[A fat square of gauze is probably about to be completely unnecessary, but William peels one out from his coat pocket and holds it out anyway. It's not exactly his medical opinion, that there's some blood around here anyway.]
It's fucking mad, innit. They done research on manticores before, and they came out of the same gory nightmare corridors and everyfing. [His free hand goes up to his own eye, burying his knuckles into it with a scrape enough to turn his eyelid pink. The frenetic chain reaction of curiosity and panic seems like it's finally running out of links.]
[ Severus accepts the gauze without a fuss. Might as well. ]
Those instances were, I believe, ones in which manticores were the only adversary. Or certainly the only things like it. If the manticores this time were real flesh and blood wouldn't we have to assume that all else was flesh and blood? If this was real blood, what were the rest of those?
Fair enough, [William says,] but I'd almost sooner some space-time magic pulled people in than that our blood's swimming wif little evil robots can as easily tear our cells apart as close 'em up. Not to say the competing theory's better, just that the details on this one are pretty fucking awful, yeh.
[He sits straighter, a little, angles a look at the hazard cup again. His goldfish. The remains of the blood, eyes narrowing, thinking about the next thing or the thing after that]
If that's what's happening. [ Severus isn't really convinced, because there's no way to know anything for sure - his gut tells him Shepard was herself when she died, but that isn't the same as fact, and that's one tiny, tiny thing in this mess. ] Manifestations of magic don't bleed real blood. I can't imagine manifestations of machinery do either.
[ He has to use his wand to do it, but he turns an empty glass beaker into a fat yellow canary that flutters to life and perches on the end of the table, tweeting. ]
Manifestations of machinery can sure as fuck make us hallucinate bl, [William says, starts to say, but he becomes completely and utterly sidetracked by the little piece of wood Severus takes out of nowhere and makes the unoccupied glass into a bird that's singing and everything and completely forgets what point he was making. WHAT.]
Holy fuck, [he says.] What. How did-- why'd you do it using that? Did you need it to make the mirrors into functioning comms as well? I remember you took that along when you and Heather came into the corridors for me, too. [He's talking about the wand but, perhaps confusingly, staring steadfastly at the bird. Inching forward now, his head leveling down to have a look at the articulation of its thin, scaled toes and yellow wings.
The fish is less impressed. Moh moh moh. Its mouth opens and closes and it wiggles around in circles, while William says,] Hello, treasure.
[ The wand is gone as soon as its work is done; what Severus calls 'an old dueling trick' is actually a spell of his own design, used to hide it over the summers he had to spend at home. ]
A focusing tool. [ Which he doesn't really like explaining, even to non-muggles. He's far from embarrassed, but he prefers to avoid outlining his practices too closely. It makes him feel vulnerable. ]
It would bleed if I stuck it with a needle, [ Severus says, obviously meaning the bird as he outstretches one hand and nudges the little thing with spindly fingers. It chirps and flutters and sidesteps, hopping. ] But the blood would vanish when the transfiguration reverted. Or before.
Fair play, [William says, his brow knitting. He looks down at the blood again, for a moment, before the bird inevitably gets his attention again. He is somewhat more distractible than usual when his blood is more parts espresso and the vaporous, fizzing spirit of scientific inquiry than blood.] The blood has hung 'round a lot longer than the hallucinations did.
Don't worry little bloke, I ain't going to stab blood out 'f you, [he reassures -- the bird again, before his attention ping-pongs back to the wizard.] Fuck, Severus, this is brilliant. Ain't any power in the world I came from can make somefing come alive, unless you count illusions.
If it was a conjured animal the blood would remain until the animal unmade itself. [ Hallucinations are something Severus can buy, sure, but it's too simple of an explanation by itself. ]
It's not alive. [ He's perfectly happy to be seen as brilliant, but he doesn't know if William understands the skill required to do what he does overall, or if it's just a reaction to the 'oo shiny' aspect of magic. ] This is transfiguration. Eventually it'll want to be a glass jar again.
[William has certain not discussed the other wizards he's met, so his understanding of skill standards is anybody's guess. He thinks turning a beaker into a canary must be harder than turning a beaker into a wineglass, though.] Is turning a beaker into a canary harder than turning a beaker into-- say, a wineglass? [Ooo, shiny and intellectual progress have to intersect somewhere.]
Would it be more comfortable as a wineglass, or would that disagree wif it at about the same rate-a' time? [In the meantime, he is going to try to get the canary to sit on his finger, an experiment of behavior, given the creature looks physically perfect from every angle. Its docility is probably the most unconvincing part of it, but that notion might change after it drops a vanishing poop on William's hand.]
Yes. [ About it being harder. He watches as the canary shuffles away from William and flutters to sit on the back of a chair, tiny feathered head twitching all around to better look at them. ]
In general the closer things are the stronger the transfiguration's hold is. Mimicry of life like this might go for a few hours, but no longer. Here it may revert even sooner.
[This highly-educated remark is brought to you by William staring glazed-eyed and twitchily at the canary on its new perch.] That's interesting. The fing Gua-- the fing I do, [a hasty save. If he were less tired he would wonder why he hasn't shared about that yet, the mild-mannered demon rolling about behind the fogged glass of his consciousness like an indolent orca.] I don't really get tired or need t' switch back. But I don't do anyfing living.
[ Dark eyes flick over to William, knifelike and brief. It's not the first time the other man's stumbled over talking about himself. It's not the first time Severus has considered the half-imagined glimpses of something lurking.
Good. Cheers, mate, [says William, who therefore won't be turned into a bird anytime soon.] And thanks too. F' coming today.
On short notice for all this. [It isn't actually part of the save, this gratitude. Snape had concealed his observation very well, and what needs to be addressed is the way the wizard ran down and helped upon receiving that haphazardly talky network message. William smiles at him, sudden and bright, like swimmers call sunlight God's fingers shafting through the surface of the ocean. Why would he have better taste in men when he has this.]
[William is on his feet, as if getting ready to usher the other man out. Leaning against the counter. Studying the bird when Severus points at it. He was studying Severus before that.]
It's gotten me a little bit somewhere. New phenomena's where anyfing starts, [he remarks, without looking back at the wizard again. His eyes narrow slightly, squinting at the little set of yellow wings, small orange feet, hop-hopping about over there.] Would it turn into glass mid-flight, fall and fucking shatter or somefing disruptive like that?
[ Severus just makes a 'hmph' noise of monosyllabic mysteriousness, passing both for a reply to his assertion of getting somewhere and to confirm yes, the bird will be a problem in all likelihood.
Dismantling a transfiguration is easy-- he gathers up the spell in his head and casts it tracelessly, reaching his hand out as he does. The bird bounds up as if leaping, sails gracefully through the air in an arch, and when it lands in the wizard's hand, it's a glass beaker again. Severus sets it on the table. ]
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It's fucking mad, innit. They done research on manticores before, and they came out of the same gory nightmare corridors and everyfing. [His free hand goes up to his own eye, burying his knuckles into it with a scrape enough to turn his eyelid pink. The frenetic chain reaction of curiosity and panic seems like it's finally running out of links.]
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Those instances were, I believe, ones in which manticores were the only adversary. Or certainly the only things like it. If the manticores this time were real flesh and blood wouldn't we have to assume that all else was flesh and blood? If this was real blood, what were the rest of those?
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[He sits straighter, a little, angles a look at the hazard cup again. His goldfish. The remains of the blood, eyes narrowing, thinking about the next thing or the thing after that]
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[ He has to use his wand to do it, but he turns an empty glass beaker into a fat yellow canary that flutters to life and perches on the end of the table, tweeting. ]
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Holy fuck, [he says.] What. How did-- why'd you do it using that? Did you need it to make the mirrors into functioning comms as well? I remember you took that along when you and Heather came into the corridors for me, too. [He's talking about the wand but, perhaps confusingly, staring steadfastly at the bird. Inching forward now, his head leveling down to have a look at the articulation of its thin, scaled toes and yellow wings.
The fish is less impressed. Moh moh moh. Its mouth opens and closes and it wiggles around in circles, while William says,] Hello, treasure.
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A focusing tool. [ Which he doesn't really like explaining, even to non-muggles. He's far from embarrassed, but he prefers to avoid outlining his practices too closely. It makes him feel vulnerable. ]
It would bleed if I stuck it with a needle, [ Severus says, obviously meaning the bird as he outstretches one hand and nudges the little thing with spindly fingers. It chirps and flutters and sidesteps, hopping. ] But the blood would vanish when the transfiguration reverted. Or before.
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Don't worry little bloke, I ain't going to stab blood out 'f you, [he reassures -- the bird again, before his attention ping-pongs back to the wizard.] Fuck, Severus, this is brilliant. Ain't any power in the world I came from can make somefing come alive, unless you count illusions.
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It's not alive. [ He's perfectly happy to be seen as brilliant, but he doesn't know if William understands the skill required to do what he does overall, or if it's just a reaction to the 'oo shiny' aspect of magic. ] This is transfiguration. Eventually it'll want to be a glass jar again.
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Would it be more comfortable as a wineglass, or would that disagree wif it at about the same rate-a' time? [In the meantime, he is going to try to get the canary to sit on his finger, an experiment of behavior, given the creature looks physically perfect from every angle. Its docility is probably the most unconvincing part of it, but that notion might change after it drops a vanishing poop on William's hand.]
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In general the closer things are the stronger the transfiguration's hold is. Mimicry of life like this might go for a few hours, but no longer. Here it may revert even sooner.
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[This highly-educated remark is brought to you by William staring glazed-eyed and twitchily at the canary on its new perch.] That's interesting. The fing Gua-- the fing I do, [a hasty save. If he were less tired he would wonder why he hasn't shared about that yet, the mild-mannered demon rolling about behind the fogged glass of his consciousness like an indolent orca.] I don't really get tired or need t' switch back. But I don't do anyfing living.
Could you turn me into a bird?
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[ Dark eyes flick over to William, knifelike and brief. It's not the first time the other man's stumbled over talking about himself. It's not the first time Severus has considered the half-imagined glimpses of something lurking.
He hides his look. Doesn't ask. ]
I don't imagine it's safe to do here.
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On short notice for all this. [It isn't actually part of the save, this gratitude. Snape had concealed his observation very well, and what needs to be addressed is the way the wizard ran down and helped upon receiving that haphazardly talky network message. William smiles at him, sudden and bright, like swimmers call sunlight God's fingers shafting through the surface of the ocean. Why would he have better taste in men when he has this.]
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Severus is putting his things away, ignoring the canary as it flits to sit on a shelf. ]
Well it hasn't exactly gotten you anywhere, [ he says of his contribution. ] Do you want me to vanish that?
[ He stabs one slim finger in the bird's direction. ]
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It's gotten me a little bit somewhere. New phenomena's where anyfing starts, [he remarks, without looking back at the wizard again. His eyes narrow slightly, squinting at the little set of yellow wings, small orange feet, hop-hopping about over there.] Would it turn into glass mid-flight, fall and fucking shatter or somefing disruptive like that?
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Dismantling a transfiguration is easy-- he gathers up the spell in his head and casts it tracelessly, reaching his hand out as he does. The bird bounds up as if leaping, sails gracefully through the air in an arch, and when it lands in the wizard's hand, it's a glass beaker again. Severus sets it on the table. ]
All right. I'll see you later.