Miach Glimpses

[Miach]

All through this last few weeks, Miach had been caught up in a whirlwind of emotions, questions and thoughts. Tonight, he felt like he would burst from the turmoil in his mind, and the young man decided to try and steam off the pressure through one of his many pleasure: physical exhaustion. He headed off to Ricardo's Gym where he was becoming a regular, and nodded to the man as he entered. It had been some time since his last seance, but he intended to more than make up for it.

Heading to the locker room, the Acanthus took off his costum, necktie, and white shirt, and put instead a non-descript sleeveless T-shirt and knickers. He quickly put all this in a big bundle in his sportsbag, grabbed his bottle of water, and headed straight toward the rowing machine. Luckily, it happened to be available.

Miach didn't even bother with a warm-up, and sat down into the seat. He immediatly grabbed the oar, and started practising, slowly at first, but at full swing barely a couple of minutes later. Quickly sweat started to appear on his forearms, on his forehead, but he didn't smile. He kept on and on, relentlessly rowing as hard as he could. A quarter of an hour later, the mystagogue was now dripping with sweat, but showed no sign of slowing down. Only his breath that was now slightly less rythmed than at the start was any indication of his efforts. As time went by, and it was becoming harder and harder for him to keep up his effort, Miach started making very short breaks. A dozen seconds or so, barely time enough to drink a little water, and he started again his mad effort, as a man in trance. He didn't even realize that some people around had begun staring at him. In the meantime, he had to focus harder and harder to keep going at the pace he was setting, and his mind raced less and less in the maze he felt trapped in.

When he stopped at long last, his muscles were so sore he couldn't move at all for a time. He was among the very last still left in the gym. Ricardo was not far, eyeing him warily lest he would collapse. Alas, Miach wouldn't be so lucky, and he managed to rose after a few minutes.

He felt much better now that his body was aching so much his mind couldn't think about anything else.

[Miach]

It had been a long time since Miach had gone camping in the wilderness. The Acanthus didn’t even have to think, he knew the last time had been with Menwel, in Africa. The mere thought hurt. It had always been a time apart, when she had been his alone, with the whole world left far behind. He knew she had used those times to impart him with some of her values, some of her knowledge, when he had been content to merely enjoy their privacy and quiet leisure time. He hadn’t found it in him so far to go on his own. The doctor knew it would trigger bittersweet memories, and he feared they would be more bitter than sweet. Yet now that he was faced with choices to make, Miach felt the need to find some focus again, and he hadn’t found it in the city. Neither sport nor drinking had held any insight, but mere temporary reprieve. After delaying for some more days, he had finally decided that withdrawing from the turmoil of the Consilium could do him good. He had made up his mind to spend a few days in the ominous Death Valley, since he wasn’t a man to do things in half, but after a bad dream the night before heading there, changed on a whim for the Yosemite Park instead. Death Valley could wait a little bit longer.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Day One:

The Acanthus had never been a very cautious man, relying instead on luck and Fate to care for him if needed, so he headed toward with the bare minimum gear. A backpack, some casks, a swiss army knife, and a sleeping bag. Everything else he was confident nature would provide. After all, Menwel had never needed more, had she ? He started driving toward Stockton, then turned East at Manteca, toward Oakdale, intent on taking the Big Oak Flat Road, and the Tioga Road toward Tuolomne. The Valley Visitor Center would be overflowing with tourists at this time of the year, and he wanted none of that.

On his way, he couldn’t but stop at Tuolomne Grove, and even though it was only a rather short walk, the doctor greatly enjoyed the surrounding peace. The majestic sequoias had seen so much, had endured so much across the centuries, and yet there they were, teaching a thing or two to mankind about patience, and resilience. It was Miach’s lesson of the day, and he was still somewhat lost in it as he returned to his car to move on. He couldn’t help but stop once or twice more to enjoy the scenery, particularly at Tenaya Lake, and so it was late afternoon when he finally arrived at Tuolomne Meadows.

Still, he didn’t intent in the least to camp there, and he immediately set foot on the Pacific Crest Trail, following the Tuolomne River. When the trail headed north into the Cold Canyon, the daring Acanthus chose to keep on following the river due West. It was time to be actually alone, and start some serious introspection. After a short walk beyond Glen Aulin, he found a beautiful place, and started camping there. Using his knife, he tried to craft a fishing pole, as Menwel had taught him. It wasn’t easy at first, especially since it was getting darker and darker, but he had had some practice a few years ago, and he managed at last to craft something good enough to fish something to eat. Between that, and the berries, the mushrooms, Miach was confident he would manage. He hadn’t properly anticipated the time he would need to fish and cook, though, and it was late in the night when he slipped into his sleeping bag, a smile on his face. The mystagogue had thought he would sleep soundly and quickly, but to his dismay, the nocturnal noises were much harder to dismiss than he had anticipated, and his sleep was not very much restful.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Day Two:

It had been a much harder night than anticipated, and Miach woke up well into the morning, when the sun’s rays started to directly hit his face. His back ached, and it was only then that he remembered Menwel’s lessons on moss beds. Too bad. He idly wondered how much of the Thyrsus’s lessons he had forgotten, and would recall only too late. Not too much, he hoped.

He didn’t pack to leave immediately though, since he had to eat whenever possible. At least he remembered that one. He drank generously from the river, bathed a bit, and fished again. It took him longer than he had hoped since his line broke twice, but he was grateful it hadn’t happened the night before, and dutifully worked to secure them. He really enjoyed a very tasty rainbow trout that he had to fight to fish. He was tempted to use his Magic, but this trip was in loving memory of Menwel, and she had never condoned such disrespectful, lazy behaviours, so he had to do it the hard way.

He resumed his trip westward, and even though it was half-hiking, half-rock-climbing at times, the Acanthus was more than rewarded with sceneries like waterfalls all along the way. The noise of the river was like a balm to his mind, washing away the troubles he was facing back in town. Was it only two days since he had left ? At the end of his day, Miach arrived at the Hetch Hetchy Reservoir, and the first thing he did was throw away his backpack, all his clothes, and throw himself in it. Screw the interdiction ! He swam as long as could, enjoying the soothing sensation of the water around him, the blissful memories of shared moments with a loved one.

When he grew too cold, the Enchanter reluctantly left the water, and started to prepare for evening, hoping the work would both dry and warm him. Thankfully, it did, but the price of it was that he didn’t catch a fish, and had only berries and mushrooms to eat. That made for light diet, especially after a long day of walk. He would have to be more careful after that. The tall red-haired man slept well nonetheless, exhaustion taking its toll.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Day Three:

Miach woke up early this time, his rather empty stomach a sore reminder of his failure to fish yesterday. The first thing he thus did was to splash water on his face, and set lines in the lake. He was used to eating not only good but also plentiful food, and his berry-regimen was way too frugal. Mother Nature was with the Acanthus though, and barely half-an-hour later, he boasted his first fish. To err on the safe side, he kept on fishing while eating the first one, and was soon rewarded with a second one. He gutted it like the others, and smoked it a little, to keep it till the evening. He then thought about heading south toward White Wolf, but after checking his map, he preferred to resume his walk along the shores of the reservoir

When he reached the O’Shaughnessy Dam, he looked both into the valley below and onto the lake. It was breathtaking, but he didn’t have time to waste. He was late according to his schedule, and he would have to make haste from now on. He kept on the northward shore till his trail branched north toward Lake Vernon. When he reached it, Miach didn’t dally, and made only the shortest mandatory dive, no more than half an hour. He was proud of him when he left the water.

Heading north still,the Enchanter wished he was back in Arcadia, with Time flowing slowly, slowly around him, having an eternity to savour nature around him, but alas it wasn’t so. He reached Wilma Lake without having met anyone, and that suited his mood just fine. Everything around him seemed so much more real than the people at the Consilium… and yet, the atmosphere here was surreal, like he would be on the verge of entering the Primal Wild. The mystagogue wondered how it would be, there…

He finally found a place where he felt comfortable, which meant far enough from the Pacific Coast Trail that passed nearby, and set camp. The bass he had fished was delicious, even cold, and he didn’t think he would have let go of it, even faced with an angry bear. But he hadn’t seen any so far, only finding traces of their presence. Maybe some other day ?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Day Four :

Now that he was back on the PCT, Miach decided to make the most of it. Whether he wanted it or not, his trip was nearing its end, and he still felt like it hadn’t fulfilled its purpose, whatever it was. The Acanthus wasn’t too sure about it. He resolutely took the trail East, hitting the road hard. It was a beautiful trail, and the landscape all the way was definitely worth the walk, but there was something pressing Miach onward, and he didn’t relish it as much as he should have.

As he reached the first slopes of Volunteers Peak, he felt at last like he was getting closer to his intended mark. Restlessly, he wandered around till he found a nearly forgotten path, heading toward the summit of Pettit Peak, or so it seemed. His legs walking on autopilot, he climbed, climbed, climbed, until by nightfall he had reached the high slopes of Pettit Peak, while still having a good view upon Rodgers Lake. Shaken out of his near fugue, Miach realized there was nowhere to set camp, and he wondered how the hell he would pass the night. Should he head back down toward Benson Pass, and finish his loop ? There must have been a reason why he had been sent here, though, for he felt like he had been sent here, not that he walked with his own legs. Resolute to sort it out, he found a small niche, and laid his sleeping bag. It wouldn’t be a comfortable night, especially since he had walked on an empty stomach from the morning.

At a moment during the night, Miach Dreamed. It was very hazy, and he didn’t manage to recollect it properly, but still… He was back in his Sanctum, poring over a book. Fog was slowly swelling from the ground, engulfing him. Then, from the mist emerged a figure, that of Menwel. She spoke to him, but no sound came from her mouth, and he told her so. Her face serene, she nodded to him, as if she was understanding him perfectly, and repeated, but the young man still couldn’t hear her. He didn’t have to. With sweeping gestures of her arms, she dismissed the fog. Each time she made a move, he could see a moment spent with her, then in L.A., then in Africa, then elsewhere. Each time, she had been talking to him, and each time, he had barely been listening. When she was finished, they were together alone in the dark, but Miach could see very clearly now all that Menwel had transmitted to him. His sight was no more fogged. Menwel stood in front of him, smiling, as real as if she had still been alive. She moved close to him, and he stood motionless, paralyzed. Leaning forward, she kissed him, a smile on her face, then faded away in the stars.

Miach had his eyes opened. He was alone, cold, tired, hungry, aching, and looking at a starlit sky. The only thought that crossed his mind was that it was beautiful, and that he was grateful to have shared this world, this time with someone he had loved. And he knew that he was to carry on his mission, that it was Menwel’s will, and that she would be with him, always. He was her heir, and he would make her proud. He feel back to sleep, serene.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Day Five :

Miach woke up with the first rays of the sun, ready to spring back into the world of man. He had found his focus back again. He walked down the Pettit Peak toward the PCT, and the Benson Pass. Some would say they had seen a man flying on the trail, so quick he was. He had an empty stomach, but Miach was clear of mind, and felt refreshed in his body too. He didn’t pause once all the way back to Tuolumne Meadows, even though the sights were no less beautiful than before. But he was a man with a renewed purpose, and he wanted back at the hospital. That was were he belonged.

All the trip back, Miach was smiling.

[Miach]

Achoo !

Not exactly a grand entrance, but there was so much dust in the warehouse where Miach entered that his nose reacted at once. Once the initial dust had started to settle, the Acanthus flashed his light in the various corners of the room, looking for a more permanent lighting that wasn’t to be found. He had anticipated it, though, and took out some of his glowsticks. The green glow gave a surreal feel to the place: a dimly lit warehouse, filled to the ceiling with rows upon rows of wooden crates covered in dust.

Miach knew some of their content, of course, for that was the reason he had come here. They contained goods Menwel had collected over the years, and never bothered to sort and discard, as well as goods she wanted to keep, but couldn’t store in a more practical manner. Miach’s mentor had always liked to live and travel lightly. He sighed and coughed, glad for an excuse to the tears that had started swelling in his eyes. He had purposely kept far away from here, where he knew the goods would trigger many memories. But more than a year after her death, the Enchanter now felt strong enough to face the memories of that woman he had loved so deeply. He had to, if he wanted to perpetuate her legacy, and be true to her teachings.

The mystagogue walked between the rows, awed at the raw volume of stuff stored. There were plenty of crates he knew nothing about. It had mostly been her private domain, where he hadn’t been allowed to pry. He was here because he knew Menwel had an extensive library though, belying her reputation as an outdoorswoman, and there were parts of it Miach wanted to claim for his own in order to feel like a genuine successor to her life’s work. Thankfully, he knew where Menwel had stored her books since he had helped her do so before their last trip to Africa. Heading toward the book-crates, he set to open them properly. The tall man put his backpack and glowstick on the ground, and took out the crowbar he had brought, setting to work.

The first thing to do was of course to open all the crates containing books, and sort them by content. While Miach had hoped it would be as simple as finding the crate with the content he was after, he had no such luck. Whatever sorting system Menwel had used was completely alien to the mystagogue, and he didn’t need more than half-an-hour to realize he would have to open them all, and sift through their whole content one book at a time. He sighed heavily, which blew some more dust into his nostrils, and made him sneeze again.

After hours of diligent work, Miach had sprayed two big crate’s worth of books in front of him. The good news was that he felt confident he hadn’t missed a book related to the topic he was after: “supernatural pathologies, and remedies”. His mentor had extensively trained him, tutored and lectured him, and while he may not have read them all, he had known precisely what he was after. The bad news was that he had no idea how he was going to bring so much content back to Sacramento ! And he had barely scratched the content of the Menwel’s warehouse…

All in due time...

[Miach]

Strange as it may seem, Miach was glad to be back at the UC Davis university even though it was summertime and he could have been enjoying a lot of sports instead. He felt his understanding of the underlying principles of Life, in the form of the mundane biology, was increasing by the day, and it comforted him that it was time well spent.

Today, he sat on the bench once again, and he recognized many of the students that had started with him on the continuing education program. They may all have different goals in mind, but they were nonetheless all focused on learning and understanding the high-level courses they were offered, and it was a very productive environment.

Today's course was about delving in some aspects of biochemistry, namely Signal Transduction which was of particular interest to the Acanthus since he knew he could duplicate some aspects of those with an Imago. He was eagerly studying it as he hoped he would understand the relation between the Primal Wild and this Fallen World. His Imago didn't involve moleculs, and yet, they were the means to this end in this realm, to the best of his knowledge.

Signal transduction involves the binding of extracellular signalling molecules and ligands to cell-surface receptors that trigger events inside the cell. The combination of messenger with receptor causes a change in the conformation of the receptor, known as receptor activation. This activation is always the initial step (the cause) leading to the cell's ultimate responses (effect) to the messenger.

As the mystagogue noted in his notepad the information, he couldn't help but wonder. Did his spell bypass the cell-surface receptors and directly triggered the response, which would mean they worked outside the channels of a normal body ? or did they stimulate the receptors with fake stimuli ? or did they create the proper signalling molecules and ligands in the bloodstream ? How smoothly was a spell integrated in the workings of an actual body ? Could it be that some spells were Covert and others Vulgar depending on their interaction with the body, and not only with the onlookers ? Those were all very interesting questions for Miach, since their answers could lead to more refined, efficients way of healing. And also a better understanding of what could go wrong, and how to fix it.

He still had many things to learn, and experiments to practice. He made a mental note to try using his Vision during the practical works, in hope to shed some light on it. Meanwhile, he absorbed as much of the knowledge as possible.

[Miach]

Recently come back from a several days trip in Yosemite, Miach was back at his desk, trying to cram into his book on first-aid even more information about nature, and man's relation to it, than he had before. But the harder he worked at it, the more stuff he added, and the less he was satisfied with his book. It was extremely important to the Acanthus though, so he persisted during long hours, until Bastet, his black cat, hopped onto the desk in frustration, and bumped his sweet cappuccino onto his lap.

Bastet !! cried the mystagogue in frustation, to be replied by a heart-wrenching Meeoowww !!, that sounded half-plea, half-reproach. Miach loved his cat, and looked up from his pile of printed pages full of written notes and pictures he wanted in, to see that her dishes were full.

I'm sorry, Bastet, I lost track of time. was all he said as he helped her to food and water. As soon as she had started eating, he returned to his desk, and looked at his notes. There was so much he wanted to pour into this book, so much that people needed to know, to be aware of, that he wanted to convey. Admittedly, it made little sense to write a book talking as much of the biosphere and Gaia theory as of good first aid reflexes. What he had written was all good taken bit by bit, but was a huge mess making no sense taken globally. It lacked focus, or at least some cohesion. Much to his dismay, Miach had to admit that if everyone could be a writer, not everyone could be a good one.

Still, this was too important work to give up now. Of course there were many other books no first-aid technics, teaching manuals for EMT, and other "First aid for dummies". But that was not his goal. He wanted to both teach the reader, of course, but also to give him a sense of purpose at the same time. The mystagogue felt all the books he had had to read to learn lacked this sense of meaning that could help people give the best of themselves. He wanted to reach out to people, and to show them what they could do, and why they should do it.

The only downside was he lacked the words to convey this feelings...

[Miach]

Now that he had reclaimed piles and piles of books he deemed useful from Menwel's storage warehouse, Miach had to somehow fill them in in his own Sanctum. The Acanthus knew it would be no small task to set them up properly so that he would find them when he needed, but he trusted his memory, Fate, and also a good referencing system. Now he just had to find one that would be his own, since Menwel's had never quite suited him. Taking the books one by one from the crates he had used to carry them to Sacramento, Miach's mind wandered.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Of the diseases from the quickened dead"

Menwel, I'm so glad I could at least see to your body's proper funerals. As you wished, you have been cremated. No one will raise your body as a tool, nor as a foul mean to foul ends.

Considering the book in his hand, Miach was glad that such a book would probably never be needed in Sacramento. The Acanthus doubted the Necromancers in the US had the same background as some he had heard of in Western African Voodoo, but at the same time, that was the point of a library,wasn't it ? To inform, spread knowledge, and prepare in case of need. As far he knew, no one had ever attempted anything that silly here, or the tracks had been well covered by the Guardians. Anyway, he perused the book, reminiscing on some of the finer points that had been highlighted by his mentor. "Some carry mere mundane disease, while others carry a kind of rot peculiar to them. The bite of a zombie nearly never transform the bitten in another zombie". How she had laughed at him when he had asked that last question ! "You watch too many movies, Jon." But she hadn't exactly dismissed it either, for they both knew that anything they could imagine, some willworker might find a way to make it come true. Now, Miach was strengthened with this knowledge, but he might be the only one in Sacramento. He decided to find an opportunity to lend this book to his giant Necromancer friend, Four.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Spirits of disease, spirits of health"

I remember that day in the field hospital, when people where dying by the dozen despite our best efforts. You found it weird, Menwel, and investigated the Spirit Realm beside to find that spirits had been attracted to us like a beacon. You entered their Realm and fended them off, but I wasn't there to help...

That old tome from the 17th century was a sore reminder to the Acanthus that he wouldn't be able to replace Menwel anytime soon. She had had capabilities he hasn't, and she knew how to put them to the best of use. That time, if he had been alone, he would probably not have been able to diagnose the source of the deaths, nor do anything about them. And from what little she had explained Spirits can be tricky. They can be born to a place that has some characteristics, or they can come from outside and change the place to take their characteristics. It's not an issue resolved the same way., he doubted he would make a great Shaman anytime soon. Of course, he had listened, but spirits had barely seemed more than an empty threat back then, and it wasn't until they were in that field hospital that he really got what it meant. But it was nearly too late, since she died only a few weeks afterward. The Acanthus was loath to admit it, but he doubted he could reclaim that part of her abilities anytime soon, and if it so happened that there were Spirit-related troubles in Sacramento, he wouldn't be able to do a thing. But it wouldn't be so for his hairy Shaman friend, Idun.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Curses and diseases"

Ah ! Something I had been useful for at last ! I will never forget the face you made when I was the one to actually come up with a way to release this poor old gran from her ailments ! God... How I wish I could prove myself to you again...

Miach didn't even need to open the book, he knew its content by heart. Whether it was because he was walking the Path of Thistle, or for some other strange turn of Fate (pun, pun), but the Acanthus had read that book while they were still in LA, during a break between two NGO campaigns. Knowing of which Watchtower he was, Menwel hadn't commented, but she had seemed underwhelmed by his choice of book. And yet, back in Sudan, there was this kind old lady who had came to them burdened by a host of local diseases. Despite all her treatments, Menwel couldn't get rid of them once and for all. She had of course checked the Spirit World, but the answer wasn't to be found there. No, it was much simpler, and Miach was rather proud of him when he compared her situation to one described in the book. You see, when the diseases are properly treated, and keep coming back defying all the odds, it may be because they are Fated to do so. It turned out the old lady had rebelled against the influence of a local Bokor, and he had wanted to make a point with her. While Miach couldn't do a thing about the evil willworker himself, Menwel had no such issues, and after a fight the Acanthus still vividly remembers, she had outsmarted him, and cast him in the Spirit world. Once again though, none of this would have happened if not for his diagnosis, and that capability couldn't be lost. He would have to show the book to another Acanthus doctor, Toby.

~~~~~~~~~~

After a long day of sorting his books in alphabetical order, Miach thought he would be able to find any information in Menw... his library. He felt more and more ready to try and step in his mentor's shoes as a Healer of his kind. But the Acanthus still had a long way to go, he knew it only too well. Tomorrow would still be a very busy day, but Miach walked back home with three tomes in his backpack, and a smile on his face.

[Miach]

Even though Miach could sometimes be as fickle as any Acanthus, he could be studious too when driven by his passions. That evening, he was at his studious best, dutifully taking notes on the subject of cellular and molecular neurobiology, including excitable cells and membranes, ion channels and receptors, synaptic transmission, cell-type determination, and so on. He was as focused as can be until a young woman named Esmeralda sat on the bench near him, and started asking him questions about the course. Apparently, she had chosen him as her crutch for this course...

At first, Miach was slightly bothered because she interrupted him with her questions, and even though he was barely polite at times, it was not long before he noticed that she was rather cute, and the more time passed, the less bothered he was. Esmeralda happened to be an interesting woman, fun to be with, and quite nice to boot. Before the course was over, Miach had invited her to dinner, and she had agreed. The pair giggling together at times earned them no few bothered looks and hushes.


Once they had left UC Davis, the tall Acanthus started with his usual lines.

How about we go to La Boheme ? It' a french restaurant I know in Fair Oaks. did he suggest, hoping to impress her with his impeccable taste, manners, and a few french words of choice.

But the young latin woman declined, and replied, taunting the blonde man I know another place instead, though I don't know if you'd dare.

Miach needed no such words, and his reply was immediate Try me !

She laughed, and went on. It's called the Lomo. They serve the food of my country. Would you like to try it ?

The mystagogue wasn't the kind to turn down such an offer, and he nodded quickly. Sure ! Sounds good. Erm... where do you come from already ? did he finish with a laugh.

Argentine. was her answer, a fire in her eyes, and pride in her voice.


They took his car, and he drove to the waterfront, where he found a parking place just in front of the restaurant. Lucky him... Before he knew it, Esmeralda had seen him in, and saluted all the crew. Seemed like she was known here. After a quick look at the menu, he asked her advice, and she told him to have some Lomo meat. When it was served to Miach, he made a face at the sight of the meal. Not only was the meat really big, but it smelled delicious too. Hardly had he started cutting it that he knew he would love every bite of it, and that was very much true. Esmeralda smiled and laughed a lot as he commended her choice. She talked a lot about her country, of which she was very proud, but she could talk about many other things too, and it was a very pleasant evening. After the meal, he didn't even have to suggest anything, she anticipated his proposal, and was the one to invite him to dance some tango like the couples around. It was another discovery for Miach, and another one that he liked very much. Tango was a very sensual dance, full of vitality and life. Later in the night, Esmeralda proved those qualities were not limited to the dancefloor.

Argentine had never looked better in his book before.

[Miach]

*BUMP*

Crap... did Miach mutter as he bumped into the chair he had set in the middle of his Sanctum. He would have another bruise on his knee, and the night was far from over...

It had all started during his ongoing investigation with Aenigma, a fellow mystagogue, and Warlock. As was to be expected with a Warlock, Aenigma was proficient in the Space arcanum, and that had proved to be so useful that Miach couldn't help but be impressed by it. Also, in the medic's eye, it could bring him two assets: a quick way out of any danger's arm, and a way to heal from afar if need be. He had been extremely frustrated to realize that while he could heal someone, he had to touch that person to do so. And he didn't always have the luxury to do so when there was a life at stake. So the tall Acanthus was now trying to develop his spatial awareness, and to back those feelings with paths to the Supernal World.

The first thing he had tried was to look at many Escher-esque pictures and meditate on them, for the Acanthus expected the Realm of Pandemonium to be like this. It couldn't hurt to know what you were looking for, after all. He had done some research home, printed them as big as the printer allowed at Sutter's, and had stuck them to the walls of his sanctum. Once he had started becoming dizzy enough, he had tried to feel his connection to his Watchtower of the Lunargent Thorn, and in which direction he should let his mind wander to recapture that feeling of visual madness, but to no avail. He had never really been much of a meditative man anyway...

Plan B. Miach had cleared his basement as much as possible, and started some Whirling Dervish turning. He whirled, spinned, turned, and fell. Rinse. Repeat. After an hour or so of repetitive whirling while looking for the Realms inside him, he had given up on this plan, and his stomach as well.

Plan C. He was currently trying to execute plan C: place chairs at random in the room, close your eyes, and try to perceive the Real distance by denying the Lie's influence. It hadn't been very successful so far, as his knees could attest, but at least it made for a much less messy training, which was a plus when you were your own janitor in a confined room.

*BUMP*

Plan D. Find a real teacher... Yep, sounded better by the *BUMP* ...

[Miach]

OOC

Inspired by >>this<<
I hope no one will mind me making a Glimpse out of it. I don't intend to make light of it, and I really hope that everybody's involved will be as fine as can be.

When the fax from the CDC arrived on his desk, Miach nearly choked on his cappuccino. Not only was it major bad news for his team, it was bad news for him too. he had been to Yosemite during the period, and might have contracted the virus. Beyond his own case, the sheer number of people involved meant there would be casualties, for the disease was very deadly. The HPS had a mortality rate of 38%, and the early symptoms were merely fatigue, fever and muscle aches. Lots of people would dismiss them. As for the late symptoms, which were lungs filled with fluid, shortness of breath, it could already be too late in the worst cases. By the time he had finished reading the fax, he briskly strode to the secretary. There was much to be done.

Call all the available dpt lead and prepare a meeting room. Have Dr Maidi and Dr Xeshing called too, please. Not only they would have to try and coordinate all the departments, he wanted those two trustful doctors to be on the same page too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He had hardly finished that he returned to his office, taking his phone, and dialing another friend of his at Sutter's. Adam was the head of the lab department, and he was an extremely busy man. He answered the phone at once, which the Acanthus took as a positive sign of Fate.

Adam ? Jonathan talking. it wasn't usual, but he didn't even say a kind word, and headed straight to the business part of his call.

Have you heard about the HPS outbreak ? no ? Let me highlight it for you. There was a sense of urgency in his voice, and his friend kept quiet.

It started in Yosemite a few weeks ago. All visitors that stayed in Curry Village are potentially infected. The CDC numbers it around 10,000 patients. What I fear is that all the people who went to Yosemite will panick, and come rushing to us at the first sign. I strongly advise you to prepare as much serological assay as possible. Also... the Acanthus took a breath. He knew what he would be asking was a favor, but he felt like doing anything else would be doing a disservice to the hospital. While he would have to cleanse himself, he could do it magically. His crew didn't have that luxury.

Also, I wondered if you could run the test for all the ER staff. It will be costy, but I don't think my staff can do their job with a clear mind otherwise. I'll talk to the board about this expense, of course. What do you say ?

If it had been anyone else asking, I would think they had been panicking, Jonathan. But I see your point, and I'll see what I can do. I'll keep in touch. and with that he hang up. Miach let out a breath of relief. Adam Niddus was a very dependable man, who had clearly already taken stock of the situation. "I'll see what I can do" coming from him was worth a "consider it done" in the mystagogue's opinion. On to the next task, then.

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Miach started Word on his computer, and prepared a short note of information for his staff, to be included next to the CDC fax on the information walls.

Please find attached a fax from the CDC about an HPS outbreak. Sutter is preparing itself to answer it properly. Further instruction will be given tomorrow. In the meantime, please refer to me for all of your questions. Dr Blyes.

Satisfied with it, he printed it in fifty, as well as said fax, and gave it all to the secretary for her to pin everywhere. Meanwhile, he still had other things to do.

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Back at his desk, the tall doctor started to compile all the data he had on HPS into a "HPS for dummies" document on two pages. No more. Thankfully he had been practicing a lot of medical writing as he tried to produce his book, and the words came quickly this time. Once done, he sent it by email to all the staff that would be involved. Miach smiled, and allowed himself a sip of his cappuccino. He pinched his nose, rubbed his eyes, and resumed writing on his omputer. He knew what would come next. Reporting. He started a document that he would send to all departments for them to fill, and centralize later for an easier communication with CDC. It took him an hour to get it done properly, with the Pathology department patent on it. They would be the ones at the forefront of the epidemy along with ER, if it came to that.

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Now I can call Idun, Toby, and Four, too. They need to know asap, if they don't know already. And then I'll have to prepare a cleansing ritual at the Sanctum. He sighed, for his day was far from over. He wouldn't complain though. That was his job, though. Fighting sickness and wounds to let people live and enjoy themselves longer. He believed in it, and wouldn't ever give up.

[Miach]

Not only Esmeralda was a very attractive and dynamic woman, but she was a very determined and convincing one too. That was the only explanation Miach could find to his presence on the tango dance floor of >>the Lomo<< with her, despite his best recriminations that he couldn’t dance Argentine tango. There she was, her chest against his, guiding his every moves in a very sensual dance, full a saudade and yet vitality. He had tried to talk her into giving him advices, and proper tutelage, but she had wanted to hear nothing of the sort, saying he had to rely on his feelings, and there they were, glued one to the other, making speechless figures at the sound of the orchestra. Every misstep was a further shaming for the tall Acanthus, but she didn’t seem to care, and he tried his best to keep up with her rhythm and moves.

They had been on the floor dancing for what seemed hours, and he was barely making progress, but she wouldn’t relent. Miach’s body was starting to ache at the exercise, and he felt less and less like he would satisfy her, much to his shame. He badly wanted a drink, a strong and sweet rum-lemon glass for example. That was when his latin lover started talking to him, in Spanish. She had already explained to him that English wasn’t a tongue with which to explain tango.

Even though he had studied it a long time ago, Miach had not practiced in a long time, and what’s more, he was tired, embarrassed, and sweating. He understood some words, "relajación", "instinto", "baile", but somehow, they didn’t connect, and were but annoying sounds ringing in his ears meaninglessly. He was about to give up in frustration but Esmeralda seemed to have sensed it, and kissed him vigorously, stopping him in his tracks. Of course, he knew it to be a trick to keep him motivated. He could see it plain as day. Not so long ago, he would have stiffened, and pretended, but with a feeling of guilt toward Menwel. Not now, not anymore. He recalled how she had released him, allowed him to carry on with his life. That memory came to him, and a he felt released of a binding spell.

When he resumed dancing with Esmeralda, he was like a changed man. Or a changing man, at least.