Patch It Up

[Veyre]

Patch It Up

46th Trial of Ymiden, Arc 717

It had been a relatively slow day in the clinic, even with the sun already high in the sky. Veyre had been in charge of their emergency division for today, but all she was doing so far was lounge behind a desk. Typically, at least two or three would have been wheeled in by now, either bathed in blood or delirious from some withdrawals. Not that she was complaining. The young doctor had been a bit behind on her patients’ log and had been slowly scrabbling them down in her logbook for the past break. Even most of the helpers had scampered off doing who knows what.

Of course, as soon as the thought occurred to her, the world liked to prove her wrong. The doors in front of their clinic swung open, revealing a man in his twenties limping his way into the room. Just before the doors close and dampened the world outside, Veyre heard shouting from behind him. Her eyes immediately rested on his torn shirt, already dyed red with blood.

Veyre ran over the man immediately, her braided hair flying behind her. “What’s your name, sir? What happened?” Just as he stumbled, the doctor lunged to catch him. Of course, the weight of a full grown man was too much for her and she could barely hold him up. The man only groaned in response.

She glanced around the empty room, finally realizing that she was actually alone. The young woman cursed under her breath and slowly laid the man on the floor. There was no way she could drag him up into a bed without straining whatever injuries he had. Next time, Veyre would be sure to not let her supposed helpers leave the room.

Her eyes scanned across his body swiftly, trying to take note of any visible wounds. From his broken nose and bruised face, clearly he had been in some sort of a violent fight. Next was the gashing wound across his chest, with his shirt already sticking on it. There was no way Veyre could truly tell how deeply the cut truly was until she cleaned it slightly.

Grabbing his hand, she directed it to press down on the still bleeding gash. “You need to pressure this, alright? Just for a bit.”

Fortunately, the man was still somewhat lucid and nodded ever so slightly.

Jumping to her feet, the young woman ran over to the tray of instruments and brought it back. She grabbed for the scissor, wasting no time to start snipping the man’s shirt.

Half way through the task, Veyre finally turned her head towards the open door that lead further into their facility and shouted as loud as she could. “Hey! Hey! Anyone out there? I need assistance here!”

[Alexander]

"No, I'm not going to kill her." Alexander said with an angry look in his eyes as he paced through the hallway, going left and then right, left and then right. The shadow, as always, followed behind him, this time more restlessly than usually. The withdrawal was beginning to kick in, and while the young mage was still new to the addiction and could hold on for longer, the spirit needed more ether. He would need to kill soon, but he didn't dread the thought, he in fact looked forward to it.

"She's alone in the room next to us, powerless to stop you. Just walk up to her and fry her brain, or something." The Harvester said, completely silent and invisible to all but Alexander. It was ridiculous, the otherwise calm and collected being was now acting like a child that's been denied its toy. He'd need to calm him down, unfortunately, a situation seemed to be arising in the room next door. A patient, perhaps?

"What do you mean or something, don't you have ultimate control over the spheres?" He asked as he heard grunting come through the open door to the hallway. He didn't really care. The shadow simply shook its head as an answer. Alex knew he didn't, the control over the spheres was something they both had, kind of, it was complicated, impossible to explain even.

Then a shout came from through the door, and the young mage casually walked over to the door frame to examine the situation. He wasn't all that good of a doctor, could he really help out much? He walked over closer to the woman and the dying man, or at least he thought he was, dying that is, as he looked closer at his wounds. They'd need more assistance than just the two of them, or at least some luck to get him all patched up. He hadn't dealt with that serious wounds before, and he presumed that neither had the woman next to him.

"Aye. What do you need me to do?" He said, his voice calm and collected, almost to a point of sociopathy, as he, this time, examined the woman. She didn't seem to be panicking, but she was worried, or she looked like it rather. Well, if they didn't manage to save him, at least he would feed his addiction by flaying the half-dead man once it was determined he was gone. But who knew, maybe the two novice doctors could do something out of the blue and save his life? Alexander didn't care either way, he would just follow his superior's instructions. How did she end up being his superior anyway?

[Veyre]

IThe man suddenly gripped her arm and looked at her with panicked eyes. “You need to help me. Don’t let them get to me.” The abrupt movement made him moan in pain and he let himself drop to the ground once more. It was a good sign, at least, seeing the lucidity in his eyes and hear his clear words.

Veyre didn’t ask him what he meant. After all the time she spent dealing with patients here, she had learned that most of her questions were met with either silence or outright hostility. All she needed to know for now was what caused his wound and whether or not he was injured somewhere else.

Fortunately, it did not take long for a figure to appear under the doorway. The young man who entered the room was unfamiliar to her, but she had heard that a new doctor had been hired into their facility. Veyre hadn’t bothered to find out who it was. It was very likely that the blue-eyed man was the one.

“Hold him down,” the young woman announced as she finished her cutting and ripped away the tatters of her patient’s shirt. She gripped the wounded man’s face, forcing him to focus on her. “This will hurt, alright? But you need to stay still.” Once her fellow doctor took his place, Veyre would start peeling off the parts of his shirt that had been sticking into his cut.

By the time she was tossing her patient’s tattered shirt onto the ground, the man was breathing hard. He was still leaking blood and they would have to do something about that fast. From the sight of red staining his shirt, Veyre figured he had lost a lot of it already. His consciousness at least signified that he hadn’t lost too much.

Veyre spared the stranger another look. He certainly looked calm, which shouldn’t be surprising if he was a doctor. She did not know how much experience he had, but she could not claim to be the most skillful healer around – so anyone with the slightest bit of knowledge was helpful. “I think we need to get him up the gurney and clean his wounds, decide whether he needs surgery or not.”