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
Atem stands and puts his glass away.
"I don't suppose you'll tell me who actually did it, huh?"
If Ianchus thought Atem didn't catch that and he was free from the pestering, he was wrong, one last push wouldn't hurt, would it?
no subject
Ianchus lips purse in a little pout, his expression almost imploring.
"You really want to know. Why? What would it change? I'm sure you'd know anyone who's dangerous here by now."
no subject
"You'd be surprised..."
With that alone he can narrow his guess to a single entity, but even so... Well, he knows better than most that people have their own personal agenda and will not care about what they have to do to achieve what they want.
He approaches back to the bed and fixes Ianchus' pillow.
"You'll need a bath soon. Would you like me to help you with that?"
no subject
"I would certainly appreciate it..."
no subject
"Tell me when. I'll wash your hair." He gives him a little playful wink, as if he were trying to regain the normalcy of things.
no subject
And Atem seems like someone who knows what he's doing.
no subject
If only Atem knew what Ianchus is thinking he'd laugh till the next month as he is absolutely clueless about it. He remembers how people used to wash his hair and it was nice, soothing even, how hard can it be?
"I'll go get things ready then."
no subject
"Thank you." That's sincere.