[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

Enjolras: OPEN

[solo_patria]

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.

[survival_isnt_living]

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?"

[solo_patria]

"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."

CLOSED to SKULDUGGERY and GENE. may need a healer later though!

[peacefullywreathed]

Solomon would give this universe its due: it certainly felt as though it was at war. The general air of disarray, the damage, the mobile injured. If it was an elaborate hallucination, it was obviously drawing on his memories of a war long past.

He wished it was a hallucination. Being insane would have made matters so much easier. Then again, hallucinating one's own broken leg was hardly the pinnacle of mental fortitude. Of course, that was the point of insanity, wasn't it?

It was a bad sign, Solomon reflected grimly as he took another limping step on his crutch, when he began to ramble even in his mental processes. The pain radiated up his leg and snatched the air in his chest, and he paused to catch his breath and muster the will to take another step. He had to make it quickly, given he was standing in the doorway, but after a moment he managed, moving slowly to the side and out of the medics' ways.

At least the kedan who'd delivered him to his current accommodation had been good enough to split his leg. Given the obvious recent attack, his situation could have been worse.

[skeletonenigma]

[OOC: This thread is dated sometime after this one.]

His situation was going to get worse.

Skulduggery was still trying to track down the suit of black armour that murdered the white-haired boy during the bombings. He'd tried many different things by that point - locating the victim, who might even have been resurrected by that point; finding any other witnesses; keeping a general eye out. He was avoiding the consoles for how compromised they were, but Skulduggery hadn't hit a single lead any other way, and the frustration was starting to make his head hurt. Or rather, it was starting to make what was inside his head hurt.

That wasn't a very good state of mind for him to be in, which was part of the reason Skulduggery now spent at least an hour each day purifying the hospital's water supply. It was easier to think when he had something to concentrate on, something that could only be considered a good thing to do. The problem was when things broke that concentration. Things like memories, or drifting thoughts.

Things like Solomon Wreath.

In the split second after laying eyes on the necromancer, Skulduggery already knew what must have happened. Evandau wasn't going to give up without a fight, so of course, the technology for bringing other people here would have been salvaged. Of course the people brought would be powerful, useful, regardless of their moral compass. It all made a very brutal kind of sense.

His body didn't seem to be listening. Even as Skulduggery wondered whether the best idea wouldn't be to simply move on as though nothing happened, he was already walking over.

[peacefullywreathed]

The sound of footsteps coming directly toward him made Solomon turn from trying to find a chair from which he could easily extricate himself. What he saw was a skeleton in a suit. He was, in fact, quite familiar with a skeleton in a suit. He was not, however, familiar with a skeleton in a suit whose bones were purple.

Solomon blinked and reconsidered the value of the idea that he was hallucinating, and then decided he was in altogether too much constant pain. A purple skeleton did not rate very high on his list of oddities; at least not enough to simply be dismissed as fantasy, and surely if he'd been rendered insane by mistakenly viewing a Faceless One the progression of current events won't have been quite so logical.

Instead he felt a touch exasperated. Of course, of course, wherever he was, Skulduggery had been there first.

"Skulduggery," Solomon said, rather mildly given that the last time he'd seen Skulduggery was while bleeding into the ground from a compound fracture and watching the skeleton be dragged into a special rip by a transdimensional Cthulu. "Hijacked en route to hell, I see. Lovely new fashion trend you're setting there. Is that in lieu of having hair to dye, or was it a favour?"

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.

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?"

[flagged to Sep, but ask if you want a thread!]

[gathersnomoss]

Zelgadis had been going out for field duty, but he did stop by the hospital to see if he was needed and what spots most needed his attention. He also spent his evenings tiring himself out with Aqua Create spells to fill the cisterns.

Right now, though, he was taking a short break, with a cup of (weak) tea and a medical book.

[survival_isnt_living]

Septimus has been very much regretting that he hasn't been able to do as much field duty as he'd like--he likes being hands-on when he can. He's still debating who to designate as a second-in-command to handle some of the logistics, and once he has, he'll be able to get out more.

As it is, 'breaks' for him currently constitute making notes on an idea he's had kicking around since it became obvious the spores were around until further notice. He's rereading those notes as he walks into the staff lounge.

Making his way to make some tea for himself--as strong as he can make it--he glances up. "What's the book?"

[gathersnomoss]

"Anatomy," Zelgadis said. "I never learned much healing beyond having to patch myself up, and some things picked up here and there, so Bianca had me making up for what I missed. And learning what some of the machines and drugs here do."

Zelgadis did know more than he let on about herbs, mostly from following his grandfather the priest around, but even an actual priest from his world would probably be a bit overwhelmed at the technology.

"What about you? What are you working on."

[OTA]

[12goingon113]

Aang is a multi-purpose Avatar.

If he's not shoring up the foundation of the hospital, or otherwise using his earthbending to help with the repairs, then he's using waterbending to remove the contaminating impurities from the water they have on hand.

On top of that, he can often be found zipping along the halls on an airscooter moving messages and supplies from one side of the hospital to the other.

[survival_isnt_living]

On one of those quick-moving errands, Aang manages nearly to crash into Septimus. Luckily, furycrafting senses alert him just before it happens and he manages to step out of the way.

Children, he thinks with fond amusement and nostalgic chagrin. So much energy. I know I was. And it nearly drove his mother to exhaustion sometimes. His father tended to alternate between irritation and deep amusement, depending on the day--assuming he saw it at all. But Septimus doesn't really think about his father's reactions.

"I'm always surprised at how dextrous that can be, all things considered."

[12goingon113]

Aang catches sight of Septimus at the very last second and as a result of over-correction very nearly careens into an adjacent wall.

"Woah! Sorry! I didn't see you there," he says sheepishly, once his feet are back on the ground proper. "What do you mean all things?"

[alphatar]

Waterbending 101. Or at least it is for Korra. The contaminated water lifts into the air and she takes a spot next to Aang.

Obviously it's been a long day, non stop healing on her part and now that another healer's taken her place, time to make more clean water. "So you're why I have all that water to work with."

[12goingon113]

"Guilty as charged," he says wiping some sweat off his forehead with the back of one hand. "How are you, Korra?"

Because Aang? Is exhausted.

Frank Zhang | Open

[iguanasolution]

Frank had gathered, over the months, quite a bit of confidence when working at the clinic and then the hospital. He wasn't an expert by any stretch of the imagination and he didn't kid himself: he still had a lot to learn, and he was actually excited to do so. But after months he knew what he could do, and he knew he could do it well.

Problem was, a lot of said confidence came from a certain mother of a superhero who kept on encouraging him, kept on giving him work, kept on trusting him even when he made mistakes. And now that she was gone (gone home, he told himself. Home where she'll be safer.) he wasn't quite sure what to do with himself at work.

So he did what he thought could do best, for the moment, and simply acted as a mule and carried everything around as it was needed.

...Sometimes he carried enough that it kind of hid his face.

for RAINE. before the mod-mission.

[peacefullywreathed]

Given the state of the turtle, Solomon supposed he should have expected that the Foreigners would be expected to actually participate in the war for which they'd been kidnapped. Even still, given his relative newness he'd still been surprised to be contacted for a mission.

Then again, perhaps that was why he'd been chosen.

Either way, it meant that he couldn't afford to let his leg heal naturally. It was healing well, to be sure, and with a minimum of stitches. Just not quickly enough for a mission. Which was why Solomon made his slow way back into the hospital two weeks after his first visit, leaning on a cane and glancing around. He caught one of the passing kedan.

"I'm looking for the white-haired healer in the red robe," he said.

"Healer Sage," said the kedan. "I'll have someone send her out at her convenience."

"Thank you." Solomon glanced about for a seat and took one against the wall to wait.

[ruinsprofessor]

Her convenience didn't leave him waiting very long; within ten minutes or so, Raine had emerged, sleeves pushed up and staff in hand. She glanced about briefly, spotted Solomon, and headed over. "I remember you," she said, with a nod by way of greeting. She might have even been introduced to him, though his name escaped her for the moment.

A quick scan of his appearance revealed nothing that looked like new damage, so a safe conclusion was something to do with his wounded leg. A purely social visit seemed highly unlikely, at any rate. "I take it your injury brings you here. How have you been healing?"

[peacefullywreathed]

More reason to like the woman. Granted, there were reasons for healers to be delayed, but her expediency and the fact she jumped straight to the heart of the matter were still appreciated.

"Good. That makes this less awkward," Solomon said dryly without rising. He didn't think they'd ever been introduced, so he bowed slightly from the waist. "Solomon Wreath; thank you for seeing me. My healing has progressed as well as might be expected, but I've a sudden engagement to attend very soon, and I'll need full use of my leg to attend to it. Provided, of course, you've the magic or resources to spare."

backdated to earlier in the month beause reasons

[strategisch]

[Armin came to Eshai Memorial because he had heard that there was a supply of fresh water there. He kept some at his flat, in containers, because he was the type to be 500% prepared for any sort of disaster. But the small amount that he had squirreled away was beginning to run low. So he hitched up a cart with the largest plastic container he could find to one of the few remaining Kirin from his work, (which was now just a pile of rubble and a small fence hastily built to keep the beasts that hadn't died or ran off) and set out for the long trek to the Metal sector.]

[He wasn't expecting the place to be such a whirlwind. Kedan were running about in all directions, carting this or that, moving bodies-- not to mention half of the building that had been so carefully and lovingly built was already partially destroyed. Armin didn't even have time to get his bearings before a crying Kedan-child began to tug insistently at his cloak, speaking in incomprehensibly muddled Kedanese.]

[Armin knelt down and spoke a few gentle words, then pulled out a small journal and pencil he kept in his pocket to write something down. He showed it to the child, and they snuffled sullenly, took the journal and wrote something in return. This back-and-forth went on for a minute or two, before Armin nodded and put the journal away, took the child's hand and stood up.]

Excuse me! This child needs to find their mother, is there anyone who would know where she would be?

[survival_isnt_living]

[The entrance area is in fact busy enough that it is surprisingly difficult to notice, perhaps explaining why no one had been able to notice the child. While a few of the kedan look over, there's also a tall man--six-foot-four tall--just coming out of the intensive care. Then again, he doesn't seem to notice immediately, either: the moment he steps out he gets some of those both working and visiting all but swarming him with questions. Septimus somehow manages to appear collected despite having a few streaks of blood here and there, his sleeves being slightly damp, and in general his work clothes being rather rumpled.

More than that, however, is the way he seems to wear command like a second skin as he deftly herds the kedan clamoring for his attention into some semblance of order. As he listens to them one by one, his eyes seem to take in most of the room without really taking in the details, most especially once he has to reply to them.

They're sorted rather quickly. Another comes up just as he reaches the end of his queue, but he holds up a hand to indicate the kedan wait before beckoning to have her follow him as well--

And walks straight up to Armin and the child. He hadn't even shown a sign before of noticing.

Rather than addressing Armin, though, Septimus immediately drops to one knee. Without indication, even almost without thinking, he reaches for both earthcrafting and firecrafting to soothe the child subtly--not suddenly and forcefully, but just to gently ease away the panic. His resonant voice is quiet and gentle.] What's your name?

[Sorry, Armin, you've got back seat until this is dealt with.]