sixthiterationlogs | so what? i'm still a rock star

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so what? i'm still a rock star

WHO: Claire Temple
WHERE: Around her house (#3), inn and the clinic
WHEN: December 9th & 10th
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: Injury, blood and some cursing

[ December 9th - around house #3, inn, clinic for things and clinic ladies hen party!) ]

It was yet another day and Claire was really feeling the repetition, but the nurse had very little energy that morning and while it didn't particularly show in the way she carried herself, it was in the very 'bored' looking face she presented to people. The previous nights sleep wasn't great, but she kept on with her routine which started with stopping at the clinic briefly to check on the empty beds before hitting up the inn for (hopefully) some coffee and a bite.

Afterwards, she headed by the fountain to check for signs of new arrivals and when it seemed it would be another day to get through the rest of, Claire headed back to the clinic to see what sorts of things she could "organize". Again.

[ December 10th - forest area and back at the clinic ]

Not sleeping much better again, Claire decided to go to the place where Clint took her to get some more firewood and though she was sure she'd be able to find her way back, there was a complete loss of direction when her ears picked up a sound and spun her into a different direction.

Seeing a deer dart off the other way, the nurse dropped the wood into the sling she brought along and started back. Yet after five or so minutes, Claire felt her energy deplete and before she knew it, the terrain changed to mark the realisation that she wasn't going the right away. Instead of the fairly flat land, it abruptly changed into something far more challenging. Only after muttering a worried 'shit' did she hear the distant sound of rushing water - the waterfall - and was smart enough to know that was NOT a sound heard from the village. So she turned herself away from it, hoping it would set her back on the path home.

It would eventually, but not until after Claire tripped on an exposed tree root that sent her tumbling down into a rocky ravine. By the time she finally stopped rolling, her left arm was bleeding badly, ankle throbbing painfully and her face felt like it did after the Russians beat her up for information on Matt.

Thankfully, she could see the river through the trees and that was a landmark she knew would take her back.

It was early evening when she finally limped her way into the clinic and slowly set out to find a suture kit in one of the EMS backpacks. Over the next hour, anyone that stopped by would see Claire putting herself back together again.

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Hook's back at the inn for his second visit of the day. Since it's just him at home now that Emma's gone back home, he doesn't care if he has as much time at home in the evenings, so he's spending more of them at the inn. It also means that he doesn't have to cook his own meals in the evenings, which hadn't been an inconvenience. It's just less work for him, and he gets to enjoy a little company at the inn.

When he notices the fresh bruises and cuts on Claire, and the ginger way in which she's moving, he pulls the ever-present leather flask from his pocket and sets it on the table in front of her. "It looks like you might need that more than I do."

He's got more back at his house anyway. He's gotten good at stashing.

Glancing at the flask, Claire slowly lifted her eyes and smiled a little, nodding with a slight wince. Everything hurt and she was pretty sure it would for a number of days to come. There was nothing about that fall of hers that could have been done any safer. Then again, what fall could?

"I'll apologize in advance if I empty this," Claire said, reaching across the table slowly and with her good arm to take the flask, lifting it up a bit in silent request to have him pop the lid open. "Could you.. ?"

"I have more." Which might be an offer to share more, or it might just be a reassurance that it's okay if she empties it. He reaches over to flip the lid open for her. When she sips it, she'll find rum inside. He's felt as bad as he imagines she does. In his case it was one bad night involving a cane and a car; he doesn't know what happened to her, but it can't have been here.

Once the flask is open, he sits down across the table from her. "What caused this unfortunate occurrence?"

"That makes you my hero." Claire said, not knowing if that was a smart thing to tell her. This place had a habit of making people want to numb themselves. Whatever she drank of his she would offer back from her own little stash which she kept at her place from the last feast.

Taking a sip, instead of wince at the taste going down, she closed her eyes and savoured it before taking another swallow.

"That's nice." A beat. "I did something stupid and went out into the woods alone. It was far from being planned. I was just trying to gather some wood."

"If I'd known it took so little to be a hero, I'd have done it a long time ago." He wouldn't have. It took a lot of effort to get to this point, and it's taking a lot of work to stay there. Especially without Emma around.

"I go into the woods alone. It's perhaps not advisable, but most of the time I'm headed to one fishing spot or another. I've spent a lot of time wandering alone in various places."

Helen had heard about the arrival of a new nurse who was, conveniently, also called Claire, but she'd yet to have the chance to meet the woman in person. When she'd come through to drop off some candles she'd made for the clinic in addition to new bars of soap, she got a chance to meet the woman herself and not just admire the signs of her presence she'd left in their little infirmary.

"You must be the woman I've been wanting to meet. I've noticed your work in here but I haven't managed to catch you - a day late and a dollar short, as they say. I'm Helen, Helen Magnus."

Claire had been glancing over the supplies when the sound of the door was heard. She stepped out to take a look at who it might be and felt instantly bad for silently hoping it was someone needing some help. But after seeing that the woman looked perfectly fine, Claire gave a smile at the compliment she was paid and shrugged with a soft laugh.

"I work in an ER back home and they all but drilled organization into our heads so I'm afraid it's all habit. But thanks, nice to meet you Helen. I'm Claire Temple."

"It's an absolute godsend to have another medical professional here," Helen said, smile even wider at the knowledge that this woman had emergency room experience. That was something sorely needed.

"ER, then? We are lucky indeed. I am a surgeon but a surgeon is limited without modern medicine. I don't have much trauma experience outside of battlefield work and that's a whole other kettle of fish."

Claire smiled genuinely, glancing around the clinic again. As much as she wished the place was a bit more modern, she could make do with the actual building. It was the lack of electricity and supplies that she'd wish for.

Abruptly, her gaze returned to Helen. "Battlefield? Where exactly are you from?"

"Old City. It's in Canada, in British Columbia. I just...let's just say I've lived a very long life," Helen said. She hated to be enigmatic but the revelation of her Abnormality wasn't something that came easily to her, even in a place like this where many people were far from bog standard.

"I've seen a lot of war and I've treated a lot of men and women on the field, done triage in camps. It's messy business."

Self serving as he'd like to be, it just isn't in Kira's nature to hoard certain supplies. Hoard for safekeeping and knowing exactly what was on-hand, maybe, but as he finally unpacked the rest of his past-self's shit in the new house, he'd found more and more of the red cross packs stuffed into the closet.

After finding Ty's coat, his cards in the pocket--he'd gone over the supplies again, sorting and familiarizing. The picture of his sister had come with another of those letters, clearly his promised reward, but the other items felt--odd. He'd just lost them back home, so how could they be here? Had his previous incarnation been from some other, earlier time? How badly was this going to hurt his fucking head, by the end of it?

Sorting pills and bandages was easier to put his mind toward, and eventually he had everything he felt he could live without shoved into one pack, the rest stowed in a cabinet of the main bathroom.

It felt familiar now, to put on Ty's coat, shoulder a pack, and go out into the snow. At least he was reasonably sure no one would shoot at him here.

By the time he got to the clinic to drop it all off, Claire was working on her face. Kira slung the pack down to the floor and dragged it a little after him, picking up his pace to get over to her. "Jesus, did you pick a fight with a wolverine out there," he asks, hands up and hovering, ready to assist. "How can I help?"

There's a fairly deep cut that Claire is trying to put a few sutures in that runs an inch or so up from the outer edge of her brow. The hand on her injured arm is shaking pretty bad which makes tying it off a challenge, so when Kira arrives and offers his help, the nurse doesn't object. She's done being independent for one day.

"Can you do sutures?" Claire asks him, peering past the both arms that were attempting a stitch. Then again, it didn't matter if he did, or didn't, she needed his help.

"I...have seen people do them," he answers, figuring honesty does them both more favors. "Recently, even." Recently, he'd had them done on his own fucking head, but the experience wasn't exactly instructive. Mostly he knew if they hurt, you were still maybe doing them right. "I also have actually sewn things, so maybe?"

Maybe is probably as good as it gets around here, sometimes, so he stills his hovering hands in preparation to hold or sew whatever she requests. "What do you want me to do?"

"That makes you more qualified than not." Claire said through a breathless laugh, and stopped abruptly at a less than pleasant feeling radiate through her side. Who knew tumbling 40 or so feet would feel more like getting hit by a truck.

Having Kira there would also speed up the process so she could set herself up with some pain management. After giving him the forceps and needle and explained how to do it, Claire stood still so he could start.

"It wasn't an animal," she said, blinking slowly to look at him. "I kind of wish it was though. Makes for a better story."

"More qualified to stick needles in your face, the counselors at school always told me I had great potential." Laughter is probably good--endorphins, or whatever. Conceptually, it wasn't a difficult task. Push the looping needle, pull it the rest of the way with the forceps, don't shove his fingers into her skull. The hard part is wrapping his head around sticking metal into someone's face and tugging thread through the holes.

His constitution has gotten a bit of a workout, even before this place. Kira's hands are steady, if not expert, in the work.

"It's a good day when we're just worried about what story to tell," he says, looping the thread through itself at the top of the wound and tying her off. "Any more of these to sew up while you tell me what really happened?"

Clary didn't do much around the village. She copied maps, ate and took up space in front of the fire. The cold made her lazy and recent events have made her letharic.

Today, she tried to do something more active. She went outside with her daggers and began to shift through the movements that Izzy had taught her. It helped for awhile but Clary couldn't keep her focus. Her thoughts drifted to her father, her friends and her mother. They were fighting a war, Jace was gone, and she was stuck here.

While her thoughts wandered, her hand slipped and her dagger sliced across her palm. "Fuck me." She groaned as she slipped her blades into the loops at her belt and headed off towards the hospital. She didn't know what they had but something to keep it clean so it wouldn't get infected.

Dying from infection would be the lamest way to die.

She paused when she noticed Claire there, organizing from the looks of it. "Hi." She flashed the older woman a brief smile. "So do you know where gauze is?" Clary didn't make a habit of coming to the inn.

Claire had only just arrived herself and was just about to hit the supply locker (she refused to call it a room) to do a quick inventory to see if anything had been used in the two weeks since she last did it.

The sound of the door opening, however, got her attention and when she saw Clary, the nurse flashed the briefest of smiles before she noticed the other woman's hand and the bright red blood that had run down off her wrist once the laceration happened.

"How about you let me take a look at that first." Claire said, gesturing to a small table and a chair where Clary could sit. As she grabbed what she needed to clean it up out of the supplies that they had.

When she got back and sat down across from the other woman, looking at the injury a little closer now proved one thing, "Clean cut. Dagger?"

Clary knew the elementary school basics of first-aid: you fell, you scraped your knee, your mom sprayed something super painful on it and then you got a band-aid so you could go back outside and play.

None of that was relevant here.

There was a thoughtful pause before Clary settled into a seat and offered Claire her palm. If she had her stele this wouldn't be a problem. She'd complete one of the runes tattooed onto her skin and she'd be healed in no time. But that was wishful thinking and something that Clary didn't want to linger on.

"Yeah. I was practicing." She exhaled, sounding more annoyed with herself than pained. "It's been hard to focus."

The coffee was decent enough in the inn and it helped to keep Bela going during the day. It was hard to ignore the chillier weather coming in - another reason why Bela chose to come to the inn whenever she could - so she needed to decide on the best way to survive. Kira had suggested on her first day to room up with someone or just stay at the inn, considering Bela's lack of survival skills.

She walked into the inn sometime in the afternoon, bundled up in several layers of clothing and rubbing her hands together to generate some heat. After locating the coffee pot, Bela poured herself a cup and moved to a nearby table, sitting adjacent from Claire.

"Hello." A polite nod in her direction, acknowledging her.

Sitting there enjoying the other half of her coffee, Claire watched as some of the other villagers came and went. Apparently the word was out that there was caffeine at the inn because almost everyone beelined first into the kitchen. It was fun to watch, at any rate.

Hearing the greeting, the nurse gave a smile. "Hi! I don't think we've met. I'm Claire."

The smile is briefly returned. No sense in not continuing the politeness, right? "No, we haven't. My name is Bela."

Her hands are wrapped around the coffee mug, letting the heat warm them up - the coffee is still too hot for Bela to drink just yet. "Have you been in this village long?"

Margaery was still in the process of recovery, but had felt well enough to be outdoors again and actually attempt some of her chores. While there had been no sudden visions, she hadn't wanted to face the sort of head pain she endured during her illness. Before everything escalated, she had been told to ask one of the healers about something that could at least provide some relief.

It was several days too late since receiving that advice, but she took it now, which was progress for her. It had been awhile since she had seen the clinic and there were apparently more healers in the village, more people that might know how to treat something as common as head pains.

Margaery peered inside, seeing little activity, save for a woman who was clearly organizing. "Hello?" She wasn't familiar to Margaery, though she thought she had seen her face around the village before.

Shuffling through some different sizes of gauze, Claire glanced up and noticed the woman. Since arriving, no one really came in for much more than an asprin or band-aid and at first glance, the woman wasn't obviously bleeding so that seemed to cancel out any kind of emergency.

Still, Claire greeted the other woman with a small smile and an inquisitive look before glancing back to the supply rack to put a few pressure bandages into a spot.

"Can I help you?"

That was the question. She had put this off for so long because she doubted there was much anyone could do. Whatever caused these visions and the pain behind it wouldn't be easily cured. She didn't want to consider it, but the Observers seemed to have a wicked sense of humor. The fall out for this gift seemed to be equally powerful, but far more frustrating.

"I sometimes have head pains...more than once a week?" Though she hoped that changed, now that she was better. "I don't suppose you have anything that could help?" They didn't have much in terms of supplies, but she never thought to ask what the clinic might have. There were always plants as well, though she wasn't as familiar with those as she was with edible plants.

His own rounds were much the same as hers, always trying to find something to do, somewhere to be useful. In spring, summer, or fall he wouldn't be having as much of a problem with this, since he'd be able to help out with the planting, tending, or harvesting of the fields, but in the early winter Mulcahy just didn't have as much possibility in work, and that was making him a tad restless. He knew the actual trained medical staff have the clinic well in hand, but it was still one of the places he felt most comfortable, so he still swung through there once or twice a day just to make sure everything was all right.

Today, though, everything was clearly not all right, as he came across a figure he knew bending over a bleeding appendage. "Miss Temple! What happened?" he asked, immediately crossing over to one of the cabinets with the intention of finding a strip of bandage without asking, or being asked. "You weren't attacked, were you?"

Really, Beverly was tired of organizing things that rarely changed. Or, more accurately, she was tired of seeing the same backwards equipment day in and day out. When Rory had disappeared, at least the small supply of bandages and anti-septic had stuck around, but it was hard to organize what never really moved. So she'd taken to cleaning as much as organizing and keeping stock. Not that this helped much, either, but it was something.

Today when Claire walks in, she'll find the redheaded doctor frowning at the supplies, arms crossed over her chest. As she hears the sounds of someone else joining her, Beverly glances towards the door to see who it is, her frown morphing into a warm smile, though her arms remain in place. They've at least seen each other since Claire started working here, even if they haven't really had much of a conversation yet.

"I know there's not a whole lot to do in the day-to-day, but you don't know how glad we all are to have another medical professional here. Do you mind if I ask about your experiences? It's... varied among the staff and I like to know who can do what."

It's part of being the Chief Medical Officer on the most well-known starship in the Federation and likely the entire galaxy. She's very organized with her staff as well as her equipment. The last thing she's ever needed was to send the wrong person on the wrong crisis mission because she wasn't aware of their qualifications. That would be a court martial for sure.

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so what? i'm still a rock star

December 10th - inn

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december 9th - clinic

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December 10th - clinic

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December 9th - Clinic

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December 9th - Inn

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12/09 - Clinic

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December 10, clinic

Dec 9, hen partyyy