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

[armd]

"Yeah, that's a pretty good sign." Reassuring for both Ness and the people who have been looking after her. Honestly, Abby didn't know what to think when Strange reached out to debrief her, as he would have done for everybody pulling shifts; he didn't go into any of the sordid details. She didn't ask for them.

She never saw what was underneath of Yara's bandages or sleeve so it's part morbid curiousity that has made her interested in seeing. She starts to take the dressing off, working slow.

"Strange said it was a compound fracture. That fucking sucks. I've seen one before."

[aberratic]

"I've never seen one," still, despite having just suffered one herself, but the explanation for that comes quickly, "I didn't look at my arm after. It felt bad enough, I knew I would be... disturbed."

Ness has a strong stomach, a hardy constitution, but the thought of seeing her own bones mangled, her flesh misshapen, her muscle exposed and red and wriggling—anyone would be distraught, she thinks. It's an extraordinary man who has the fortitude and temperament to be a surgeon.

Beneath the dressing, her residual limb is tender to the touch, and Ness hisses when even Abby's slow attention irritates it—but it's healthy, or at least on its way to. The stitches are clean, the skin knitting itself slowly together around them. Fluid in the wound has left the residual arm somewhat puffy, but not concerningly so. There's no inflammation, no sign of infection. It's as good as an amputated limb could hope to look, under the circumstances.

"I have experienced some very painful things," she says, her eyes transfixed on her limb, "but the fracture was the worst. If not for Stephen's cuff, I might have gone a litte mad with it. I'd never broken a bone before."

[armd]

"I wouldn't have looked either."

But that she wants to look now, is the interest hereditary? When she peels back the bandage, going slow and careful, the work underneath impresses her, the careful, neat row of stitches and the skin in the act of repairing itself. Obviously there hasn't been any lasting nerve damage — she feels it, when Abby removes that last bit of wrap and discards it. She makes a sound like it hurts.

"It's not great." The worst pain she's ever felt — something does come to mind but she doesn't say it. There is balm to apply to the surface of the residual limb that contains elfroot, spreads on thin and will provide pain relief. She'll go slowly, only touching what she has to. "Got my elbow broken by a Venatori once and then had to get myself back to our side. It was rough.

"What happened?"