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Aneurysm: Research

Posted: Thu May 11, 2017 12:00 am
by *Nimiane

The gates of the asylum greeted the bleaknik much the same as they did every cycle; the spiraled portcullis looming overhead in it's cast of eerie shadows over the poorly paved courtyard of destitute and depressed. Odette, however, one of the Cabal's more social representatives, moved with stride that bespoke a course mapped for the Gatehouse's own wings. Through the squalid halls she did venture, footsteps echoing amidst the chorus of bleaker and patient activity that never ceased - and few outside it's walls could understand the contrast between belief and occupation.

It was at infirmary door Factotum came to stand, gloved knuckles poised to knock. Doctor Mathes Anton was an eccentric man; an aasimar of matched blue hair and eyes that walked the tightrope of insanity on a daily basis. With a scalpel in hand, most would find it a presence unnerving; and indeed, many of the Namers preferred to stay clear of the surgeon and his practices. Odette was not counted among either, and it was at this hour she sought his counsel on matters outside her sphere of knowledge and influence.


Knock, knock, knock.



Aneurysm: Research

Posted: Thu May 18, 2017 12:00 am
by *DM_Slimy_Doom
"Yes, yes, yes, it is open! What are you doing standing around, come in!"

The wooden door swings open, revealing the Aasimar deep in thought. Unfortunately, it is someone else's. The doctor is poised over a body's exposed brain, crimson blood staining the blue gloves up at least a hand's length past the wrist. A surgical mask covers the better part of his face, and a cloth pulls back his silver hair; the only feature immediately uncovered are his piercing golden eyes. Briefly he glances up to see who it is visiting, and a rather ill-looking Namer behind him takes the opportunity to clutch a holy symbol and shut his eyes, muttering a prayer low enough that the Doctor won't overhear.

"Ah, goot, they are finally finding assistants for me! Tyvold, he is getting the good ones all of them! They say they wish to cure what ails others, but when I ask if they wish to get their hands dirty, there is nothing! There is fear! There is resignation! It is bland, ja, and tasteless, like gruel! They do not like me near the 'sensitive ones,' and so! And so I am being stuck in this tiny excuse for a surgery!" As he talks, the scalpel in his hand waves animatedly and his eyes shine with determination. As your eyes seek to find anything else to look at, you realize that the patient's eyes still shine with awareness and life, though they are still and unmoving. Thankfully the doctor quickly looks back to his work, rummaging around and bullying through his tirade all the while.

"But you, you are here! You have found your way to me, despite-- The scissors, yes. No, no, on the table there! No. No! Yes, that is it! Ahem, despite all that! You are the spice of glory on the salad that is the garden of my brilliance! Yes, you will do nicely!"

"It is fascinating, the brain! Just think! See?! You are doing it now! Look, it is wonderful! But... it is fragile! Like a thin wafer. Too much stress, and it crumbles like powder. It is logical, it is illogical!" With a sudden movement, there is a flurry of snipping noises as Dr. Mathes sets about his scissors with an alarming speed and recklessness, suddenly removing the patient's brain entirely as he shoves it in your face. "See! It does not make any sense! And so... we make it make sense!"

"Why does it crumble? What makes it tick! Ye-eeess...." He retracts the organ, smiling tenderly and stroking it as if a favoured pet, to the sounds of the Namer behind retching violently. "Calming yourself, that is why you are here! It is what the magic is for, we can heal him, ye-es."

The Doctor's train of thought seems to hitch, and as he lifts the scalpel to begin another monologue, a look of perplexion twists his eyebrows. For a moment, he is quiet as he tries to remember what he was about to say, now may be the only chance you have to butt in.

Aneurysm: Research

Posted: Tue Jun 06, 2017 12:00 am
by *Nimiane

Skirting the swing of opening door with the hollow accompaniment of thickly-heeled leather boots clipping a brief staccato on grimy tiles, Odette slipped into the surgery. Lifting a gloved hand to shield her eyes from the harsh light of pale, white light, the bleaker's obsidian lashes squint with impending adjustment. "Apologies, Dr. Mathes, afraid I'm not here ta assist ya this cycle..." uttered silver-haired femme, the words likely unheard as the aasimar prattled on maniacally. A faintly apologetic smile tugged at factotum's lips with glance to restless Namer, the slight dip of her head one of rarely found encouragement.

The weave of woman's gaze drifted back toward the doc and his 'patient', rolling fluidly over the figure's vegetative state with the arch of singular russet brow. Almost a full year since her induction into the Cabal, such sights were not foreign to Odette's eyes; brutal, and often unorthodox, as they might be. Several times her lips parted for interjection, finding herself unable to get a word in edge wise - as was customary with Mathes. Whatever thoughts she might have on the procedure were abruptly scattered with the sudden thrust of brain beneath freckled nose; wrinkled membrane spurting it's scarlet fluid upon the darker fabric of her tunic.

Sighing softly, gloved fingers gently rubbing at the sodden crimson stain to the melody of namer's retch, Odette took the opportunity of lull to clear her throat. "Mathes," she intoned, evidently reaching out to verbally return to man to the present and her reasons for intrusion. "Terribly sorry ta bother you in the midst of your work."

Lifting from the knead of woven fabric, the bard's gloved digits gestured in the direction of the slab as she spoke and tucked away shortly after with the fold of her arms. With a leather-clad finger tapping idly on the curve of her elbow, the bleaker strode an additional few paces into the room; moving from the doorway to claim the stool nearest operating table. One leg folded languidly atop the other, she settled in to watch the doctor work as though her presence were the most natural thing in the world. Earthy tones parted her lips anew as she continued.

"I've a patient presenting a few symptoms I'd like ta become better acquainted with in understanding. Given their neurological origins and effects, and tha confidentiality I require, you are my first point of call. Naturally."