Prepare for the #LodanRespawn2024 Existing characters may choose to be displace from/have memories of different timelines, thereby allowing returning members the option to retcon their whole character. These changes are the result of the "Unnatural Fog" plot device that is running between now and the Respawn. The plot is simple: no matter where your character is, that place is shrouded in a thick fog that suspends time, but not thoughts or memories, so even if they're repeating the same day over and over again, they continue to remember, so each time feels like a new day. For those retconning OCs; this is where new versions of themselves have the opportunity to replace the old versions. Official lore and tree updates will be announced asap
Open to Medivha and anyone else who happens to be in or around her shop “I’m such an idiot,” Gladys muttered, hurrying down the street. She had been tasked with cleaning and sharpening all the weapons today, and had made the nasty mistake of cutting her hand open. There were no doctors on staff at headquarters, so they sent her into the city to get treated. The sticky red blood was flowing freely, despite the cloth pressed against it, and she knew she needed medical attention soon. Growing a little frantic, her eyes met a sign that seemed to resemble “Doctor” so she burst into the shop without a second thought. “I need help are you a doctor!?” she called before even looking to see if anyone was inside. Surely they’d help her first as soon as they saw her uniform.
“Always dream and shoot higher than you know you can do. Do not bother just to be better than your contemporaries or predecessors. Try to be better than yourself.” ―William Faulkner
"Whose are cute, mooching cat? you are, yes you are you little pile of dung" Vieka mused, her tone filled with a kind of off tune mocking as she watched the small feline by her door lapping up the small saucer of cream she'd laid out for it. The brunette was give it a quick pet when someone came running into her clinic, making a racket and scaring off the small feline. Sighing and readjusting her mask, Vieka stood up from her crouched position and started making her to the front to see what all the racket was about.
She took one look at the woman bleeding all over her floor and picked up a rag on her way over. "You need to staunch the bleeding." Vie stated blandly, beneath her mask eyeing the womans uniform. She didn't have anything against the military as such, but they made her very wary. best get her fixed and out as soon as possible.
"those who know how to think need no teachers." -Mahatma Gandhi
“Staunch?” Gladys asked, unfamiliar with the word. Or maybe she knew it but didn’t have the mental capability to understand it at this moment. She was a bit frantic. Only a bit. She held her hand out to the apparent doctor, not even looking up at their face. She just wanted the bleeding to stop before she passed out from blood loss. Was she getting close to that point? She couldn’t tell. “Please just help me.” Her voice still held the tone of worry, but at least she wasn’t shouting now.
“Always dream and shoot higher than you know you can do. Do not bother just to be better than your contemporaries or predecessors. Try to be better than yourself.” ―William Faulkner
'Oh I can positively feel the headache coming on already' the half blood thought with a groan. Why, why did she always end up with the stupid ones? What basket of puppies did she kill in another life to deserve this all the time?
Sighing, Vieka firmly grasped the other womans wrist with a gloved hand to keep her still, using the other hand to roughly wrap the rag around the cut to cut off the free flowing blood. After tying it, she proceeded to drag her to the kitchen so she could get some supplies to clean it out once the flow of blood had slowed down some. "Tell me how you got the wound and how long ago." she demanded, needing to know if there was a high chance of infection and how much blood she'd roughly lost.
"those who know how to think need no teachers." -Mahatma Gandhi
Gladys blinked several times over as her hand was wrapped, which finally calmed her nerves. “I was sharpening a sword and my hand slipped. It happened, um.” How long had it taken her to get here from the training grounds? “Less than an hour, I think?” she answered sheepishly, glancing up to actually see the doctor’s face for the first time. And then felt her pulse quicken as she saw that some sort of bird mask was treating her. If it really was a lady hiding under there, Gladys just might have to leave and never come back. Ever.
“Always dream and shoot higher than you know you can do. Do not bother just to be better than your contemporaries or predecessors. Try to be better than yourself.” ―William Faulkner
Vieka clicked her tongue, a common habit she portrayed when she wasn't happy with something. She man handled the female in uniform into one of the kitchen chairs before turning around to fetch things she would need. "Keep pressure on it." she ordered over her shoulder, moving off to her selection of herbs growing in containers. "Swords in the military? breeding ground for bacteria, better make a disinfectant for it just in case..." the brunette muttered to herself, thumbing through the different herbs she had at her disposal as she spoke.
She settled for a selection of callendula flowers, st jhons wort and thyme, putting into a pestle and mortar to break down with a small amount of unflavoured oil. Once that was crushed down into a mushy poultice, she left it to go fetch some fresh bandages to make the compress.
"those who know how to think need no teachers." -Mahatma Gandhi
“O-okay,” Gladys stuttered, using her free hand to press down on the wounded one. She wasn’t sure what this talk about bacteria was about, but she hoped the strange doctor knew what she was doing. When the masked one left, Gladys couldn’t help but glance over at all the herbs and materials. She’d never seen anything like it, all the little bottles and jars, each with something different. It left a look of wonder in her eyes, which she tried to shake when the doctor returned. It would be better not to ask any questions.
“Always dream and shoot higher than you know you can do. Do not bother just to be better than your contemporaries or predecessors. Try to be better than yourself.” ―William Faulkner
"Come here." She ordered, pointing next to where she stood at the sink. "If the flow of bloods slowed down i need to clean it out to make sure any lingering debris is washed out." Normally she wouldn't explain what she was doing or why she was doing it, but the woman so far had been skittish, and people generally are more relaxed if they know whats going to happen to them and why. Basically, if it kept her calm, it would save Vieka a lot of trouble and a possible head ache in the future.
"those who know how to think need no teachers." -Mahatma Gandhi
Moving towards the sink, she was glad that the doctor explained what was going on. But, curiosity poked at her and she couldn’t resist just one question. “Where did you learn all this?” she asked, looking from her hand to the various materials stored on the shelves. She also wanted to ask why the debris needed to come out, but had a feeling that question was stupid, at least, compared to the one she actually asked.
“Always dream and shoot higher than you know you can do. Do not bother just to be better than your contemporaries or predecessors. Try to be better than yourself.” ―William Faulkner
Glancing up only briefly as she carefully undid the binding she'd made only a while earlier, Vieka figured that answering her question couldn't hurt. "Books mostly, although i had a lot of tutoring and did a lot of my own experimenting to find out certain things." She replied quietly, turning on the tap and carefully holding the blonds hand under the running water. once all the smudged blood was washed away, the half blood pulled her hand back again and pressed a new, clean cloth to the wound to stop the newly wetted life substance leeching out all over the place again.
"Keep the pressure on it again and go sit back down by the table" Vieka muttered, gathering the mushy glop she'd made earlier, a bottle of high concentrated alcohol and the clean bandages before moving on after her, placing them on the table.
"those who know how to think need no teachers." -Mahatma Gandhi
“Why’d you decide to study this?” she asked next, wincing a little as the water hit her hand. She could clearly see the gash now, without all the blood draining from it. It started in that space between her thumb and pointer find and extended down, ending at the bottom of her palm. She hoped she’d still be able to use her hand after this. And then the cut was gone from her vision as a new cloth pressed against it. “Okay,” she answered in her same timid voice, grabbing the cloth anew and turning around. She sat down at the table and waited, unsure of what was going on next.
“Always dream and shoot higher than you know you can do. Do not bother just to be better than your contemporaries or predecessors. Try to be better than yourself.” ―William Faulkner
"It was better then the other options." Vieka answered curtly, deciding that explaining how the other option was to become a magical bomb capable of blowing up entire towns if she couldn't control it to a woman of the military was probably not the best idea. The half blood soaked her rag in the high percentage alcohol before placing the bottle back down.
"This'll clean out any bacteria or infection in the cut, but i'll warn you now that it's going to sting, probably a lot." The brunette warned, but didn't give the other any time to process the information before she removed the rag and pressed the alcohol covered one to the wound, carefully, but quickly making small dabs and swipes to get rid of excess blood and to clean out the cut.
"those who know how to think need no teachers." -Mahatma Gandhi
The guard winced, sucking in air through her teeth as the new rag was pressed on her cut. Treating wounds never hurt this much back home, but then again they always did stay swollen and puffy for quite some time.
After a few moments the pain numbed a little bit, allowing Gladys some relief. She still tried to avoid looking directly at the mask, somewhat afraid of the thing, but that didn’t stop her from making one last statement. “Thank you for helping me.”
“Always dream and shoot higher than you know you can do. Do not bother just to be better than your contemporaries or predecessors. Try to be better than yourself.” ―William Faulkner
She paused, if only momentarily, before continuing her task, a small smile slipping onto her lips from behind the black leather strapped to her face. Being a doctor was a thankless job most the time, of this Vieka had no delusions. People came in bleeding from cuts and accidents of various sizes, snobbish nobles complaining about head aches or petty colds, poor folk who couldn't afford treatment begging for help for their children. Rarely did she receive thanks from any of these people, especially not some of the poor folk she had to turn down, so hearing the words from the young military lady made her more happy then she would willingly admit.
Done with cleaning out the cut, Vieka placed down the rag before picking up a small opaque jar and unscrewing it, revealing a strange, almost jelly like salve glooped inside. Tugging off one of her gloves, the brunette then took a generous scoop of gunk before spreading it out onto the cut, making sure to cover the whole wound in a thick even layer. "You're welcome." She stated softly.
"those who know how to think need no teachers." -Mahatma Gandhi
Gladys was going to remain quiet as the goop was spread and the bandage applied, but then another thought came into her mind and she bite her lip as she tried to figure out how to phrase the question. “I, um.” She stopped, taking a breath. “How much do I pay you? I don’t have much, but it’s something at least—and if there’s another way I can pay, just tell me!” she added quickly. As weird and strange as the face was, she couldn’t deny their help. And if there was one thing she was raised with; it was to appreciate help.
“Always dream and shoot higher than you know you can do. Do not bother just to be better than your contemporaries or predecessors. Try to be better than yourself.” ―William Faulkner
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