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Old January 9, 2018, 01:27 AM   #1 (permalink)
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[ZA] Infecting me with a cure that I was never meant to see [Gye]

Continued from here.

All things considered Gye'ron didn't really look all that injured. If he was capable of walking on his own and talking in a relatively lucid, calm fashion, surely he couldn't be all that hurt? Still, the clerk at the front desk had seen all sorts of injuries before. It didn't help anybody to make assumptions about what exactly might be afflicting those that came up, and so she made sure to get it recorded as to what exactly the problem was.

"Please state the nature of your medical emergency," the woman noted, grabbing a quill in order to make a note on a file. They could get the rest of the details later. Knowing what the problem was would help her direct Gye'ron to an appropriate level of care - whether an initiate thaumaturge would be enough for whatever the problem may be, or the best doctor in the house.
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Old January 11, 2018, 01:23 AM   #2 (permalink)
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He felt the answers before he gave them, "I have several cuts on my arms and legs that haven't healed for almost an era and a half. I believe the weapon used was magical, in some way. And ever since that time I've developed a rash every time I use arcana."

He winced, not at his wounds, but at the memory of when he first had the living enchantment placed upon him. His escape had seen him land in a lake, which was a cruel torture when you were imbued with the essence of fire. At least that had abated. Otherwise the larger issue might be the smell that would be emanating from him.

A question of his own came to mind, "What does the institution charge? And what methods of payment are accepted?" It was odd to even think about for a man who used to command one of the highest salaries in the Legions and received medical care for free for most of his adult life. The life of a civilian was far less convenient.
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Old January 11, 2018, 02:58 PM   #3 (permalink)
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Well, that definitely sounded like something that would need a bit more power to deal with. Certainly not something normal enough for one of the initiate thaumaturges to try and tackle. Okay, she'd just make sure the paperwork was in order for this, hmm, hmm... magical wounds... don't heal properly... all right. "And name, please?" That seemed like a good detail to have, too, although secondary to knowing what the problem was. Record keeping and all that.

Payment! Money. Also a pretty important detail, for both sides of the equation in fact. "The price depends on the operation itself, the more complicated the more expensive it tends to be. Your case seems to be rather unique so I cannot quote anything in particular unfortunately, that will likely be up to the doctor in question who works with you as well as the Academy's administrator to work out." A more literal answer, though, was that the institution charged... uh, money?

"Crowns and banknotes for the most part. The Academy tends to be very flexible when it comes to payment, however, especially for those who might not be able to afford the sum in its entirety. We exist to help the community, not bankrupt it, after all. Should there be any issues, a payment plan or other form of settlement can be negotiated." She flicked open a notebook, looking through schedules of who was in at the moment.

"Please make your way down the left here," she gestured with a hand. "The hallway will lead you to two large double doors that take you outside, and there should be a building right in front of you. Simply keep on going forward, enter the building, and take a seat in the waiting room. You will be called when they're ready for you." Gye'ron was free to ask any other questions he might still have, though.
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Old January 14, 2018, 05:28 PM   #4 (permalink)
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His mouth opened, and then closed immediately at the request of a name. He had been about to give his own, without thought. And then he remembered where he was. Anywhere else he may have given his name, but not here. He opened his mouth again, then closed it once more. He could not force the lie out. His God was the God of Truth and Honour. To lie would be in violation of the tenets of his faith.

"Ron...," he struggled to find a way to communicate another relative truth, "Val...encia." That ought to work. Ron Valencia. A nickname and his full middle name. It wasn't a lie.

He bowed slightly to the woman, "Thank-you. May Ioannes bless you."

He took down the hall to the left, pulling his heavy, red, fur edged coat tight about him as he leaned against the doors and pushed them open. The cold air of winter hit him for a moment - thought in comparison to the northern town over which he claimed lordship, it was far from cold. He walked on, and into the building indicated and took a seat.

The waiting was uncomfortable for him. He found every moment in the city increased his anxiety, to the point that he was painfully clamping his jaw. Yet, wait he did.
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Old January 14, 2018, 10:45 PM   #5 (permalink)
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If the difficulty that 'Ron' had in enunciating his name was noticed, it went unmentioned. For now, what was given was written down for the record, and he was free to proceed onward into the hospital. It seemed to be a rather busy establishment, although whether that spoke more to the rough and tumble nature of Ziel Aerca, or simply the quality of care present at the hospital, was hard to gauge.

Out of the first building, a brief stroll in between. He could see the courtyard in the center that separated the four main buildings on campus, and then into the hospital building he went. The waiting room itself consisted of cubicle-like alcoves where those waiting treatment could patiently wait to be called forward by whatever doctor had been assigned to their case - some degree of separation provided in an attempt to mitigate spread of infectious diseases. Of course, the really bad cases tended to be quarantined right away anyway.

Wait, wait, wait. A doctor came out and called somebody else. Then a nurse called somebody else. There was a bit of a fuss for a bit as an emergency delivery arrived who needed to go into surgery right away. Then things died down for a little, and the calls resumed their normalcy. A janitor stopped by to clean down some of the vacated alcoves, and finally, one of the nurses stepped up and called for "Ron Valencia." The grumpy looking saurid called out the name and looked around to see if anybody would respond.
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Old January 22, 2018, 12:15 AM   #6 (permalink)
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The waiting dragged on and on, and at times he'd be about to fall asleep. Then a name would be called, he'd pop up in his chair, then realize it wasn't his. With each name his frustration grew. Were they toying with him? This had to be some kind of a joke. How could it take so long? He never waited this long for treatment in the Legion. That said, usually when he required any serious treatment it was more of an emergency, and the treatment was rather crude.

After the emergency came and passed, he began to become anxious. Eventually the only thing keeping him in his seat was his own hands clutched to the arm rests. For a man who spent a great deal of time in isolation and quiet contemplation, he was exceptionally short on patience.

By the time his 'name' was called, he had been lulled into a haze. In fact, he didn't truly recognize it as his name. Going by aliases wasn't exactly his forte. For a long moment he didn't respond, didn't move, didn't register that he had been called. Then suddenly something clicked.

'Feth, that's me,' he thought as his mind shook free the cobwebs and he stirred, clumsily launching himself from his seat.

"Me," he said dryly, before clearing his throat and half raising his arm in the air, "here." Every now and then the act of standing would catch him unawares. Either the cuts would be agitated or he would inadvertently place a hand on one of them and press against it as he braced himself. Unexpected pain was always the worst pain.

Gye'ron walked toward the Saurid, anticipating following it somewhere. As he did, he wondered if his Taralonian accent stood out in Ziel Aerca. Perhaps they just placed him as yet another refugee in a city full of them.
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Old January 22, 2018, 03:09 PM   #7 (permalink)
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Given that Gye'ron currently wasn't on fire or bleeding out from the bloody stump that was once his leg or otherwise suffering from an emergency, and that it seemed like Ziel Aerca had plenty of people who needed to go to the hospital for one reason or another? No, this wasn't a matter of being toyed with, this was just regular civilian life it seemed. The Legions were probably better with turnaround time, if only because half the casualties probably died on the field of battle and another half of those who made it back were written off as dead anyway. Freed up a lot of time, that.

Anyway! The saurid nurse looked a little annoyed and was about to just walk away when Gye'ron finally roused himself to remember that, wait, he wasn't actually Gye'ron right now. He was Ron Valencia. And with that the saurid waited for him to come over before leading him over to the examination room. Very professional looking, at least, very clean, very sanitary. Metal instruments, herbs, bandages, a cold metal examination table. Well-lit, too, was that magic? Soft glowing white orbs that illuminated the room.

"Strip down as necessary and sit on the table, sir," the saurid noted. "The doctor will be along shortly." The door to the room was then closed to afford Gye'ron a bit of privacy. Depending on how high up those cuts were, well, he might have to shed a bit of clothing so that the doctor could take a proper look at them. At least it was a decent temperature in this room, he wouldn't be freezing or anything.
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Old January 22, 2018, 11:03 PM   #8 (permalink)
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The hospital was impressive, he had to begrudgingly admit. He didn't want to give the Principality of Moonstone credit for anything. However, this place in Ziel Aerca seemed more advanced than most hospitals he'd known in the Legions. There wasn't blood on anything. Nothing was slightly rusted. Everyone was professional. It was organized. Even a cesspit had to have it's beacons of light, he supposed.

His eyes lingered on the orb of thaumaturgic light. There had been a time, after he was unbound, when he had to choose an essence to attune himself. It had been terribly difficult to choose between sorcery and thaumaturgy. The chains of his past had dragged him toward the former.

He simply nodded to the Saurid. That would be just about all of his clothes, then. His knee length, red, fur edged coat came off first. Then the brown riding boots. Then the black shirt, then the thick trousers, lined with wool. When he was done, he was only wearing a loin cloth and a golden pendant depicting Aslan at the end of a golden chain. The cuts covered his thighs and upper arms.

Beyond those, his body was heavily scarred. His right thigh bore one already. Another from his belly button to his hip. Another along his triceps. Another across the palm of his right hand. A triangle on the underside of his left wrist. The marks of a wolfs maw on the right side of his neck. His back was laced in them - both lashings given from others and by his own hand. His chest was the worst of it all. Part of the flesh was seared from where a crossbow bolt had struck him once and the wound had been burned closed. That, however, was nothing compared to the glowing patch of moss that covered his heart, its green tendrils spreading in a patchwork across his chest.

He fidgeted as he waited. He rarely took his shirt off on account of the moss. He could only hope the professionalism continued.
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Old January 23, 2018, 12:28 AM   #9 (permalink)
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Professionalism! Well, that all depended on what Gye'ron thought was professional. He didn't have to wait for too long after stripping down, though - noting that there seemed to be a cubby nearby where his folded clothes could be placed (or unfolded clothes could be unceremoniously stuffed). In just a few moments he'd heard a light rapping on the door, and a bright and cheerful voice from the other side. "Mister Valencia? Are you ready?"

Presumably, he'd answer yes. It wasn't as if Gye'ron was interested in delaying this, right? Still, it wasn't as if she'd actually come in without his consent, so until he assented she'd stay right where she was. Assuming he was actually interested in getting himself healed up today, though, she'd eventually make her way into the room.

What did a professional doctor look like? What did professionalism in the health industry look like? Did it look like a petite elven woman with a ridiculously sized rack, white fox ears poking out from her pale blonde hair, and three fluffy white vulpine tails with purple tips coming out from behind her? If so, then Gye'ron was in luck, because the professionalism had continued. If not, uh... well, he was out of luck, then, because this was his doctor. Dressed in a long white robe, she had a clipboard in hand that she was currently taking a look at, closing the door behind her and sliding something on the door to note that the room was currently occupied.

Her eyes came up from the board and, if she recognized who he was? She seemed to be keeping it to herself as her eyes hovered over the cuts, before going back to the board. There was other stuff there, ahuh, yup. She wasn't going to pry, though. Patient doctor confidentiality! He was just here for the cuts, the moss was his own problem if he didn't mention it.

"These cuts, I imagine they hurt?" Gye'ron hadn't actually specified. For all Sliucha knew, he wanted them gone for aesthetic purposes. "Is the pain localized? Or has it spread at all, internally? And this rash that appears when you perform arcana, does it also appear around these cuts? Or does it appear anywhere on the body?"
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Old January 24, 2018, 01:09 AM   #10 (permalink)
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It was a woman's voice. He hadn't expected that. He cleared his throat, "Ready," he responded almost immediately. His head dropped as he made a silent prayer that she wasn't an attractive woman.

He started to look up. First he noticed she was petite.

'Feth.'

Then not so petite parts.

'FETH.'

Then the face.

'Feth, feth, feth.'

Then the ears, then the tails.

'What the feth!?'

And then it dawned on him just who she was. How could it not? A person didn't run into too many Elves with fox tails and ears. His body went rigid, expecting another attack. Which didn't come. Just questions.

His eyes narrowed, suspicious of the interaction. Hesitantly he responded, "It's mostly localized. Their location makes rigorous movement difficult. They never heal."

The rash, he couldn't be sure about. Whether it was directly related to the cuts, or a side affect of spending an era as a living enchantment, he didn't know, "The rash just appears in reaction to casting, and my power is diminished. I'm not sure if the cause is the same."

On the matter of what he suspected may be the alternative cause, he wasn't inclined to say. If he wasn't already revealed, that may just tip his hand.
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Old January 24, 2018, 02:17 PM   #11 (permalink)
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The last time Gye'ron had seen Sliucha she'd probably only had the single white tail, and probably even a lamia tongue! Only, he probably hadn't seen the lamia tongue then. And, granted, one tail or three, a tail was a tail, even if now the tails had pretty purple tips, too. And the lamia tongue was gone now, too, but once again, that probably wasn't relevant at all. If Sliucha knew that Gye'ron had so quickly managed to recognize her, though, she'd think that was pretty neat. Nothing wrong with looking unique, because it made it easier for people to recognize her even if they'd never met her before. Yeah, the governor of Moonstone! You know the one! The one with the fox ears and the three tails and stuff!

Not exactly a whole lot of those running around.

Localized pain, that was good. Sliucha figured that meant that the healing process would likely be easier since it seemed like the symptoms were simpler. The more complicated the pain, the more complicated the treatment. The rash, well, that was a little complicated. Gye'ron didn't seem to know whether or not they were related at all, but that depended a lot on how exactly he'd gotten into this state to begin with, right?

"Now then," and she'd take the quill attached to the clipboard and tap it on the paper in front of her, "what exactly were the circumstances that led to your being in this... predicament? Did the rash start appearing at roughly the same time you received these cuts?" She was watching him, now, face placid and professional. Was she just being a doctor, or did she know? It could just be the case that she was trying to get as much information as possible to find a solution.

Or maybe he was being goaded, and his doctor was a torturous tease.
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Old February 13, 2018, 09:32 PM   #12 (permalink)
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There certainly weren't many people like Sliucha in all of the Empire. At least not so unabashedly out in the open. She was different, in a few ways. The details of which weren't of particular note to him. Fox-woman who served the Mad Prince was enough. Number of tails? Size of her bosom? Hard details to notice when you were being engulfed in flames and chopped at.

He hesitated, his brow knitting and unknitting itself as he regarded his doctor dubiously. Did she truly not remember? Dare he be entirely honest? What could the consequences be? He wasn't so sure that he could escape twice in the same fashion as he had the first time.

"Yes." He wanted so badly to leave it there. His mouth almost felt sewn shut. She seemed so unfazed. Perhaps she didn't remember him. Or perhaps she wanted an admission.

He, however, wanted to be healed.

"The cuts came from a blade. I'm not sure if it was poisoned or enchanted. A spell had also been cast on me, the effects of which lingered for an era." Perhaps that would be enough. Not too much detail. Generic enough. Maybe too much detail. His heart raced under the luminescent green moss.

A shrug, "It's a hard life, when you live by the sword."

A sell-sword? Close enough to the truth.
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Old February 13, 2018, 09:46 PM   #13 (permalink)
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"Mmhmm." Was she convinced? Well, Gye'ron had yet to be eviscerated, so that had to count for something, surely. Sliucha just made another little note on her clipboard before setting it aside and walking right up to the man. She gingerly ran a finger over one of the cuts before looking up at him, the man towering one or two heads above her.

"Harder life when you put off proper medical care." The greatest enemy of a stubborn sell-sword was probably the persistent infection that came from untreated wounds and the like. That Gye'ron was still alive spoke to... something. Luck? Endurance? Or maybe the nature of the spell itself, designed not to be fatal, simply deleterious. Still, for it to linger for an era before he'd sought out care? This didn't seem too complicated. Or perhaps Sliucha was just a little disconnected these days.

Her tails swished around behind her as she circled him, running her hands over his body, ostensibly to get a read on his injuries. They did seem to wander just a little, though. Did she squeeze his butt? It'd been fast, it was hard to tell. Before enough time could pass where Gye'ron might call her out on it, though, she finally backed off, stepping back in front of him. A snap of the fingers and it was as if somebody had poured hot water over him, trickling from top to bottom. As the wave spread and encountered a cut the skin began to fuse back together over the wounds, spreading relief in its wake as it continued to make its way down, until Gye'ron's toes were rather tingly.

All the cuts were gone.

"Move around, stretch, do some exercises. Verify for me that the pain is gone, please." She'd picked up the clipboard again, waiting to take notes.
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