tushanshu_logs | [EVENT] Cold Winds Blowin'...

[EVENT] Cold Winds Blowin'...

Characters: All
Date: January 10-31, 2018
Location: Keeliai, all sectors
Situation: Hurricane and ensuing cleanup
Warnings/Rating: add warnings to headers as necessary, please.

Come late night on the 10th, carrying over into the wee hours of the 11th, the winds that have been on and off all month pick up, howling between buildings and rattling anything not nailed down. The worst of it comes over the next day, when the winds don't actually stop, sweeping through the city at high speeds and bringing rain and all kinds of debris with them.

The canals in Water are nearly impassable, making travel even more inadvisable than it would have been. In some places the wind takes out the power, too, leaving several people temporarily without much in the way of heat -- not good when the average temperature is hovering around 5°C (about 40°F). The rain comes heavier over the course of the day, and flooding both minor and major abounds; during the worst of the storm the canals are near to overflowing and there's a sincere -- and realized -- risk of drowning. As the flooding rises fast, some unprepared citizens may be caught by these rushing torrents and need rescue.

The storm settles down toward the end of the twelfth, leaving only brisk winds and a sullen drizzle as it finally passes the city by. In its wake, however, is a vast array of damage, and significant repairs to be made.

The high winds have knocked many trees down, some of which landed on homes and businesses -- in some cases, punching right through the roofs, rendering the buildings temporarily unlivable, and sending their occupants out into the storm to seek their nearest secondary shelter. Flooding is wide-scale, doing immeasurable amounts of property damage and putting many lives at risk. Many are left injured, homeless, or their businesses and livelihoods in ruins. Even more have lost personal possessions that are irreplaceable.

All told, the Merchant's Guild estimates that nearly 10% of the city's residential districts have suffered severe damage, meaning that the homes in those areas are not structurally safe to live in until repairs are made. This translates to about 6000 kedan across all Sectors in need of temporary housing. A further 20% (roughly 10,000) of the city has experienced moderate damage, so their homes are livable, but they may be without power, heat, or necessities like running water or adequate food stores.

The rest of the city takes light damage, mostly in the way of flooding and damaged goods. Volunteers are needed all over the place to remove storm debris to a growing mountain of wreckage outside the city walls. Everything from broken windows and furniture, to entire trees and large sections of rooftops need to be hauled away, and in some cases, the Foreigners' abilities will be much appreciated, since whatever left is going to be done with kirin-hauled carts and sledges.

Through the rest of the month, repairs are in progress, most of it taking place beneath a sapping cold rain, which impedes both repairs and volunteers' health, and many come down with walking pneumonia and flu-like afflictions. Usayi is among those organizing work crews for the clearing of large debris and urgent patches; he'll be spearheading those efforts as the month wears on as well. The Woodsmen also call for help from as many volunteers as possible, citing the loss of a great deal of growing and stored seeds, as well as the damage to their agricultural land plots, which are now littered with more debris.

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Conan hadn't intended to be out in the storm. When he'd left the apartment, there had been plenty of time left to run his errands and get back home.

But as so often happened in his life, he had been delayed. By the time he had headed back, the storm had already been rapidly growing in strength.

And due to a badly timed and particularly strong gust of wind, Conan had been swept up and flung into a tree, hitting his head on the trunk.

The blow had stunned him at first. But But as the minutes pass, he slowly drags himself back to his feet, and starts trying to make his way back to the apartment, pausing just long enough to find some cloth to press against the cut on his forehead. He couldn't just wait for help here.

He'd been at work when the storm got worse, stuck there for hours as patients kept streaming in with a wide variety of injuries. Some were merely small things ranging from cuts to sprains while others needed more attention like broken bones or even a series of stitches. There wasn't much downtime in between patients and already he's been at the clinic longer than he would have worked on a typical day. Chances are good that he'll drop off to sleep shortly after he got back to the flat.

On his way home, John does keep a careful eye out for anyone who might need assistance. He's already helped a woman open the door so that she could get inside of her home and put bandages on scrapes from the first-aid kit he's kept in his bag.

Since he's on the look-out that means he manages to spot someone familiar in the storm, someone John knows better than most even if the kid doesn't know him in return. Even from this distance he can see the cloth pressed to Conan's forehead and diverts to head the kid off. He has to shout in order to be heard even when he does get close, also making a gesture towards Conan's head with one of his hands.

"Let me see." He doesn't wait for permission but gently wraps his fingers around Conan's wrist to pry it away so he can look at the wound.

Conan squints at the man, trying to concentrate past his splitting headache. It takes him a few seconds to recognize the man as Sherlock's friend. He blinks slowly, still slightly dazed from the hit to his head, and allows his hand to be lifted away.

That is definitely a nasty cut and if they weren't being pelted by the rain, John would put a bandage on it but Conan is soaked and anything he tried to use would just come off. Besides, he's well aware of how easily the boy gets sick so standing around continuing to get drenched in the middle of January isn't ideal. So he pushes the boy's hand back so he goes back to putting pressure on the cut.

"I'll take care of it back at the flat. Why don't you hop on?" Now John jerks his thumb to his back - offering Conan a piggyback ride. It's for the best all around. A piggyback ride ensures that Conan doesn't get knocked down again and means that whatever symptoms he might be experiencing aren't hindering his progress. Yet at the same time it let's the boy have a sense of control that being carried doesn't allow for. He'll be at John's back and not more vulnerable since he'll have limited mobility. Hopefully it'll make the teen feel like he isn't being treated like the seven year old he looks like at the moment.

"No thanks. I was going to walk back."

Conan's expression sets in stubbornness. So what if his head was paining him and he felt just a little dizzy. He was sure he could make it back on his own.

"You have a nasty head injury, there's no way I'm going to let you walk back now that you're my patient. Since I haven't got a wheelchair your options here are fairly limited. So you can hitch a ride on my back or I'll carry you." There is no room for arguing in his tone - professional but stern. Yet there's also something deeper, like he's a parent who's setting the rules with his kid.

If this was the Conan he'd left behind in Zelien, John wouldn't hesitate to pick the kid up and carry him around. He wouldn't be offering choices but Conan doesn't know him that well. To Conan he's a character in a story come to life who is also one of Sherlock's friends.

"When was it decided that I was your patient?"

Conan, unfortunately, couldn't really argue about his obvious injury.

"When I saw you were hurt." That's all there is to it.

John simply can't ignore someone who's sick or hurt, can't walk by when they clearly need medical attention. It wouldn't matter if they weren't sharing a flat or even that he knows Conan from before because he would have seen a kid in the middle of a storm with a banged-up head.

Conan sighs. He knew when to pick his battles. With his headache, he didn't really feel like fighting this one.

"Fine. I'll go."

How quickly Conan gives in tells John that the kid is experiencing a large amount of pain. Or maybe this is how he is without dinosaurs chomping on him and addict-crazed superpowered humans trying to kill him on a regular basis. Hard for him to tell at this point.

"Right, so hop on." This time it isn't a question or request.

Conan wasn't very fond of the idea of being ordered around, but at this point he'd just decided to get it over with quickly. He has a little trouble climbing up with one hand, as he was still using the other to press the cloth against forward, but manages to find a secure hold.

Unluckily for Conan, John is used to giving orders - both as a doctor, an army Captain and also as Sherlock's friend. Once the boy has scrambled up onto his back, he tucked his hands beneath Conan's knees to keep him there as he stood up.

"Let's be quick about this," he said knowing that Conan was probably not enjoying this at all. While John doesn't take off at an all-out run, he does break into a sprint heading back towards the flat. He doesn't stop until they've reached the door but does shift so that the boy can open it.

Conan had put up with this before when injured, although always before it had been someone he knew well and trusted to a certain degree.

As it is, he endures. Between the cold and the rain and the pain his head, he is more than miserable by the time they reach the door. Conan gladly shifts over to open the door.

John is hoping that just being a doctor will be enough for Conan to trust him to the point of giving him an exam and patching him up. Technically he has no actual proof that he's a doctor other than to do so with his skills. He doesn't exactly know how Conan is handling the whole 'Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are real' scenario seeing as how the kid had already believed it by the time John had arrived on the Charon months ago.

So all he can do is focus on what is happening now and with the door open, John steps into the flat and heads for the kitchen so Conan can get off. Both of them are dripping wet so he avoids the table with the detectives' language project. "I'll get my first-aid kit."

Conan had been forced to accept that there Sherlock and John came from a world with an absurdly numerous number of similarities to the fictional world that Doyle had created. There were far too many similarities for it to be a coincidence. He had theorized that there could be some link, but did not accept that it meant that Sherlock and John were the fictional duo come to life.

As it was, Sherlock had gained just enough respect from Conan in their time here that Conan was willing to accept his good opinion of John until proven otherwise. He didn't trust John, but then again he didn't trust any of the other doctors.

Conan scrambles back down to the ground and watches John leave in search of the first aid kit, the retrieves a towel from off the back of one of the kitchen chairs and makes an attempt to wipe some of the water off.

The truth was staring him in the face and Conan was still having difficulties accepting that the fictional characters made up by a writer existed somewhere. He had to wonder if the boy also had a problem accepting the magic that seemed to exist in this world as well or if there was enough proof of it for him to believe it. John faced a similar problem once, having had a run in with Captain James Kirk and Commander Spock from the television show even if they weren't the actors he'd seen growing up. Of course he'd also had a double from another world come into his life around the same time so that was an experience all on it's own.

Still, he could see where the skeptism came in for Conan. John had visited the boy's world where he recieved odd looks and constant questioning about his name and had responded that his parents were fond of the book. As it is, he is very much aware that this particular kid was only allowing this because Sherlock had introduced them. It's the thought he has as he's gathering up his first aid kit along with the smaller flashlight that had been on him.

On his way back he can see that Conan didn't stay where John had put him and internally sighed to himself. "Sit down and I'll take a look at you."

Conan eyes him with just the smallest hint of wariness and sits down by the table, setting his towel to the side.

"Are you really a doctor?"

"That's what my paperwork says. Even went to school for it and everything." He said it with more than a bit of humor. John leaned over to check the head wound first, to find out just how bad it is or if it's merely just all the blood that usually accompanied a head wound.

"Unfortunately, I wasn't aware I'd be kidnapped to another world so I didn't have it on hand. Closest thing I have is my military identification." He proceeded to wipe away as much as the blood as he could to see if the wound will need stitches.

Conan winces as John inspects his injury. The cut is jagged and has bled a lot, but it does not appear to be deep.

Satisfied that it isn't too deep he nodded and grabbed the now-damp towel that Conan had used to mop up the water and gently used it to get the rest of the blood. "Luckily you won't need stitches."

Reaching into his first-aid kit, John pulled out an antibiotic cream to spread over the wound and a large bandage to cover it up. When that task is done his next act is pull out a small flashlight from his pocket. "I'm going to check your eyes and ask a few questions to determine whether you've got a concussion."

A flick of his thumb turned the flashlight on and he raised it to look at how well Conan's eyes dilate or if he happened to be sensitive to the light. "Hearing any ringing sounds?"

He winces slightly as the light shines in his eyes. Count that a confirmed on light sensitivity. And it didn't help with his headache at all.

"No ringing yet."

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[EVENT] Cold Winds Blowin'...

Conan Edogawa | Central District | Closed to John Watson

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