Dissected And Dried

Dissected And Dried
Date of Scene:	02 September 2013
Location:	Deling City
Synopsis:	Rhiannon approaches an outlander, and seeks to extract some of his vitality, for her lab-work. As soon as he cuts, she dries with a healing spell, and there is little else to be said or done, retrospectively.
Cast of Characters:	Rhiannon Zellen, Blivon

---

Blivon has posed:
On this day, Blivon was playing the part of the errand-boy, in service of Rosemarie, having trekked all the way to Deling to procure some ingredients for one of the witch's mysterious tonics. Although the psychologist had a slight aversion to densely populated cities that were full of machinery, no deed was too grand or measly for the sake of his matron!

Now, the drow probably knew very well that he had a distaste for these types of places, and though she wasn't a sadist(to his knowledge), she was simply too busy to do it herself, and what with the shaman being her subordinate, there were few alternatives; that aside, he could probably stand to learn a little more tolerance towards urban atmospheres. The shop from which he had just recently emerged was one that dealt in oddball wares, including monster extracts that stemmed from Geezards, and T-Rexaurs, and.... well, things that were indigenous to the world of the SeeDs. In his hand was a tote-bag that was made of some kind of recycled fabric, for Blivon was an environment-conscious man who spared no expense to preserve it, and rather than use paper or plastic, he always /insisted/ he be allowed to employ his own devices to haul around his purchases, so as not to produce more pollution!

Rhiannon Zellen has posed:
Rhiannon herself had decided to take a break from her tireless nights of research to pay the city of Deling a minor visit. Why? She wouldn't say. Nor had she told anyone that she was even going. Those back at Shinra HQ in Goug would simply find her missing with no word. Neverminding that fact for now, she was here.

"Mhmmm....interesting. Very interesting." She mused, tapping her cheek thoughtfuly as she watched people pass by with an idle gaze and a faint smile on her face. "Now where should I...?" Mumbling quietly, she looked left and right, scrutinizing all who passed.

"Hmn, this is quite a bit tougher than I imagined." And then a chuckle. Shaking her head then, the scientist decided to stride onwards, navigating the crowd and looking into passing store windows with only a vague interest. A few stores down and Rhia eventually found herself walking beside a man carrying a bag. He seemed to be a stranger to the city, judging by his appearance.

"...Oh?" Well, this was interesting. Who was this man? He looked like some sort of shaman. "...You are not native to this city, are you?" And out of blue, she asks like that.

Blivon has posed:
With ShinRa now deprived of one of its lead scientists, a few things were sure to ensue-- first, the SEPC would have to improvise by finding a substitute to try to fill Rhiannon's shoes, which, miraculously, were not demonically shaped to accommodate talons, in defiance of the fact that the odango-haired quack was nothing short of a certfiable nightmare of a demon.

Next, someone -else- would have to become to recipient of her attentions, which could easily prove to be disastrous if they were to not choose their wording carefully! Enter Blivon, the therapist who speaks his mind exactly as his thoughts come, which are permanently filtered of anger, due to a belief system that decrees aggression to be the tool of deceit, thereby automatically dampening any hostility that the healer might ordinarily be prone to endorsing, like most sentient individuals in the known world; he would surely have an easier time circumnavigating Rhiannon's idiosyncrasies before becoming riled, which could be dangerous. No, maybe Rhiannon didn't have a terrible temper, but that didn't mean that she was devoid of /any/ hot-buttons, and being as capable in martial arts as she was, there was no telling to what a slip of a tongue might amount. As Rhiannon scanned her perimeter, she caught sight of Blivon, who was just shy of seven feet, which most likely made him a hard sight to miss, inspiring her to investigate. Undisturbed in the slightest by her solicitation, the guru stopped as soon as she sought to engage him in discourse, and shook his head calmly, "I would say that if we were going by the conventional conceptualizations of society, that is a fair statement. May I be of service to you, on this day, Miss?"

He bows slightly, hoping inwardly that he won't regret offering his assistance, if her request exposes itself to be terribly inconvenient.... he still has to get back to Rosemarie, after all.... but maybe if Rhiannon's favor was minor, he could afford the eastern-attired woman some time.

Rhiannon Zellen has posed:
Aha, a nice reaction.

Usually one would give her a withering stare and some manner of sarcastic statement. Judging by the lack of either, Rhia had to surmise that this man here was...not quite like the rest, shaped by the whims of society. But rather, one who followed his own beliefs regardless of how the world viewed him.

Of course this was all speculation and as such, she banished the assumptions to some far corner of her mind for now. Instead, she simply smiled pleasantly and moved forward a step as she began to speak. "Well, I could not help but take notice of you here." An innocent enough statement. "You really do stand out amongst the other people currently inhabiting this city." A finger is brought to her cheek then as the woman took a moment to quickly examine Blivon.

"Hmmmn...Where are you from? ...In the traditional sense of the word impressed upon us by society." Well, at the very least she hadn't said or done anything crazy. ...Yet.

Blivon has posed:
While Blivon wasn't a total non-conformist, being that he still yoked a language that he knew to have a mutual definition agreed upon by others, instead of persistently attempting to make register random sounds and gibberish, he did indeed fall somewhere on one end of the bell-curve, as far as societal norms went, ergo, Rhiannon's assumptions were right on the money, or exceedingly close to it. Upon Rhiannon's further obtrusion, one might think the sage would become nervous, or unsettled, due to lack of trust between himself and this stranger, but instead, he remains comfortable in his posture, exhibiting nary a sign of malcontent.

When she observed that she couldn't help but to have taken notice of him because of his unusual appearance, he nodded quietly, waiting to see what else she had to say-- he wasn't going to interrupt her so quickly and impatiently, for she deserved a chance to voice her sentiments. After she became quiet for a moment, Blivon decided it was okay to interject, primarily because she'd actually asked him a question, "Somewhere in Zeltennia." His answer might actually hold some interest for Rhiannon, since Goug was of the same world, and if the she-genius was indeed well-read, that'd've meant that she'd familiarized herself with some of Goug's history. She might not be one-hundred percent aware of every single aspect of Blivon's homeland, but then.... if she even had heard of the name, she was still a little bit ahead of the game.

"To save you some labor, would it be fair to assume henceforth that what we may speak of will fit within the 'standard' contexts that apply to more westernized mindsets?" He chuckles, realizing his small error, and annexes something to his former statement "....with some allowance for margin of error?" If she agreed, then they wouldn't have to repeatedly declare what frame of reference would be used to discolor the ideas being thrown around, and allow them to be more liberal.

Rhiannon Zellen has posed:
"Oho, I see..." Rhia mused lightly to herself, taking a hand to her chin and adopting a thoughtful posture. While Goug was not of her original world, the eastern attired woman had, at some point, taken it upon herself to learn about the city she and Shinra were to reside in, as well as on the rest of Ivalice.

"Zeltennia resides in Ivalice, if my memory serves. ...Not the Goug I know though. If I recall correctly..." She mused, tapping her cheek with a finger as she proceeded to speak. "...There are two Gougs. The city that the moogles run, which was located in Jylland. ...And then the other. The Clockwork City of Goug located somewhere else in Ivalice. ...And this Goug in which..." A pause, and a shake of her head.

"Oh dear, I seem to be losing myself in historical jabber. Do forgive me, ehehe..." An amused chuckle escaped from her then as she returned to reality. "Ah, yes, yes. It would be accurate to assume that we will refer to the westernized meanings when we speak. For the ease of us both." A nod then and her smile returned, this time more calculating then before. "...Moving along however, I do have a simple request to make of you. If you would be so kind as to hear me out?"

As if he wasn't already. But she asked anyhow, prolonging the process.

Blivon has posed:
It seemed strange that there would be more than one Goug- what oddity that from two distinctly separate worlds, both would have the exact same name, but then, life had some interesting twists and turns. For the sake of distinguishing the two, the World of Ruin international definitions committee might have saw fit to rename one of them, or modify the pronunciation if not the spelling, but since no such thing existed, this convenience would not come to be. Alas that the World of Ruin not only made a farce out of the habitability of various lands, but jinxed the applicability of toponymy by fusing everything together like it did!

When Rhiannon went into her long explanation, the holy-man's gaze remained constant, eager to be educated, but it was cut short as she decided that reciting the descriptions of the various realms was moot, which led her to atone for her digression with an apology. Blivon said nothing to condone or condemn her spiel, as he was just as complacent to listen to her prattle about anything at all, even if he did have to keep in mind that eventually..... he'd have to go on about his business. At least Rhiannon /seemed/ to respect the man's time, by showing that she didn't want to delve into the inner-workings of various locations sharing titles from scattered worlds, since it was evidently off topic, which begged the question-- what /was/ the topic they were supposed to be discussing? The guru had no clue. "Hmm. I'm not sure it would be any easier or harder for me to give our precepts a particular bias, but if it suits you, then it accommodates at least one of us, which was my objective.", Blivon confessed, as though insinuating that he was relatively impartial to geographical and cultural prejudices.... although in reality, he had a small preference towards precision and clarity, which often meant incorporating verbosity; though, if he'd said so, mayhap it would've been met with nil ridicule, since a scientist should ideally have an appreciation for delicate maneuvering, and intricacy!

"I'll do my best to listen!" which was every bit truthful, for if she suddenly got laryngitis, and her volume amounted to whispers, there would be some strain involved, and possibly failure on his part to cater to her needs! One thing was always true of the guru- he placed stock in effort. Yoda might have perceived that 'trying' didn't exist, but Blivon would be a staunch supporter of otherwise, and he could actually provide logistical reasons for why Yoda's philosophy was full of folly.

Rhiannon Zellen has posed:
"Well, if you remain unbothered, then I suppose all is well." Rhia would leave it at that and move on, actually getting to the point of her interruption of Blivon's errand. "Regarding what I mean to ask; it is actually quite simple really." Wagging a finger, she went on. "I have been watching the people of this city, taking stock of their...genetic value."

There was a pause, to allow him to process her words, though offering no explanation yet. "And yet, none of them have caught my eye. None except for you, that is." And then the woman's smile widened a tad. It was becoming increasingly easier to tell where this was going. Almost like a ritual for the scientist at this point.

"Being that you have been the only subject to catch my eye today, I simply must ask; are you willing to part with a blood sample?" And that question is asked straight out and without shame. In fact, her smile seems to be even more pleasant despite the subject matter. What a character.

Blivon has posed:
Not outrageously worried that something egregious would happen in the middle of a busy city, full of witnesses, Blivon had no reason to think that he was in too much danger, as bold as this woman was, for there have certainly been more forward individuals in his life who've been less mannerly when invading his personal space. The big question was, what exactly was /his/ personal space, but that was, again.... not something on which most people hypothesized until really cornered, at which point they'd assert their territorial rights over their own selves, and immediate vicinity. The guru proceeds to stare at Rhia with a vacant expression as she goes into a long explanation over what she's been doing, as though trying to include a bit of pathos in her appeal.

Relatively unaffected by the preliminary buildup or the flattery that was designed to emphasize just how incredibly intriguing he was, there was one bit of information that he found helpful-- the fact that she wanted a blood sample from him. Blinking as she finally cut to the chase, he extended a hand, palm up, and began to channel mystical energy into the air situated right above his supinated hand. Was he so affronted that he was actually planning on attacking her? The fact that he wordlessly began to draw out arcane energy without any warning might have implied that his agenda was foul, and if Rhia was the defensive type who was geared for combat, she would've most likely backed off into a more guarded stance so that she could deflect whatever transgressive forces the anomalous guru was about to unleash! But she would find that the aura transfigured itself into debris, shortly thereafter solidifying into a shard of stone, which was one of his specialties.... geomancy, more explicitly with a lean towards earth and water. With the mineralized fragment in hand, he pressed it against his other arm, creating a small incision through which a minute trickle of blood began to erupt. Blivon does this without flinching, which isn't to say that he's impervious to obscene degrees of anguish, but he knew how to divert his thoughts away from the kind of /emotional/ baggage that came with physical ordeal.

By now, several bystanders have begun to rubberneck in the wake of this highly irregular display, but the shaman shows no sign of embarrassment at becoming the spectacle of attention, especially the kind that indicates that the people who are watching Rhia and Blivon think something is seriously wrong with them. Meanwhile, a thin trail of blood is already beginning to drizzle down his forearm, as he keeps it outstretched for the scientist to take at her leisure; why the theatrics, though? Well, since the cleric doesn't carry a blade of any sort, being opposed to carrying such tools of destruction, he had to beckon the element of stone to aid him in generating a laceration!

Rhiannon Zellen has posed:
Rhia was almost 75% sure that her question would have been met with the usual amount of incredulity following the statement. As such was usually the case when that question was asked. If anything, one could say she was caught off guard.

But either way, Seeing Blivon offer no verbal response, instead channeling earthly energies to form a shard of rock, the woman did not budge, actually quite used to being attacked. But not that she was expecting an attack, rather, she watched in idle interest of the magic that was being performed. Of course, such geomancy was not foreign to her. But simply, it was a field she did not delve into too deeply.

And then when she saw exactly what he was doing with it, the reaction drawn from the scientist was to blink a couple times. "Oh my." This was a first. Blivon may actually have been the first person to ever give uo a blood sample so willingly. In fact, so surprised, more mentally than outwardly, Rhia actually delayed in producing a suitable sample container. At least until he offered his arm to her.

"Oh yes, the sample, the sample!" Playfully bonking herself on the head for spacing out, she reached into her coat and into an inner pocket, producing a small cylindrical container. The top was opened and she held it against Blivon's arm, catching the flow of blood freely. "....Okay, that would be quite enough, thank you." Smile returning, She then pressed a hand to the man's arm, white light faintly beginning to emanate from her. It was a healing spell. A minor one suitable to tending to a wound of that level. "I would not do to walk around with a bloody arm now, yes?" Similarly, the drawn crowd was of no concern to the woman. She was used to stares really. Good and bad.

Blivon has posed:
Even certain dark elf logicians who were practically the living epitomization of apathy who had approached by Rhiannon with this very same request had offered her apprehension in response; yes, that fellow eventually buckled and haggled until they found a compromise, but this man who'd not even given a name to the woman was unreluctant in the least to comply, which was no doubt indicative of the level of indifference in which his mind was steeped. Not totally impassionate, because he was cordial enough to render unto the woman what she desired, at his own expense, which had to mean he had some measure of empathy, but so little concern over his own welfare in comparison to what charity he was willing to show others had to speak volumes for how unafraid of pain and death that he was.... albeit, not so much that he'd yet gotten to the point where he'd choose to nihilistically sit under the Bodhi Tree and let himself wither away from physical neglect.... very few entities throughout the history of all sapient existence had performed such a stunt.

Though, whether Rhiannon was impressed or not, the fact that she stalled a moment or two before actually supplying the phial made it evident to Blivon that she was a bit skeptical about how she'd actually be received, as though many a time in the past, she'd been refused, and probably for good reason! Nevertheless, the eccentric sage was not one to judge, so even though he yielded the kind of reaction that surprised someone who was herself, peculiar in her own way, there was no need to compete for who was the most unique-- because there were special nuances inherent to most folks, and surely, being so audacious as to have the nerve to gallantly implore him for some plasma was something that persons few and far between had the gall to actually pull off; sometimes curiosity does not kill the chemist!

This would make one wonder how someone like Rhiannon, who'd undeniably experimented in all the things nobody else dared, managed to maintain her appearance without dozens of burn-marks and scars from tests gone awry, ending up in all manner of combustion.... but.... maybe she was just that lucky, or that tough! When she heals his arm, he nods his thanks; Blivon could've cured himself of the wound, with his own healing, but since she decided to mend it for him, he wasn't going to be one to decline such a gracious offer! "You're welcome." When she asks if it would not do to walk around with a bloodied arm, he shrugs, "Not under most conditions, I wager...." which is an unusual way of agreeing with her, but since the shaman didn't infuse almost any notion with unconditional faith.... well, who was to say there wouldn't be circumstances to absolve the necessity of waltzing around while gushing out one's life's essence? At least she had enough conviction not to be bothered by the onlookers-- that said something about her stalwartness!

Rhiannon Zellen has posed:
Well of course in Rhia's line of work, one would naturally wear protective gear! ...Or cloak themselves in a magic barrier. Yes, that seemed more likely. But then that begged the question; where did she put her Materia? She didn't have any weapons or objects with slots. ...Oh well. A grand mystery. And one that likely would not get an answer any time soon.

"Indeed. Not under most conditions. But perhaps there may come a time when such a situation may be necesssary. Unlikely as it is." And instead of denouncing his reply, she plays upon it. Adding her own thoughts to the matter. Meanwhile, she tucked away the vial of blood and wiped down Blivon's arm with a small cloth.

"...Oh dear. I believe we haven't introduced ourselves, have we?" A faint giggle escaped from the woman before she took a step back, gesturing to herself with a hand. "I am Rhiannon Estellise Zellen. I work for Shinra as a scientist." Whether or not that last bit meant anything to him likely depended on his worldly knowledge. "Naturally, I use blood samples to further my research in a number of different areas. But that is another story for another time."

She then gestured to the shaman. "And yourself?" Not that she was likely remember his name anyway, but it was the polite thing to do. And she had at least that much tact. Most of the time anyway.

Blivon has posed:
Blivon nodded to Rhia, when she conceded that it'd be very unusual for a person to want to wander around with a bloodied arm, but ever the mindful man who could conceive of nigh-endless possibilities, the guru rubbed his chin, "There is a story about a monk who went into a forest, who had tried to soothe a hostile lynx. It bit his finger off and scratched him up something good, and he did bandage up his wounds..... but then continued to meander through the wood." He folded his arms over his chest, letting her digest the first part, "Later on, a group of primitive cannibals ambushed him, and planned to capture him so that they could devour the fellow who seemingly looked as though he had holy powers. However, when they noticed he was not 'pure', because he was missing a finger, they decided to abandon their quest, and went off in search of a mystic who could be ingested to give them true magic, instead of the cursed kind."

He smirked, raising a finger to punctuate his prior observation, ".....Thus, I could see it /possible/ for some similar contingent happening regarding a person who was injured, although the specifics for such a happenstance escape me at this moment." When she gave her name, Blivon nodded in turn, "I am Blivon Jourum. You may address me as either, both, or none of those names, and choose one that you'd prefer." His head swayed from side to side a little, as though sidenoting, "...But if you decide to call me by something generic, such as 'dark haired guy' or 'sh*thead', or something.... you'll have to notify me in advance, so that I'll known to whom you are speaking." The man smiles, as though he were speaking on the most ordinary of subjects in the world, "There are many dark haired guys and sh*theads in this world, and others, after all."

His expression doesn't brighten or dull, which meant that he was not trying to be funny at all, as weird as his comment might have been. He lifts his bag a little, and denotes, "Sadly.... I must be going soon, Rhiannon Estellise Zellen. I have duties to attend.... but, I do hope my concession has improved your day, or made life more convenient. Perhaps now that you have a name to which you may assign that blood sample, you won't mix it up with all the other nameless brunettes and sh*theads you've come across, yes?"

Rhiannon Zellen has posed:
Wow, this guy was funny too. She couldn't help but bring a hand to her mouth to muffle a laugh not meant to come out. "Ehehe...I see. Well then, Mr. Jourum. Another time and another place perhaps." Smiling faintly, she then added. "Also, you can just shorten my name if it is convenient to you. I realize that it may be quite a mouthful."

She rolled her eyes at that. "I suppose the blame for that one lies with my parents. Alas." Digressing from the matter of her identification, Rhia moved on. "Yes, I do realize you may have other errands to tend to, so-- I will hold you up no longer." Backing away at that, the eastern attired woman offered a wave. "Indeed, I won't mix it. You have my thanks~"

And with that said, she turned to move on herself. An odd success for the day.