Ianchus Cepheos (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
vocarrah) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
hadriel_logs2018-08-15 10:40 pm
vocarrah) wrote in hadriel_logs2018-08-15 10:40 pm
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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?"
no subject
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.
no subject
"Very well. Then you've come to keep and my pure soul company, ah? I'll take it."
no subject
"What trouble did you even get into to end up in here?" Why is he assuming Ianchus got into trouble at some point? Well, just look at him. He's definitely not the type to sit at home and behave.
no subject
"Ah, you know. tussles with monsters and the like. Hadriel is quite a dangerous place, isn't it?"
no subject
"You should be more careful. Most of you aren't invulnerable like me." Leo, so long as he got consistent food, could never be injured. It was definitely an advantage most of the time. "Humans are so very...fragile." And squishy. Really, they got injured far too easily.