Physician Heal Thyself

A busy strip along the center of marn, including the Temple, Hospital, and Justice Hall.
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Metarie
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Physician Heal Thyself

Post by Metarie » Fri Feb 20, 2015 4:13 am

The Night of the Gala
May 20, 122PW

Marn hospital was an Institution. Established during the City's re-settlement by Ciara Sehkhara, Metarie Sehkhara's mother, the building's exterior followed the same architectural design as the other government buildings. The interior was designed for efficiency and functionality. The primary floor housed admissions, administrative offices, waiting rooms, exam rooms, a dedicated children's ward, and an emergency treatment section. The second floor offered rows beds, separated by curtains, for longer-term care. If one could afford privacy, one usually was treated at home.

The Hospital functioned well. Procedures and protocols were well-defined. Records were kept. The hospital provided services all day, every day. The Hospital never closed. The hospital staff had grown over the years, to fulfill its goal of being always available, though staffing excess did not exist. Typically, injuries were brought to the hospital. When that wasn't possible, a single doctor would be dispatched, depending on the number of injuries. Three specially-designed carriages provided transport when required. Most of the medical work was performed by residents, doctors in training, overseen by the licensed doctor on duty. Only one doctor was licensed to use magic-based medical treatment.

Most emergency events involved farming accidents from Shim, building accidents, or traffic incidents. Some fights, often with weapons, resulted in a group needing treatment. Broken bones, bruises, injuries, illnesses, regular check-ups, and child-birth were the primary reasons people visited the Hospital.

Until the night of the Gala bombings, the hospital had never been used to its full capacity.
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Renee Raialagos
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Re: Physician Heal Thyself

Post by Renee Raialagos » Sat Mar 21, 2015 10:26 am

The night of the gala

Renee had went straight from the gala to the hospital when they started to move wounded people there.

She had never figured she would visit the hospital at all, and in particular not to participate in the work there. But now she found herself volunteering to help out, as a consequence of what she had witnessed at the gala. Exactly what she could do was still very unclear to her, but to her own surprise she felt compelled to do something and be of use, whatever this would mean.

Her experience of medical care was non existant. Small unimportant injuries, quickly healing without complications, brief cold symptoms, soon over; thus was her personal experience of being injured or ill. If she felt tired and suspected she had “caught a could” she found it simple to just drink tea and sleep and feel the symptoms pass and be gone. There had never been reason for her to think much about doctors, hospitals and cures; the infections that sometimes ailed others seemed pass her by, bar the occasional short lived cough and other small things like that.

Renee’s health seemed robust as a cliff. This was an advantage for business; there were so many people passing by in her shop, she was likely exposed to more things than she knew, but as it didn’t affect her much she never had to close the shop due to being ill. Before this night, the hospital had been of no great importance to her. She had known it existed of course. This was good, she had supposed, but to her it had been a background thing in the city; sad things going on in the lives of other people, but not involving her.

But now she was involved. The bomb at the Gala had torn Renee out of her personal little bubble of imagined safety she had been living in for thirty-six years and told her that she could indeed be damaged, injured, hurt and wounded, torn to pieces by a sudden unexpected bomb. The world had exploded, without previous notice. The only reason whe wasn't among the most injured by the disaster was that she had arrived late and been standing far away from the epicenter. But blood had started to trickle down her face and she had shared the shock. She had shared the surreal feeling of something incredible happening, here, now, similar to how she imagined it would be if lightning suddenly had struck from clear blue sky.

This mental state too had passed fairly quickly, just like occasional touches of flu used to bounce off of her. Renee had just stood there at first, immovable. Never had she been in a situation like this one before, with violence, destruction, wounded people, blood and panic. But she had soon found that she was able to compose herself. Renee was simply not used to think of herself as somebody in need of being taken care of. She wasn’t normally in charge of acute and dangerous things, but she was used to be in charge of her shop, all alone with the responsibility. There was no room for being squeamish as a business owner; you had to face reality and do what needed to be done. This general experience and attitude had made her gather her wits, stay calm in the chaos at the gala and try to support with what she could to help the victims of the bomb.

As she had soon realized, there was in fact very little she was able to do. She didn’t know anything about how to do with wounded people. She had no knowledge about medicine or even about basic caretaking. Renee had never seen reason, until the gala evening, to think it important to learn how to give first aid in an emergency. She had just lived with a vague opinion that in case of an accident one called for help and other people would come and take care of it. Professional people who would know what to do. Leave it to them. If she had been asked the day before what she would do in a disaster, she would likely have given this answer.

Of course something had needed to be done, but there had been a lot of people, and Renee Raialagos was only a shop owner and business woman, kitsch expert, gardening enthusiast and general good citizen of Marn. So why her? She could hardly be expected to personally be the one to actually do something. There ought to be others who were better suited, surely. The city guards. The hospital staff. Other people who might know something. But somehow the chaos, the mayhem, the blood and the screams had cut short this reaction and she had found herself kneeling on the floor beside people in need of help, doing what she could think of doing for them, despite of feeling painfully clueless and ignorant. Try to stop bleedings had seemed to be right, try to wrap a warm cloak around people had seemed like a good idea, do things other people told her to help with...it would be a lie to say Renee had known what she was doing, but it had seemed to her like doing something was better than doing nothing. Following her intuition and at least trying had seemed better than just staring helplessly.

Renee wasn’t aquainted with Metarie Sehkhara, but she had recognized the well-known doctor when she had seen her weave through the crowd earlier in the evening, speaking with people. The elf had been incredibly elegant in her simple snug sleeveless dress and long gloves, with her auburn hair in graceful waves down her back. This style was admittedly very far from what Renee used to go for, but she had found it beautiful despite the lack of decorations. After the bomb had exploded, this had changed, and beauty had turned into blood and wounds. The sight of the injured doctor doing all she could to help others, had made Renee feel compelled to join her. She had no idea if Metarie had even had time to hear Renee's name when she had briefly introduced herself and offered to assist. But the doctor had said thanks and then given her instructions and small task to carry out, and so Renee had worked on.

Walking over to the hospital and volunteering to go on helping with what she could had come off as better than just going home. Or so she hoped. Right now she had entered and was looking around tentatively. She was trying to decide on next step to take.The activity in the hospital was intense; the wounded people were everywhere and the hospital staff were moving around, looking efficient and extremely busy. At first Renee would just watch all this, somewhat daunted. For now she stood still, a dark haired woman dressed in a dark red evening dress that was totally out of place here, and adorned with an abundance of necklaces, none of them valuable. A headache she had dismissed during the chaos at the gala was growing stronger now. There was blood on her face, though she hadn't realized until now that it was her own blood. She would soon try to contact the staff and offer to help out.
Last edited by Renee Raialagos on Thu Apr 02, 2015 8:58 am, edited 2 times in total.

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Metarie
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Re: Physician Heal Thyself

Post by Metarie » Sun Mar 29, 2015 5:59 am

Continued from here: http://www.tharshaddin.com/rp/viewtopic ... 423#p42423

At the hospital, there was a controlled kind of chaos. The waiting rooms had been converted to cover ER overflow. If someone wasn't injured and didn't work at the hospital they were asked, kindly but firmly, to leave so more space was available for those who needed treatment.

At first, the staff felt relieved when they heard Dr. Sehkhara had finally arrived. It took a moment for word to spread that she arrived as one of the injured. The knowledge was sobering. One of their own had been taken down. One whose skills were desperately needed.

One of the residents paused, seeing Renee.

"Do you need help?"
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Renee Raialagos
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Re: Physician Heal Thyself

Post by Renee Raialagos » Fri Apr 03, 2015 4:01 pm

At this point Renee started to feel stupid, as she didn’t have any medical knowledge. At the gala, it had seemed natural to join in and try to support as well as she could with the simple things she could do for people. Now, in Marn’s well organized hospital with a lot of knowledgeable staff around, and wounded people everywhere, she was starting to wonder if she had been thinking clearly.

What was she doing there, a shopowner and pawnbroker who hadn’t taken care of wounded people one single time in her whole life, until this evening? Renee nearly settled for just pointing at her own blood stained face with a few words about how she seemed to have been hit. What did it matter if she would do anything more or not, when there were so many others who could do it and who were far better suited for it ? She could hardly be seen as responsible for doing more than she had already done.

She knew it was true that nobody would expect it of her. She could let it be and no one would know.

But she only nearly changed her mind. The impulse was interrupted by a scream of pain from somebody nearby and it made her feel ashamed of herself. Had she nearly bailed from her intention to help out? Was it some dark elven part of her that had tried to make her derail from being a good Marnian ? Because it had been a dark, dark temptation, hadn’t it, to just get some medical care for herself and then abandon the hospital. Afterwards, when Renee had time to think of this, she would add it to things she worried about and feared about herself.

She managed to give a brief and reasonably coherent explanation. In few words, she told the resident she had helped out with the first aid at the gala and then decided to come along to the hospital in order to support them. Not that she knew anything about medicine. But she could do simple tasks to take some of the work off of the staff. Watch over people, clean up, anything... Renee’s list of what she imagined she could do was painfully short, as she didn’t really know what could be needed.

The resident was a bit surprised. They certainly weren’t used to people just coming there and saying they wanted to help. There had been some vague ideas about a volunteer program sometimes, but as the hospital’s capacity had always been enough as was and it had never before met a challenge like this one they hadn’t really needed reinforcements. It had seemed unnecessary and exaggerated. But what was happening in Marn this evening was way outside the normal situation the hospital had been staffed for. The resident decided that this wasn’t the right time to question the volunteering woman. If she wanted to volunteer to support them with the work during this onslaught of wounded people in need of immediate medical care, she could do it, for now.

The wound near Renee’s left temple that had been the source of the blood on her face was patched up, the blood was wiped away with a wet cloth and she was handed a linen apron to wear over her red dress. It was only an apron, light grey-beige in color, big enough to cover her from the armpits to the knees. She donned it and tied it behind her back.

Doctor Sekhara was an essential resource for the hospital and a key person for the medical care in Marn, not just right now but also for the future. It was obvious that it would be logical and rational to give her the highest priority of all the wounded people this evening. But what’s logical and rational isn’t always what is seen as right by all, and there was definitely a risk that some would react if the hospital gave priority to their own staff on expense of other wounded people ... but now there was a chance to discretely increase their time for treating the wounded doctor, by throwing in Renee. She could help there and they could send other work her way as well.

And so Renee was assigned to assist the people who took care of Metarie. The doctor seeme unconscious but Renee greeted her hastily despite this, as it felt right to show respect. After this she had no more time to think. She did as she was told and a whirlwind of bandage folding, cleaning, fetching things, and organizing things begun. Renee had no idea why she did this or that, or what was related to which patient. She just worked on.

There seemed to be an endless lot of people in need of help. It had also started to dawn on Renee that the bombs at the gala had maybe not been the only ones. It was beyond her to understand what had hit Marn, or why.

Azuel Vyaduka
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Re: Physician Heal Thyself

Post by Azuel Vyaduka » Wed Apr 29, 2015 2:35 am

Azuel shuffled in through the front door. He had to worm his way through a sea of unfamiliar faces, each wave represented by a push or shove from an anxious stranger. The waiting room, once nearly as sterile as the rest of the building, was crowded to the point where such cleanliness was difficult to recall.

He didn’t bother trying to find or muscle his way into a seat. That was an effort in futility. He waited for an opportunity to fill out a request to see his sister, then stood on his aching leg for what felt like several hours. He’d been mercifully spared the worst of the shrapnel only to have a panicking buffoon step on his leg. He supposed there was nothing to be done but bear it. His injuries would heal with time. He could not say the same of his sister.

He would have paced if the room were not so full of bodies and his leg unhurt.

When they finally called out his name, he was given a room number and shoved into the hallway. By the time he started to thank the nurse, she was already rushing off to the next task assigned to her. He could hear the patter of her feet as she rounded the corner. It was much quieter here. The muted sounds of the crowd were still audible, but they were muffled by the wall.

That was not to say the hospital lacked for noise on a night like this. While it was clear the staff were doing their best to keep the halls clear, there was only such much that could be done. Various carts of equipment foreign to Azuel were being driven left and right, with doctors receiving updates on patient status as they went. In an effort to make himself less of a bother, Azuel set off to find his sister immediately.

He continued to try to do just that for several more minutes. The room he had been given was occupied by an older gentleman and a doctor who had given Azuel’s bewildered face a single look before informing him “wrong room” and shoving the door closed in his face. The poor, lost Vyaduka took halting steps around the immediate vicinity, feeling irrationally embarrassed over a mistake he had no part in. After letting two other medical staff walk past, he finally worked up the courage to ask a young woman who was dressed as a civilian helper. She was probably less busy. More safe to approach.

“Uhm, excuse me, miss…” he started. As she turned her head, his eyes immediately fixed upon her pointed ears. A sense of dread overtook him, but it would be absurd to back out now. Managing to keep an outward façade of calm, he asked “I’m here looking for my sister, Latifa Vyaduka. I was given the wrong room. Do you know where I could find her?”

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Renee Raialagos
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Re: Physician Heal Thyself

Post by Renee Raialagos » Thu Apr 30, 2015 9:05 am

Renee turned to the man who had spoken to her. In her dark red dress she definitely looked civilian, but she took it he had seen her help the staff out with the caretaking of the wounded. In order to keep her hair away from her face they had pushed it back behind her ears, when the bandage had been put around her head much like an odd hairband of drab linen. Her ears were so slightly pointed that they could be considered within the normal variation for humans; at least Renée hoped so and as her hair normally covered the ears, most people didn’t use to react to them. Because of this it didn’t occur to her that her ears could be involved in how the unknown man behaved.

Renee had no idea why, but she actually had an uncomfortable feeling the man was staring at her with more than average attention; as she didn’t know anything about exactly what it was he was staring at she thought it was the bandage around her head he looked at. She lifted her hand to it in order to check if it was still in place. This seemed to be the case. It felt firm and in good order.

Azuel Vyaduka. She didn’t’ know the man, but she sure knew the name. There were only a limited number of descendant family names, and having lived in Marn for 36 years she knew these names, even if it wasn’t her own social circles. Vyaduka. This family was politically influential. Renees mind quickly went through a series of facts about them. As far as she knew, they often used to advocate trade. Trade was of great interest to her and other merchants; this was why she knew it. Apart from this she just knew the Vyaduka family seemed like good people in general and she’d heard they cared about the situation of the poor and were supporters of the city guard; generally good and well-intentioned patriotic Marnians. And the head of the family was a Judge too. Prominent people.

Normally the titre Renee Raialagos would have been awed and impressed by meeting a Vyaduka but under the current circumstances she didn’t feel intimidated in the least. The disaster and the chaos had temporarily made things like social standing seem insignificant and meaningless. There were a lot of wounded people, all of them just people now, just people. And Azuel hadn’t sounded like a self-assured aristocrate. He was looking lost, and he had sounded tired and hesitant when he asked for help to find his sister among all the wounded people in the hospital.

“Your sister” she said slowly as she let go of her head bandage and her hands came down again. Her own tiredness could be heard in her voice.

Unsure of what to do she glanced at the patient she had been tending to. “I’m nearly done here mister Vyaduka” she said, as she resumed the task she had been doing when Azuel had interrupted her. “Please wait a bit, and we will soon look for your sister. I will only ... “ she left the sentence unfinished as the wounded woman moaned and moved on the bed. It didn’t occur to her that it might be bad to let a Vyaduka wait. Disaster made her feel they were all equal.

To Renée it seemed like the patient wanted water, and it would be good to give her some water. Supporting the wounded woman to a half sitting position she held a mug of water to her lips and helped her take a few sips, before she slowly eased her down onto the bed again. This was one of those of small tasks Renée could do, not medical care, just basic support with simple things. She finished by briefly checking everything, and then she fetched an extra blanket and pulled it over the patient. She didn’t know why really, but warmth seemed like a good idea.

Azuel Vuaduka had been standing there while she finished her task. He had been standing, only standing still, and he still just stood when Renée turned to him again. “Renée Raialagos” she introduced herself belatedly. Now when she paid full attention to him she suddenly felt a bit awkward. She wasn’t sure if she ought to extend her hand to greet him, or if she as a titre should leave initiatives like that to the descendant, or if they ought to skip all formalities due to the situation. Etiquette in the shadow if disaster seemed ridiculous. But she didn’t want to seem rude. The result was a half-hearted movement of her right hand. It could be seen as a tentative invitation to a handshake, or only as a random movement.

“I don’t work here mister Vyaduka” she said. I’m only helping with what I can. Let’s see if there’s information about your sister in the medical notes.” She paused, as she thought of what this meant. “ If someone is treated a file is created or updated.”

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Re: Physician Heal Thyself

Post by Azuel Vyaduka » Thu May 07, 2015 11:47 pm

With his focus gradually leaving her vaguely elven facial features, Azuel found his eyes caught on her red dress. His lips twitched in momentary disapproval. Surely as a volunteer, it would have been better to wear something more practical? Perhaps she had come from the Gala directly.

Azuel, for his part, had ran from the bombing with his tail between his legs. He cringed with shame even though there was no way for the half-elven woman to know. It hadn’t taken him long to rattle out his explanation to the rest of his family, who had already heard anyways. His father hadn’t even cared to mention Latifa, who he had sent after Azuel apparently without telling anyone.

Azuel burned with rage at the thought. Staring down his sole parent, he hadn’t been able to mention her. He hadn’t pressed the issue, out of fear that Maalik would somehow turn the blame upon him for having attended in the first place. He had technically used his father’s invitation, after all. Damn that decision. Damn it, damn it. Had he not attended, his sister would not be in her current state.

Whatever state that was, he still did not know. As the half-elf turned to attend to her patient, Azuel’s mind called forth nightmarish scenarios of mutilation and mortality, each more horrendous than the last. The events of the Gala were a blur of bodies and fear, leaving his memory far from trustworthy. He prayed that it was not as bad as it had looked. He prayed to Teonidus that her injuries would be proven deceptive.

Nobody else in the family had even seemed to notice she was gone upon his panicked return to the house. His brother, his grandfather, none had spoken up to voice concern. It was a harrowing realization, even as he attempted to justify it by wondering if they had merely assumed she had ran off to party the night away as she often had. It was weak, especially in his father’s case, but he had to hold onto that for now.

Once he had reached his room, the cold fear of what he had done had washed over him. He ran back out into the night and made a beeline for the hospital. Now he stood there as an anxious, panicky mess that felt like he was about to fall apart under the weight of blame at any moment… oh, was her hand moving?

His inclination upon bursting from the private torture session his thoughts were subjecting him to was to assume she was moving to shake his hand and introduce herself. Azuel’s arm lurched forwards just as hers began to withdraw, leaving them in an awkward position in which both had their hands partially raised, each trying to read the other’s body language to determine intent. His doubts paralyzed him before he defaulted to assuming his initial instincts were incorrect and lowered his hand completely, but it didn’t take him long after that to realize what had just happened. He chuckled in a pained manner as a grimace appeared on his face.

He moved his hand to the side of his head as he looked off to the right. “Why don’t we just go find the record, then.”

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Re: Physician Heal Thyself

Post by Guile » Sun May 10, 2015 2:47 am

A state of shock had overtaken Guile. As a person who was normally only invested in his own well-being, it had seemed rather out of character for the Minister to be helping those in need at the gala, but only to those who did not know him fully. For Guile, using his own skill to stop death was important to him. It was at least part of the reason why he had become a surgeon; while human anatomy interested him, he was no psychopath only interested in exploring corpses.

Guile had followed one medical team from the hospital out of the gala. A triage had been formed, and those at the front were moved quickly to the hospital via an emergency vehicle drawn by horses. Guile stayed with this team, knowing that this was where he would be of most use. There was shrapnel in his leg; on the way he had tied a piece of fabric around it after briefly cleaning it with alcohol. The shrapnel was too large to remove without stitching, and he didn't have the time or the space for such things. He was in no imminent danger, but there were others who were.

Upon arriving at the hospital, patients were unloaded from stretchers onto gurneys. One woman in critical condition was moved inside and up the ramp to the second level.

Guile had arrived before many of the less critical cases. The hospital staff were quickly being alerted to the situation's severity. Guile took the opportunity to remove his fanciful coat and pulled on a standard beige coat from the rack in the staff area, along with a pair of polymer gloves. The hospital was quickly becoming filled with the injured. It became clear that the gala had not been the only target, as there were several people he did not recognize from the event who were appearing in the waiting area or being moved into exam rooms.

Quickly, he limped up the ramp to the second level to attend to those in critical condition. There were staff members mentioning Metarie's name and that she had arrived, but he paid little attention to these flecks of conversation.

"Where are we at?" Guile asked sharply of a medical assistant he painfully caught up to. They walked down the main hall of the upstairs with purpose; the operating theatre was at the back, away from the noise that was quickly developing from the chaos. The assistant was Nicolai Bremer, a young man with dark hair who had been at the hospital for only a year.
"There are three people in critical condition so far; we think the woman got the worst of it." Bremer and Guile had never gotten along. There were only a handful of people who worked at the hospital with a non-toxic relationship with Guile. All of that felt far away for him, but Bremer kept flicking his eyes oddly to him as they made their way to the critical care unit.

Inside, more than three people waited. Two were not from the bombings and had been in critical condition for many days. One man was screaming every ten seconds; a resident was giving him a shot of narcotic.

The woman Nicolai was referring to was in bad shape. They had placed a quick bandage on her face, which was now soaked with blood. Her left side was littered in bandages; one in particular was very large and had liquid that was not blood on it. She was not conscious. Nicolai said that she had not been conscious when she had arrived at the hospital. Guile removed the large patch of bandage on her abdomen and discovered a large piece of shrapnel lodged deep in her skin; it looked like it may have pierced the stomach. Intense bruising surrounding some areas indicated internal hemorrhaging.

"This woman needs surgery, now." Her face was swollen from the wound that had taken a large portion of it. As Nicolai ran off to prepare the operating theatre, Guile suddenly recognized the mess of a woman as Latifa Vyaduka.

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Metarie
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Re: Physician Heal Thyself

Post by Metarie » Sun May 10, 2015 2:39 pm

"X" hours post-Gala

Night had settled in fully. The electric street lamps had flickered on hours before making pools of weak, yellow light to break the darkness

Metarie's body had begun to heal itself in unnatural ways. She had tapped into wells she shouldn't have and her body had shutdown in self-defense. Her body had taken over, reaching out to the Astral to supplement and replace. Internally, she fought for consciousness, unable to accept her own weakness in light of the situation. Consciousness was not forthcoming. Instead, she was given dreams. Early on, a woman's voice threaded through, telling her what was happening in disjointed fragments. Later, Navarre appeared, telling again in that fanatical tone, the story of Lorsynth.

Many of those sorcerers possessed what they thought were simple spellbooks, but little did they know they owned grimoires detailing some of the most dangerous magic in Pal Tahrenor. Those fools were too blind to realize the immense power they had at their disposal. One spell could turn thousands of people into unspeakable horrors with a single cast, and another could conjure diseases capable of annihilating entire peoples. Most remarkably, one could even grant eternal life."

"But only a select few like myself truly understand what transpired....

...eternal life..."


In between were Ree's own self-abuse for allowing herself to become so disabled that she was unable to help. Fool! Fool! Fool! Disjointed dreams, in which she lost one patient after another to her own ineptitude.

Beside her, a bowl and cloth rested. Both bowl and cloth were clean. The volunteer had been kind and thorough, ensuring Ree was no longer covered in streaks of blood,grime, and other's gore. Whomever had done the deed had even made sure Ree's makeup had been wiped, leaving Ree's face perfectly composed despite the flowering bruise on her cheek and everything else that had happened.

A small bandage covered the gash on her cheek. The green dress, cut off of her without regard for its origin, had been replaced with a hospital gown to allow easier access to the larger, bandaged injury on her leg. The dressing would need to be changed a few hours later - another protocol to reduce possibilities of infection. Beneath the garment, bruises flourished.

Around her, the hospital had fallen into its pattern, training and protocols forcing and imprinting itself onto the chaos. All hands had been mobilised - even the university medical students were pulled in to help with minor cases and document, document, document everthing. This night would make or break their decisions to pursue a medical career. Concerns regarding medical supplies were becoming more real. Sheets, bandages, cloths - dispatchers were sent to warehouses to ensure supplies did not diminish drastically. Protocols.

The satellite facilities were active, with the worst injuries sent to the hospital. Cabs had been pulled in to supplement the three medical vehicles, moving the less injured out to the satellite facilities. Guards were everywhere, glinting metal in the sea of soft flesh and fabrics. The streets between the three facilities were kept clear of any traffic other than cabs moving patients.
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Renee Raialagos
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Re: Physician Heal Thyself

Post by Renee Raialagos » Sun May 10, 2015 5:52 pm

Maybe it was the way Azuel had stepped back that had made her lower her hand before she had time to think of it. Whatever the cause had been, they had stared at each other in confusion. Not being able to figure out how to behave would normally have been as akward as awkward comes. Renée would have felt mortified. But as it was, many people had behaved oddly this far from normal evening and she was getting used to it. She chalked Azuel’s odd behavior up to disaster, shock and concern for his sister. Not having the slightest idea what really was going on in the man’s mind, she reacted with compassion. The poor man was obviously so shaken and out of his mind with worry that he was unable to think of good manners and politeness.

She felt sorry for him.

Obviously she couldn’t count on him to take charge because of his higher social standing.

The responsibility fell on her.That much was clear.

If Renée hadn’t had her long experience as shop owner to lean on, she might have been unsure of how to smooth over the oddness of the failed handshake and go on. But you don’t run a shop full of more or less obscure items if you are prone to easily give in to embarrassment. With all the smooth and well-practiced social competence of an experienced saleswoman, she straightened up and looked seriously at Azuel, like she for one hadn’t even noticed how awkwardly they were behaving.

“It was chaotic at the gala” she said in a serious, composed and professional tone. “Were you at the gala? I was there. It was terrible. As I was only slightly injured, I helped out with the badly wounded right when it had happened. It was natural to continue straight to the hospital and support with what I can, of course. In a situation like this one we must be strong. Aren’t we all feeling compelled to do our duty to Marn in a situation like this?”

There. It was a rhetorical question of course. She didn’t wait for an answer, didn’t expect one. It had sounded just right though; patriotic and dutiful. Very Marnian indeed. She hoped this would help Azuel Vyaduka calm down and relax. As she felt compelled to take care of him and tell him what to do, she told him to follow. Assuming he would come with her, she started walking without looking back at him. They were already on the first floor and it didn’t take long time to arrive at the place where the hospital kept the records.

All the intense activity in the hospital had seemed chaotic to her in the beginning, but by now Renée had understood that everything was in fact very well organized, with protocols for everything. The staff wasn’t rushing around at random. Despite the emergency situation, the work was systematic. Renée didn’t know enough about medical care to understand that this was the result of thorough planning and constant preparedness. She was just impressed by the residents and how they seemed to know exactly what to do all the time. It didn’t surprise her that she found the file of Latifa Vuaduka in the exact right alphabetical place and it didn’t surprise her that it had been properly updated with neat and clear notes.

The content was however of a nature that made her hesitate.

Azuel Vyaduka had already seemed upset and unstable. She was worried about how he might react if she upset him more. She wasn’t sure if she was authorized to tell him any medical details either, or take him to the place where his sister could be found; maybe not. It struck her that it might be best to withhold the information and let a doctor or nurse speak with Azuel. She looked around for somebody to ask to take over, but at the moment she and the Vuaduka seemed to be alone.

Renée settled for saying as little as possible.

Holding the file in her hand she looked at him. “Your sister has been taken care of” she said. “She has been brought to the critical care unit.”

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Ivone
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Name: Ivone Malatrast
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Re: Physician Heal Thyself

Post by Ivone » Sun May 17, 2015 7:50 pm

Ivone continues from here - Tripping the Boards

Somehow, Ivone had manged to get a cab and get someone to help her get Khayyam into it.

The may lay slumped across her lap. His skin was clammy.

The hospital was chaos, but she'd managed to get Khayyam admitted. She watched as they wheeled away his corpse. Khayyam had died of a heart attack. Ivone shivered. He was really dead. And, she hadn't been the one to do it. Not really. Now she would be stuck mourning for three months before she could move on.

Ivone cast her gaze around the hospital, suddenly aware of the controlled chaos, the carnage that rolled past her, the moans and cries of pain.

Then, she saw Azuel.

"Azu..." She managed to get out softly.

Something snapped inside her, some untapped reservoir that had cared about Khayyam almost as much as she'd hated him so many years ago.

"Azu!"

Ivone pushed through the crowd and threw herself at Azuel, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist and burying her face in his chest. Huge sobs wracked her body. "Azu... Khayyam's dead!"
"Forgive, sounds good.
Forget, I'm not sure I could.
They say time heals everything, but I'm still waiting."


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Azuel Vyaduka
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Re: Physician Heal Thyself

Post by Azuel Vyaduka » Tue May 19, 2015 3:11 am

She began reaching into the medical records. Azuel’s eyes were glued to every movement, as if looking away would spell his sister’s death. Her hands opened the cabinet with an agonizingly slow creak. Her fingers moved like spiders across the alphabetized folders, slowing working their way to the Vyaduka name near the back. He felt suffocated by the tension as she pulled out the file, drowning in oppressive thoughts of catastrophe and failure.

He felt like screaming at her to hurry up, that she had to see what this was doing. A small voice reminded him that she was probably hurrying as much as she was able to without dropping the papers. The agonizing slowness was an illusion brought about by his fevered worries. Damn Teonidus himself if it wasn’t a convincing illusion. It seemed as if she moved in slow motion while she read the file.

She announced his sister’s status. Azuel let out a haggard breath. He hadn’t realized he had been holding it. The irregular noise sounded almost like a twisted form of laughter, as mixed in tone as the feelings that assailed his mind. Critical care: she wasn’t dead, but that could change at any moment.

He eyed her warily, his features settling into a vague frown with occasional glimpses of bared teeth. He inhaled through his teeth more than his nose, creating a hollow, hostile sound. Azuel’s shoulders rolled forwards, his posture defensive. It took him a moment before he understood the reason for his own body language. She had been vague in describing the nature of his sister’s injuries. Was this elf hiding something from him? Did she think she had any right to make that call? This was his family, damn it.

He took steps to bring his breathing back under control as his eyes bored holes in the parchment, the words cruelly veiled from his sight. Anger gave way to a blend of cowardice and understanding as Azuel forced his ugly feelings down to a remote part of himself. All that he felt remaining was hollow.

Had this really changed anything? There was a grim irony there. Even knowing his sister’s fate, he was to be left with the same worries as before. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, coming here. It was not his most rational decision. There was certainly nothing he could do for his sister. His medical training was minimal, only what was required of a guard. She lived or died at the hands of doctors far more skilled than he. He was useless here.

As if recognizing that fact was all he needed for an excuse, Azuel slowly responded with a staggered voice that nevertheless maintained an eerie monotone, “…V-very well then. I-I’ll just go. Go back h-home maybe. O-or wait outside, I’m sorry to have kept y-”

Then something hit his midsection. Something loud that said a fragment of his name in a voice he could barely understand. Tumultuous emotions flared back to the surface as if they had never been hidden at all. Inexplicable rage surfaced on Azuel’s features. His hands clamped onto Ivone’s shoulders and dragged her away from his chest.

Rationality fled him as emotion took over. He had been expecting his sister to die, and she had not. He had not been expecting his grandfather to die. His sister, wounded by explosives, was to live but his grandfather, unharmed to the best of Azuel’s knowledge, was to die. Some fevered part of his brain decided that this was a contradiction. Therefore, Azuel decided this hadn’t happened. This was a cruel jest.

With his voice reaching a howl he had never before been heard to use, he shouted right into Ivone’s face, “What do you mean he’s dead?” His hands pressed harshly against her shoulders, as if to crush her between his palms. Tears formed in his eyes as his rage and volume reached its peak. “Why? That cannot have happened!”

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Ivone
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Re: Physician Heal Thyself

Post by Ivone » Sat May 23, 2015 5:35 pm

Azuel grabbed her arms hard and he shoved her away from him. Ivone's grabbed onto the sides of his shirt. Spittle flew into her face. Grief and anger twisted his features. He looked like some hideous goblin. Ivone's eyes widened in fear. She didn't fight against his grasp. She'd always thought Azuel was a weakling, but he had trained as a guard, hadn't he?

"His... his heart! After the news of the explosion he just collapsed. And your... your father wouldn't even help me!" A sob acommpanied the last part.

Azuel began to squish her shoulders together, as if he could crush her.

Ivone still had hold of his shirt, lightly holding on. Everything about her the opposite of what he expressed. Sadness made her features soft. She looked up at Azuel in an effort to make some kind of connection through the anger. Tears wobbled prettily in her reddened-eyes, a fact that only made the violet-blue stand out more. Ivone's shoulders were pressed in, she'd let him crush her in his anger.

Her voice, smaller than his - weaker, "Please stop, you're hurting me."
"Forgive, sounds good.
Forget, I'm not sure I could.
They say time heals everything, but I'm still waiting."


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Azuel Vyaduka
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Re: Physician Heal Thyself

Post by Azuel Vyaduka » Sun Jun 28, 2015 12:08 am

The hospital faded from Azuel’s focus. For all his perception, the only part that his mind consciously understood was Ivone, crushed between his hands. The tears which had fallen from her face now dampened his shirt, just above the delicate hand which still retained a frail grasp on his clothing’s folds. He imagined he could feel every nervous shake she emitted, every pulse of blood through her veins as her heart picked up speed. It was as if his eyes had shut off the world around him to grant him a perfect sense of Ivone.

Without removing his hands from her shoulders, he took a step inward. The action separated his stance so that he could bend his legs. Like a knight kneeling before a princess, he began to lower. His action slowed to a gentle stop in front of her watery violet eyes, breaking the fairytale image before it arrived at its conclusion. Instead he stared, too close for it to be proper, right into her eyes.

He could hear her breathing from this distance. Along with her pulse, she exhaled and inhaled quickly. One breath for every two heartbeats, the repetition as constant as the beat of music. To his mind jumped a simple yet beautiful song which he would enjoy playing on his Kanun later.

With a vehemence that shocked even himself, he quietly told her, “Quit your blubbering, you pathetic weakling.”

He hated her, he decided. Feelings suppressed for the sake of harmony with Khayyam came to light now, uninhibited by social graces. She was everything he despised in himself, brought to life as some twisted reflection, the living embodiment of the fears that had plagued him for so long. To distance himself from that, he would hate her forever.

Azuel’s expression twisted into the shape of a sneer. A rough shove sent Ivone away, breaking her grasp on his shirt. “You’re so desperate for your damn companionship, you know that? Your life is a bad erotic novel. Tianthus bit it, so you moved on to Aurelio, and when he turned out to be a prat, you found yet another fuck buddy to use as a replacement.” Azuel glared at her, standing back at his full height. “I hope you thought I didn’t know. I hope you thought of me as a clueless fucking idiot, just so I can make this hurt a little bit worse.”

He felt a growing desire to break the focus which had consumed him, directing all his thoughts to the subject of Ivone. He didn’t even want to look at her. He turned away, but it was as if he was staring into an all-consuming void. There was still only Ivone and himself in his perception. “Maybe you really were so desperate and scared of thinking for yourself for once in your shit life that you sought out the only man who felt guilty enough to still give you the time of day. Fear is what you’re all about, isn’t it?”

Azuel was aware on some level that he was projecting, even as he said it. The fear, the inability to decide one’s own fate, these were his flaws more than hers. He was shooting the messenger. The glimpse of self-awareness didn’t stop him in the slightest. Rage felt better than sadness, better than facing his grandfather’s death, the small part he had played in it, and the consequences of it looming in the near future. He was too scared and useless. He was an insult to his grandfather’s memory.

“Fuck you Ivone, you scared, useless bitch. You are an insult to Tianthus’ memory.”

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Guile
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Re: Physician Heal Thyself

Post by Guile » Tue Jul 07, 2015 3:13 am

As Guile's body began to run low on adrenaline, his leg started to pulse with intense pain. Carrying his heavy bulk made the injury all the worse, and the doctor could not help but moan and stand in the center of the critical care unit while residents and doctors worked around him. He stood for what seemed like a very elongated moment, which spanned a few seconds. Pain shot up to his thigh and down to his toes. He held it and tried to stand on the uninjured foot only, but nearly lost his balance.

The pain did not subside, but Guile's morale remained strong with the protocol and sophisticated communication of the staff around him. He pushed himself onward and moved out of the room as nurses prepared the Vyaduka by moving her back onto a gurney out of her bed. She was not conscious.

Guile moved to a room beside the operating theatre for staff. In the room were spare hospital robes, a sink, gloves, and a cabinet filled with various drugs and instruments. Guile took off his gloves and washed his face, his hands, and used a comb to attempt to remove stray hairs from his head. He put on a new robe, though his previous one was unstained, and left the room via an exit leading directly to the theatre.

Inside, the Vyaduka had already been moved to the center of the operating theatre. Nicolai, a nurse, and another assistant were preparing various vials of drugs for the procedure. The theatre was lit under an ugly, bright blue lamp, which made viewing the body of the patient easier. The secondary assistant had laid out scalpels and carving instruments of various lengths, including a saw that was used in amputations.
"Prepare the Morgehn mask," said Guile to Nicolai.

Nicolai wheeled over an involved mechanism consisting of many glass vials, tubes, and liquids that ended in a large flask. Attached to the top of the flask was a rubber tube which led to a heavy mask. This mask was placed over the patient during surgery as a general anesthetic. It was the standard in Marn for those who did not consent to magical treatments, and Guile's agent of choice.

Knobs were turned by Nicolai's careful fingers. Guile pulled open the cloth that the assistants had placed upon the Vyaduka. He, with the help of the nurse, removed the rest of the bandage obscuring her wound. The shrapnel stared back at him like a vengeful little creature. The woman it was lodged in sweated profusely and moaned in her sleep. Nicolai pulled the Morgehn mask over her face and tightened the leather straps around her skull. Guile used an alcohol-soaked cloth to wipe away any dirt and muck around the metal piece.

They waited for ten minutes for the gas to take effect, and Guile took a scalpel to Latifa's skin.

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