John steps out of the bedroom where he'd laid his the kid down to face the rip slowly tearing into reality. He shuts the door behind him. If necessary, the House should be able to play keep away with the kid. Shifting rooms around is one of it's specialties.
The bright tear gives John a sneaking suspicion of what is on the other side, and gives him plenty of time to ready a spell. He doesn't know if he can beat something already dead and powerful enough to snap his many wards to prevent portaling into the House of Mysteries, but like hell is he gonna let those bastards finish Phantom off without a fight.
The only reason John doesn't immediately try to blast the first thing out of the swirling green vortex to kingdom come is because it's a bag. A big, black leather bag that looks to be bulging with whatever is inside; held aloft by a big white paw. But most importantly, the bag is adorned with some patches, the most prominent of which is a bright green drop inside an ice blue diamond. The Realms' universal symbol for healers. It's not enough for John to completely drop his guard, but it is enough for him to hear out the furry face that follows the bag into his living room.
"I greet you. I am Chief Frostbite of the Far Frozen, foremost healer in all the Realms. There is a gravely injured infant ghost in your care. I come only to provide the medical attention he desperately needs. Will you allow me to attend him?" As he speaks, the hairy beast lowers himself to a kneel. Even bent and bowed, he's taller than John. Which might have been terrifying if he weren't so damn pissed.
"Oh now someone believes me? I spent months trying to convince just one of your lot the kid was a fresh-corpse. And suddenly someone listens, while he's almost ended? Right. Why should I believe a word out of your muzzle, Sasquatch?" John makes no attempt to hide his derision, but the ghost's face shows no sign of offense. Just calm certainty.
"I am a yeti. Chief Frostbite of the Far Frozen, forem-"
"Most healer in all the Realms. Whatever. How do I know you aren't just here to finish what was started? Hell, how do I know you didn't start it yourself?" Still, not a flicker of a flinch.
"I am a healer. It would be a defiance of my own core to do intentional harm to another being, ghost or not. I will swear to this on any oath you deem fit. I will allow myself bound by any magic that would ease you. As long as you will allow me to attend him." The ghost speaks plainly, not a hint of deception. And John is pretty damn good at sniffing out deception.
"Why now? How did you even know to come, and why come now? This isn't the first time the" (his) "kid has been hurt real bad. The worst, sure, but not the first. Where were you those other times? Or when I was searching the whole blasted Realms for just one ghost to listen when I told them Phantom was a baby? How come I've never even heard of you, oh foremost healer in all the Realms."
"I know because his core cried out so loud and so powerful, all the Realms resonated with it. I am uncertain why I would not have heard the cry before. Though even if I had, I would not have been able to come. It is no surprise you did not find me or my people. On the Orders of Pariah Dark — who valued brute strength above all else and viewed healing and those who provided it as lesser — all healers were exiled to the furthest reaches of the habitable Zone. It is only in recent weeks that we have felt that restriction lifted from our cores."
"Why's that? What changed?"
"Pariah Dark was awakened, challenged, and defeated. The Crown must have recognized the Victor and accepted them as the new King."
John isn't one to be swayed by pretty words; but there is something to be said for the yeti's prompt, clear answers and neutral tone easing the worst of his paranoia. Either he's a damn fine liar or he's telling the truth. Still, a small bit of insurance couldn't hurt. Especially not when the beastie offered it.
"Swear it. Swear on your own core, and those of your people, that you will heal Phantom, not hurt him."
"I swear upon my core, and the cores of my people, I will not intentionally harm Phantom and I will do my best to heal him." Smart bastard, shifting the wording just so. But fine.
"Fine, come o-" Before John can even finish the sentence, the ghost yeti is gone. Not even a second later, Phantom's core cries out. John turns and bursts into the room, where Frostbite is already unpacking his bag. A few tools, wrappings, and vials and vials of ectoplasm, various shades and labeled in, definitely not English. Frostbite speaks lowly, comfortingly, to Phantom. Who doesn't even seem to be actually awake. His core must have reacted instinctively to the other ghost's presence. There is also a deep rumble from the yeti's core, which is probably, hopefully doing most of the work of soothing his the unconscious kid.
"Why did you even need my agreement if you could get to him anyway?" For the first time in their entire interaction, Frostbite seems shocked, appalled even by the question.
"I could not exclude you from his care unless you acted directly against his needs! You are his Mother!" For a few seconds, John can only sputter.
"Do I look like a bloody bird to you, mate!?" Frostbite flicks his gaze back to him for half a second, then returns to his task. He has everything out now and begins by pressing some kind of scope to Phantom's still exposed core.
"No, you appear to be a normal human mage." Goddammit. John pinches between his eyes a moment. If he wasn't terrified of what exposing his insides to smoke could do to the kid, he'd so need a cigarette.
"That's not... I meant, do I look like a female to you?"
"No. What does that have to do with anything? Also, what potions have you dumped on him? What were the ingredients? They shouldn't, but it is wise to ensure there will be no unexpected interactions with my ectoplasmic medicines."
"Just a bunch of basic healing potions." John grabs a book with recipes off his shelf. "First bookmark. I keep 'em on hand. And I don't know what things are like wherever yetis come from, but for humans mothers are typically female." Frostbite reads over the page quickly, humming lightly.
"Hmm, linguistic semantics then. Mother is likely the closest English translation matching in both definition and common connotation."
He nods sharply and sets the book aside, returning his attention to Phantom. He starts with pouring a small steady stream of ectoplasm directly onto Phantom's core, which John now sees has a small fissure in it the ectoplasm is flowing in to. The core soaks it in so quickly, not a drop makes it though the hole in his the kid's chest to the sheets below. John is starting to feel awkward just standing there so he grabs a chair in sits by his the kid's side.
"Closest English translation to what?" Just the fresh, concentrated ectoplasm is already helping way more than his potions did. John can tell. Ectoplasmic flesh is already stretching across the chasm in his his his the kid's rib cage.
Frostbite stops pouring the ectoplasm in before it can cover the core. Apparently doc still needs access to it as he reaches for one of his jars of slightly off color ectoplasm, this one tinted with a bright, ice blue. "To how his core calls out to you."
Does John have a kid now?
Frostbite picks up a small glob.
At least this one is already dead.
Frostbite reaches for the fissure.
How bad could he possibly fuck this up?
The moment the yeti makes contact with his kid's core, Phantom jerks up. Suddenly awake. And screaming.
A farshee wail to put Canary to shame.
But only for half a second, before he collapses back into the bed.
White hair becomes black.
Pale skin becomes sun-kissed.
A core becomes an erratically beating heart while the, smaller, but still present hole exposing it starts weeping red.
Frostbite looks shocked and uncertain; and John is suddenly aware that he can fuck this up so much worse than he first thought he could.
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