closed | for want of wit, to memory now i can't recall,

[murderbaby]

WHO: Mhav, Jone, Amos, and some others.
WHAT: This is a catch-all post for some starters I owe.
WHEN: Post-dream, Mid-Guardian.
WHERE: Gallows, Kirkwall generally.
NOTES: I will keep you informed if something horrible happens.

Comments

FOR GIDEON.

[innerharbor]

A few days, but not many, after the Rifter with the grav injuries in her came in, Amos pokes his head in the infirmary. Naomi nearly died, but intervention in the form of fucking magic prevailed somehow. Broken bones, an over-stressed heart, low muscle density, low bone density, how the fuck do you survive that when your society hasn't invented steroids yet, much less Osteo X and ten different kinds of medi-gel.

He questions the first person he finds- "hey," he says to the... elf, apparently. "You were here when the belter came in? The, uh, lady, tall but skinny as an elf? ...No offense."

He's real subtle.

[venenifer]

Gideon looks up with a peeved quirk of his eyebrows to be addressed such, but the initial offense doesn't prevent him answering.

"Yes, I was here. I oversaw some of her care."

[innerharbor]

Hey, that was easier than he figured it would be. "So, how'd you do it?"

[venenifer]

The corner of his mouth twitches upward along with one eyebrow-- it's not an unamusing conclusion to be drawn.

"I oversaw some of it. I'm no mage-- I imagine they took care of the more..."

A long pause,

"...dire symptoms."

[innerharbor]

"Yeah, that makes sense..." Amos chews it over, wondering if the guy has anything else of interest on him. "So what'd you do?"

[venenifer]

"Kept her warm, eased the swelling and managed her pain as best I could for a malady that I've never seen before."

He's all business.

"Does that satisfy you?"

[innerharbor]

Amos scratches his head. "I mean, yeah, if that's all you got."

[venenifer]

Gideon stares at him uncertainly.

"What else would I have?"

A lock of her hair for safekeeping? Her arm?

[innerharbor]

"Tips on how to keep her the fuck alive?"

This Medieval Times as the weirdest waiters.

hello I'll be your doctor, I got my master's degree from cartoon college

[venenifer]

The Brother looks startled by Amos' turn of phrase-- perhaps it escalated more quickly than he thought.

"Well," he muses, his gaze turning inward for a moment, "I imagine the mages will have better advice for you, but ensuring she gets plenty of rest and consumes a lot of fluids can't hurt. Does she have any, er..."

He has to think on how best to phrase this.

"...special considerations? Chronic illnesses, reasons she might not heal normally?"

pulls bike horn out of ribcage with tweezers.

[innerharbor]

Amos doesn't notice how he's been rubbing at his face until he stops. It doesn't make this any easier.

"Yeah, you could fucking say that," he sighs. "Last time it was like this, she almost bit the big one."

[venenifer]

"I see."

So he just Talks Like This, then.

"Well. It's looking like she will manage not to, this time." He glances away, then back at Amos.

"Can you be more specific?"

[innerharbor]

He's just like that, all the time.

"Do you know what gravity is?"

[venenifer]

A long pause. Then,

"...no?"

[innerharbor]

He's too fucking tired for this right now. He literally doesn't have the marbles, he left them in his room.

"Then I can't be more specific."

[venenifer]

"Fair enough."

That might just be Quiet Person Code for 'good, please go away, you are concerningly large and unpleasant.'