2020-03-04: Just What The Doctor Ordered
- Log: Just What The Doctor Ordered
- Cast: Citan Uzuki, Gwen Whitlock
- Where: The Thames - Upper Deck
- Date: March 04, 2020
- Summary: Citan, in the midst of working on a Gear, awakens Gwen, who had been sleeping nearby. A little assistance and advice are had.
<Pose Tracker> Citan Uzuki has posed.
"There you are... you thought that you could hide from me, did you?"
In just about any other circumstances, words like that would be a little ominous.
Considering that they're said in the wake of some swearing (by the doctor's standards!) and clanking of metal within the depths of the Thames' Gear hangar...
...and considering that the speaker is about elbow-deep into the guts of a Gear's cockpit...
...they're probably a little more understandable than any color or flavor of threatening.
"--Oh, of all the--"
Though the wayward part is not, perhaps, giving up the ghost that easily.
The quest to locate and extract the thing that he's certain (reasonably certain. About 88% sure) has been causing the temperature and ventilation issue when the Heimdall has been operating in cold environments has been a difficult one, the moreso for the machine's age and somewhat unorthodox construction (compared to others of its age and make). It's put up a fight--
"Confound this thing!"
--but in this endeavor Citan is nothing but relentless.
Tools are scattered about the interior of the cockpit, otherwise open to the outside world. It looks like a bomb went off in here, but...
Is this what is called a 'controlled chaos'?
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
In many ways, Halcyon lacks many of the myriad of advantages Gwen's beloved wagon carried- namely, 'a comfortable place to sleep'. Well, not *exactly* comfortable, but with the canvas covering and many, many thick blankets of Baskar designs, Gwen could cocoon herself in the slightly bowed middle of the back, provided she didn't have too many things back there already. Then again, her wagon didn't have heating and cooling, but like hell is she going to leave that on when she is-
"H-hrk-!"
... *was* sleeping.
There's a dull thud, some shifting around, and the mechanical sound of the cockpit shield opening.
There are what makes the symphony of Gwen startling out of sleep and nearly falling out of her Gear, if not for the safety of the heavy duty glass shield over the cockpit, then opening the shield so she can get out.
And then, stand there, with a crick in her neck and an epic case of redhead bedhead as she realizes that there's someone else here. "... Hm-mm?" She squints, sees the clutter outside a not so familiar Gear, and hears the sound of cursing.
'oh, of all the--'
'confound this thing'
okay gwen is going to assume this is Citan here
Adjusting her shirt as she leaves Citan to his misery, she leaves for a moment, returning later with a much more presentable (but still with a bedhead) appearance, toothbrush still in her mouth and a cup in the other. "Washhu hoin'?" she sounds around her brush.
<Pose Tracker> Citan Uzuki has posed.
"--Oh?"
Citan rises up suddenly at the sound of a voice nearby and only misses hitting his head on an overhanging panel by some sort of... reflex? ...Or, possibly, having done exactly this at some point in his past. ...Probably the latter, given the positioning of his hands and the way in which he carefully slides out of where he'd been positioned.
...You don't get to be 'good' by talent alone, though it certainly helps. Sometimes, bitter experience is the best instruction.
The doctor has been more presentable -- but then machinery work rarely leads to anyone looking particularly presentable. The older set of clothing -- distinct from his traveling garb -- is spattered with machine oil. Some of it looks pretty fresh.
Probably because she has just interrupted him in the middle of some work on... precisely that.
"Ah, Gwen," he says, recognizing her. "I was not expecting visitors. My apologies for the state of things here. As you can see, I am in the middle of taming this recalictrant beast!" He makes a sound that could easily be sigh or laugh, before sliding off his glasses and beginning to wipe them with the tail end of his shirt (which is miraculously still clean).
He squints at her a moment, then slips his glasses back on again.
"Do not tell me that you have been sleeping in the hangar...?"
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
Taking the brush out of her mouth and swishing the leftovers into her cup, Gwen sets the items on an overhanging part of her Gear and turns, using her vantage point to get a better view of Heimdall. "... I guess I didn't realize you had a Gear. It looks..." Pretty amazing? Well, a lot of Gears look pretty amazing to her. Pretty neat? That's an even worse word to use.
"It looks like somethin' that suits you." Which is a roundabout way of saying 'it looks like you' without it sounding like 'it literally looks like you, Citan, the person, who somehow resembles this Gear'.
she just woke up
And because it's Citan, and not one of the many who gather on the Thames, Gwen doesn't bother to adjust her clothing further, comfortable with whatever scars might be peeking out from her collar or shirt tails that might be hanging out. He's seen his share of those, after all.
Probably has seen worse, after Lahan.
"..... I mean, seemed like a good idea," she says, stifling a yawn. "It was too, uhm, late, and I was exhausted." Rubbing her neck, her hand travels to begin the arduous task of taming her hair. "I 'spose it would've been better if I, er, slept in a bed, but." She shrugs. "But it sounds like you could use a hand or two. I wouldn't trust myself with, er, any complex wiring, but I've dealt with my share of being the help for people with unique senses of organization."
Auntie Frea wasn't a disorderly woman, but she wasn't a person who organized things under more orthodox patterns of 'order'.
Gwen thinks she can handle a Citan.
<Pose Tracker> Citan Uzuki has posed.
"I have had this one for some time now, actually. ...You may remember the disturbance in Bledavik, relating to the young Princess Cecilia?" He readjusts his glasses, just a touch. "...I borrowed this from the Yggdrasil at that time to assist in the assault." Wait, when did the doctor learn how to use a Gear? "Sig -- Sigurd, that is -- is an old friend of mine. After we ended up transported to Spira and returned here, he was kind enough to see that it was transported safely to me."
Particularly kind, given that Citan had never actually returned it despite borrowing it, and the Yggdrasil had only come into possession of it again by chance.
But what are old friends for?
"Hmm." The doctor smiles only slightly at her remark that it 'suits him'.
"It is an old Gear, I am afraid, and that means that the parts are equally as old. It has held up remarkably -- he had said that it had only required minor repairs to become functional once again, but that it has been a stubborn one. I suppose that means it is well-suited to me!" He laughs, briefly. "...In any regard, once I am able to take stock of the venting mechanism, perhaps I can work out a solution for this latest problem. Fortunately, we do have a good deal of downtime at the moment."
It would be bad if they were caught off-guard, with the Gear in this state.
He regards her, now.
And simply shakes his head. "You do know that is a good way to get a crick in your neck, Gwen? I cannot recommend a nap in a cockpit."
...Has he tried that before?
He folds his arms over his chest. "That being said, have you recently come into possession of a Gear? I do not recall you operating one previously. Could it be a recent acquisition?"
Maybe it's just as well that Gwen offers to help him, or else he might get distracted looking at her Gear.
One could easily get the impression looking at him now, in any case.
"...'Unique senses of organization'...?"
He takes a look about himself and shakes his head. "Ah. ...I am glad that Yui is not here to see this," he sighs, perhaps aware on some level of how much of a mess this has gotten to be. "...Nevertheless, it cannot be helped. It is only a temporary disorder! Now then, if you are willing, Gwen... Let me see if I can extract this part properly."
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
"Ohhhh, yeah! Ah, so you're friends with-" wait, which guy was Sigurd, again "... That's... the former prince, right? Sigggu... oh wait! No, that's Bartholomew. I remember how his name was really long in comparison to his last name, which sounded really neat. It was... Fatima."
Looking over towards Citan's Gear, Gwen returns to peering up at it, pacing over to get a better look at the front, then the back, as Citan speaks. "I dunno, I mean, aren't most Gears old? Unless they're, like, military or somethin' fancy. I mean, that's how I got mine."
Which leads to-!
Thankfully, Gwen's Gear's origins are hardly the stuff of legend, which Gwen herself readily demonstrates, gesturing to it in the equivalent of her 'pajamas', which are mostly just 'an older pair of clothes that she happens to have that are likely from Spira, come to think of it'. "The bulk of Halcyon's frame is from a Gear the Thames crew dug up. I helped with it, even."
She doesn't remember much of the event, because she was half-asleep at the time, but that's what her friends said.
And when Citan's attention falls back to her and her state, Gwen laughs, her left hand going to rub at the afflicted spot. "Y'sound like you've done that a time or two in your wilder days." Did... Citan have 'wilder' days? Gwen can only guess.
"Well, like my Auntie. A scholarly sense of organization." Gwen says this matter of factly, without any hint that it could be an actual insult. "Because sometimes the mind needs all the brainpower. But yeah. I, Gwen Whitlock, super courier, am at your service." She even does a small sort of bow at the end, a wide grin on her face.
She wakes up rather quickly, at least.
<Pose Tracker> Citan Uzuki has posed.
"That's--"
A pause. Citan nods. "Yes, indeed. Young Bart is the prince of Aveh, or would be were it not for certain... occupiers of that throne. Sigurd I suppose you could call a loyalist, of a sort."
If only either of them knew.
Gwen points out that most Gears are quite old. "Well... yes," Citan admits, halting a moment mid-stream, so to speak, when Gwen points that out. "Technically speaking, you are correct. Of course, some Gears are made in this day and age, but by and large..." He pauses a moment, readjusts his glasses, and then gets back on track, escaping a near diversion down some other line of conversation: "Well, that all said, it appears in this one I have the misfortune of an atypical design from what is typically the 'norm' in an excavated Gear. Not too different, mind you, but different enough that I do believe I will have to attempt to build the part that needs replacing from scratch rather than replace it with an equivalent."
But first he has to actually extract it, the part from which he had been evidently experiencing some mild trouble.
...To put it lightly.
Before that though -- trailing after Gwen, he goes to take stock of her own machine, apparently a recent acquisition. "Ah, very good. Yes, while I cannot judge it without seeing it action, this one has a well-built frame." He pauses a moment, regarding her again.
"Though, I would still recommend that you seek a bed rather than the pilot's seat, no matter how tired you may be, Gwen." To her question he gives her no straight answer, just smiles.
It's answer enough itself.
Back in the temporary disaster area that is the Heimdall's cockpit, Citan approaches the opened section of paneling and pauses, tapping a foot as if in thought. "...Let me think... now, do not move any of the parts I have already removed -- they are organized such that I can replace them properly. ...But, hmm, if it slipped... and the vent system modulator was... of course, and the electrical systems are off, I made certain of that before I started, twice even... aha, how foolish of me."
Which is when he turns to Gwen. "Gwen, a number three clamp, if you would!"
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
Citan totally had wilder days. How else would he be the well-adjusted very talented doctor they all know and love?
"Well, I think it suits you. Unassuming, well-built, but when you look closer, it's a little unusual. In a good way." The way Gwen says it, with that cheery grin on her face and her holding up one ungloved left index finger, makes it clear somewhat that she means this in a good way. "The sort of doctor who'd be in a small mountain town that knew how to pilot a Gear."
This is Gwen.
As Citan ponders over the state of Heimdall, Gwen does some pondering of her own. As instructed, she hasn't touched anything, but thankfully, she didn't even seem to want to do so in the first place.
She is someone used to those more scholarly and eccentric, after all.
The ones who have secrets, though she doesn't know the whole mess of that.
"... Hey. SInce you're here, I might as well ask you a question or two, if y'don't mind." Gwen hands over the number three clamp, bending low to above bumping her head against the Gear. "I've been having some trouble with sleep, lately. I don't really remember anything later on, but when I wake up I feel..." "I dunno. I'd say 'weird', but I guess anyone would, if they've been havin' trouble sleepin'."
She pauses, rubbing her neck. "... I swear I've been sleeping in normal ways, this doesn't got nothing t'do with my neck right now."
Stepping back to look back up at Heimdall, Gwen continues. "Though I guess it ain't that bad. Sometimes, I'd just focus like I was hearing waves, or the sound of a lute playing. A focus, you know? And eventually, I get to sleep. I s'pose we can talk a bit more 'bout this later, once you get done?"
<Pose Tracker> Citan Uzuki has posed.
"Oh, does it?" he asks, as she says it suits him.
Which is the point when she explains how it suits him and...
What can he say to that except shake his head, smile self-effacingly and turn his hands palms-upwards, as if to say 'what can you do'?
Then it's back to his current project, namely, that very same normal but unusual Gear he's taken to using.
"Hmm?" He is gazing down at the part that has been bedeviling him while she mentions she has a question for him, while he's here.
She's been having some trouble with sleep, lately. "Is it getting to sleep that has given you trouble, or is it staying asleep?" he asks, without looking back over at her. He turns then, to take the clamp--
Just as she explains. He pushes his glasses up his nose, as if in thought about something. "Ah, I see... well, then, there are a few suggestions I have for that... but, yes, one thing at a time! I should see if I can get a look at this troublesome scoundrel."
A LITTLE WHILE LATER
"...There. Now, I have a better idea of what I am reckoning with," he says, wiping off his hands shortly after replacing the malfunctioning part back where it belongs. "It will still be a while yet until I can jury-rig a replacement, assuming I can find the pieces I need, but this is a step in the right direction. Thank you for taking the sketch for me, Gwen."
Which is when Citan approaches her. "You said that you were having trouble sleeping? I have found that an herbal tea before bed can help on a sleepless night. Chamomile is a favorite. We also tend to sleep better in cooler, dark places. Perhaps they stimulate the melatonin production... oh, do not mind me," he says, shaking his head as he begins to muse out loud. "In any case, try adjusting where you sleep -- certainly, the cockpit of a Gear will do you no favors -- and try an herbal tea. Be certain that it is herbal, now, or you will soon find that getting to sleep is the least of your problems! Why, I remember one time when..."
But he cuts himself off, raising one hand before himself, palm-outwards. "...But you did not ask me for advice simply to hear me ramble on. ...In the case that tea does not help, there are pills that can be taken, but you would need to speak to an apothecary. I am afraid I have long been without the capacity to make medicine myself..."
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
ONE FIXED GEAR LATER
"Glad I could give ya a hand!" Gwen's smile turns slightly mischievous as she adds, "now that I got my own Gear up n' ready, I'm tryin' t'get my courier service started up. Lemme know if y'need somethin' delivered. My rates are a little higher due to fuel bein' a little more pricey than feed, but it's still pretty affordable!" A pause. "There's a discount for friends, of course."
It's almost like there's nothing to the complaints of sleep, with how she presents her sales pitch. Just the same Gwen Whitlock as ever.
"Oh, Chamomile tea? That shoulds like a good idea! And cooler, darker places, huh..." Gwen's gaze drifts slightly towards the right, as if the words pinch at something barely registered in her memory. Of cold, and dark, of the waters deep below. And, in the middle of it a source of warmth, like a vent of volcanic gasses, sits a boy on an impossible throne, stringing his harp.
"-I don't have trouble falling asleep," she belatedly corrects the doctor.
A second longer, Gwen's mind seems to catch up more fully, allowing her to realize she nearly had the chance to listen to one of Citan's yarns about his increasingly legendary-seeming 'wilder days'. And even if she did, she would have spaced out on it!
"Thanks for the advice, though. I think I'll keep an eye out in the market. My wagon had some, but, uh, it n' Gulliver are currently bein' babysat." She rubs her neck with a small chuckle. "But man, what have you n' Fei been up to? That is, if you n' Fei are currently 'round in the same circles."
It's odd to Gwen, to just naturally reach for that conclusion that Citan would even be keeping tabs on Fei to that degree, but them being from the same sadly destroyed mountain town certainly places them within the same circle, in her mind. "I'd say 'things have been more quiet', except I think it's more like 'Odessa' is takin' up a lot of people's attentions right now, instead of somethin' like Sin and the like." She frowns. "... Those Odessa folk... they rub me the wrong way. I didn't think much of 'em at first, even when we got to Spira, but... I can't deal with people like them."
<Pose Tracker> Citan Uzuki has posed.
Reasonably fixed, at least; there's still ahead the task of attempting to recreate a part from a few-hundred-years-old machine, but at least it'll give him a hobby to tend to in the meanwhile. As well as an excuse to go digging through just about every junk store within reason in northern Aquvy.
This might even be the most fun the doctor's had in a while.
"Oh? Well, I shall keep that in mind, Gwen. I cannot think of anything that I might need delivered at the moment, but of course, as they say, 'the future is a foreign country'." He even smiles slightly when she says that her rates have changed. "...Understandable. I shall make note of it."
Before he gives his suggestions on what she ought to do for her insomnia issue.
"Yes. I have heard that most herbal teas can be effective, in fact. I wonder if it might be the warmth of the drink rather than the contents... Oh, but do make certain not to drink anything that promises 'energy'. There are herbs other than tea leaves that can lead to unwanted wakefulness."
He adds, when she echoes his suggestion of cooler darker places, "A quieter place, too. I do not think I would sleep very soundly either aboard the Thames!"
Before she corrects him. It's not the falling asleep that's the issue...
"Hmm..." Citan rubs at his chin, thinking. "My apologies. From your words, I had assumed... Regardless, what I suggested may still help, though I would also recommend ensuring you are not experiencing, ah... undue levels of stress, or a period of ill health. Ailments of the body and the mind can have a negative impact on one's ability to sleep."
But first things first -- it might just be some sort of stress from the road she travels, and thus something that a simpler remedy can assuage.
"Myself? Keeping an eye on Fei, when I can." He smiles wearily, then shakes his head. "You are aware of his... difficulties. I feel a responsibility to look after him. Fortunately..."
He glances away, off across the distance of the Gear dock.
"Lately, his life has been more peaceful again. ...To answer your question, he is looking for answers. About himself, and about what happened in Lahan."
And the role of Solaris. The promise of Shevat.
He listens to her a moment, without looking back her way. Just once, he nods. "Yes. Odessa's actions and aims concern me greatly. And I worry about what might happen if they involved Fei. They are... people who will stop at nothing to achieve their aims. Fei is a sensitive and brash young man. Sooner or later..."
Sooner or later, something will happen.
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
"It's actually kinda comforting, y'know? All these people, buildin' this community aboard the waves? Like a warm blanket on the senses in terms of feelin' safe." A warm, sweaty, stinky, loud blanket that smells of rust and old ocean water condensing into salt in all the worst corners for it to be in. ".... It is pretty loud, though. Halcyon's shield dulls the sound a little, but I bet if I didn't sleep like the dead I'd be in trouble."
When Citan looks puzzled, Gwen shrugs her her shoulders, giving the doctor an apologetic smile. "Yeah, I wasn't clear. I guess, I ain't too sure what the problem is. I just wake up feeling..." She touches the fingers of her left hand to her mouth, her weight shifting from one foot to the other.
Is there a word, for that feeling?
"... Unwound," she says, the word feeling unsure on her lips. "It probably is just stress. I've never been to Aquvy before. Had a friend who went here to become an Etone, but it didn't work out. We'd exchange letters, n' it was just... like a different world, almost? What does it feel like for you?"
Spira's oceans and comfortably humid air dulled the impact Aquvy could have had, considerably.
"I'm glad you do. Fei's a different person than he was, way back when. Maybe finding a place to find some inner peace, away from Ignas n' the troubles of Lunar... that might help a lot." Especially if Elly has managed to stay by his side out of her own volition, after all these trips to different locale.
The thought of Odessa crossing paths with Fei in a more direct way makes Gwen's face whiten, her posture almost drawing in, self-consciously. "That'd be..." She shakes her head. "I ain't sure of all the things they got up their sleeve, tools-wise. One of the soldiers, back in Spira- he said somethin', to the effect of 'I have the wisdom you don't'. He felt he knew what I and everybody else needed in life. Men like that see people like Fei as tools, not as equals. We're nothing more than lambs to 'em."
<Pose Tracker> Citan Uzuki has posed.
He laughs, at that. "No, I understand. There is a certain comfort in having this many people around. It makes me somewhat nostalgic, in fact." Though his expression does grow a little more unreadable by turns, perhaps as he dwells a moment on the past. He crosses his arms over his chest and shakes his head. "...At times, it can be a bit much here, though, agreed. Even in the sleeping quarters it is not, ah, necessarily particularly still or quiet."
On the subject of her sleeping problems though--
"Perhaps. It may only be a passing difficulty for you. I would start with the tea, and then..."
Unwound.
"It may be stress. The tea may help in that case. ...It can be difficult to be in a new place, sometimes." He glances over at her. "Hmm... 'what does it feel like for me'... Well, it certain is a change from the mountains of Lahan and the sands of Aveh. It puts me in mind of Spira, though a fair bit rougher once you compare the two. ...I wonder how our friends from Spira are taking to Filgaia," he muses, shifting away from the subject after a moment.
"I suppose if you wanted to discuss 'changes', the change from Spira to Filgaia must indeed be a shock!"
He nods, when she speaks on Fei. "I imagine so. Time has... a way of, if not necessarily completely mending, then certainly easing old wounds. ...What happened in Lahan was not entirely his fault, and certainly not what he willed, but I imagine it still weighs upon him," Citan remarks, not looking at Gwen. "I think... if he can find some purpose..."
And remain untroubled by the affairs of the world.
At least, a little while more.
"...Nor am I. Their intentions are clear: they seek war with the world itself, for the sake of 'saving' the world. To their thinking, we either can lay down our arms or be destroyed. It is... a grim philosophy," the doctor remarks, still gazing out at the Thames proper.
"For now I seek not to become involved, but it is inevitable, I fear. At some point..."
But Citan shakes his head. "...Yui would chide me if she heard me talking like this. It is far too soon to be so morose, do you not agree, Gwen? Perhaps it is time for some fresh air. I have been working here for most of the day." He glances over at her, and a thought seems to occur to him.
"...And you have not eaten yet at all, have you?" After all, she had only just woken up when she'd crossed his path. "Perhaps we should correct that! What do you think?"
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
"Yeah. I wonder if any Spirans got transported with us. Can't imagine what it's like for 'em, even if the climate's similar enough. Goin' back to the Badlands would've been a rude awakening."
Gwen nods with Citan's words, giving a slow nod. "... Yeah. I don't think I've really talked on it much, since it ain't my place t'say, but, yeah. That's what it feels like. Fei, with his powers... I wonder if Id is a sort of self 'limit', a part of Fei that's separate that has these powers, but also the memories of what he's done with them. All the negative things, few of the positive." She itches the side of her head with one finger. "Id might've said as much at one point, so I can't really said I came up with that myself. And it ain't like Fei gets off scot-free, either. That guilt he's carryin' is still there."
If someone could be without that guilt, it would be much easier.
'Their intentions are clear: they seek war with the world itself, for the sake of 'saving' the world.'
The world is precious. What would be the best way of preserving it? Of protecting it?
-What would be the most merciful thing to do?-
Gwen's blue-grey eyes momentarily unfocus, as if noticing a particularly interesting mote of dust in the air just beyond Citan's head.
"I'm there if people need me, but yeah, I..." She frowns. "Might not be much of a choice, before long-"
Citan is the first to catch himself, and Gwen laughs sheepishly. "You're wife's a wise woman! Here I was just comin' along with ya for the ride." She clears her throat. "Yeah, some food'd be good, right 'bout now. I'm famished."
Calories! Just what the doctor ordered.