[Ryo is trying to listen and trying even harder to remember how to breathe. Deep breaths, when he can manage them through a chest that feels like it's being squeezed from the outside, and even the successful ones devolve into short, shaky breaths in between. He needs to- he needs to take a breath- he needs to-]
[It's Lagos, warbling insistently, who manages to break through the anxious thoughts chasing each other in circles. Hey. Hey. Put him down and pick up the drink. C'mon. It'll be okay. C'mon.]
[It takes a few breaths, and then a few more, for Ryo to start calming down, but to a point he manages it. He moves Lagos to the bench between them and reaches down for the drink. He doesn't quite straighten up afterwards, and he doesn't open it yet; instead, he braces his elbows on his knees, holds the drink in both hands, and presses it to his forehead. He's not up to drinking it yet, but the cold of the bottle helps.]
[Maybe he can talk again now.]
Your world sounds like a bad place to be scared of zombies.
[...well, his sense of humor isn't dead. That's good.]
[He owes Murphy answers, doesn't he. He takes a deep breath - successfully this time - and sighs it out.]
In my world, magic is a gift from the gods, passed down through blood and family and unlocked through need. When some people started using it to hurt each other - to cause pain because they could - the gods added a condition: acting against your nature corrupts your magic. It weakens it, changes what it looks like. We call it going dark. It was meant to make people who would act on their cruelty distinct, easy to see, so that others would know and be able to protect themselves.
[He sighs again, rotates the bottle to find another cold patch.]
The going wisdom is that healers don't go dark - that we're made to help each other. But I don't think any healer in my world has ever had the power to kill with a touch. I don't know how to find out if I have it without testing it, but trying it at all - hurting, or- or killing someone, just out of curiosity - it goes against everything that I am. It risks my ability to help people, and-
[He winces against the bottle but continues on.]
And if anything happened, I'd never forgive myself.
I wasn't kidding when I told you I'd only kill in self-defense.
no subject
[It's Lagos, warbling insistently, who manages to break through the anxious thoughts chasing each other in circles. Hey. Hey. Put him down and pick up the drink. C'mon. It'll be okay. C'mon.]
[It takes a few breaths, and then a few more, for Ryo to start calming down, but to a point he manages it. He moves Lagos to the bench between them and reaches down for the drink. He doesn't quite straighten up afterwards, and he doesn't open it yet; instead, he braces his elbows on his knees, holds the drink in both hands, and presses it to his forehead. He's not up to drinking it yet, but the cold of the bottle helps.]
[Maybe he can talk again now.]
Your world sounds like a bad place to be scared of zombies.
[...well, his sense of humor isn't dead. That's good.]
[He owes Murphy answers, doesn't he. He takes a deep breath - successfully this time - and sighs it out.]
In my world, magic is a gift from the gods, passed down through blood and family and unlocked through need. When some people started using it to hurt each other - to cause pain because they could - the gods added a condition: acting against your nature corrupts your magic. It weakens it, changes what it looks like. We call it going dark. It was meant to make people who would act on their cruelty distinct, easy to see, so that others would know and be able to protect themselves.
[He sighs again, rotates the bottle to find another cold patch.]
The going wisdom is that healers don't go dark - that we're made to help each other. But I don't think any healer in my world has ever had the power to kill with a touch. I don't know how to find out if I have it without testing it, but trying it at all - hurting, or- or killing someone, just out of curiosity - it goes against everything that I am. It risks my ability to help people, and-
[He winces against the bottle but continues on.]
And if anything happened, I'd never forgive myself.
I wasn't kidding when I told you I'd only kill in self-defense.