2020-10-19: Is There A Doctor In The House
- Log: Is There A Doctor In The House
- Cast: Gwen Whitlock, Azoth, Citan Uzuki
- Where: Bevelle - The Walls
- Date: October 19, 2020
- Summary: Wounded defending Lombardia, Gwen badly needs a doctor, as Azoth can assess. Fortunately, there is one at hand. Takes place immediately after There Will Be Sacrifices.
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
Kinoc only needs one dragon, but even when that dragon was firmly Lombardia, she was in danger. It was up to the very Drifters she had protected before to pay it back in blood, and pay they did, one for each powerful blast.
When Riesenlied looked to be a better catch than the dragon Kinoc had already in his callous care, Gwen had taken the blast that time, using a brief burst of that gold energy inside her to make that short dart in front.
And down Gwen went, blood dripping on the ground before she collapsed, Azoth coming in with a ready shield to protect her and Ethius's bodies.
Now, In the immediate aftermath, Lombardia is safe, Janus is literally too hot to for anyone to touch, much less deal with, and there is time for those who have been wounded to be tended to.
Such as Gwen, beginning to rouse from blacking out moments before. Her midsection is a mess, but still manageable for a simple country doctor, provided she is stablized soon.
And if she stays still.
".... Janus did wha...?"
Gwen is having trouble staying down, her attention straying back towards the vaporized remains of an entire religious building.
"He did that...."
Each moment coaxes blood from her wound and a wince from Gwen, but the redhead seems too shocked to really put two and two together just yet.
"... so that's why he said to get out, huh..."
<Pose Tracker> Azoth has posed.
It's only once the battle comes fully to a calm, plus a few moments more, that Azoth finally dissipates his shield of light, eyes dimming with the act. He stares at the damage, so extensive it now gives a new view. Azoth carefully smooths out the frayed fabric of his clothing and tugs up his sleeves, helping cover for his own, more minor, 'injuries'.
The sparks and electricity puling from Azoth's body during the fight has subsided, and it would take jerking Azoth's clothing aside to find any exposed wiring now.
Gwen speaks, and Azoth's attention snaps to her, carefully to dull his expressions for her benefit at the sight of the red smear across her middle. "Please don't move, Miss Gwen," he urges, gently setting his palm to her forehead to try and encourage her to stay down. His hand is warmer than it should be after a fight like that, but it doesn't burn.
He looks up and calls out to the other Drifters urgently. "Is there a healer available? Potions? Anything? Please!"
<Pose Tracker> Citan Uzuki has posed.
With care, they'd moved her outside -- even if 'outside' is a technicality, given what has happened to the cavern. With her injuries and the condition of the ruins, it didn't bear treating her 'in' there.
At Azoth's call, Citan wraps up a conversation with a certain young man and starts over. "My apologies," he says, without so much as a glance back at Fei, this time. They'll need the support from the Al Bhed to extract those who can't travel far, and quickly -- he'd impressed upon Fei that time was of the essence.
They will have seen it. We're far too close to...
He comes to a stop by Gwen's side and kneels, regardinging her wounds. As far as the outside world is concerned, Citan's attention is upon her wounds alone, his brow furrowed and expression grim.
To think that an Anima Relic is here...
"...Fortunately, the wound is not terrible," he informs the young man who helped them move her, a few moments later. ...Perhaps it would have been better to have also kept an eye on Fei, but it cannot be helped under these circumstances.
...Fei, was that...?
"It would be better if I had my kit, but it cannot be helped," he remarks, then glances at Gwen's face.
She speaks, as if she were hovering on that border between consciousness and unconsciousness. "...Gwen," Citan sighs, coupling the remark with a shake of his head. "You have truly done it to yourself this time... But I will do what I can. This will not be the end."
Maybe a potion would have sufficed. Bandages would have been fine. But he's absent what he needs for either of those options and short on time, so he'll turn to what he has.
Which means that the doctor closes his eyes and lays his hands atop the bloody wounds on Gwen's abdomen and closes his eyes. He takes but a breath.
It comes in as slowly as the tide, or, perhaps, a mist on fall morning. Little by little what was torn apart is mended and brought back together.
"I do hope that you have not damaged your ARM again, Gwen. I will need to ask the Al Bhed for their tools to fix it..."
These two, apparently, have a bit of a history.
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
Confused, almost feral blue-grey eyes peer up at the oddly warm hand that urges her down. "... Azoth." The name comes to her at a delayed pace, but still there. Was it her imagination, or did she see wires poking out of him before? But his hand doesn't feel cold.
And neither does Gwen's forehead, to Azoth. It's feverish, even, though the lost glint in the woman's eyes would not be the sort that comes with a high temperature, but blood loss.
But Azoth may not know that. Citan would.
"... Doc." Gwen seems hesitant to call him that, wondering if it was still too familiar, but Citan would be too distant, somehow, and Dr. Uzuki, even moreso--
She gives Citan a sheepish smile as he shakes his head. ".... Have you met Azoth? Swell guy."
".... Gh.." Gwen winces, but stays still as Citan applies healing ether to the wound. Slowly, the flesh reconstructs itself, the pale skin with a stark contrast to the blood and grimy cloth around it, the right side edged with ancient scars.
Has Gwen always felt feverish?
As Citan mentions it, Gwen lifts her right arm to the light of the sun, turning the metallic construct over and flexing her fingers.
".... Looks like it's fine," she assesses, her eyes looking from Citan to Azoth, then back. ".... Is Lombardia okay? N' the others, they're okay?"
Her eyes keep trying to look back to the cave, unable to understand just what happened.
<Pose Tracker> Azoth has posed.
Azoth is, if nothing else, good at following instructions. Anything Citan needs him to do in moving or shifting, he enacts with care. The amount of precision he's able to calculate through touch allows him a special level of gentleness.
"She's burning up," he tells Citan, voice quieter and hoping Gwen doesn't have to hear it. It's perhaps an emphasis of concern more than anything -- a doctor is going to figure that out without outside assistance.
Gwen praises him, and Azoth can't help a tiny, all too pleased smile. But it's quickly abandoned in favor of concern and a bite of his lower lip, which only twists with confusion as Citan's Ether (Ether??) stitches her body back together, revealing there are scars that are older.
But getting back to smiling again is another thing Azoth is good at, and his face warms into one for Gwen. "Lombardia is safe. Some of us were knocked around, but we're all still here." Pause. "...Except Kinoc."
<Pose Tracker> Citan Uzuki has posed.
"I have not," he says, making idle conversation as he pulls her wounds back together. Nothing too deep, nothing that requires more of him than he's able to give. "My thanks to you, then, Azoth. I am afraid that Gwen has a habit of getting herself into terrible scrapes." He opens his eyes after a moment, then glances Azoth's way, looking the young man over. "Fortunately, she is as hardy as they come!"
With that, the wound seems to be closed, though she shouldn't move about just yet; by all indications Gwen should be just fine.
Except...
For the fact that Gwen feels positively warm to the touch. Like she's burning up, in fact. "..."
Hands still smeared with her blood, he reaches out to take her wrist, feeling for her pulse. "Yes... it may be because of her wounds," he tells Azoth, without glancing up at him. It's an easy thing, most likely, for him to write this off as completely normal care after a debilitating wound.
She's burning to the touch. ...No, this cannot be 'simply' because of bloodloss. Dark eyes turn her way, studying her for a moment. ...He's certain of it.
"She is fine," he says to Gwen, on the matter of Lombardia, then nods as Azoth confirms this, and more. "Yes, everyone else is also fine," with the possible exception of Maester Kinoc of course, "We are awaiting support from the Al Bhed. --So you must not move just yet!"
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
Azoth smiles, and Gwen returns it with one of her own. "Kinoc deserved whatever he got," Gwen says, with a sigh. "... For what happened before, n' Lombardia- gh."
The pain is mostly gone, leaving the stiffness of new skin and the lingering malady of blood loss to flex her.
Which is... strange, come to think of it.
As the pain that came with the restructuring skin and what lies immediately below begins to settle, Gwen's own mind begins to finally consider it, as well as the presence of cool air on what should be raw tissue bandaged over.
The fingers of her left hand stray to try to feel for the reason, but it's this hand that Citan takes, in order to measure her pulse at Azoth's sharp observation.
After all, the other would not be as useful for feeling the courier's pulse, though Citan's eyes may notice the similarity in how the subtle lighting between each plate of that right arm synchronizes with the beat of her heart.
... But this was a thing that happened before, even before Gwen's heart fully matched the strange materials of her ARM, rather than simply be enhanced by it.
".... I take it, Janus left after that stunt, huh." She shifts, her eyes wincing. "What was Fei... talkin' about...? Earlier? About the sword Janus had? It's Siegfried's sword, right...? That's why it's... able to do those... things?"
Her bluntness may be excused by her current state, but her curiosity would persist, if Citan chose to not answer, or change the subject entirely.
<Pose Tracker> Azoth has posed.
That they know each other does put Azoth at further ease. "That's good to hear," he tells Citan, letting his shoulders drop to signal relief. "I suppose she'd have to be, forged by her own boldness." He'd been impressed by that very trait when they'd first met on the warwing. Worried, but impressed.
But it seems Gwen's stability isn't as guaranteed as he'd hoped. "An infection?" Azoth ventures, uneasy. Could it happen that fast? He wishes his own knowledge of human safety and needs were not nearly so hyper focused on g-forces and spinal injury.
Azoth sets his touch to Gwen's arm as if by reassurance, trying to keep a read on her temperature (this arm may not be helpful for that), and his softly glowing eyes searching her for any other subtle signs. He may not be a doctor, but he might be able to offer clues a human doesn't have access to. And, like Citan, Azoth finds sometimes there are certain secrets that become less important in moments like these.
Gwen mentions Janus. "Yes, but... he seems all right?" He isn't sure of their relationship. He only knows the one they called Janus had shouted for Gwen to get to safety before unleashing the hell he had. They must be important to one another, at the very least. Wanting to know the other is safe.
His eyes stay on Gwen, but he's listening carefully for Citan's next responses. That's data Azoth might've missed.
<Pose Tracker> Citan Uzuki has posed.
Citan, for his part, just shakes his head on the matter of Kinoc. What's done is done, and...
He has many other things to be concerned about.
One of them owns the wrist in his hands. After a few moments more, followed by a quick capillary fill test -- a simple squeeze of one of her fingers -- he sets her arm down, rest across her midsection.
He shakes his head at Azoth's question. "I do not think so. It would be too soon for one from those wounds, and I am not yet sloppy enough to permit an infection, besides! ...I believe it is simply due to her blood loss. Once she has rested, the matter should subside. Still, it would be good to remove her to an infirmary..."
Citan Uzuki does not, in fact, think this is the cause, and is even less certain that it will simply 'subside'.
But there is nothing to be done now, whatever it may be, and so he does not press on it.
Here, at least.
"..." He is, at first, silent. "Yes, I am afraid that is correct," is what he will say, on the matter of the blade. "I take it that you know this... Janus, Gwen?"
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
Gwen's right hand is humanoid, remarkably well-made, down to each joint and plating, with faint etchings of scrollwork along longer parts, only really visible when viewed close up. It's warm to the touch, mimicking the temperature on Gwen's forehead, but this could easily be the result of the use earlier. As well as the way she used it so roughly, squeezing her body to cross that short distance so quickly.
Which could be another factor for Gwen's fever, should someone come by that line of thought.
"... Infection?" Confusion grows on Gwen's face. ".... I don't feel sick- well, I mean, I was wounded..."
Reminded as her hand is set back down, Gwen's left hand strays over to the wound. She touches skin, fouling it with her blood as her fingertips touch it, even moving to the side where that old long burn scar still greets her like an old friend.
Her condition made her blunt enough to plainly ask about the mysteries of Fei's blade, but also be easily led to another topic- that of Janus.
She closes her eyes in a long wince, as if remembering the pain of an old, old scar.
"Yeah, we were childhood friends, back in my old hometown, Little Twister." It's important context, at least for Gwen. "The sort of friends you just are, back then. I was too sick back then to really keep up with him, but he still wanted me to be around. We lost touch when I was adopted. I got better, got my new ARM, and became a courier. He lost his faith in the world, got bitter, n' became the sort of guy who'd be as likely t'stab an old friend in the back as fight by their side." Her eyes look towards Azoth, then Citan, risking a small grin. "He n' Fei's... redder half would probably have a field day if they met under certain circumstances. 'Specially now. Just another reason why I..."
She trails off, looking at the dried blood on her fingers. "... Y'healed me, huh...." The hand drops by her side. ".... Gosh, the both of you. Full of nice surprises. But yeah, Azoth, Citan... be real careful-like around him. This is a man I took it on myself to kill, once, when he nearly got the power to grant his wish, at once time." She closes her eyes. ".... Now he's got somethin' just as bad, but... maybe I was the villain, for failin' to extend my hand to him one more time, back then..."
<Pose Tracker> Azoth has posed.
Azoth, at present, has no evidence that blood loss wouldn't raise Gwen's temperature this much. Citan's the doctor here. He frowns, not out of suspicion, but further concern. "I can carry her, if we need to," he offers. He's not particularly larger than Citan, so this may be an odd offer in itself. That aforementioned spinal injury knowledge does help with that, too. So do tireless robot arms.
Gwen gives her story, and Azoth listens, less because data and Solaris (as if that is ever a factor he can escape) and more because of the weight in her words. He frowns, eyes dimmer. Histories. Friendships. Partings.
Nearly killing each other.
Azoth shakes his head quickly, squeezes his fingers gently against his arm. "You were afraid of what he might do. Of who he might hurt, right? No one should have to make that--" Calculation. "--choice. But whatever may have happened, you're both still alive now. That means the choice can change. If you want it to."
<Pose Tracker> Citan Uzuki has posed.
"If it becomes necessary, certainly," he says to Azoth. "This place... may soon draw unwanted attention," he says, and it would be a simple misunderstanding to think that he means Bevelle. "However, I believe that we still have time on our side. I do not care to move her more than we may need." If he's surprised by Azoth's apparent ability to do so, he does not show it.
Indeed, while he cannot prove his hypothesis yet, Azoth may be...
"So he was your childhood friend..."
He is familiar with Little Twister, in fact, and not merely by the stories that circulate about that place. Once, a long while ago...
But some things are stories for another time.
No, he knows the place -- and can thus surmise what sort of environment it would have been to grow up in for a child. What sorts of people it would have forged. It is hardly a surprise.
If something about Citan's gaze flickers when Gwen mentions is 'redder half', it's merely momentary.
He remains silent, until she has finished explaining.
"I see," he says, simply, perfectly still as he remains there at her side. He makes no comment about healing her -- no comment about her failed attempt to kill her friend. Instead, he rises to his feet after a moment more.
"And now... he wields Siegfried's blade..." he says, glancing up at the sky.
"...The Al Bhed should be here soon, Gwen. You must rest."
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
"... I'm heavier than I look," Gwen replies, her eyes half-lidding drowsily, but she still stirs. "... But if push came t'shove, I could...."
She trails off, her gaze distant, though due to sleepiness or something in terms of a fugue is not certain.
"I could move, I mean."
Unnecessary attention. Gwen dips her chin, acknowledging Citan's concern. "Yeah... Althena's Guard, for one, or more people from Yevon. Or hell, Sin might show up. Or--" She looks at Azoth, and smiles slightly. "... No fair, sayin' things like that when Janus might be nearby."
Her eyes look back towards Citan, as if remembering something.
She opens her mouth.
And she closes it, for now, looking towards the sky.
"..... Hopefully, today's stock of surprises are done with. But if there's more, I have one or two cards I can play when push comes to shove."
She closes her eyes, seemingly closing herself off to further questions, for now.
<Pose Tracker> Azoth has posed.
"S-Sorry." Azoth easily apologizes as he's chided, however soft it was intended, or delivered with a smile. He does worry it isn't his place to say.
There have been many data points gathered here, though most small. Even small can be important. But that's for analysis later.
"I'll keep watch of her," he tells Citan, and then to Gwen: "It's all right. You don't need to push yourself. Trust me," Azoth says, like that isn't exactly the opposite of what anyone should be doing. But on the subject of carrying, maybe it's okay. What he does not trust is Gwen not being willing to push herself until she collapses.