[OPEN] Eshai Memorial Hospital May catch-all

[survival_isnt_living]

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

Comments

OTA, volunteering for purifying water

[skeletonenigma]

Skulduggery had seen the outside of the hospital many times. He'd caught a glimpse of the inside a week or so ago, just after he brought an injured Captain Amelia there directly after the bombings. But he hadn't, as yet, actually stepped inside. Not because he didn't trust hospitals, but... well, because he didn't trust hospitals. Not with his unique anatomy. Skulduggery didn't even have any blood to donate. He had very little reason to give hospitals more than a passing thought.

Here, however, there was very little chance of anyone being so intent on the impossibility of his existence that they would try to capture him - at least, if the rest of Keeliai was any indication. And since Skulduggery's latest foray towards the Palace of Landed Sky hadn't exactly worked, he didn't see any harm in answering the radio broadcast that had been repeating itself over and over since early that morning.

Skulduggery's bones remained a bright purple, despite his best efforts. The only thing that helped to give him some dignity in the lobby area, in fact, was the new suit he was wearing.

[12goingon113]

There's not much warning before a small boy in orange monk's robes zips past on what appears to be a medium sized ball of air.

Just as there's not much warning as that same boy, on the same ball of air, backs up in order to take a second look at what he thought was a purple skeleton in a suit of clothing.

Yup. That's exactly what he saw.
And so now there's a small boy, sporting some pretty extensive tattoos, blinking at Skulduggery from atop a spinning ball of air.

"...hi."

[skeletonenigma]

If Skulduggery's surprised by the sight, he doesn't show it. It's difficult to register surprise when one doesn't have eyes or facial muscles.

"Hello," he responds. His skull tilts to the side. "What is that?"

It looks like a spinning ball of air. It was hinted to Skulduggery a while back that he might not be the only person on the Turtle capable of manipulating elements, but until today, he'd had yet to meet one.

[12goingon113]

"What's what?" he asks, even has he looks down.

"Oh! That's my airscooter. I invented it."

[skeletonenigma]

"Ah," Skulduggery says, as though that answer makes all the sense in the world. He holds one hand out from his side and spreads the fingers, so that he can feel the shift in the air currents. He's surprised to discover that the airscooter is, in fact, made entirely of tightly controlled air, and he's impressed. "You invented it?"

[12goingon113]

Aang lowers to the ground as he allows the air scooter to dissipate.

"Uh huh. It's a new airbending form, so I got it to count towards my 36."

[skeletonenigma]

"Airbending?"

The term sounds vaguely familiar, but Skulduggery isn't able to place it; nor, he suspects, is he in any position to. Practically everything sounds vaguely familiar to him at some point. That means his attention is almost immediately drawn to the part of the sentence that he doesn't find vaguely familiar, and that's what he asks more about. "Your 36... airbending forms? Was there a school for it?"

[12goingon113]

Aang nods.

"There used to be four of them, one for each of the directions."

[skeletonenigma]

North, South, East, and West, no doubt. That made it a world very different from Skulduggery's own; he had yet to meet an Elemental who called air manipulation 'airbending,' much less believed it was the only element they could master. Nor, as far as he was aware, were there schools.

"It's clever," he said, remarking on the air scooter the boy just dissipated. "Did you invent the other thirty-five, as well?"

[12goingon113]

"Oh no! Just the one. The other thirty-five have been passed down for thousands of years. We learn all thirty-six and then we get our tattoos."

As if the bright blue arrow on his forehead weren't clear enough, Aang pushes up one of his sleeves to show off the ink on his hand and arms.

[skeletonenigma]

"Tattoos?" Skulduggery might have asked more, but the boy immediately demonstrates, and the body-wide tattoos paint a bit of a clearer picture. The clothes of a monk, thirty-six different forms, and four spiritual schools that teach 'airbending.' But the boy himself can't be any older than thirteen or fourteen. Unless aging works differently in his world, Skulduggery can see him becoming very powerful when he grows up.

"How does the air scooter work?" he asks. Not that Skulduggery ever intends to travel like that, but it might be a way for him to enhance his own control.

[12goingon113]

Aang flushes a bit, embarrassed, because he really doesn't like to be the bearer of this kind of news.

"Well, first you have to be an airbender."

[skeletonenigma]

"An airbender?" Skulduggery lifts one hand and flicks the wrist as though he were swatting a fly, sending a short and harmless burst of a breeze right into the boy's face. There's a hint of a smile in his next words. "In terms of ability, or spirituality?"

Re: OTA, volunteering for purifying water

[survival_isnt_living]

That is a purple skeleton.

Septimus has seen many strange things since he came to the turtle--strange enough in and of itself, and frankly getting somewhat inconvenient. (If this were just a proper continent, of stone over magma, he'd just double-check that Malicant was in the palace and then bury it in lava if he could.) There have even been walking, talking turtles on the back of this giant turtle. Frankly, Septimus's ability to suspend his disbelief has climbed significantly since his arrival here.

However, that is a purple skeleton in a suit.

No, he really has no words to describe this. Luckily, years of training in political grace has him moving on instinct and he doesn't have to dwell on the insanity today has presented him with.

"Should I assume the color is due to the effects of the barrier?"

But apparently said political grace does not extend to being able to keep from commenting on it. Because honestly. Purple skeleton.

[skeletonenigma]

Purple skeleton, indeed.

Skulduggery was waiting for far less than he believed would be necessary at an uncertain time like this. Not that he minds waiting, usually, but it's nice to see the city's hospital is running efficiently enough to allow for punctuality. On top of that, the man who eventually speaks to him begins the conversation with an assumption Skulduggery knows not many people would have made, and that goes a long way in putting him more at ease. It's always a breath of fresh air to meet someone who, while probably not quite as observant as he is, is at least well on the way.

"You can," he answers, "and you would even be right. Should I assume you're the one in charge?"

[survival_isnt_living]

Septimus's internal running commentary that sounds like his mother is rather relieved that his blunt question seems to have garnered a positive response rather than, well, the decidedly more prickly one most Alerans would have had. As a result, he is internally much closer to being as at ease as he's appeared thus far. It helps him keep up the relaxed expression, at least.

His smile is faint and amused. "You can," he echoes, "and you would even be right. What can I do for you?"

After a moment he adds, "We haven't met, or spoken on the network that I'm aware of." Which is different, after all. "Septimus." He offers his hand without any apparent hesitation or concern. Is he still weirded out? Absolutely. But that's no reason to be impolite about it.

[skeletonenigma]

Skulduggery shakes his head as he takes Septimus's hand. "I don't think so. I only used the network once." For a given definition of once; most days, Skulduggery would at least log in to skim who else was using it and what they were posting. He still doesn't remember Septimus being among them. "Skulduggery Pleasant. It's a pleasure."

And then - partly because he doesn't particularly feel like listening to the all-too-common comments on his name, and partly because he imagines time is of the essence here - Skulduggery moves on almost immediately. "Your radio broadcast mentioned that you could use people with skills in purifying water. I may not look it, but I can help."

[survival_isnt_living]

Septimus has been otherwise occupied for a while, and never was a strong network presence as far as posting went; it's just so far out of his experience. Shaking hands with a skeleton is definitely bizarre, and a little unsettling (not to mention reminds him slightly uncomfortably of his status back home).

He does raise an eyebrow slightly at the name, but crows, everyone here has odd names and apparently most of them put their family names after personal ones, which is still disconcerting. Far more interesting is the rest of the information.

After a brief, sharp glance with a raised eyebrow, Septimus nods curtly. "We should talk in my office. This way." His office, at least, he can keep secure.

[skeletonenigma]

"An office." Skulduggery nods as he follows. "That's a measure of professionalism I didn't expect, after the explosions." And Septimus doesn't strike him as the sort of man to care about such trivialities when so many people need both the space and his help. Maybe he needs the office for some other reason.

Either way, Skulduggery notes while he walks that the hospital could do with a lot more volunteer help - both healer and otherwise.

[survival_isnt_living]

A wry grin crosses Septimus's face at that--the kind of grin that hides pain, because what else can you do with anger like that but smile just to spite it? "The third floor is mostly administrative. The damage wasn't so bad to collapse the entire structure, and much of the third floor is intact. Most of the damage was done to intensive and in-patient care. Mine happens not to be on top of that."

Pure luck, but he won't object. He knows better.

"And counter-intuitive though it may seem, professionalism is important right now." Of this the Legion captain in him is quite certain. "The luxuries and trappings, those don't matter. But it helps provide an illusion of order--and one that can be built into reality. Knowing where to find authority is comforting to most; seeing it hasn't fallen to chaos is even more vital."

Somewhere in his tone and bright green eyes is a mix of grim defiance and vicious satisfaction. Even if that part of the structure happened to have been lost, Septimus would have set aside a small area for hospital central command. If nothing else, he needs somewhere quiet and with warning of interruption to do administrative business.

[skeletonenigma]

After a moment, Skulduggery nods; that makes sense. It falls a little too close to the political side of war for his comfort, but it does make sense. He knows all too well how dangerous chaos can be. Planting the seeds of chaos among Mevolent's army was how he and the rest of the Dead Men managed to escape many a hopeless situation.

He's just glad that even in this strange dimension, there are people to take care of the political, administrative and authoritative side of things.

"Do you think that was deliberate?" Skulduggery asks instead. "The damage? That seems to be the story all over the city - damage focussed on all the areas which would be directly involved in a war, but with minimal overflow or loss of life." Not counting the spores currently infecting everyone, of course.

[survival_isnt_living]

Septimus wouldn't call that the political side of war; it's just another tactic. Then again, he was raised to handle politics for a life occupation, so his perspective might be more than a little bit warped. And while technically Septimus has no real grounds for claiming any of that authority outside the hospital itself...

That doesn't stop his mind from working on it.

That wry, pained grin is back. "I've never fought an urban war, so it isn't what I would have done. As far as the results itself go, though... frankly I don't think anyone is incompetent enough to stumble into results that effective by sheer accident." The grin turns into a sneer; as ruthless as it is, Septimus also thinks the whole thing is incredibly cowardly.

[skeletonenigma]

Skulduggery would certainly agree with the whole thing being incredibly cowardly. But he can't deny how effective the individual explosions themselves were, or the strange effects they resulted in. Minimal loss of life? The only reason to aim for that in a war is to maximise the fallout - the chaos. To put insurmountable roadblocks in the hope of ever organising a rebellion.

The reason that doesn't make sense is there's already an organised rebellion. There's nothing to achieve but more of the same fear that already exists.

"What would you have done?" Skulduggery asks. He doesn't mention that he's fought in an urban war, or a rural war, and practically everything in between. Nor does he mention any of his suspicions regarding the bombs. It occurs to him, however, that he could ask about the suit of black armour, since it was apparently seen helping at the hospital in the aftermath of the bombings. If Septimus has a separate office, chances are he's secured that as well.

[survival_isnt_living]

"Not attacked civilian targets," is the instant response. After a moment, Septimus admits with a lopsided smile, "But then, most of my military experience is in enforcing Realm stability and borders against non-humans. His motivations aren't ones I..."

Understand is not the correct word here. Of course he understands it. It makes him at once sick, enraged, and determined to find a way to rip Malicant's support from under him, of course--but he does see the logic. "...was taught to consider," he finishes instead. "That said, I'll admit that if I had been in in a protracted siege, compromising supply lines would be my first step if it became obvious I couldn't break through defenses relatively easily. Here we are." Pushing the door to his office open, he waves at Skulduggery to follow.

There's no real reason to discuss the part where his last military engagement ended very, very badly--not that there was much he could have done about it.

[skeletonenigma]

Skulduggery decides fairly quickly that he likes Septimus. It takes a special sort of courage to be as disgusted by Malicant's evil as the doctor so obviously is, and yet still be both willing and able to consider similar tactics. It speaks of a military honour much more rare within armed forces than it should be. Perhaps Septimus's world is fundamentally different from the one Skulduggery knows, but it's still a trait worthy of acknowledgement and admiration.

"Thank you," he says as he steps into the office after Septimus. In his own world, he would know if the office was secure as soon as the bindings on it drained him of his magic. Here, it isn't quite so easy to tell, so Skulduggery waits to let the other man speak first.