sixthiterationlogs | death warmed over

Entry tags:

death warmed over

WHO: Claire Temple
WHERE: Home, inn, hospital, then out in the boonies
WHEN: June 22nd to end of 25th (for Power Surge)
OPEN TO: All (but please note what day you'll be tagging Claire in the subject header)
WARNINGS: None really, but will update

[ 1st Day - Need one ]

Waking up that morning wasn't anything different than it used to be. Claire kept strictly to her routine, as most did in the village. She did a bit of yoga, then bathed and dressed and headed over to the inn to get some breakfast before checking in at the hospital. But before even leaving the quaint little house that she shared with Karen, a dull pain started at the top of her abdomen, which did catch her attention. It wasn't a normal pain, but one she chalked up to simply being more hungry than usual.

Only once she got to the inn and made some coffee, the pain amplified double what it was and within minutes tripled until Claire was doubled over in the dining room, arms wrapped around her with her forehead pressed down on the table. The nurse in her cancelled out what her symptoms could be, though it wasn't a radiating pain. It was constant. By the time she forced herself to get up, Claire was almost unable to walk, making it only as far as the inn doors before sliding to the floor.

[ 2nd Day - Hospital OTA ]

Without knowing what was exactly wrong, Claire stayed in a bed at the hospital and did as she was told. The pain was still severe and rendered the nurse-now-patient in an agony she never felt before. So when she wasn't staring at walls or wishing for a miracle to stop the pain, she was hoping someone would just put her out of her misery.

[ 3rd Day - Home (Evening) - OTA ]

Thankfully, by mid-morning, the pain began to dissipate and Claire went home where she continued to take it easy. The experience left her exhausted, but not so much to the point where she slept the day away.

Anyone passing by might find her on the porch with a cup of tea, but looking pretty well otherwise.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It had taken time for Circe to relax her guard enough to venture into the inn. Slowly, she had willed herself to visit the hub of activity, pushing away her doubts and insecurities. It wasn't as if she hadn't lived among a number of people, but after being isolated for so long, it was hard to throw herself back into a crowd, even if she had been lonely for companionship.

After a few days, it was no longer difficult to cross the threshold and take her meals with the others. They were still strangers to her, but familiar strangers. She had seen Claire before, in particular around the hospital. Jon had pointed it out to her, a place that she might consider visiting and volunteering, as she had a knowledge of plants, but much like the inn, it took time for her to build the incentive.

She had noticed something odd about the woman when she entered, but until she pressed her head to the table, Circe hadn't thought very much of her health. It would have been easier if she had her abilities. All it would take was a look for her to know if there was a spell or something else magical about her. But as a mortal, she was blind.

She was quick on her feet as Claire stumbled, grabbing hold of her and slinging her arm over her shoulders. "Let me help you. Are you feeling faint?"

Claire had seen the other woman, too, but most new faces were hard not to notice in such a thinly populated place. By the last count, she had estimated around 50 people, give or take a few, with an influx of arrivals happening in the last few weeks. That wasn't on her mind right now, however, but when the nurse looks over, she realizes Circe is one of those new people.

"No, abdominal pain." she breathes out the words more than speaks them. "I need to sit down."

It's quite clear standing or walking is out of the question. So when they get to the nearest area where she can sit, Claire shakes her head. "I don't know what it is."

She pulled the chair out for her, easing Claire to sit down again. While she wasn't as familiar with mortal anatomy, she understood the effects of many of the plants in this world as well as their benefit. There was a small basket at her side, filled with flora she had collected earlier in the day. It took only a moment to find the Momo Fruit. She offered it out to Claire. "Here, eat this for now. This will help you feel a little better while I prepare some fluff pods. If there is something wrong with your stomach or if you ate something, it should ease the symptoms."

And if it didn't work, it meant that there was something magical at work.

"How long have you been feeling this way? Did it only recently start?" Someone had mentioned before that there had been a few villagers who had gotten sick not long after arrival. Though the symptoms they described didn't sound like this. It was more akin to drowning, not stomach pains.

Claire looked at the fruit offered and took it. The mere thought of taking a bite made her stomach roll violently. But she knew the benefits if she could even manage a few bites. Still, the nurse couldn't help give it a frown before glancing up at the woman with a slight wince.

"This morning," she answers, slowly leaning more to her left side because it seemed to hurt less in that position. "It started pretty tame but has gotten worse every hour or two. And no one else seems to be suffering from it."

Given the crab boil was the day before, she thought if others were sick that it might have been because of something in the food. Who really knew?

"Were you able to eat this morning?" She asked, not bothering to look up from her work of plucking the leaves from the fluff pods. It would make only a small salad, but it would be enough for Claire to swallow down in a few bites. That would at least be easier on her stomach.

It was a good point and Circe briefly glanced across the room. No one else seemed to be suffering or uncomfortable, it was simply a normal morning. Only Claire seemed to have these symptoms.

"Try this first. It might be enough to ease the pain until we can take you to the clinic. If it doesn't we'll find a way to carry you." She grinned, hoping to at least make her laugh at the thought.

By sheer coincidence, Mulcahy hadn't been at the inn when Claire had collapsed, instead off on an errand for Miss Kelly. By the time he'd returned, she'd already been taken to the hospital and put to bed, and there were plenty of people worried about her. Claire was sensible and personable, which very much helped to make her a good nurse but also made her reasonably popular around the village. There would almost certainly be too many people hovering over her for her to be comfortable; he'd give it another day before he went over.

Which was exactly what happened. Watching carefully, Mulcahy arrives at the hospital when there's little activity, quietly opening the door and making his way in. He's used to sickroom protocol from the 4077, and this is really no different: try not to make any loud and sudden noises, no startling the patients, speak to them in comforting and confident tones. Of all his skills, he's most sure about that. Moving quietly into the infirmary, Mulcahy pulls a chair up next to Claire's bed and sits, a movement he's performed so many times by now he can't even begin to estimate a number.

"Well, Nurse Temple, I'd say you gave us quite a shock." He finds a smile for her, although he's definitely still worried, but he's had a lot of practice at holding it back for the good of his charges. "How are you doing today?"

For as much as Claire wishes she can rest everyone's mind about her health, there is nothing she can tell them. She feels like her insides are trying to claw their way out of her belly and there's nothing to stop it from happening. At least that's what she dreamed of during the little spans of sleep she managed to get regardless of the pain she was in.

But seeing Mulcahy when he comes in helps more than he probably would believe, had she told him. Claire is on her side, with her knees drawn up. It's not the best position but it's the one that keeps her the most comfortable.

"I suppose I should be honest with you especially," she replies, smiling a little despite how she feels. "Not very good. And it bothers me that I can't self-diagnose. Or shouldn't."

"You can be as honest as you like. I won't tell a soul," he responds with a little smile, glad to see her still able to make that expression herself despite the pain she's in. It's not much, but it's at least something that shows she's still herself. "I take pains not to break the seal of confessional."

Mulcahy knows enough about the medical trade to know exactly what Claire means - they'd had a few patients through the 4077 that tried to self-diagnose their own wounds (as opposed to self-inflict), and it was usually a problem in the sense that they just didn't know enough to make accurate guesses, and worry for their own situation often made those guesses worse. He nods, reaching forward to place a hand on her wrist in a comforting gesture, giving her a little pat to reassure her.

"I could form a hypothesis or two myself, in fact, I did just that last night, but for all I've observed phenomenal surgeons at work I'm not one for medicine myself. All my knowledge is very specific to certain circumstances, and while I've certainly seen patients who are in situations similar to yours, I don't have any sort of proper tools to make a worthwhile diagnosis. I'm sorry, Claire."

Sam's little announcement hadn't gone the way she expected. Which was a fucking understatement. When someone said 'I'm a vampire,' you kind of expected torches and pitchforks. Not a whole bunch of loonies offering up their necks.

But that was exactly what was happening.

Biting Bucky had been painfully awkward. Not something Sam was sure she wanted to repeat. But it occurred to her, as she tossed and turned in the misery of that experience, that even if she didn't want to bite again, with enough volunteers, there was still the possibility she might be able to sustain life.

They had a damn hospital. Which probably meant they had damn syringes.

It was worth investigating, anyway.

Sam waited until the sunset. She could handle some sunlight, it seemed. But it felt fucking weird. And who knew how long it would last, anyway? Their Overlords had a talent for pulling the rug out from under them. But anyway, in the cool sunset, she made her way over to the hospital. It felt a little wrong to go rifling through the drawers--hello addict habits--but before she even considered it, she spotted Claire. Although they'd only met once, Claire had made something of an impression. Sam appreciated the 'take no shit' attitude. So her forehead crumpled up in confusion and she made her way over. "What's wrong with you?"

Sam was just...not good at people.

She remembers Sam as soon as her eyes open once she heard the noise. They spoke at a feast back in the last settlement about throwing caution to the wind and eating the food despite whatever happens. Ironically, this is another case of the place screwing with them, but her specifically.

Over the last day and a half, person after person came by to fuss over her and whatever it was that was wrong with her, which she decided had to be because of the odd power she obtained after coming through the fountain for the second time; the power to take people's pain onto herself. Dialled up, however, courtesy of whoever was in charge.

This place was beyond nuts.

"I wish I could tell you," Claire answered tiredly. "But I'm going to go with this damn place."

She shifts a little.

"What are you doing?" she asks, knowing she wasn't there to visit her, the only patient in the hospital.

Honestly, 'this damn place' was a fucking legitimate answer. Enough to tug at what little compassion Sam had left. Enough to pull her over to Claire's bedside, with what she hoped passed for a look of commiseration.

Or at the very least, not a 'hungry vampire, you smell yummy' look.

She'd take that.

"Kinda trying to think of a scientific apparatus. Nothing Frankensteinian, or interesting, though." But something that could potentially save her life. She figured she wouldn't go into details, considering the fact that Claire looked like shit at the moment.

"Are you all by yourself in here?"

For the moment, Claire's memory wasn't the best and more focused on getting through the hour minute by minute. So recalling Sam's big announcement wasn't going to come back to her just yet. She'd need something to prompt it, which may come sooner rather than later.

With a pinched brow that was one half pain and the other curiosity, Claire shifts a little more onto her back and nods in response to the question.

"And apparatus for what?"

"Phlebotomy," Sam replied. Robert and Anne had been desperate for Sam to go into pre-med. Medicine hadn't exactly held Sam's interest, but her genetic studies were close enough. It had been the best possible compromise. And a great excuse to use big and fancy words whenever possible. "Preferably of the variety that doesn't lead to infection and death."

Who knew? Maybe her toxic vodka could be useful for something after all.

She should have thought of that sooner.

"It can wait, though." Until there was a medic who was on her feet. The last thing Sam wanted was Claire getting out of bed.

Frank isn't much one for hospitals, though he'd seen people going in and out to check on her so he knew she wasn't alone. He would have shown up if she ever was, but it reminds him of when he was sick in Reims, people taking shifts at his bedside. The clinic there is nothing like the hospital here, merely a cobbled together shed with supplies inside that had been soundproofed as meticulously as possible to cover the coughs, sneezes and even death rattles of patients. Claire hadn't been there to see his illness from the vaccine, but the high fever had made him act bizarrely, most likely swelling his brain. But he had gotten through it, as he always eventually gets through everything somehow, however unlikely it may be.

That morning while she's still in-patient, he leaves a basket on her doorstep. It's obviously handwoven (read: shitty) and full of peaches and there's a bouquet of freshly picked sunflowers laying on top, tied together with cornhusks. He doesn't have many resources at his disposal yet, having only just arrived, but he still feels like he owes her. For everything back in Reims, but also for treating him with such kindness when he came here a week ago now.

At the bottom is a handwritten note. For being a good patient. Because he knows nurses are often the worst at that, having taken care of Dorothy after she was inoculated. In lieu of a signature is a sketch of a hotdog with mustard and onions (okay, they're scribbles) BUT NEW YORKERS STICK TOGETHER gdi. He sees Karen bring the basket in, but doesn't go by himself until after he sees Claire return. Frank's head pops up in her window, covered by a hoodie despite the warmth of the day. He glances down at the window latch, um. Let him in please this isn't weird at all!!!!

Edited 2018-06-19 17:33 (UTC)

She's glad to be home. Glad to be in the bed and laying on the clumpy mattress she's finally gotten used to after 8 months. But it's her room that she would rather be in, with her collected things and her smell and the lovely bouquet of flowers that sit on her dresser, providing that cheerful pop of colour. But it's the illustration that gets her smiling for the first time since before she got sick.

How could it not?

Claire wasn't completely better, but the pain was manageable unlike the day before and it seems to be getting better with each passing hour. She's relieved, to say the least.

When the shadow of Frank turns up at her window, it takes her a second to give him an odd look before slowly and very carefully standing to push the latch to over so he can open the window.

"You do know there's a door, right?" she tells him, stepping back and sitting on the edge of her bed to make the room if his intention was to come in. She's smiling regardless, but it's one of those things that needs to be pointed out.

Odd looks are the only ones he's ever seen her wear around him in the past, so it doesn't phase him. When she unlocks the window he pushes it up as slowly as he can, careful so it doesn't squeak. Once the gap is wide enough for him to fit through, he boosts himself up with extreme care to stay quiet though he knows it must look funny. Moments later he's standing in front of the window and gently eases it back down again before turning to her, weary victory in his gaze. He did it. Be proud of him or something.

The question gets a smile, fleeting but sincere, and he nods. There is a door, but one Karen Page answers that door. Beyond that, there's no way to knock silently, is there? He would have had to stand on the stoop and wait to be noticed, probably by Aretha who would start a loud ruckus all her own. This was the quietest and most efficient method - it just so happens to also be the most immature.

Frank points to her and then puts up his OK sign. You OK? She looks better than she had when he'd left, but saying that would probably be... stalkery. Even more stalkery than all of the things he just did.

Edited (athena??? my brain i swear) 2018-06-19 23:06 (UTC)

In her defence, odd looks were given to pretty much everyone she knew but it was the people she was closest to that saw them most often. Matt seemed to get the worst of them, though he was a constant source of frustration. One that ended up hurting more than it should and in the end left her with an emptiness. Him dying still hadn't been properly dealt with and that fact was something that crossed her mind every damned day.

It was also a fact she had to push back every day because she wasn't ready to deal with it.

She reads the sign and then looks at him before bobbing her head uncertainly from side to side. "I'll be okay." she replies, assuring him like she had been everyone else. Claire Temple wasn't used to being fussed over and despite the gift basket being a lovely and thoughtful gift, she'd never expected it. In fact, she didn't expect so many people to come and see her both in the clinic and there at home.

Because she was the one always taking care of other people; fixing them and putting them back together again.

A hand moves up and through her hair, gathering it to pull over one shoulder and she narrows eyes at him curiously.

"What about you? Settling in?"

He watches her carefully, assessing for himself if she's really okay. Or as okay as any of them ever are. He catches a glimpse at the flowers he'd left her, too, satisfied that they'd made it to their rightful place. She'll be alright, and that's good enough for him, though it's telling the way she immediately volleys the focus onto him. The deflection is familiar even if he's usually the one wielding it. But Frank nods again, eager to reassure her. House Six. It's where he'd somehow ended up again, and there's something bittersweet about it in the end. She should know where he is too, in case she ever needs his help.

Claire knows exactly where house six is because it's the house she passes every morning on her way into the hospital and the house that their living room windows have a full view of. She looks from him to the window and back to him before nodding slowly. There's something about that she finds cute in a protective kind of way, though she's thinking it's more for Karen's sake than hers. They know each other pretty well, after all.

"House six, huh?" she says, trying to keep her smile from becoming a knowing grin but it falls when a wave of pain causes her to stiffen, lean to the side and look away which buys her a couple seconds before she glances up again. "I guess I should welcome to the neighbourhood then."

There's a comfortable pause as she looks at the sunflowers. "Thank you for the basket, by the way but you really didn't have to."

Frank couldn't miss that look, a flash of concern cutting across his own vision. It's seemingly over and then she's babbling to cover it over. He makes his way across the room and sits next to her on the bed, allowing himself to let out a quiet breath. He knows he so often is in full tilt, people had to tell him to slow down or stop entirely in Reims all the time, though it never did them much good. She's right, he didn't have to, but it's hard to kick the habit of keeping an eye on everyone even if they're new faces. And even if they know the lay of the land a lot better than he does.

I know. He turns towards her to sign, tipping his head to the side. B-O-R-E-D. Which is more than half truth. It's hard enough for him to sit around as it is, but after filling every moment of every day with a task to further Reims or the people there it's made him even antsier and prone to wearing himself thin.

Frank would come to learn about slowing down there in the settlement. Sure, there was plenty to do and ways to keep busy, but it wouldn't be anything like it was for him in Reime. At first, the obvious is that it's far more relaxing but after awhile, that feeling of someone watching you becomes more prominent.

Claire watches as he comes to sit beside her and the honesty is given a little smile and a look of sympathy. It may or may not get worse from here. Especially for a guy who has as much on his mind as he does.

"What do you mean you're bored?" Claire quips, narrowing an eye good-naturedly. "You just got here. You know, I bet a number of the ladies here would gladly take part in Boot Camp with Hotdog."

She nodded, feigning a laugh.

Wow, Claire. If only she knew that he basically... had a dojo ran by a bunch of superpowered ladies back in Reims. Oops. His shoulders jump in a silent laugh and he shakes his head.

I-D-L-E-H-A-N-D-S He signs, lifting an eyebrow. From anyone but Frank, that might be suggestive. He doesn't even make the connection, honestly.

Edited 2018-06-25 05:25 (UTC)

Honestly, he strikes her the type and given what she had already learned through Colleen and (to some extent) Danny, she would join up to fill in some of her days. It had been over 8 months since arriving by then and she was feeling pretty out of shape.

It’s not suggestive to Claire, but then again it’s been awhile since she’d last seen the guy who turned ‘coffee’ into something suggestive and now she prided herself on making the best damn cup in the village. How ironic.

“I’m afraid to say it but that seems to be a pretty widespread thing around here. Might want to think about my suggestion.”

F-I-G-H-T-C-L-U-B, he signs, even with a smile tugging up one corner of his mouth. Frank clears his throat in preparation to speak, it'll be less rough than the last time she heard it at least.

"If you say it's a good idea, then I'll do it." From one commanding officer to another. At least Claire is less likely to have a knock down drag out with him in front of everyone.

Claire thinks about it and Frank would be able to see that in her expression as she bobs her head this way and that to weigh it out. Yes, she's thinking of shirtless men fighting it out, first and foremost, but she's never been one to condone fighting someone just because.

When he talks, she smiles at the accent and how it painfully reminds, in a good way, of home.

"As much as that would keep the hospital in business for awhile, I don't know if we have that many suture kits." she says, trailing off into a soft laugh. She looks over at him again, tilting her head towards the sunflowers. "Maybe picking flowers is better zen therapy."

"Come on, I know how to pull my punches." Well, sort of. He had been in Reims out of necessity anyway. One broken nose could spell sudden death for the whole freaking town. But he tips his head, following her gaze to the flowers. Unlike Jessica, she had received his gifts better. Then again, his gifts to Claire had been alive. But he thinks it's more a Jessica thing than that, in the end. She must have seen that, at least, he assumes everyone had. His public fight with Jess that had proven once and for all his voice really did work. "I'm glad you like them."

The flowers. He turns back towards the window and considers the merits of just climbing back out. He knows from experience though that it's nice to have company after something like that. And he'd been worried about her, something he's not afraid to show if his presence here is any indication.

Edited (grammar gomen) 2018-07-05 21:08 (UTC)

"I don't know if I know how to do that." she says, her shoulders lurching up into a soundless laugh.

The fight she did hear about, yes, but it wasn't her business to get involved, despite knowing the private investigator. Circumstances hadn't allowed them to cross paths yet and with her going through the mystery illness, their reunion could probably wait a little longer.

For now, she's appreciative that Frank stopped by, but like any guy she's known, there was always a limit before restlessness set in. After a soft elbow nudge to his arm, Claire starts to get up slowly and carefully.

"Anyway, get out of here," she said in a good-natured tone. "I need a shower and another nap."

"You don't have to," he says with a smirk he can't quite stave off, but the sentiment is as true as it is amusing honestly. She nudges him and he looks down at the spot before his eyes bounce back to her face, wishing he couldn't remember how her lips felt on his by the campfire that strange night.

Yep. Time to go. Frank bounces up onto his heels in complete silence and holds up his favorite OK sign to denote he's listening to her - something she'll find he'd be hardpressed not to do from now on.

I'm gone, he pledges in sign before going back to the window and smoothly scurrying down the side of the house the same way he came in.

There are few people in the village that Jax can actually consider friends and he thinks Claire is the closest one he has. Claire's the one who puts up with his bullshit and gives him some of her own and he genuinely enjoys her company. Claire deserves better than this shithole.

Claire deserves better than being in the hospital in this shithole for sure.

When Jax comes in to see her, he's got a bundle of wildflowers that are probably weeds. It's not really his style, no, but he can play against type if he wants.

"What the fuck are you doing getting yourself injured?" he asks, sitting in a chair alongside the bed.

His face is one that she didn't expect to see, though Claire is definitely happy to see it. It means an uncensored conversation when everyone that's come in so far has been tiptoeing around her, respecting her space and the pain she was in. But Jax.. well Jax was who he was and his visit was exactly what she needed.

"Figured I'd do some research on exactly how much patients can get away with." she grinned at him then her brow furrowed. "Did you bring me flowers, Jax Teller?"

"That's what you're supposed to do when someone's laid up." Jax puts the flowers down on the bedside table and sits, figuring he'll stay a while and hopefully keep her mind off how fucking injured she is. And, well, if he lectures her a little? Probably necessary.

"Can't go giving all of yourself to some injured jackass. The rest of us need you around too, Claire."

Beverly doesn't really know what it is that has Claire here and in so much pain. She's run what tests she can with their limited supplies, but without a tricorder they might never know exactly what's wrong. This is a scenario that has played out in her mind several times in the year or so since her arrival and it's no easier to deal with in reality than in her mind.

She's been able to bring in a little of her willow growths and this is offered to Claire as needed and as often as Beverly can get her to use it. Unfortunately, nothing really seems to be working and Beverly's worry only doubles the longer Claire remains.

"How is it?" she asks after a time, making her way back over to Claire both to check on her and offer a small distraction through the cloud of pain.

That was the question that she asked herself several times, along with was this really ever going to end? Would she ever feel better? This kind of pain meant there was something wrong and as much as she wanted to deny that, she couldn't. This didn't have any clear symptoms that made a diagnosis easy.

Clutching her stomach to get through a wave of pain, Claire lets out a soft exhale as she opens her eyes and looks at Beverly

"At this point? I'm wondering who I can convince to do a mercy killing," she says weakly. "Or there's also a lake not too far away.."

She was kidding but her tone made it hard to tell.

Edited (note to self: don't try and tag after 10pm) 2018-06-29 00:43 (UTC)

Beverly's expression flattens ever so slightly at the mention of a mercy killing. She's been asked something like that before, the strongest memory being of Worf after his back was broken. She hadn't been comfortable with the idea then and she certainly isn't now.

"Won't be me," she says lightly. "I don't even agree to that sort of thing when it's presented as a cultural practice. Sorry, Claire. We're just going to have to ride this out and hope that either something finally starts helping or it goes away on its own. Have any of your symptoms changed?"

Elrond had heard about what had transpired with Claire, and while he hadn't been in the area when it had happened he thought he would seek her out to see how she was currently faring.

He joined her on her porch and offered her one of the peaches he'd been carrying ask he asked the question foremost on his mind. No one he'd spoken with had really had an answer for it, which unfortunately appeared to be the case for nearly all questions raised here.

"I heard that you collapsed earlier, what happened?"

The arrival of Elrond causes Claire to smile tiredly. She was feeling so much better than the two prior days before but it seemed the worst was over. At least she hoped it was working towards being over. No one wants pain and that was pain unlike anything she'd seen before, let alone experienced first-hand.

Claire follows him with her eyes and reaches out to take the offered peach, but doesn't bite into it just yet. Instead, she takes in his question and gives a sardonic laugh, though not to be rude.

"I guess if you live in a small place, everyone knows everyone's business." Claire replies, conveying the sense that she was okay with that. "I wish I knew. I felt fine at the party and then the next morning I was in nothing but pain."

It was still very much a mystery, but she wanted to know if it was something that happened by fluke or if it had anything to do with where they were. Was it another test?

"That does seem to be the way of small communities, no matter how they're formed." He remarked in turn. Usually, such small places had tighter knit relations as well, which naturally led to everyone knowing what was going on with everyone else in a general sense. And those that kept to themselves in such places were seen as the oddities, he mused quietly thinking of a certain hobbit.

"Sometimes, ill can come creeping in unseen to strike when least expected. It can take many forms as I imagine you know as well as I. Yet, it seems passing strange that others could do naught to aid you while you suffered. There should be some way to know how such an event came about, if only so we might try to prevent a reoccurance."

Edited 2018-06-29 02:34 (UTC)

While Elrond was thinking of a certain Hobbit, Claire manages to think about a certain blind lawyer who, despite his profession, kept most at arm's length. Slightly different but still quite similar and she nods to show that she agrees.

"Hmm, sounds like you have some experience there." she looks up towards the direction of the inn thoughtfully. "Where you come from, how would you have dealt with what I had?"

It was no lie that what they had at the hospital were a lot of herbs and plants, but also limited minor medications like the Aspirin and Tylenol that came in the first aid bags. What sort of sickness did he have in his world? How did Elves treat their own when they fell ill?

"One could say that I do. I would have tried to seek out the cause of the pain, and failing in that I would have done all I could to ease it within my power to do so." Namely via particular herbs and actual healing, though he doubted that the herbs he was familiar with could be found here. Thus he would have to learn from the healers here what herbs were known to be helpful to ease ills and pain, if any had been found currently.

"Sometimes though not all pain is physical, at times what pains us can be of a more...spiritual nature. Thus harder to see and deal with for some."

Claire was full of intrigue for sure and perhaps Elrond would be able to see that as she looks at him while he talks. When he was done, she nodded and looked down at the peach in her left hand as she continues to take what he said in.

"A lot of people suffer from that here. Homesickness, extreme frustration over not having their lives as they did in their worlds. They think too much about it and only make it worse."

She knows all about that, too.

"But mystery illnesses like what I just went through should have a root cause. Every sickness does. No one else got it."

"Perhaps you might consider what transpired at this party you were part of prior to being ill?" Just because the symptoms only showed themselves after, did not discount the event from being the cause in his mind. Regardless of the fact that Claire had been the only one to visibly suffer from them.

He had been trying to think of some event that could be so specific and localized when the soft glow caught his eye from the corner of it and he shifted his gaze from Claire's face, lower toward her wrist. His eyes then moved briefly from her wrist with its softly glowing band to his own wrist, noting silently the lack of glow, but perhaps more importantly the difference in color once more.

He turned his eyes back toward Claire's wrist, and spoke again softly, yet with an inflection that called for attention. "Or perhaps we should look closer to home for the root cause.."

"I did that," Claire answers with a very certain look on her face. She's gone over the evening so many times now she's surprised she doesn't have a headache to go with her abdominal pain. There was simply nothing served at that party that she had eaten or drank that three or more others had enjoyed, too. "It has to be something else."

Her eyes close briefly, not because of the pain but because Claire was now at the point of being sick of being the patient and laying down and when her eyes open again she's shifting to sit up more.

And when she does, she notices Elrond and him glancing back and forth between each of their devices.

"What is it?" Claire asks, looking at her left wrist and the device. "What do you mean?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

death warmed over

1st Day

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

2nd day

no subject

no subject

2nd Day

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

3rd day

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

second day

no subject

no subject

2nd Day

no subject

no subject

3rd Day

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject