Let's start with simple and then move to something more complex if we need to. Don't worry, Rhus is about to get homework.
Lady Jesiree has a workroom in the basement of the Queen's Residence, tucked in a cool corner. A short flight of stairs leads to a small, private garden out back where she grows useful herbs, and half-windows let in light. Every morning, either Fayura, Allairavar, or Verim comes through the room to kindle tongues of witchlight for her, so the room contains threads of psychic energy darker than Jesiree's own Yellow Jewel.
When Rhus comes to see her the first time, she's standing over a table laden with jars of powdered ingredients and several mortars with pestles nearby. A book floats just to her left, and she holds a glass bottle over a tongue of witchflame that burns from the fingers of her opposite hand. She frowns fiercely at the book. "You interrupting me means the difference between this healing brew clearing someone's lungs and blowing them up," she says tartly, not looking up. "Give me just a moment."
Five minutes later, the brew is done and her attention turns to Rhus. Unlike how some of the Blood will certainly react, she isn't at all skeptical of a male's interest in learning how to heal. She only gained her Jewel a few years ago. She grew up around the landen Medicos, and she values their work as well as Craft.
She seems surprised that he's concerned about the Queen, but explains: The backlash of power that ripped through Fayura damaged her organs. Whatever he saw isn't a chronic issue but an acute one that will fade as the Queen continues to heal. "What happened that made you—no, it's fine, I can guess. See, this is what happens when you don't tell your Healer you're about to do something phenomenally stupid because you don't want to get yelled at in advance of doing the stupid thing. If she'd told me, we would have built a better healing web to begin with, she'd probably be healthy by now, and no one would be snarling about anything." She crosses her arms. "It's stupid to think a Black Widow or a Queen can build a better healing web than a damn Healer."
Then she goes to a bookcase nearby, pulls out a thick tome, and hands it to Rhus. "The foundation of healing is both healing brews and using Craft to put someone back together instead of blowing them up, a huge distinction that most Blood males seem to have a great deal of trouble with. Since you're not attached to a caste that sucks your brains out of your head and drops them into your balls, I'm hoping you'll be a quicker study than any of them will ever be."
She tells him that if he's serious, he should join her after breakfast three days a week to help her make brews. She plans to start him out with simple things and graduate him into more difficult mixtures over the course of a month. Healing brews, she explains, help with sleep or limiting pain. (Were she from the real world, she might explain that they function very similarly to antibiotics or medications one takes for things like pain, nausea, high blood pressure or other physical maladies.) Once he proves to her that he can make brews that won't kill someone, she promises to teach him how to thread Craft through a human body. "Since you already know healing principals from your own world, we'll figure out what's similar and what isn't, and hopefully we don't need to unlearn bad practices." She pauses. "Another Stranger, Lady Zita, she's interested in learning healing Craft, too. Bring her along."
If he has nothing else to do, she'll immediately put him to work grinding up ingredients. Jesiree believes that people must prove they understand the basics before they can move on to more complex tasks.
no subject
Lady Jesiree has a workroom in the basement of the Queen's Residence, tucked in a cool corner. A short flight of stairs leads to a small, private garden out back where she grows useful herbs, and half-windows let in light. Every morning, either Fayura, Allairavar, or Verim comes through the room to kindle tongues of witchlight for her, so the room contains threads of psychic energy darker than Jesiree's own Yellow Jewel.
When Rhus comes to see her the first time, she's standing over a table laden with jars of powdered ingredients and several mortars with pestles nearby. A book floats just to her left, and she holds a glass bottle over a tongue of witchflame that burns from the fingers of her opposite hand. She frowns fiercely at the book. "You interrupting me means the difference between this healing brew clearing someone's lungs and blowing them up," she says tartly, not looking up. "Give me just a moment."
Five minutes later, the brew is done and her attention turns to Rhus. Unlike how some of the Blood will certainly react, she isn't at all skeptical of a male's interest in learning how to heal. She only gained her Jewel a few years ago. She grew up around the landen Medicos, and she values their work as well as Craft.
She seems surprised that he's concerned about the Queen, but explains: The backlash of power that ripped through Fayura damaged her organs. Whatever he saw isn't a chronic issue but an acute one that will fade as the Queen continues to heal. "What happened that made you—no, it's fine, I can guess. See, this is what happens when you don't tell your Healer you're about to do something phenomenally stupid because you don't want to get yelled at in advance of doing the stupid thing. If she'd told me, we would have built a better healing web to begin with, she'd probably be healthy by now, and no one would be snarling about anything." She crosses her arms. "It's stupid to think a Black Widow or a Queen can build a better healing web than a damn Healer."
Then she goes to a bookcase nearby, pulls out a thick tome, and hands it to Rhus. "The foundation of healing is both healing brews and using Craft to put someone back together instead of blowing them up, a huge distinction that most Blood males seem to have a great deal of trouble with. Since you're not attached to a caste that sucks your brains out of your head and drops them into your balls, I'm hoping you'll be a quicker study than any of them will ever be."
She tells him that if he's serious, he should join her after breakfast three days a week to help her make brews. She plans to start him out with simple things and graduate him into more difficult mixtures over the course of a month. Healing brews, she explains, help with sleep or limiting pain. (Were she from the real world, she might explain that they function very similarly to antibiotics or medications one takes for things like pain, nausea, high blood pressure or other physical maladies.) Once he proves to her that he can make brews that won't kill someone, she promises to teach him how to thread Craft through a human body. "Since you already know healing principals from your own world, we'll figure out what's similar and what isn't, and hopefully we don't need to unlearn bad practices." She pauses. "Another Stranger, Lady Zita, she's interested in learning healing Craft, too. Bring her along."
If he has nothing else to do, she'll immediately put him to work grinding up ingredients. Jesiree believes that people must prove they understand the basics before they can move on to more complex tasks.