daemonized | EL NYSA IC INBOX.

( that's a lot that he's just said to her. fair enough, because she asked for it, so she actively listens, even as the skin around her eyes and mouth tighten, threaten wrinkles in her artificially elastic skin. he's not toying with her, obviously, not playing with her like a bored immortal child might play with his food, but it is evident to her that he doesn't think there's anything she can do for him long before he actually says as much.

so. when he gets around to the bit about her being able, she stands up, begs his pardon for just a moment, and disappears into her room. she's back quickly enough, with an ampoule of a viscous glowing golden something. as if she's brightened and quickened amber, it almost seems to be flowing within itself even after she has placed it down on the table next to his mug of floral tea.

she returns to her seat, and folds her hands into her lap. )

Yes, I do. And yet, though you think it's pointless, in my professional opinion, I think you should still try what I can offer.

Not a cure, not yet, but if you don't have to suffer as much, isn't that worth something? Where's the harm in it?

[He watches her leave with only a mild interest, eyes following her as she returns. The ampoule is of course what really snags his attentions, and he looks at it with equal parts skepticism and curiosity, both blooming in his mind, and reflected in his words.]

The harm? The harm is- [Granting him a facsimile of hope when he knows it's useless. The idea of being free from whatever keeps clawing at his insides is an idea that one does not merely flirt with, because why would someone be so cruel to themselves?] -nothing, I suppose.

What is that?

[A question that she should expect, no doubt.]

( what it is, is a modern medical miracle, verging on magic.

what she actually tells him it is, is something a lot more modest, but no less true. )

My work. ( her life's work, as it were. she gestures towards it with an open palm, leaning forward ever so slightly, inviting him to pick it up if he wishes to. it is precious, priceless now with how limited her supplies have become, but she trusts that he won't do anything that would waste it. he doesn't seem the type to suddenly fling around delicate objects for the release granted by their shattering. such things seem too fickle an expression for a man so long-lived, by her estimation. )

It is biotic technology. It is a type of nanobiology, if you had that in your world. It is engineered to allow cells to regenerate themselves according to templates of healthy DNA.

[The invitation is enough, his admitted curiosity is enough, and so Ardyn does lean forward to take the vial. He treats it with the delicacy that it deserves, because she's right; he doesn't go about flinging things around carelessly, unless purposefully meaning to.]

Nanobiology. [She'll note how the phrasing does not escape his comprehension, how there is no flicker of a question in his eyes.]

And how do you think this might help myself, specifically?

( which is just as well, because she's probably not going to be giving purpose to such an action. her raison d être is to help, after all. not to harn. even though she has been known to push when she thinks she's right about greater harm being the stakes. )

Nanobiotechnology, it's also been called. ( she does note it, and it's actually a relief. for as much as it is her life, it's something she's not sure she'll ever be able to explain in a way that leaves some people struggling. )

It ought to be able to reverse some of that disease's progress, thus alleviating symptoms. Provided you have just one unaffected cell in your body, this isn't a longshot.

[He holds it up to the light, watching the liquid move within with an interest that he tries to keep detached. A single unaffected cell in his body -- he thinks, perhaps, there may be more than one. Enough, at least, that he still has a human form, unable to degrade into something properly twisted and daemonic.]

And you're suggesting that you should administer this to me?

[Oh, he's sure the daemons will hate it.]

( it's a decisive nod he gets, conveying that she thinks something is worth trying. but, because she only barely knows the nature of the disease, and has yet to learn anything about how it might interact with the treatment, there are experiments which must be done first. no matter how costly, precautions are necessitated by morality and ethics. both of which she is blessed to have in munificence. )

I think it is worth looking into.

First, I would test it on samples under controlled conditions before actually giving it to you.

And what would that require?

[He has an idea. He's spent enough time in Nif labs, he's added his own knowledge of daemons to have a hand in creating the MTs, that he's not so oblivious to the very thorough requirements of testing.]

A blood sample?

And your consent.

( both are necessary, really. especially since she's come across the concept of blood magic recently. a terrifying notion, just given a description of what it supposedly is capable of. )

Then you have it.

[Let her take his blood, and let her examine the reaction of what daemonic essences and the Starscourge itself might have to her research. There's only so much curiosity he can feign to not have.]

Would you like it now?

( She cocks her head then, almost as if she's got a question about what she's hearing. Here, now? In her residence where she has nothing resembling a lab or proper equipment.

Then, of course, she remembers how easily accessed Thesa is. Even being from a world as technologically advanced as hers, sometimes it is hard to recall just what is possible. )

If you wouldn't mind popping up to the station for a few minutes.

[It was what he had planned -- the fastest and easiest option, probably affording her more reliable equipment than what could be found on terra firma, anyway.

And so he stands, gesticulating in a sort of concession.]

Not at all. A change of scenery would be welcome. I'm ready when you are, Doctor.

All right. Give me a moment to gather my things.

( And she does so: she goes to get her notebook, takes the biotic sample, and disappears for a minute into her room. When she's back, she'll have put on a loose, light-blue sweater and put everything she needs into her leather satchel. )

Ready?

( When they get to where they need to be, it will be a quieter, more intimate bit of the station, a lower ceilinged medbay with a small port window. She seems at ease in this space, and it doesn't take her long to point out a place for Ardyn to sit. It's one of the two beds in the room, with a stool nearby the side. )

[He's brought the vial with him, though he imagines if she has no use for it right now, she can simply take it back later. It's set aside on the nearby stool, and he moves to take the indicated seat. First, though, he's shrugging it off his long coat, for he imagines that's only going to get in the way of getting a proper blood sample from his arm.]

Shall I roll up my sleeve for you?

If you would. Please.

( That last bit is added after something of a pause, as she adjusts something in her hands. They are gloved already. She looks to be opening a packet of stubborn packet of alcohol swaps.

Quickly her eyes to flick up to the phial, then she succeeds in opening what she needs to. She waits for him to present his arm, so to speak. )

You're not afraid of needles, I take it?

[He begins to roll up his sleeve, then, swiftly and neatly. His exposed arm is hilariously something of a rare sight, he's so often covered up by layers of some sort. Still, there it is, ready for a needle to pierce skin whenever she's ready.

He laughs.]

No. I'm not. Though you're thoughtful to have asked.

[There's something very amusing about the mundane nature of that question. Needles. The furthest thing from his mind that he would fear.]

( As she's swabbing down his arm, she takes the opportunity to really look at him when she's speaking to him. Her expression betrays a slight amusement at his comment. It seems like at best it's insouciant praise, a barely felt kindness as a remark to fill up the silence. He dose seem like someone who likes to speak without actually saying much. )

Hardly. I wonder if you'd trust me to do my job if I didn't do something so basic.

( A bit of a huff follows, as she then holds his elbow steady with one hand, and pierces his skin with the needle in the other. It takes at most ten seconds, then she lets him go. )

[He just grins, unresponsive to that for now. He doesn't even move when he's pricked with the needle (it hardly registers at all for him), though Ardyn pointedly also doesn't watch as the syringe fills up with his blood.

Dark, seemingly viscous stuff that it is. She shouldn't be surprised, given what he'd shown her before.]

Is that satisfactory, then?

[He flexes his fingers, though there's no real need for it.]

Yes it is. Thank you. ( For your compliance, she's basically saying. Rather than staring outright at the corrupted something filling up the syringe, she turns away from him then. Though, having noticed how he purposefully didn't look at the dark, black stuff, she has to ask. )

Does the sight of blood make you faint?

(With her back turned to him she starts processing the liquid she pulled from him, marveling at how something like that could be flowing through the veins of someone with a heartbeat {something she assumes he has}. )

Not at all.

[She noticed, of course, the way he would not look at what lies in that vial. Perhaps it's inane, for he's more than aware of what stirs within him; but looking at it as she pulls it out of his body is a stark reminder, empirical and impossible to miss, that he's not sure he needs to indulge himself in.]

Though the thought is an amusing one.

EL NYSA IC INBOX.

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