Ianchus Cepheos (
vocarrah) wrote in
hadriel_logs2018-08-15 10:40 pm
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Entry tags:
Visiting Hours, Party Hours
Who: Ianchus, anyone coming by the clinic.
What: Visitation, beratement, and/or patient gossip.
Where: The Clinic.
When: Early-ish August, after this and this.
Warnings: Injuries and stuff? Probably not much.
Nothing injured but my pride. That was a common phrase he'd heard among the explorer-mercenaries after any sort of slip-up, their fault or not. Ianchus' favorite version of that would be to say he had no pride, so he had nothing to hurt.
And yet, there seemed an odd little ache now, in addition to the massive ache that was his whole body (his wounds had been fixed, his ribs wrapped, his cuts stitched, and he was on the way to mending, at the very least).
It looked like he had some sort of pride after all, that could be wounded, small as it was. And Ianchus realized that, despite his idiosyncracies...that for the time being, he was tired of wounds.
He'd been quite surprised at how many people had responded to his half-incoherent messages--even to just check if he was alright after seeing all the other responses. He was...grateful. Incredibly grateful. Everyone was trying to survive here, and yet nobody seemed to want to watch others die, no matter how foolish.
Ianchus had managed to find spare twine, cloth, rope, and other similar objects around the clinic, and he'd whiled away the hours once he was awake by making Cephean sailors' good-luck charms; braiding several different kinds of materials together into a thick rope was not only relaxing (and would keep him from going stir-crazy in his bed), but it was the only way he could think of to repay the people he was grateful to. A little luck would certainly be useful, wouldn't it?
Thankfully he's well enough now to receive visitors. Are you a fellow patient? Have you come to check on him? Admonish him, perhaps? God, but he could really use the company.
What: Visitation, beratement, and/or patient gossip.
Where: The Clinic.
When: Early-ish August, after this and this.
Warnings: Injuries and stuff? Probably not much.
Nothing injured but my pride. That was a common phrase he'd heard among the explorer-mercenaries after any sort of slip-up, their fault or not. Ianchus' favorite version of that would be to say he had no pride, so he had nothing to hurt.
And yet, there seemed an odd little ache now, in addition to the massive ache that was his whole body (his wounds had been fixed, his ribs wrapped, his cuts stitched, and he was on the way to mending, at the very least).
It looked like he had some sort of pride after all, that could be wounded, small as it was. And Ianchus realized that, despite his idiosyncracies...that for the time being, he was tired of wounds.
He'd been quite surprised at how many people had responded to his half-incoherent messages--even to just check if he was alright after seeing all the other responses. He was...grateful. Incredibly grateful. Everyone was trying to survive here, and yet nobody seemed to want to watch others die, no matter how foolish.
Ianchus had managed to find spare twine, cloth, rope, and other similar objects around the clinic, and he'd whiled away the hours once he was awake by making Cephean sailors' good-luck charms; braiding several different kinds of materials together into a thick rope was not only relaxing (and would keep him from going stir-crazy in his bed), but it was the only way he could think of to repay the people he was grateful to. A little luck would certainly be useful, wouldn't it?
Thankfully he's well enough now to receive visitors. Are you a fellow patient? Have you come to check on him? Admonish him, perhaps? God, but he could really use the company.
im gonna say the... 8th-ish! (just for my own reference sorry)
But this is not about himself, how many times does he have to tell himself that!?
Every single time, apparently.
He kicks every single negative thought to the depths of his mind when he crosses the threshold of the clinic and makes it to the cots area, then gives a little smile at Ianchus.」
Hey.
「How are you feeling? He'd ask, but he doesn't. He remembers doing a lot of lying when someone asked that, and being honest about how crappy he felt it didn't help either. The less uncomfortable he makes his new friend about it, the better, right? Oh but those braid-like things are new! What are those, buddy?」
What are you doing?
「He asks, curiosity all over his face as he takes a close chair and sits next to his bed, meanwhile Ianchus might notice he seems to be hiding something a little bulky inside his jacket.」
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Ah, just in time. This one is for you. [It's the one he's working on right now, fingers weaving the different materials together expertly and tightly.]
A token of thanks, I suppose. Where I'm from, these are powerful talismans to prevent calamity at sea. But, considering we're on an island, I suppose they'll work just as well! [He gives a little laugh, pulling a strand of tattered sheeting through to continue the braid.]
It's made by braiding a rope from several older, more frayed ropes. The result offers both strength and experience, you see. [He lets his eyes drift up to Atem.]
How have you been, my friend?
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Is what he's doing... for him?
For him...
A gift.
His first ever since he got there. A material one at any rate. The change on his face is gradual and very obvious as he takes a good look at the talisman as Ianchus works on it — the little details, the dedication Ianchus is puttin on it — his smile seems more and more genuine and warm. Strength and experience, huh... It's exactly what he needs.」
I'm-- I'm fine. Actually... I brought you a little something.
「He looks towards the general entrance of the room, just to see if there is anyone there that would frown upon this, no doctor in Hadriel probably would but still, it adds to the mystery. At last, he brings out a medium sized bottle from inside his jacket and shows it to Ianchus. It's more than obvious that it is not apple juice.」
I thought you might be missing this a little.
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I HAD THIS WRITTEN OUT AND THEN MY BROWSER CLOSED I'M SO CRANK
i'm sorry my dude
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Certainly, having a building as his canvas would have to be one of his most ambitious projects yet, so Yusuke is completely absorbed in thought when he wanders into the clinic. So much so that he initially doesn't notice Ianchus laid up in one of the beds. But as his eyes scope the room, he eventually stops to double take.
"C-Cepheos-san?!" He's startled, moving over to the foot of his bed. "What are you doing here? Have you been feeling unwell?"
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"I was...careless on one of the cliffs, that's all." He forces a little smile. "I'm on the mend now, thanks to Lady Kate's assistance. And you? Why are you here?"
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"Why didn't you tell me?"
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At least she can say it lacks the certain aseptic qualities, though. No lingering smell of ailing bodies and disinfectants. No sounds of wails for help or beepings of heart monitors and the padding of many footsteps. No steril white walls and blinding, fluorescent lightings. The clinic is more of a small town practice than a hospital. It doesn't mean that Rey loathes being here any less.
Still she reminds herself of the network post the other week. Ianchus was not without any bodies to come to his aid, so she didn't take it upon herself to rush. Now that some time has passed, she figures she'd pay him a little visit and see if he intends to go sailing out to sea anytime soon. If so, then he's dumber than she already suspects him to be...
It's not that hard to find him; Ianchus is not a very discreet-looking guy. She checks to make sure if he's awake first before she approaches the end of his bed, arms folded over her chest and a narrowed look on her visage.
"Think you can spare one month not to get your ass handed to you?"
That's not how you say hello to an injured person, Rey.
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He breaks into a wide, lazy grin as he looks up at her.
"Lady Rey." She's as much of a lady as he is a champion of the poor and downtrodden, but, ah. He can't quite get out of the habit of using the honorific.
"Have you brought me a gift, perhaps? To help my aches and ails?"
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His question earns him a raised eyebrow and curious look, though.
"What, do they not have anything for you to take here? You'd think they would have some sort of painkillers. Vicodin or morphine, at least..."
Is she going to have to start bringing Carlisle's drug tea here, too? How do they even manage to get this place stocked?
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back like...the 5th idk
"I can Scan from here," he assures, stretching out a hand. "No need to even hold still."
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Ianchus grins, tilting his head. The man's rather quiet, but it's quite interesting to see him in person nevertheless. A real pirate captain!
"And how are preparations going?"
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"Well enough," he answers, though the look on his face doesn't exactly inspire cheerfulness. "What do you think, will you be up for joining us on board by the time we sail? It's still going to be at least another week."
He knows the injuries won't quite heal by then, but he wouldn't be the first sailor to decide it's good enough and soldier on through the twinges of pain.
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lil bit after the intro log...
Just in case, he leans into the room, not sure how welcome visitors are. "Sorry to bother you-- is there anything you need?"
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"...Ah, no. I'm fine."
He's used to bearing things, so he's a pretty undemanding patient. He waves him off, and then he stops. hesitating.
"...Though. Are you busy?"
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Maybe Ianchus just needs some company. If Charles had to admit it, that'd make two of them.
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So his network post had felt nothing but tragicomic. It hadn't been a long since they had heard news of his last death, which hadn't been all that pleasing sight.
But curiosity also sparked within his mind and Edgar decided to go and pay this poor soul a friendly hospital visit. Who knows? Maybe there would be some "leftovers" for him so to speak. Last time he certainly had been intoxicated enough not to tell when Edgar took a small taste out of him.
It's late when he arrives to the clinic. It's been a quite while since the last time he had been there so he moved with caution, looking out for mirrors or other unexpected reflective surfaces just to be sure. Silently, he approaches the bed assigned to Ianchus.
"Evening," he greets once he's standing by the bed, wearing an amused grin on his lips. "Looks like you're alive this time."
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"Ah! Hello. I didn't expect to see you here." He breaks into a grin, sincere and bright-eyed. No matter how tired Ianchus is, no matter how his ribs are paining him, visitors are always welcome.
"The little Aristocrat."
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Glad and surprised he might add. At the party Edgar had really gone far with dressing himself up, surrounding himself with flowers and glitter so that he'd look more like a forest nymph than a human. It was heavy contrast to how he appears usually, 'dull' and normal: a long-sleeved white shirt and dark pants. Nothing out of ordinary. So, in all honesty it definitely wouldn't have surprised him at all if Ianchus had thought him be a spirit or hallucination created by the... whatever he took that night.
"So, what did the doctors say? It all seemed pretty bad on the network."
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He stands over Ianchus' bed for a moment before he says anything. "Well, you're not dead. I suppose that's something." Truly, such a kind, caring Sunai Leo was. Really, he just has no idea how to show he gives a crap about people.
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Ianchus looks up at him with a grin.
"Well? Have you come to sing me your sweet song and take my soul while I'm incapacitated? That's how it works, right?"
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He pats Ianchus on the head for a moment before flopping down into a chair with little grace. It creaks ominously beneath him. Leo looks down with a moment of curiosity, wondering if it's going to collapse beneath him. He doesn't look like it, but he weighs more than a pair of baby elephants combined. Sunai are invulnerable by being so dense nothing penetrates their skin or can affect them.
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HMMM
"You up?" Is all the warning Ianchus gets before Kate pushes the door to the "ward" (a room hollowed out and filled with beds) open and walks in.
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Ianchus has the ward mostly to himself, which is...a shame, honestly. Boredom is worse an enemy than even Caedra, but the pain disagrees with him roaming.
"You're here early."
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I'm sorry about him.
I know you. You're the one who insisted that unwise decisions and risks were exciting.
[His eyes flick up and down, the glow of them more evident from behind his glasses as he dips his head.]
I assume one of those 'unwise decisions' is why you are here.
We can be sorry together
Perhaps. And yet here I am, with my unwise decisions, in the same place as you, with your 'wise' ones.
[He motions to one of the empty beds in the ward, even though he can clearly see Carlisle isn't injured.]
\o/
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