talking to a dummy. You know. S a m p l e s.

"Uh yeah, I gathered that, doctor." You know what?

"If you don't tell me what body parts are floating in a jar somewhere, I'm gonna assume it's my dick."

"Your-- what--"

Good, Raistlin's turn to splutter, though he wasn't drinking. Thankfully.

"Why does it always come back to that with you?"

"I like my dick, it's my best feature and my fiance agrees with me." Well no, Vanessa liked all of him.

But the dick thing was mutually agreed upon.

Raistlin actually set his quill aside in favor of holding his head with his hands, bony elbows propped on his desk. His wide sleeves slid down at the motion, of course. Was that a knife strapped to the inside of one forearm?

Sure was.

"Gods above."

You maybe broke him.

Oh this is a familiar scenario. He went to polish off the bottle, glancing at the knife.

Well... One had to run out of zappy magic power eventually... right? A knife made sense to have, right?

Also yes he is going to assume that's what was used to get... samples. Raistlin.

"I'm just saying, on a scale of one to ten, my dick is a solid nine and a half. I got a second opinion too, I can call him if you want."

"I will take your word for it. I assure you, I did not even look at... that."

Gods, why would he.

Horrifying.

Even though Wade had the benefit of being easier to look at than literally anyone else, in his cursed vision, Raistlin was not a pervert.

"...Bone, tissue, blood. A hand. You will be happy to know that your horrifying leg idea may work better than expected, as none of what I took from you is decomposing in my sight."

Edited 2019-08-03 07:15 (UTC)

"Alright cool." Hey it wasn't a pervert crack. He didn't really think that Raistlin would have. But, he had caught on, very, very quickly, about what kind of reaction he'd get referencing dicks around Raistlin, and he'd be a liar if he said it wasn't kind of fucking hilarious.

Also yes he did actually want to know what the guy took, it was his body parts.

"Sweet, I called it! God it'd look so fucking sick all lit up with red neon, Vanessa's such a buzz kill sometimes." Her and you, Raistlin, his leg lamp idea is great.

"... Can I see?" The hand, mostly. To be honest, he'd never actually bothered checking out his own lopped off parts. Every time he'd lost pieces of himself, it'd usually been in the heat of battle. Not a lot of time to poke a lost limb with a stick.

"It is still a disgusting idea," Raistlin made sure to note, "just more feasible than I initially thought."

As for the question, the archmage gestured to a shelf on one side of the room. In among the other flasks and vials, boxes and pouches, a neatly-severed hand was just... there. Not in a vat, not even wrapped up. Just chillin. It had lost all its blood a while ago, of course. Probably directly into the vial next to it.

The cut was surgical, smooth and precise. Scientific, not spiteful.

"Uh yeah, gross and cool." And feasible, he'll bear that in mind.

He quickly made his way over to the shelf, and with only the barest amount of hesitation... just grabbed that fucking hand right off.

Weird. This was actually kind of weird, and for a moment he just stood there, clasping his own severed hand, looking over the cut at the wrist of it. From what he could see, it wasn't rotting in the slightest, didn't even have a particularly unfortunate odor to it, and he idly flopped the dismembered appendage about for a moment, obviously morbidly fascinated.

"... Dude, I could hide this in my coat sleeve and scare the shit out of some assholes back in town."

Yes.

Yeah.

Yep, that's where his mind went, uh huh.

Raistlin finally deemed his notes dry enough to touch, and stacked them smoothly off to one side, folding his hands on the desk and watching Wade have his little fascination moment with his own hand.

"I'll be sure to cut off a new comedy prop for you next time."

Because why not. It would grow back and Wade wouldn't even be awake for it.

"I thought it prudent to take some samples. If this attempt worked, I still intended to study your condition. If it did not, then I have something I can subject smaller tests upon without your direct involvement."

Won't feel a thing!

"I mean I guess that works, doesn't it?" He gives that had a few more flops before setting it back down. It's not really his anymore, technically.

Not attached to him, doesn't need it, Raistlin can keep the damn thing.

"Maybe you can work on a cancer cure while you're at it."

"You jest," Raistlin lifted his tea to take a sip of the awful concoction, "but I just may."

If he can figure out science even half as well as he knows magic, well. Fuck you, cancer!

The ego, it was big. But also justified?

"I suppose your survival means I will need to enchant that phone case, after all."

"What, you weren't gonna magic up the case if I died?" Fake offense, sure, BUT STILL.

"Man I dropped like fifteen bucks on that case, it's adorable. I should have made my potential final wish that you at least I don't know... magic it to fly."

"Who else would I even permit to contact me in this manner?"

Feel special, Wade. You're an exception, and a positive one for once.

"Aw, you'd only call me? Well fuck, I like you too, buddy."