Don't You Fret My Dear, It'll All Be Over Soon; I'll Be Waiting Here For You

[bewaretheniceboy]

WHO: Jax Teller, Neil Mackay, Peeta Mellark, and anyone who wants to visit them, doctor them, or look after them
WHERE: The hospital
WHEN: The days after the Obscurus rampage
OPEN TO: Anyone who wants to visit the patients, anyone who's hurt, or anyone who's got any reason to be in the hospital at all. Tag each other! Mingle! Commiserate!
WARNINGS: People got hurt, so injuries and wounds, presumably blood, at least one head injury, probably nightmares, and various medical things could all crop up here
STATUS: Open (please state who the tag is for and a general idea of a timeframe in the subject line of your comment!)

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The doctors in this place were as quick as they could be with limited supplies or trained personnel. Within a very short time of the smoke monster smashing through one man and slamming a few others aside, they had the injured moved into the hospital, cleaned up, and attended to as best they could. The lack of supplies and technology across the entire village was felt more in the medical field than any other, but all the members of that little group were resourceful and determined, and at least while some of the injuries had been severe no one had been on the doorstep of death. It was easier to treat a person when you were sure they would keep breathing.

Still, a lot of it had been improvised, and no one could be healed in an instant; they'd all have to do it the old-fashioned way, letting time and rest mend their wounds. Neil, Jax, and Peeta had all been placed in the same room in the hospital just to make it easier to keep tabs on them and for companionship through the night. The beds were spaced far enough apart to give some sort of privacy if the conversations were kept quiet and spare blankets had been tacked up that could be pulled back or dropped like curtains to give at least a visual barrier around the patients, but no one was far away enough from each other to not be able to talk (or listen) if they wanted to. A few chairs were available for visitors' use, though slightly rickety and not up to much punishment. All three of them would be there for a good bit, so the goal was to make their stay as comfortable as was possible.

Comments

[oncewasroman]

Rory sighed, he wasn't entirely sure what had happened exactly. He'd heard pieces about the attack and seen the aftermath, but had not been given the specifics. He didn't want to lie though, even if the chances were high that he'd have to repeat all this later, "You were attacked. It might have involved a fall--I wasn't given a play-by-play. There isn't a Tom here that I'm aware of...sorry."

He paused and then leaned in, "I need to take care of your bandages, but since you're sort of awake can I get you anything to drink?" He was a little hesitant to offer food given his condition, but liquids should be fine.

[withoutahammer]

"Attacked?" Yes, at Dieppe- but this wasn't France. That was one thing that was filtering in. "Germans? Or-" He had a foggy memory of something that didn't make sense, some kind of moving cloud, so maybe it had been gas?

Now that Not-Harry brought it up, he could feel the scratch of his throat. "Yeah. Please." He probably couldn't have eaten anyway- too much work- but he felt like he'd been thirsty for a long time. His throat and mouth were dry as dust.

[oncewasroman]

The more questions he asked the further he confirmed Rory's original thought that he might be a little delusional right now. It wasn't surprising, given the extent of his injuries, but it was still going to make things difficult at this point.

"No, not Germans. You aren't on a battle field...at least not like that," Rory said, doing his best to try and explain. But he wasn't sure how helpful that would really be.

Rory shifted his focus to getting the man water. He pulled over a bowl with water in it. Rory had been using a cloth in it to drip water into the man's mouth when he had been out -- an old school way of keeping a person hydrated. He removed the cloth, "Do you think you can hold this and drink from it?" He wanted to see how independent he could be, if not, Rory would have to help him drink from the bowl as well.

[withoutahammer]

He tried to lift his hand to take the cloth. At least, he thought he had tried to lift his hand. He could feel it now, at least, as heavy as lead at the end of his arm, which still lay limp. "...it's not moving."

If he had the energy, he knew, he'd be afraid. He wasn't any use if he was paralyzed, he'd be sent home and he wouldn't even be able to take care of Mags. He'd waste away in a hospital, or an institution- but he was too tired to worry. He'd have to do that later.

[oncewasroman]

Rory mentally frowned at that. Not a good sign, but it could also still just be fatigue, lack of food, or something else. What he wouldn't give for someway to verify the extent of the man's injury. Rory kept his face fairly neutral though, "You're still recovering. Whatever got you...well it's unknown what effects it might have had," Rory observed, speaking calmly.

He then went about helping the man sit up, propping him up with some pillows. Then, Rory lifted the bowl of water to the man's lips, "Here. Drink."