tushanshu_logs | [OPEN] Eshai Memorial Hospital May catch-all

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[OPEN] Eshai Memorial Hospital May catch-all

Characters: Hospital staff, volunteers, patients, visitors, and everyone else!
Date: All of May
Location: Eshai Memorial Hospital, Metal Sector
Situation: General Hospital a la Turtle-back
Warnings/Rating: It’s a hospital, there will probably injuries/blood/etc at some point.
OOC Note: Everyone, feel free to add your own thread headers for whatever you might need!

There are still signs of the damage taken in the bombings, but repairs are taking place and are obviously not keeping the hospital from its usual busy schedule. Some of the work seems to be plumbing related: with the city water contaminated, they are trying to get a back-up system in place easier to keep purified, and sometimes some of the staff and volunteers can be found doing just that. Everyone needs sanitary water.

Some of the rooms have been reassigned uses until the repairs are finished, usually in favor of keeping intensive care as flexible as possible. First aid training still takes place in the classroom on the third floor, along with classroom-friendly aspects of field training.

Upon request, the list of active field medics will be provided by the front desk, along with who is currently on-call.
Active Field Medics:
Septimus
Raine Sage
Frank Zhang
Zelgadis Graywords
NPC kedan healers

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Enjolras appeared at the memorial hospital not quite certain what he might do to help, but wishing to do something all the same. Appearing at a front desk, he looked, perhaps, a bit unsure of what to do here; this was much more Combeferre's sort of thing than his, but the need for help was obviously great.

Though he has very little healing skills (he's helped Combeferre at his clinic and can bandage and a few other things, most of them extremely basic, but he's here to help with running errands, helping with sanitation, or anything else needed just now.

Septimus is coming out of a shift in intensive care when Enjolras arrives, and from the way he's scowling at his hands and still drying them off, he is most definitely displeased with the state the water is in. Having to purify small amounts of it himself just to get his hands clean is frustrating, to say the least.

Still, an uncertain face--and one vaguely remembered from the network but otherwise new--is definitely the call for him to put aside his return to paperwork upstairs. "You look a little lost. Anything I can help you with?"

"I would like to be of help here, if I might." Enjolras answers, as he gives Septimus a little nod. "I am not so good at medicine or particularly skilled in the way of purification, which I've heard are your main focuses but..."

And there is a very earnest look that he is giving Septimus here. "I had thought that I may be of use in other ways, perhaps? Cleaning or fetching things or near anything else. I can learn things quickly as well. It simply...is not right that this has happened, and whatever can be done to improve conditions, well, I would like to be there for it."

That earnest look touches Septimus' heart, and honestly it cheers him up more than a little as well, especially coming off a working shift. As a result, he smiles warm in return.

"Any help can be used around here," he assures the man, "and the healers--doctors--can't do everything. How about we head up to my office to talk some more? After I change into something new," he adds with a rueful glance down at his clothes.

It's the sort of look that once pulled the people of Paris to the barricades in 1830, and one that urged his friends and their recruits to the cause two years later, even as things grew grimmer.

Enjolras, above all else, is a man who simply wants to do good, to enact some measure of justice, and to see it done after such a disaster as this. Perhaps some justice can be found in helping others to heal, in getting out of himself and his own head for a while, as Joly pointed out to him lately. Perhaps his reasons are a little selfish, but he does wish to do something in way of dispensing justice that does not require a gun for a while, and so he is nodding in return.

"Yes, of course. I certainly would appreciate that."

Septimus was a lot like that at home, too, in almost every way, down to the charisma that won so many over and to more radical and progressive causes than would have normally cared for them. He, too, needed a way to contribute that didn't involve sword and fire for a while, and healing reminded him of his wife as well. But he's had a year and a half to heal, and there's a war on. Time to get back to his usual business.

He leads the way up to his office on the third floor--which is conveniently and clearly marked 'Septimvs,' because some things Roman remained with Alerans--and opens the door.

"Have a seat," he waves at a chair in front of his desk as he digs for a clean tunic, "and I'll just be a few moments."

Enjolras too, has had his time to heal, nearly a year in this place now, after his apparent death, more if one counts the time he has been told of by the others that he does not remember, and he's had enough of sitting idly by, and watching as his friends, both those he's known and those he's made here, depart, or are harmed by the other forces. He can still recall facing Malicant, and the shame he felt for the choices that he made in life, and there is nothing to be done for those but helping in some other way.

Noting the Roman lettering is a reminder of school, a bit, and it is nice to see something sort of familiar in a structure here.

"Of course, thank you." Enjolras agrees, taking a chair and gazing around the office for a moment, trying to think of more skills that he might be able to offer here.

It isn't long before Septimus returns, and instead of a rather non-descript tunic he looks rather more comfortable in red and blue, and his face and hands are clean again. (He would have preferred to clean up more, but water is too limited a resource right now.)

Still, either way, he looks undeniably a little more invigorated and more relaxed. "There. Barring emergency, I should have some time. I'm sorry, I don't believe I know your name."

He does look much better, and Enjolras feels a bit less worried that he'd interrupted something, as he had first started to fear. The change in mood helps him as well, and he is nodding a little in return.

"My name is Enjolras, from Paris, before all of this." Meaning the turtle, Malicant, and everything else that's come of it. "I was reading law, but I am, in fact, ready to learn something more practical just now."

He does not add that helping here might soothe some of the inner demons and stray thoughts that pass through his mind, reminding him that he deserves his fate. If he can make something good out of chaos, find something to focus on that is not solely himself, things will be better. And what other place to help than here?

"I know a small bit of assisting doctors, but not very much on my own. But if you need hands anywhere, mine certainly are idle."

In some ways, there's no way Enjolras wouldn't have been interrupting; these days Septimus can fill his time arbitrarily with whatever he chooses to call 'work.' On the other hand, new people coming in to help has a priority interrupt unless he's actively teaching, in a meeting, or is elbow-deep in healing.

Accepting the name Paris without any further question--it's not worth it, when the man obviously isn't Aleran--Septimus just listens thoughtfully with a nod.

"Well, we can always use hands, especially with recent changes," he notes. "What have you done assisting doctors before?" Because extra hands who can do first aid in a pinch are always better, no matter what those hands might be doing the rest of the time.

Likely not worth it at all, no. Pressed further, Enjolras would add that he is from France, and well, really, any other way to direct this would get stuck in layers of explanation that aren't really important now. What is important is the man's next question, which he thankfully can answer confidently enough.

"Mostly things in the way of bandaging. I've done some stitching too. and know a little of what to do with broken bones that are not the complex sorts of fracture."

It feels almost as though this is the sort of thing that is much more Combeferre's or Joly's than his own, but even so, he is a pair of hands where they are needed, so he's come.

Septimus's face lights up as Enjolras describes that--not with happiness, exactly, but certainly the satisfaction of a man who has had an expectation somewhat exceeded. This man is incredibly useful.

"Good. If you want to learn more, there are classes in it--also its applications in combat and how to handle that, as it's different," he adds, because recruiting is good. "It'll be useful if more attacks like this happen--or for trying to counter that crowspawn in the palace."

Yes, he has plans. "What other particular skills, other than the basics of medical aid? And do you read and write the English most people here seem to?"

Enjolras can recognize that expression well enough. So often,it has been the one he's used for small victories, things that did not quite grant a stronger emotion but were pointing in the right direction. Hell, it was probably the expression he wore when meeting most of those who became his closest friends. So, certainly good enough.

"Ah that does sound like something I should attempt. Combat medicine...I've seen its uses, and there is much of a difference, yes."

The thing he learned from Combeferre and Joly, when he could, at the barricades, most of all at least, was, although he won't tell Combeferre, that being the better man, helping one of those you are fighting, is a great way to get one killed or wounded. He would never have expected his friend to do differently, but there are those times that decency turns around and slaps slaps you too. In this case, with enemies such as Malicant can muster and create, there is no room for that, he thinks, but then, for him, the lines have always been drawn a bit clearer.

"Secretarial work, things of that nature. Mostly in French, Latin, or Greek. I do have some English, mostly picked up here, in terms of quality, which may be dubious."

Edited 2014-05-13 17:19 (UTC)

"There is, although," Septimus adds with a sigh, "it must by necessity work rather differently here than I'm used to."

Septimus nods, concealing how disgruntled he is--not at Enjolras specifically, but the way that the majority of the foreigners seems to rely on this one language and it leaves a select few very much at a disadvantage irritates him. (Not that he'd be any better, of course, and he knows that--still, he needs something to sulk about.) One day he'll ask for more information on Latin and French--he's heard about Greek. "Can't be any worse than mine," Septimus admits cheerfully. "There are some words which look related to my language's, crows take me if I know how or why.

If you do want to learn more first aid--combat or not--we're keeping up classes in it here. You probably also want to get some tutoring; we're using a bastardized mix of English and what little of the kedan language for communication around here, and while we've got one person on administrative assistance, the less there is for anyone actually involved in healing, the better."

"Quite. And in this case, with magic at work..."

Enjolras trails off, not wishing to think about the things that Malicant could likely corrupt in terms of illness or wounds. It's easy to think of something causing a wound to fester in the way of that.

"I think I must take up that training, then."

It IS something that he can help with. And as far as English goes, well. It has been frustrating when it comes to things being written, so the idea of tutoring is not something he is adverse to at all. His thoughts turn to Korra's practice with the language, when he met her, and to Marius, now gone, and there is a moment when he wishes he had asked the other man for help. Iskierka though, might be some help, or, actually Temeraire may be the better option. Either way, he's nodding.

"Then I think that it remains to sign up for your classes and to start practicing some of that."

"Though magic may also be best at combating it, given certain people's fondness for technology--just as unfortunately, given how few healers seem to have it, here."

Septimus as a rule had been somewhat wary of technology to begin with; hearing Malicant could take advantage of it only reinforced that, rather strongly.

After a moment, Septimus tilts his head at Enjolras rather thoughtfully. "Out of curiosity, do you have a full-time job at the moment?" Making beneficial use out of everyone is his role in life.

"I HAD spoken to Madame Sabriel about learning some magic." Enjolras muses. "When that occurs, when I've been baptized, that is, I should be able to learn something of healing within charter magic."

It seems reasonable enough to go about it that way, and will allow for him to do some actual good here. It feels right, somehow, the thought of healing, and though he'll never fully make a doctor, there is something that feels good in the idea of repairing things made wrong, healing divisions...it is something of a new direction, yes, but the basic tenents of the idea are the ones he had in Paris, to repair what was broken, and to bring about a better life for as many as can be helped. Perhaps it is natural that his interests would suddenly come here then.

"Technology does seem something of a problem at the moment. I do not know that I could trust it, given what has been usurped. I know that there are many here who know what they are doing, but, once compromised...it feels unsafe, perhaps, to try the network again. And, no, I do not. I helped in one of the smaller clinics, Combeferre's, but since all of this began and things have gotten muddled, there are no schedules for anything. I should speak to him as well, of coming here, and our friend Joly. It is quite fortunate that many of those who've come from my home are medical students. They could be extra hands as well, I'm certain."

'Baptized' is one of those words which Septimus decides not to request a translation of; for all that he hears the word, there just isn't an equivalent concept in Aleran life, and no amount of automatic translation can turn syllables into an idea he's simply never conceived of. So he just lets it pass, focusing instead on the logistical possibilities now offered.

Septimus smiles slightly. "I'd be happy to have them. As for you, I have a suggestion. We can use extra hands with basic errands and cleaning, as well as basic scheduling and managing. Given that people sometimes disappear I'd rather have redundancy and flexibility in who can do those jobs. If you feel comfortable providing basic assistance to the full healers around that, that can be taken into account; either way, if you put in the hours, we can certainly justify giving you a wage for it."

Between their own business plans and getting as much Imperial support as they could, Septimus is often glad when he can hire someone properly rather than just taking up their volunteer time--not least because it tends to mean more work out of them. (He can have multiple reasons.)

And since it is a different baptism than the kind Enjolras is used to, and he has no idea what it entails, it's just as well that he's not asked for further details on that, really. He could hardly give them at the moment.

He'll speak to the others, he decides, at least bring up the possibility for the moment. In the face of what has happened, it may be a better idea for all of the doctors, including his friends, to consolidate their work here. As far as the rest goes, he is nodding as Septimus speaks.

"That does make a great deal of sense, yes. And yes, I would be quite comfortable with that." He's learned a fair bit of things watching Combeferre, enough to be familiar with terms that the doctors may use here, of course. "I would certainly be glad to provide assistance full time for as long as you might need me."

Much as he wishes not to take a wage, to see it funneled back into the hospital, the more practical part of Enjolras points out that this is a bit ridiculous. After all, even he sometimes needs to eat and change clothes and things.

More work IS quite close to what the hospital will get from Enjolras now, too. With a strong reason to be there often, and to work hard, it may be hard to get rid of him at times in fact. Le National in Paris was rather the same way about him, even though that was a newspaper, and the work was completely different. Either way, his devotion had been gained now, anyway.

With a nod in return, Septimus gives him a smile. "Then let's go find you the tedious but eternally and apparently multiversally necessity called 'paperwork'. Hateful or not, it helps us stay organized."

He has a long history of finding people's strengths, guiding them to a place they feel they can help, where they can help, and helping something larger than they are--including themselves, along the way. It's really not even something he consciously thinks about, unless prompted; he just does.

And he's seen Enjolras's integrity, and likes it. Septimus will do all he can to let the man exercise it and accomplish something with it. At least this is a start.

"Ah, paperwork." Enjolras's eyeroll is good natured enough, really. "One aspect of school that I did not miss, I assure you." He is excited though, as far as these things go, to get things moving along as he can.

This is a start indeed, and it is a start that Enjolras is certainly glad to have. Through all of this, he's wanted some way to fight the darkness as best as he can, but has never considered before that not resorting to fighting himself might be a way. Upon consideration, though, he's more than grateful that he has that chance.

Septimus laughs. "I admit, bureaucratic and administrative paperwork were never much part of Academy life," he notes wryly, "but they were an inescapable fact of Legion command. The worst part was that in the best of times, when there were no battles to be fought, it was one of the more crucial aspects. Academy papers were... a different kind of exasperating."

Despite the comment, his voice has a fairly good-natured asperity to it. He is as capable of administration for ruling an empire as he needs to be, and honestly good at logistics. But he's military to the core--rather unlike his father--and as such gets rather more restless when having to deal with it. But in this case... he doesn't mind being subjected to it as much as usual. This is going to help build the hospital staff up (and maybe go further, though the thought is still mostly unformed). That is worth any amount of trouble and time and boredom he can put to it.

"I was reading the law myself," Enjolras explains. "Rather quite a bit of that sort of thing in there from the start. A dear friend claimed to be deathly afraid of all of us turning him into one of us so that he'd have to do the same." And thinking of Bahorel does make him laugh, actually. "

Command...I can imagine that command would be particularly bad for that sort of thing. Crucial as you say it is, the minutiae and such does have moments of being draining. The other sort of paper...not so bad perhaps, beyond saying what one was expected to, of course." And here he is making a little face, recalling the experience that was toeing the line in law school to be allowed to stay and stretch out the experience long as he could to accomplish other, more important things.

Logistics are not unknown to Enjolras, of course, but he was never a leader of fighters by choice, but by the grim necessity of dealing with those who would prevent the rightful future from coming about. Still, the sort of work he would have done instead of using those tactics, had it been left to choice, would have been a battle waged by his pen and the press, an influence which would not have required violence and the causing of deaths he loathed. Still, some things must be, in the matter of what he did then, and in the relatively more pleasant one of turning his attention to the papers at hand. They represent quite the worthy cause of course, and so there is nothing else to do but accept them as required now.

"Law could get incredibly tedious." The note of exasperation is still in his voice. "Especially considering how detailed attention needed to be, with the sheer number of bloody politicians who would exploit anything they could. I'd hope to leave that job to someone else as much as I could. Military history and practical furycrafting were much more straightforward. Theoretical furycrafting was often interesting, but sometimes the maestros had opposing opinions, often blatantly wrong--if one only thought about it."

There is an underlying arrogance to the latter part of the rant. He has thought about it, and often discussed and debated it with his parents (especially his father). For all of that, he would never have really written any papers on it, or formed groundbreaking explanations; another would do it later. Perhaps even more arrogant is the faint smile at 'saying what one was expected to.' He didn't get a free pass just for his position--he was utterly certain of that, and would have insisted on it--but it did mean the maestros were reluctant to give him marks based on bias against some of his more unconventional opinions. There are definitely advantages, at times, to being the heir to an empire. But some of this is making him rub his temple. His education had been rather deep and highly comprehensive; for all that he is not devious, it takes more than a little intelligence just to work with it all. He hasn't been applying it much here, though. Getting back into the habit is... difficult, with emotional baggage attached.

"In some ways command does entail more of it," he admits, "but it's much more practical and far less about manipulating details. And the Legions are the sword and shield of the Realm. Keeping one tightly run, supportive for its legionares and to the civilians attached helps guarantee protection of the civilians in the area." What he doesn't add is the obvious: that makes it all worth it, without hesitation or thought or a moment's regret. He swore an oath with his official coming-of-age, one to the Senate and his father. His life was given to the Realm and her people--all his mind and energy in service to it daily and to end the stagnation he believed had set in--and, in the end, also life and death for them. A subtle difference, but one all the same. And that also for his family, his wife and their unborn child (son, he suspects), because that child isn't just one he loves. Octavian is Alera's hope and future.

And Septimus was always too restless, had too much wanderlust, believed too strongly in the Legion service and the way to the people's hearts not to choose that path despite whatever concerns his father nursed. He doesn't have the same drive, here, or a way to devote that energy. But just through the hospital alone he's starting to make one.

"Politicians." The word is spat rather than anything else the exclamation might be called. "Exploitation, manipulation." They leave a bad taste in his mouth, though the truth must be acknowledged in order that it might change. Jean-Jacques..."

He starts, then pauses, realizing that he is probably the only one in this conversation who knows Rousseau just now, and that not everyone calls a philosopher they admire so informally as that (granted, in the technical sense, Enjolras and his Jean-Jacques have been bed fellows many times, if one counts how many times he has fallen asleep over a volume of his work).

"Ah, sorry, a philosopher I greatly admired, said that everywhere men are born free, but they are held in chains, in bondage to those like you describe. A universal state, though I doubt he knew that other worlds could intersect in such a way as this. I would not be so good at it myself. I want some things so badly, need them even more that I do not trust myself. I would not place myself in a position, any position that could allow me the temptation to force change that no one else would have."

It had been different at home, persuading, taking up a cause already there, and throwing himself behind and into it with everything he had, but Enjolras in politics himself would be quite terrible he knew.

"For all that it is worth, I would have sooner worked to know the needs of others, to strike compromise in order that there may be some consensus. You speak of opposing opinion on so many points. We had precious many of those and little of compromise and mutual faith, when I last lived, even amongst those who stood united on the larger issues. That lack of unity loosened that faith we owned each other, tugged too much at the social knot that we had hoped would be a bond, and let it fray with much pressure instead. I think now that is part of why the victory I helped to win was moral, never practical."

The moral victory had been enough, but even so, knowing the situation now, being away from it enough to realize that, had clearly influenced his thinking on the matter, now that Enjolras re-examined it well enough. For his part, saying the things one wished to hear had been a necessary cover, and he'd hated it, but would have had things no different themselves, desired no special treatment that he had not earned. It may have been nice though, simply once, to say what he had wished to in the matter of opinion without making himself a greater target than he needed to be.

He is nodding now though, as Septimus speaks of command. In matters of armies themselves, instead of smaller groups of fighters, coordinated though they are, he does understand how a difference may arise, and in protecting the civilian, there is an honor he can understand too well.

His own life had been lent to him, he'd had no doubt of that, and he had been glad to use it in the greater service of not only La Marianne herself, but in the broader sense of Patria as well. Life and death for those who make her up, indeed. Even here and now, in a new world where the old hard and fast rules of his past do not apply, the principle remains the same, and yes, still worth the same things in the end.

Edited 2014-06-06 19:53 (UTC)

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[OPEN] Eshai Memorial Hospital May catch-all

Enjolras: OPEN

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