“Why not both?” Strange asks without missing a beat, with a small flicker of a smile. “I can multi-task. I’m a very good multi-tasker.”
The humour is easy and instinctive, but a moment later he reaches for the far more important part of what Mobius had mentioned: “And those medical texts would be fantastic, thank you. I’ve met a couple Riftwatch healers — Derrica, Sidony — but I still have quite a bit of catching up to do. Reading up on how Theodosian magic specifically entwines with healing, but also which herbs and plants do what in this world.”
And then the followup occurs to him, and he snorts a dry laugh. “God help me, it’s like I’m a student again.”
"It feels like a tricky thing, blending magic and healing, but also like that should be half the point. There's a lot of good magic can do in trained hands." Which isn't the most popular opinion out there amongst the people. Plenty still who see magic as a sign of being cursed, that nothing good could ever come from hands like that. Some of the Riftwatch lot at the conclave had dismissed the dangers and the signs that dramatic shifts in paradigm are not going to be welcome.
"Maker knows I only know the barebones of stitching out of necessity and watching it done. Anything more complicated than that, pass it on to someone who knows what they're doing. We're all students," he continues, building off Strange's self-amusement. "Nobody knows everything. There's always something to adapt to." Like when your hands suddenly don't work the way they used to. "There's always something more to understand about a field, even if you're an expert in it. Lifelong student's not a bad thing to be. I'd be wary of the people who think they have nothing left to learn."
This is a frustrating thing to say and to hear, for someone who has made it his singular life’s goal to know everything, actually —
but if there’s one thing Strange has had drummed into him over and over by now, is the fact that he truly does know nothing and the universe contains endless unfathomable mysteries, new horizons, new planes of existence, uncountable multiverses. One feels miniscule in the shadow of it all. So Mobius’ comments hammer on familiar territory, like another persistent little echo of the Ancient One. (“Why are you doing this to me?” “To show you just how much you don’t know—”)
“Mobius, you are on the verge of sounding irritatingly wise,” Strange says, but it has the jovial sound of… almost a compliment? Sort of a compliment.
“Most likely I’ll keep studying for the rest of my life, yes. And y'know, I’ll stay tuned for anything I can learn about ancient elven artifacts; that seems very much up Project Felandaris’ alley.”
It’s probably impossible — he can no more easily give Gwenaëlle back her eye as give Mobius back his hands — but. He’s a fixer. He wants to fix things. Carve them up and reassemble them better. So he can’t help that nagging urge to at least think about it.
He delves back into the rest of his dinner, and they pass the remainder of the meal in surprisingly amiable conversation; although Strange’s gaze still, occasionally, drops to those hands.
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The humour is easy and instinctive, but a moment later he reaches for the far more important part of what Mobius had mentioned: “And those medical texts would be fantastic, thank you. I’ve met a couple Riftwatch healers — Derrica, Sidony — but I still have quite a bit of catching up to do. Reading up on how Theodosian magic specifically entwines with healing, but also which herbs and plants do what in this world.”
And then the followup occurs to him, and he snorts a dry laugh. “God help me, it’s like I’m a student again.”
no subject
"Maker knows I only know the barebones of stitching out of necessity and watching it done. Anything more complicated than that, pass it on to someone who knows what they're doing. We're all students," he continues, building off Strange's self-amusement. "Nobody knows everything. There's always something to adapt to." Like when your hands suddenly don't work the way they used to. "There's always something more to understand about a field, even if you're an expert in it. Lifelong student's not a bad thing to be. I'd be wary of the people who think they have nothing left to learn."
possible wrap or yrs to wrap!
but if there’s one thing Strange has had drummed into him over and over by now, is the fact that he truly does know nothing and the universe contains endless unfathomable mysteries, new horizons, new planes of existence, uncountable multiverses. One feels miniscule in the shadow of it all. So Mobius’ comments hammer on familiar territory, like another persistent little echo of the Ancient One. (“Why are you doing this to me?” “To show you just how much you don’t know—”)
“Mobius, you are on the verge of sounding irritatingly wise,” Strange says, but it has the jovial sound of… almost a compliment? Sort of a compliment.
“Most likely I’ll keep studying for the rest of my life, yes. And y'know, I’ll stay tuned for anything I can learn about ancient elven artifacts; that seems very much up Project Felandaris’ alley.”
It’s probably impossible — he can no more easily give Gwenaëlle back her eye as give Mobius back his hands — but. He’s a fixer. He wants to fix things. Carve them up and reassemble them better. So he can’t help that nagging urge to at least think about it.
He delves back into the rest of his dinner, and they pass the remainder of the meal in surprisingly amiable conversation; although Strange’s gaze still, occasionally, drops to those hands.