Anonymous
Jun 1, 2017 13:05:50 GMT -6
Post by Deleted on Jun 1, 2017 13:05:50 GMT -6
He followed the Nurse-Monk back over to where his first patient had been, though a different room this time. Eight patients lay or sat on beds there, and it was a relief to see that, though they were all injured, none were in as bad of shape as the first he’d treated. It was disturbing to see how varied their injuries were. It didn’t seem like the attackers had had any sort of goal in mind; it was as if they’d just thrown fire at the crowd, not caring who they hit. That was unthinkable.
Surprisingly, the first patient they came to was taking her injuries remarkably well, even managing to grin at their approach. That was a welcome boost to his spirit, and he smiled back at her before turning his gaze to her wounds. His smile slipped as she asked if he was from the hospital. “No, I’m not,” he replied. “I’m just somebody who knows how to help, is all.”
The patient’s wounds were large, covering both of her lower thighs and legs as well as both shoulders and upper arms, but they didn’t look too terrible. “This is nothing that a little care and some time won’t fix,” he said. “You’ll need to keep an eye on those blisters on your legs. Make sure you don’t pick at them, and if they burst on their own, you’ll need to wash and bandage them back up immediately so you don’t get an infection. But, so long as you don’t scratch at the burns or otherwise irritate them, you should heal with no scars in a little over a month.”
The woman’s grin widened at the news, and she thanked him. Blushing slightly, he muttered that it was no problem, and moved to the next patient. This was a man sitting on a bed. He looked up with one piercing blue eye—the other, and the entire left side of his face, was covered in bandages. In contrast to the woman he’d just helped, this man’s expression was dour. “Can’t talk much,” the man muttered, his mouth movements stiff. “Hurts.”
Johar nodded, introducing himself and then carefully reaching to unwind the man’s bandages. The result was not pretty. Burns snaked down the man’s face, crossing over his eye and onto his lips. The eye was dark, its color almost black, the white of it an angry red. Johar swallowed hard. “Your—your eye,” he murmured. “Can you…?” The man shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
Johar turned to the Nurse-Monk and rattled off a short list of herbs he needed, asking the Monk to please send someone to get them for him. “These burns are more severe,” he explained. “I’ll need something to help them heal.”
Anonymous
Jun 9, 2017 19:53:19 GMT -6
Post by Deleted on Jun 9, 2017 19:53:19 GMT -6
The Nurse-Monk complies with the request, and within moments another Monk appears, a green band on their arm. There is a small plant symbol on the band — an herbalist's mark.
The tray they bring is covered in small pots, each labelled with the name of the herb Johar asked for.
Nurse-Monk watches in silence as the healer works.
Suddenly, a volunteer comes rushing in. With a bow, they address the Nurse-Monk in hushed tones, too low for anyone to hear. Without so much as a parting word, the Nurse-Monk glides out of the room, their robe fluttering in their wake. They are gone for several minutes before returning, bringing with them a chill in the air.
"One of our patients has crossed over," they say, their tone as neutral as ever, but their words are like a cacophony of voices. Preempting the next question, the Nurse-Monk shakes their head. "Not the burn patient, but another. Multiple rib fractures and internal bleeding. Could have been healed, if...." The chill grows deeper, the end of the sentence hanging in the air.
If the hospital had sent waterbending healers.
The Nurse-Monk looks at Johar and for a brief, almost imagined moment, the features on their mask twist and swirl into something darker, more sinister. It is gone in less than a heartbeat, replaced once more with the blank, impassive alabaster mask.
When they speak again, their voice is still one with multitudes. "We cannot go on this way," they say, their voice soft. It is devoid of emotion, but firm. "Something must change."
Anonymous
Jul 19, 2017 7:11:34 GMT -6
Post by Deleted on Jul 19, 2017 7:11:34 GMT -6
Yuji bowed his head, the man's breath warm and faint against his ear. "I see," he replied gently, laying a hand on Rahul's shoulder. "Thank you." Yes, he knew the place. Dragon Flats was infamous within city limits, but its reputation had been spreading without as well. The young man was lucky to have a place to stay otherwise. His previous neighborhood was nearly such a slum, but it shared its misfortune among benders and nonbenders alike. Then again, the Dragon Flats District had a sense of community not often found in the city. A child misbehaved and a flock of shopkeepers, stay-at-home spouses, and more responsible teenagers swarmed to keep the little one in line. Yuij had always found it cloying, the way everyone acted as mother to their neighbor.
But in this case, he internally sighed in relief. Anvi wouldn't be alone. Wouldn't have to resort to thievery or starvation or shivering in the streets. He nodded to the man in respect and withdrew as the bright presence of Anvi returned. The two chatted familiarly, and the little girl soon grabbed at his arm. "Okay, okay, I'm coming, jeez," he replied, faking exasperation in his tone and checking to make sure she knew he wasn't serious. The Monk shadowed him, stern and solemn in contrast to Anvi's brighter, more eager determination.
Yuji followed her lead, glancing for just a moment back at Rahul, who lay still. Despite his wounds, the man would likely survive. The young nonbender might not say the same for Malik. Still... It would, perhaps, be easier to discuss with Anvi knowing that there were people who could take care of her. Had she not lived in Dragon Flats... A desperate thought occurred to him, one that he blinked away quickly. No, he pondered, it wouldn't be right to make the Monks do it.
But as he continued his work, following the girl, asking the generic questions of others, just the idea of speaking the words made Yuji feel as if he were freezing up. It felt as if something were caught between the back of his mouth and the top of his throat, and no amount of swallowing or clenching of his jaw would make the sensation stop. His stomach began to cramp anxiously, and he found it much easier to face injury and pain than the very concept of bringing this news to the girl. He looked up once or twice at the quiet Monk, eyes pleading for some sort of guidance in the blank mask, and found none.
Anonymous
Jul 28, 2017 13:16:42 GMT -6
Post by Deleted on Jul 28, 2017 13:16:42 GMT -6
The Monks weren’t terribly verbose, but they worked quickly. Almost as soon as he asked for herbs, there they were, each labelled for easy access. He took the tray with thanks, setting it down on the bedside table next to his patient. He looked at the man’s face for a long moment trying to decide how best to tackle this more difficult task.
“I’ll do what I can to help get the burns healing,” he finally told the man. “But as bad as they are, no matter how much I do, they’ll leave scars. And your eye…” He shook his head, biting his lip. “I’m sorry, but there’s not all that much I can do to help that. I can’t put anything directly on your eye, and even if I could, it looks too damaged to…” He trailed off, not wanting to finish that thought. He did not enjoy telling this man how bad things were, but sugarcoating didn’t help anything. This man had already been through enough today; he deserved to hear the facts as they were.
He might not be able to save the eye, but he wasn’t completely useless. Taking hold of a mortar and pestle, he mashed up the herbs he’d requested, along with some water, to make a thick green paste. “This might be a little cold,” he warned his patient before gently spreading the paste over the facial burns. He moved slowly, trying to make sure he covered everything he could. Then, he reached for some clean bandages to cover the burns. “This should start them healing, and protect from infection,” he explained as he worked. “It’ll still take a few weeks for them to heal fully, and like I said there will be scars, but…” He sighed. He could only do so much.
His patient’s expression was grim as he nodded, but he offered muttered thanks all the same. Johar smiled at the man’s strength before turning as a volunteer rushed in to speak to the Nurse-Monk. The Nurse-Monk vanished and Johar spent several tense minutes waiting for their return, wondering what dark tidings they’d bring.
The Nurse-Monk returned, and it was as bad as he’d feared. When he heard that someone had died his thoughts immediately went to his first patient, but no, it was someone else. Rib fractures and internal bleeding…he shook his head. There wasn’t much he could do for that. Herbal remedies were mostly for external injuries, and he didn’t know enough about anatomy to trust himself with internal bleeding. For something like that, a more specialized touch was needed. Only a Waterbending healer could handle that sort of injury. But none had come to offer their aid.
The Nurse-Monk caught his eye, and for a split second, Johar swore he saw something new in their mask, something darker, stranger. But then he blinked and it was gone. “I’m just tired,” he muttered to himself. The Nurse-Monk spoke, then, and he nodded. “You’re right. There’s only so much people like me can do. But…I don’t really see a way around it. If the police and the hospitals won’t help…we have to do what we can.” It hurt him to speak so candidly, but it was what it was. Sighing, he looked around for his next patient.
