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Post by ContinuumBlamesVan on Sept 13, 2017 21:49:28 GMT -8
"Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy mood as any in Italy, and as soon moved to be moody, and as soon moody to be moved." (R&J, Act 3, Scene 1) /Ulysses/ He easily got the bigger man to the front desk and flashed the ever-present receptionist a look with his eye that made it clear that if she were to discuss anything about the city or the country he had told her about, there would be consequences. Harsh consequences, if the flare in his gaze was anything to go by. As they traversed, he shot his glare, this time with far more venom than he had mustered in quite a long time, at the white-haired woman. It was quickly neutral again, but for a moment there was a hint of something there; resentment? Anger, helplessness and a pride so broken it was beyond repair? It could've been loneliness, or it could've just been the age catching up with the man and him trying to vent how heavy the target was without showing it. Unless you were inside his head at any given moment, it was hard to tell. Nobody wanted to be there.
" Tell me, Mute: y'got anyone t'talk for ya? Making me bloody nauseous and annoyed." Did he- Did he have someone to talk for him? Did he have people who could help him, people he really could care about and trust? And it was hurting her? Oh, he was so sorry for her misery at having to practice a useful skill like literacy. Suddenly the weak and feeble act was forgotten, and he signed out a vicious message, something so direct and pointed that even someone with a skull of pure steel would get the message and maybe learn to curb their tongue. The message went roughly thus, assuming anyone could follow it: " Do I- Why, if I did, I would not have to resort to bleeping writing out my messages and hoping that the people that I have to speak with were able to READ, now would I? No no, I would be able to stand back and let them do all my work for me, trust them with anything my old heart desired- But oh wait. That's right. I'm single. One-eyed, alone, and mute, thank you for pointing all of that out. As if I didn't know my circumstances already. So unfortunately for you and your nausea, I have had to, and will make due with what I have. And I like writing, thank you." It was as if over ten years of hatred and withdrawn emotions had been released in a span of three seconds or less. Okay, so it was more like two years max, but it surprised even him, and he immediately looked at the man who he was casually supporting with only one arm before sheepishly signing out something like " . . .Just forget all that," and putting his arm which he had just used to gesticulate out all that hellfire and brimstone to support the bigger ox of a man as the weary, tired day laborer he was. He took her gripes and jabs about the laundry meekly, trying to re-stabilize himself from that outburst, which he still wasn't entirely sure- and there it was. The creaking of chains again, and suddenly he ignored anything the others were saying. It wasn't important at all. No no, he was on damage control and inspection. His eye became distant as he sort of shut down, and only nodded distractedly at the nuisance's demands that he stay with her in ' fairness,' as if there was any in her words when he couldn't defend himself from them. It was actually a small mercy that she almost ceased to exist in his world for a moment as he internally panicked and checked everything; there was nothing quite like a greater problem to dwarf and put life in perspective.
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Post by relentless on Sept 14, 2017 12:25:49 GMT -8
Villon sighed as the mute and the white haired woman bickered on, even with the pain he was enduring with nothing but gritted teeth and a flexing fist around the shaft of his bloodied axe, the irritation of these young people seemed to be more bothersome than the possible cause of death he may go toward if he wasn't careful. He saw his glare that he shot toward her, and although it was brief, it was a clear indication to him that this man didn't know where his manners lay. Managing a growl, he bumped side on against the receptionists desk, huffing with a stubborn blow through his nose. Despite the pain that would be caused to him, he placed his axe on the desk in front of him on its flat side, then brought his hand around to flick his own index finger at the mans thumb that rested on his shoulder.
"Be respectful, boy... we haven't fought through a bunch of mushroom bastards to be greeted with... a quiet 'man' throwing tandrums." Villon informed in a stern manner, as if he were telling off his son after he started a fight. The tone was well practised, and it gathered fatherly tones and a general demeanor of a father. Sighing, he lowered his hand, shaking his head. "Hmph.. apologies lad, rough day, as you can clearly bloody see!" Villon chuckled half heartedly, though he huffed as a wash of pain went through him, his hand almost reaching toward his side to clench at the wound, though he stopped, and threw his hand back upon the shaft of his axe and kept it there upon the counter.
"Now-now aah.. get me a quack, will yah darlin?" Villon nodded at the receptionist Ulysses had gave a mean glare toward before, offering a much more somber and lazy persona. She would nod, and casually began to flick through pages of linen scribed in ink, running her finger down a list of staff to find a suitable associate to assist Villon.
After a few seconds of silence, Villon slapped his lips together, looking to the left partially and glancing at Taas. "Aye, so Taas... what's your first order of business now that you're back in the hamlet?" Villon posed the question kindly, the hazelnut iris's glazing back to her bandaged eye. "Hopefully you're not going back out there? As much as I enjoy a walk through the woods, I really can't be arsed."
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Post by ollieander on Sept 15, 2017 19:22:15 GMT -8
Silvant was lost with content and comfort in his hold, even after he used the top of her head as a chin rest. For once she found herself focused only on his words and the feeling of his chest as it bobbed from his breathing. She could never recall a moment quite like this one; focused on the feeling of a situation rather than ignoring the anxiety that came with eye contact and the need to fidget.
Unfortunately, her attention was brought back to reality by the sound of heavy doors and unfamiliar voices from the entrance of the Sanitarium. The doctor brought her head up fast from Adeney's chest and locked eyes with a nurse who wore a scowl for their displays. Blood flushed through her face and ears, and the only thing she thought to do was pull her arms from the other doctor and wipe down the front of her coat, as if the affection was some type of residue.
"A-Ah, r-right," she stammered terribly, every word said with a waive of her voice, "L-Leprosy in room three, t-terminal-" She scurried like she had someplace to be, her mask pulled on in quite a tizzy of a hurry. She had become horribly anxious from the sudden reality check... how could she be so stupid to do things like that in the middle of the hallway!
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Post by black379 on Sept 16, 2017 13:09:19 GMT -8
One moment Adeney had the woman doctor tucked snugly in his hold and the next she tore away to occupy her anxiety with work. He trudged after Silvant and just caught her sleeve at the elbow. "Audrey- Doctor... Perhaps you should attend to someone with a less mortal condition." He suggested as he tugged her sleeve, just enough to keep her retreating from him. Adeney thought she shouldn't trouble herself so much with a patient doomed to die, only to blame herself when there was no help for them. "If you like, I can look at the leper." Slightly tilting his head, he wore an expectant gaze, hoping Silvant would heed him. Though it was plain in his face, too, that he would have liked to keep her close - close as they were a moment before.
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Post by ollieander on Sept 16, 2017 15:01:13 GMT -8
She stopped in her tracks when she was grabbed, her beak made a large arc as she turned her head to look toward Adeney. Her head bowed slightly, then looked off to the side as if she was contemplating something. "...Y-You're better at that stuff," she spoke up after a moment, face tilted back to his. "You'll... you'll know what to do." Vague as she was, she didn't spare another moment to speak before she was back to her hurried scurry toward the main entrance of the building.
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Post by black379 on Sept 19, 2017 18:18:19 GMT -8
Adeney's vigil lingered until Silvant disappeared around the hallway's corner. Nodding silently assured himself there would be time more with her later. For now, he was left to himself again, to work again. His own mask was untied from his belt and slid over his face while his boots carried him into the patient's room. He pulled aside the curtain, but took notice of the clipboard before the man crumpled in the cot. Through green lenses, he scoured Silvant's notes, focusing on the intricacies of her handwriting almost more than the words themselves. "Marcel Madron..." The doctor murmured and finally looked up from the notes at the disfigured body lying before him. It wouldn't take much to convince Adeney he was overlooking a cadaver. "You're in rough shape." He added under his breath, talking more to himself than the patient.
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Post by ollieander on Sept 19, 2017 19:16:27 GMT -8
Like a corpse come to life, Marcel began to rise from his bed, supported by an unstable hand against the mattress. The sheets draped over his back, his bones prominent even through the cloth. With his head half turned in the doctor's direction, he dryly said, "I'm not staying."
He sat up fully now, hunched over himself at the edge of the bed, his hand still supported his weight while the other laid across his lap. His remaining eye looked down to his arm, the scars that lead across his body fully concealed by fresh bandages... He looked to his fingertips, then his lap, noticing that he wore a different pair. They were in much better shape than his previous pair, so he thought best not to complain.
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Post by black379 on Sept 20, 2017 14:22:46 GMT -8
The doctor was taken aback as the wretched figure rose from the bed. He did not interrupt the man's feeble stirring. Instead Adeney wore a secretly wicked smirk beneath his mask, as though he had, with his mere presence, inspired the leper to sit up. It seemed after all, and despite his horrid state, that Marcel may not have been so doomed. "If you shan't stay, then stand up." Adeney demanded, taking a step back to allow the tortured man room. He did not suspect the patient would be able, but so long as he was willing, there was work to be done. He could quickly assess the extent of the patient's injuries by pushing him.
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Post by ollieander on Sept 21, 2017 18:46:44 GMT -8
Marcel hung his head, as he felt just about the same as Adeney. How, after scrounging for however long down there, could he still have the strength to stand? To fight? The hard truth was that he didn't have that strength, but feigned it by forcing himself to stand from the bedside. When he stood, he forgot of his self doubts for just a moment. In that moment, he was enamored by the floor, by its otherwise smooth and even texture. It had been something he forgot the feeling of, his feet rigid with callouses to protect from sharp gravel.
The leper's attention was returned to the doctor, the scars across the right half of his body stretched across his face as well. Combinations of old and new scar tissue bonded his right eye closed, a rod shaped lump of skin was all that was left. Of course, this was noted in his medical file as "a possible tumor."
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Post by black379 on Sept 23, 2017 20:29:59 GMT -8
"Hm." His beak nodded simply, while he overlooked the man's distorted face. Marcel seemed not to be as hopeless as Adeney had interpreted, though by no means was he fit to go untreated only to succumb to any one of many afflictions he collected. "I must insist you remain here. Return to the bed." Adeney instructed, motioning to the cot with his hand. He didn't wait for the patient to comply before raising the clipboard of Marcel's maladies as though it was a checklist for him to resolve each wound one by one. "What is it so important that you should leave prematurely?" He asked idly as the delicate cursive handwriting caught his eyes even still.
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Sept 25, 2017 15:15:10 GMT -8
/Taas/
She started with a fierce glower, furrowed brows and all as she only halfwise listened to the Receptionist; perhaps registering the words on some subconscious level, though, largely focused on looking angry at the aide-made-arguer.
Granted, there was a touch of uncouth fun behind her eye; a pup chewing and pulling at the ankles of its master. She planted a hand on her hip as she straightened her back with a few pops, her features relaxing as she stopped paying attention to what the man was gesturing at halfway through, before she sighed looking tiredly to Villon now as she haphazardly watched him lurch his way to the desk.
Even still; she did flinch forward as he did so, her free hand raising, making to help him before pulling back to fidget with the belt around her waist. She gave an approving huff, and smirk, as she looked from Villon (after he'd spoken) to the man she named Mute; she waved a dismissive hand to him now. "Yeah... Thanks or what have ya.", her gaze looked back to Villon who she now rested her hand on; gripping his shoulder reassuringly, with a little squeeze to boot.
She jerked her head over her shoulder to the door, "Was gonna go get those drinks we promised, y'know..?" Her eye looked to the receptionist, gauging whether or not she needed her permission, before deeming it : Unworthy. Looking back to Villon with her amber eye with a happy curve and cheeky smile, "... Think you can wait here, for a bitt'a time?--" Though she already straightened, having hunched over to almost whisper in his ear, the motion having come as quickly as it went; she looked to the door now, and her hand slowly rescinded from Villon. She looked at the Mute, then to the Door with a half-quirked frown,
"--Shoul'n be too long..." She mumbled, rolling a sore shoulder with a sigh; it made an all too sickening pop with such a small motion. It seemed the last touches of her shift of forms was kicking in; it wasn't too apparent before, but her stocky stature seemed to be coming back to play. No queerly set limbs or stiff motions.
She gave a little shiver, to liven up her joints, as though to emphasize her reacquired fluidity; looking down to Villon again with her almost oppressive uppitiness burning in her eye. "... Whot; you don't think I could take another enthusiastic walk through the woods again?"
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Post by ollieander on Sept 25, 2017 15:57:20 GMT -8
The leper squinted at the doctor, immediately put on edge by the way he took his words back so suddenly. Hadn't he just said if Marcel could stand, he could leave? To Marcel's warped mind, it meant trouble, and so his guard was established.
"I stood, so I will leave," Marcel spat back at the doctor's demand with a hand placed on one of the bed posts. This anchored him as he saw the room take a sudden and dynamic turn to its side. His eye was clamped shut, but the sensation refused to leave. He felt as if he stood in the caverns again, the loose floor bobbing gently with the tide.
Besides this, the man pushed himself from the bed post and toward the door. He staggered, and stumbled, and took all too long for someone who claims to be healthy enough to leave to finally reach the door. His forehead rested on the wood and he took a rest from the short workout. Only when Adeney asked his question did Marcel look at him again.
"...There are... There are people I would like to protect... It isn't possible laying down."
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Post by black379 on Sept 25, 2017 16:11:08 GMT -8
Adeney watched him teeter across the room and pause at the door. "It isn't possible standing up either. Not in your state." In a few steps the doctor was caught up with his 'fleeing' patient and rigidly placed his hand on Marcel's shoulder. "Allow me to assist, and you will leave soon enough to protect your friends." His beaked mask cocked sideways, and he gently pulled at the leper's shoulder to turn him back towards the room. "These people... Are they within the hamlet?"
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Post by ollieander on Sept 25, 2017 16:23:41 GMT -8
Roughly, and with what littler strength he had, Marcel shoved Adeney from himself, pushing himself more backward than Adeney away. He lost his balance, backpedaling some uncertain steps. About a yard from the doctor, Marcel glared from under his brow.
"No," he growled with little strength, "No, I-I don't know. They aren't... they aren't friends. They're..." Marcel shook his head out of frustration, but this only intensified the previous swaying feelings. He stumbled backward again, his lower back collided with the edge of the counter behind him. If Silvant could have noted his social behavior before, she would have left Adeney a note for the patient's delirium.
"None of them are friends... down here, they weren't people..."
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Post by black379 on Sept 25, 2017 20:46:33 GMT -8
His face became stern as Marcel broke away again, but it was hidden, after all, behind the porcelain-hued bird mask. The doctor kept his distance, only watching the leper in case he tried to make any further miserable attempts at leaving. Adeney intended not so much to stop him, but to escort him back once he inevitably failed. "You're speaking nonsense." Adeney decided to point out, if the man wasn't already aware of his deluded state. "I'll ask you once more to remain in my care..." He could swear that the sanitarium's many occupants would rather wallow in pain or misery than be treated. Still, he was adamant to heal Marcel's wounds and mind - it would have simply been easier with cooperation.
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