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

im not typing then he uses tonys hand sanitizer but assume he did or whatever

[wythersake]

A nod to Strange — thank you —

He's seen a tourniquet before, a piece of any amputation, but they aren't kept so long. Kills the flesh by inches. Isaac slips clean fingertip beneath the top edge of cuff. Numbness radiates down nail, and the pinch of his brow can wait. What matters is that the band's loose enough to stay.

Linen clings with purulence, red radiating out from stump along the telltale track of infection. Maker willing, she won't need debridement, but sickness travels beyond the site of a wound. If it's gone this far, it's in the rest of her.

(He is looking for more than dead tissue, swollen sutures. He is looking for a thread of green.)

"You'll sleep," Ordinarily, he offers patients a choice. The choice, as it stands is to do, or to die. "Several hours, maybe longer. You'll wake here."

He's read the emergency forms, he hasn't memorized them. So while she's present enough to recoil, it's worth asking:

"Who do you want with you?"

To watch, or to hold her hand, or whatever petty comfort might suffice. This will be easier if she doesn't fight it.

[aberratic]

It takes a long moment for her to even understand the question; it becomes clear quickly that she's frowning less out of unhappiness and more out of confusion. Even when she understands the question, she doesn't really—how is she going to sleep? Why is she going to sleep? If she's going to sleep and will be unaware, why would she want anyone with her? It won't matter who's there while she's unconscious, and who has the time to be bothered standing around uselessly? How can she express any of this when her brain feels like it's sizzling like a cooked egg?

She can't. Not with any sort of coherence, anyway, so she just shakes her head.

(Bad idea, now everything is swimming—)

"Bad question. Doesn't matter."

She came into Thedas alone, if she leaves it alone, that's alright.

[wythersake]

"Mm-hm," Very well. Vial drips into cup. "Drink this."

Water laced with the familiar taste of magebane. He props the cup at her lips, fishes a rag for the spill.

He waits until it's done. Fingers lift — here I am, look and see — before lowering to forehead. Air tenses. The strings of something almost real wrap about spindled hand, and he reaches to draw the Veil over her eyes.

It's a little like sleeping. To Stephen's eye, it's nearer torpor. Consciousness recedes. Awareness does, gone heavy beneath the blanketing weight of stasis. Breath slows. Vessels narrow. The sparks between nerve and neuron jump less, ask less, demand less.

Maybe she finds the Fade, maybe she doesn't.

It finds her. Isaac's gaze drifts, searching a sense without proper name. This first part is the easiest. He doesn't own the words: Homeostasis, hypothalamus, pyrogen; can't describe the place where defense curls about to bite. Spells are shaped by understanding, and his is this — she's too warm. Flesh cuts a smothering weave, drawn too tight, without room to breathe. Without room to work. He digs a nail into the invisible space between. He pulls.

As he sets toward the infection, her temperature begins to drop.