hadriel_logs | 2.6/ open/ you gagging? let me get you a cough drop

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2.6/ open/ you gagging? let me get you a cough drop

Who: Clinic Staff and everyone else.
What: It's a catch all for all your clinic shenanigans. Come ease the last of your paranoia flu with the medicine they don't have, get patched up because you looked at one of Caedra's demons the wrong way, and so on and so forth.
Where: Take a wild guess.
When: For all of April
Warnings: Nothing at the moment, please warn in subject headers as necessary!

( In comparison to its predecessor, the new clinic - situated next door to the guard HQ, near spire 4 - isn't quite as colourful. There are no painted murals to distinguish it from other buildings in the city, only a hastily written sign next to the door. That may have to be fixed in future, but for now, it will suffice.

Enter, and you'll find that it's spotlessly clean, with so much staff and only so many people to treat, hands have to be kept busy one way or another. And then there's the recent bout of flu, which has led to the place being scrubbed down yet again. But people are getting back on their feet, and even if not everyone is 100%, there'll certainly be someone there to talk to or help heal you. Whether you need therapy (who doesn't?) or a check up, the rooms suffice to service those needs.

Please try to avoid needing surgery, though. )

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( closed starters underneath. message me at forethought if you want one. )

Edited 2018-04-03 15:56 (UTC)

( It's a rare thing in Hadriel, for Kate to actually use her powers the way she's been trained to. To get to exercise the entire reason she gravitated towards the clinic in the first place. For a majority of her time here, that knowledge has been contained to notebooks and occasional discussions.

Her expression hardly changes, cool and controlled, but there's an energy to the way she works today, glancing over at the door when it opens.

She's missed this. First aid may be more directly helpful here, but it's not what she does. Not really. Knowing it and doing it are two different things.

And, for many reasons, she's not a medical doctor. Just a power analyst. )

Office is this way.

( She nods her head towards the back of the building as she starts walking, waiting for him to follow. )

[ Philip falls a few steps short of matching her pace. He's been to the clinic before, just to have a look around. Not since it moved to the surface with them, though. ]

Hey, how about a grand tour while we're here? How much staff have you got?

[ It was probably inevitable that sooner or later Curufin would turn up at the Clinic as a patient instead of as somebody else's transporter, or as the supplier he normally is. And wouldn't you know it, it's today! He got messed up during the fight with Caedra's demons, one of the Vrocks scored him with its claws. He's got three deep puncture wounds between his ribs on the right side of his ribcage. The claw tips were sharp and narrow enough to get between the links of his chain mail shirt, as evil and swift as arrows. The cotton button-down under the mail shirt is saturated with blood. He didn't have the sense to break off the fight and come here on his own, so after the demons were dealt with, his brother Maglor brought him -- Curufin protesting all the way.

He is dumped summarily on a table and hopefully somebody can see him soon. Otherwise, he'll find a way to sneak out. He's a terrible patient. ]

[ Grumble grumble. ] This was not my idea of a happy Sunday in the park!

Edited 2018-04-09 00:46 (UTC)

( There are always unfamiliar faces, every month bringing a new crop of people. And it's all but guaranteed that those people will end up at the clinic one time or another - whether they're simply exploring the city, or in need of work or aid. It's a familiar comfort in a way, that no matter what the city does, this routine will always exist.

She's just making her way back from the roof after lunch, a sheaf of papers serving as a makeshift fan against the midday heat, idly checking each room on her way to the ground floor and
the office, leaving the door open as she stuffs the papers back in a drawer. Brown eyes glance up at the signs of movement from further down in the building, near the main entrance. )

You need something?

[ In what was totally not intended to be a power move, Charles has shown up here in long sleeves and gloves-- he's left the sweater out of his usual outfit, at least, but he's definitely aware that it's still too warm for this. ]

Oh--

[ Is this Kate? He sure hopes so, because it turns out he never bothered to find out what she looked like. ]

I was told to ask Kate about helping out here...?

( The sense of telepathy in her mind is a familiar comfort, something she's long been accustomed to as part of her existence. It takes a moment to remember to speak out loud rather than in her head as she gestures for him to follow her around the once-house which has been reworked into a clinic. )

Thirteen. Most of 'em are around reliably. ( Though with the uncertainty of life in Hadriel the shifts aren't too set in stone. They try to be flexible. As they walk, she briefly names each of the rooms, gesturing with a hand but never really stopping as they pass each. )

( She nicks her head in a nod of greeting and steps forward and out of the office. )

That's me. ( A quick glance up and down over the potential help before she speaks again, expression as neutral as ever. ) What's your name and what do you do?

( No time like the present to get down to business. )

[ This would be a lot easier if he could get a read on what she was thinking, but...well. He's never been particularly good at that. ]

Well, I wasn't a doctor or anything, but...if there's anything I can do to help out around here otherwise...

[ He'll hold off on giving his name until he knows she isn't going to like, tell everyone about the useless idiot who showed up here. ]

I just don't want to end up doing nothing here.

I don't think most people are really happy to end up here but if you'd prefer me to patch you up outside I can do that too."

Will was happy to accommodate. But you didn't look like you were really in any condition to argue. Or move. Will took a look around him, up and down, noting the puncture marks, the claw marks, the blood loss. At least he had the sane sense to wear armor. He put his hand on Curufin's head, trying to get a better sense of his condition and control the bleeding enough so he could get his shirt and mail off and see what he was working with.

Curufin looks up, and there is Will. He smiles. "Fancy meeting you here!"

He becomes surprisingly docile, and he allows Will to poke around and figure out what is what. When Will places his hand on Curufin's head, the Elf relaxes and becomes acutely aware of the bright energy of Acesius' son flowing into his body, with a power both soothing and diagnostic. His eyes slide shut for a few moments.

"Thanks," he murmurs.

He'll let him get the chain mail and the undershirt off without a fuss. It is very uncomfortable to move at all, so he will not even joke about seeing the doctor outside on the lawn instead of here, though, being naturally irreverent, he's tempted.

"Looks like you managed to get torn up nicely." Will is thankful Curufin's not fighting him, because it was a real pain in the ass when your patient wouldn't sit still despite the injuries.

"Don't thank me yet, this is going to hurt you a lot more than it's going to hurt me." Sorry Curufin, you got the one doctor who doesn't believe in pain relief and who performs surgical limb reattachment while the patient is awake and screaming. Paolo still gave him dirty looks back at Camp. Like what, should he have let you bleed to death Paolo? You were fine, buck up.

Will got the mail and shirt removed, thinking that Curufin was definitely going to need another one with all that blood. Starting to clean the wound, he poked and looked, making sure there wasn't any claws or battle remnants in the wounds.

"So did you get her?"

"I'm afraid so," admits Curufin. In his own world, he had 600 years' worth of experience with wartime injury, and he knows better than to not cooperate with the healer, little as he likes being the patient. Besides, Maglor is waiting outside and if asked, would certainly lend his strength to help keep Curufin still. Curufin will not risk that -- he doesn't want Maglor suffering along with him.

He smiles weakly but humorously. "Do your worst, doctor!" In Beleriand, the Fëanorian brothers had no access to a healer who was capable of anesthetizing an injured person for surgery. That was a specialized skill that few had, and so it all had to be done with the patient awake, and sometimes screaming. Curufin is rather good at not screaming.

Luckily, chain mail is washable! But the light blue button-down shirt that Curufin found in one of the shops is ruined. Might as well just toss it in the trash.

He winces, wide-eyed, but makes no sound at all as the three separate wounds are cleaned and probed. Will might find one claw-tip in the puncture that is between two of the higher ribs.

"Didn't get Caedra, worse luck, but Vax and I did kill the three Vrocks, the winged demons. And then my brother and I accounted for a pack of those four-legged toothy types." He is actually rather grateful for the distracting questions that allow him to focus on information instead of the pain.

[Oscar has seen illness in a living being that turned out far worse than what they witnessed in Hadriel's population during the previous week or so. But he has also seen how rapidly a human's state of health can decline, especially when they are not receiving the care they need. This is why he decided that on his daily search for supplies, he was to remain alert to any signs of organisms suffering known symptoms. A level of quarantine was indeed necessary to prevent further spread of a seemingly airborne contagion, but that was not why he sought out those in need of medical aid.

So as of the twelfth day, he experiences no small amount of relief when it seems that everything is beginning to return to normal. That is, until the public announcement concerning Miss Tyrell's disappearance and the battle that breaks out shortly thereafter involving a particularly vicious band of creatures threatening to overrun the city. Fortunately, Mr. Valentine and the Guard make such quick work of organizing their response to the incident that all Oscar has left to do is make sure those not involved in the conflict have evacuated from the affected areas, and that every one of those who have been injured thus far have been brought to the Clinic for treatment or received the proper care.

The battle rages on. He is on duty at the Clinic for most of the day, sometimes exiting the building to check on the status of the battle site from a distance in case he is obliged to leave and attend to any Fire Brigade assignments. If asked to fetch certain objects from among their limited supplies, he will do so. If beds must be prepared, he will see to the task of preparing them. His newly acquired knowledge of first aid, courtesy of his training from Mr. Solace, might be useful if someone is to enter the building and no other staff member is immediately available to treat them.]

Will was relieved that Curufin was not insisting on competing for the worst injury or wanting to count how much shrapnel he had. Honestly, some demigods were worse than others, the Nike twins being particularly.....fun. Maglor was being rather patient and he didn't even complain!

"Is that her name then? Caedra?

Will poked and prodded the wounds, irrigating and grabbing a rogue claw tip, thankful for not the first time that he'd been kidnapped along with his backpack full of surgical supplies. He laid a hand on Curufin, making sure he got it all.

"Looks like one of them left you a souvenir. " Will held up the claw tip for Curufin. "Want it?" He looked at the wounds, keeping in contact with Curufin to double check his immune system and the bacterial load of those wounds, and how deep those puncture wounds went. Wounds were one thing, hemorrhaging organs were another. He wasn't a demigod, and he wasn't exactly used to treating elves.

"Anything I need to know about treating you?" Will thought he'd better double check before using his vitakinesis to start the healing process and bandage him up. Demigods were one thing, but Curufin wasn't a demigod and they didn't exactly have antibiotics here either. Not that Will ever had to use one. But, well. Elf.

Edited 2018-04-13 22:12 (UTC)

If anybody wants the title of Worst Injured, they can have it! Curufin will cheerfully award that trophy to someone else.

"Caedra, yes, that's what I was told. I don't know what she is, human or demonic. I Just know that she can summon and command demons."

Curufin let Will do his work, only gritting his teeth and gripping the side of the table at times, and still silent. He laughed weakly, his voice hoarse, as Will held up the claw tip. "No souvenirs. I travel light."

The bacteria load of these wounds is probably horrendous, but fortunately, Elves are impressively resistant to infection. Hemorrhaging organs are a bit of a problem, since the wounds are deep and all three have punctured his lung. But again, luck is with Curufin. He's an Elf, and a First Age Elf from the home of the Valar, the gods of Middle-earth, for that matter. The children of that country are blessed. There is a great power in their physical nature, and they may well heal from injuries that would kill an ordinary human. This is a serious injury but is unlikely to be a mortal one, especially now that he's getting medical care.

"Elves are tough, Will," he responds, softly. Softly is all he can manage just now, but that's okay. "If you can give me a boost of your energy, I'm fairly sure it will blend well with my own. It'll help. That's what you Demigod healers do, right?"

( You and just about everyone who knows her, dude. Kate nods. That's fair, and exactly why she ended up here in the first place. Hadriel was driving her crazy without anything to do. )

Won't be the first non-medical staff we have. ( Hmm, let her grab some paper and a pen first. ) Appreciate people who can help clean. Help find supplies for this place. You think you can do those?

I'd probably be better at the former than the latter, but I'll gladly do both.

[ Well, maybe not gladly, but willingly. ]

By the way, I'm Charles.

That's quite a bit. More than my last hell dimension could work up. Then again, death wasn't a big issue, so could be everyone with the skills was just enjoying the vacation.

[ He tries to remember as much of her tour as he can, but he's getting more distracted. The reason they're meeting today is actually starting to sink in. Christ, it's been a while since he was- actually this excited about something. ]

"Well she sounds like a blast. " Will let the claw drop into a jar he'd dispose of later, since Curufin didn't want to save it. He never knew. Some demigods liked trophy's. Like the Ares cabin. Even the attic of Big House was littered with Demigod trophy's and items. The claw wasn't exactly a trophy though, but hard won still, if only by the wounds he seemed to have received. Based on what he had said earlier, Curufin obviously gave as well as he got.

He winced, sensing the bacterial load present in those wounds, and then again when he sensed the punctured lung. That was a problem. Not a huge one, but still a problem. He smiled at Curufin.

"That's what I do, yeah. I work with your body to help heal it." Will started singing a soft hymn to Apollo in ancient greek, closing his eyes to start the work, hands still touching the elf.

"You better be as tough as you say you are."

"She certainly is something!" Curufin agreed. He could think of a few choice adjectives with which to replace the indefinite noun, but none were appropriate for use in polite conversation. The claw was indeed hard won, but Curufin had no use for it. If Will wanted to keep it as a sample with which to identify the demon's type, he certainly could have it. And oh yes, Curufin gave as good as he got! Better!

Curufn's people didn't have the concept of bacteria, they thought in terms of energies wholesome and unwholesome. And that is what their own healers worked with, once the basic medical care was complete.

"All right, I would greatly appreciate the help. Go ahead, do whatever you will." He listened to the hymn. It sounded almost familiar, although he didn't know the language. Elvish healers sometimes invoked the goddess Estë, the healer of hurts and weariness.

He smiled. "Try me." Oh yes, he was tough.

Polite conversation was overrated. It was a pity Curufin couldn't stop stop by the Apollo cabin back at Camp and hear the mouth on Kayla. The curses that girl knew in ancient greek....damn he missed home.

Will continued with the hymn, pouring energy into the elf, boosting his own and wishing Curufin was a half-blood so he could pour some nectar in the wounds to clean them out. It was certainly a good way to combat germs. Nectar of the gods. But, he didn't want to kill Curufin. That was kind of the opposite of what hew as trying to do right now. He focused on the lung first, that was the worst of the injuries, boosting his immune system to help clear out the wounds.

The demigod was significantly paler when he stopped. "I'm going to bandage you up. I'd like to keep the wounds relatively open so they can heal, and I'll give you another healing in a few hours. Are you feeling any better?"

Curufin would have been very glad to stop by the Apollo cabin! It would be an honor to visit Will's world. Kayla's curses would be a plus, though. Despite Curufin's formal style, with his history it should surprise nobody that he collects swear words in any language he has happened to learn -- and that's at least six languages. He's in fact good at invective, and admires anybody who else who is.

Once Will started to pour his energy into the Elvish body, Curufin fell into a kind of trance. It was like being under a waterfall, except that he could breathe the water. It washed through his lung with great power, and he could feel the tissues responding, the bloodstream responding to the call to purify the wounds. He breathed deeply, drifting off into a place where there was no pain, only healing.

Of course he awakened when Will stopped, and though the pain returned, it was not as deep and cutting as it had been. "Yes. . . I am feeling a little better. I'll just lie here and rest, then, until you're ready to come back."

He had the presence of mind to take a look at Will. "Really takes it out of you, doesn't it?" he said, with concern.

Kayla would no doubt be honored to teach him. His half-sister had quite a mouth. And was quite an archer. Gods, he missed his family. Will reached into his backpack, tempted to take a small piece of ambrosia and keep working on Curufin, but he knew better. He didn't want to be in a situation where he got hurt and needed it, and he already had some ambrosia and didn't dare take more. No, Curufin wasn't in danger. There was no need.

"It could be worse. If any demigod uses their powers too much, they get tired. It's like any other skill. Sometimes you need to take a break."

It could have been so much worse. It had been so much worse. He hadn't been stuck on Olympus after treating injured and dying non stop for days, with little to no sleep and running out of mortal and demigod medical supplies. No, as long as he wasn't trapped on Olympus watching it disintegrate while trying to keep the injured from dying, well, he was just a little sleepy.

Curufin admired women who had quite a mouth and were good archers! -- his cousin Aredhel was that sort, and he missed her as Will missed Kayla.

But he'll live without the ambrosia, and he'd be the first to tell Will to save it for a real emergency.

"Makes sense," he murmured, feeling the pull of sleep again. It hadn't felt like a natural sleep, but who's complaining? "You'd better go and take that break, then. I wouldn't want you to exhaust yourself."

Well, they had that in common. They had both watched the dissolution of their world and tried to stop it from happening while people died.

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2.6/ open/ you gagging? let me get you a cough drop

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April 1

charles/

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1st (OTA)

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