open: "accidents" will happen.

[aberratic]

WHO: Ness Tavane (aberratic)
WHAT: An "accident" and an amputation
WHEN: Backdated-ish to mid-March
WHERE: The Gallows/Infirmary
NOTES: CW for amputation of a limb, illness from infection in said limb, confusion and disorientation as a result of fever. Lmk if you need any other cws and I'll add them!

It's early morning one balmy day in the middle of Drakonis, and the central tower of the Gallows is quiet. A few early risers have already made their ways to their offices, not to mention those who fell asleep in their offices—or those who never slept in the first place—but most of Riftwatch is still asleep, or at least milling about the dining hall. Coffee and tea are still brewing, breakfast is still being served, the work of the day is still at least an hour away for most.

This is purposeful; it means there's no one near the Quartermaster's office to see what happens. There is only silence, and then a sudden cacophonous crash to break it, and a high, sharp scream.

Comments

vignette style, across the length of ness’s stay.

[elegiaque]

Infirmary work is a familiar routine.

Gwenaëlle has off and on provided her services — growing more knowledgeable and more adept for the practise and the access to guidance in the meantime — for the better part of a decade. The maintenance of healing wounds is well within her wheelhouse; the procedures, the necessities. Where everything is kept. Ennaris Tavane, likewise, is well-known to her. A visit, if anyone were inclined to think on it, would be expected — her expertise in assistance, likewise.

Her routine in the infirmary doesn’t discernibly vary. She’s neither there less often nor more, briskly professional about the usual tasks that occupy her when she leaves her office for Dr Strange’s domain; she occupies herself mostly with the tedious minutiae that’s best taken out of the hands of dedicated healers, inventory,

to any observer, it would seem as if she’s completely unaware that Ness has set foot in the infirmary, let alone that she’s a patient there. There’s no acknowledgment; no moment where she hesitates or pauses, considers and then turns away. She makes other conversation with other people, unrelated, leaving concern for Ennaris’s care to those appropriate. The decision was made elsewhere; much like an amputation, there is simply an absence in its wake.

The kindest thing she can say to Ennaris is nothing. She comes and goes from the infirmary, saying nothing.