deercountry | (no subject)

[sanctuary's been busy, though it usually is one way or another. viktor's the sort who deals with stress, emotional turmoil and boredom all the same way- working. all three have been a problem lately, so sanctuary he is until allen or pal call him out about it.

usually he sticks to the research room and his office, but today he's taken to the infirmary, just to cover since it's been especially busy with the cold and odd injuries. he's not a doctor but he knows enough to handle things unless truly complicated emergencies come in. perks of specializing in medical engineering, he supposes.

meaning anyone heading in will find him leaning against one of the beds, cane hanging from one elbow as he flips through some files. a very large pink creature sits by the door with a look akin to boredom. a thankfully slow day, it seems.]

[someone clears his throat from the door.

the 'someone' in question has clearly seen better days, though fitz at least looks better than he had when he first washed ashore with nothing more to his name than the meagre robes the ocean had seen fit to gift him with. he's dressed for the weather, at least, in sturdy winter boots and plenty of dense layers to keep out the worst of the cold, though dusted as he is with frost and snow, he's achieving that with varying degrees of success. he is also favouring one leg noticeably, holding his weight to one side like a lame draft horse.

the wolf that ghosts in beside him takes an immediate, inquisitive interest in the peculiar pink creature by the door, though his body language is curious rather than aggressive. fitz keeps one eye on nighteyes, but looks to viktor with recognition in his expression. he lifts his hand in greeting. (hello, quiet time is over!!)]

Are you the doctor here today?

[viktor glances over at the sound, a beat before he recognizes the man before him. he puts the file down and grabs his cane properly, and the weird lizard thing just looks up with similar curiosity, her massive tail thumping like a greeting.

viktor doesn't seem the least bit concerned she'll be spooked or unhappy, just gives her one warning look about excitement levels before offering a nod to fitz.] At the moment, yes. Come in, have a seat. I suppose it would have been too much to ask of the Trench that you had a calm transition into dwelling here.

[dry. fucking trench, man.]

[fucking trench, indeed. fitz lets out a short, barking huff of laughter before limping his way over to the chair that viktor indicates, wincing with each step. nighteyes, after giving the pink thing one more inquisitive sniff, ghosts along behind him.]

Suppose it could have been worse, [he concedes the obvious with a shrug, then eases himself down onto the chair with his left leg held out as though he is physically incapable of bending it at the knee joint anymore. which. is precisely what the trouble is.] Would've had a miserable time clawing my way out of the sea if this had happened while we were still in the water.

[he reaches down to grasp the hem of his trouser leg to ease it up above his knee and--well. let's just say that if fitz wasn't in possession of a vileblood's natural resistance to pain, this case of lockjoint around his knee would undoubtedly be bad enough that putting any weight on it would be unendurable.]

I've tried to keep it warm, but, [a grim look of resignation follows,] if you can't save the leg, I'd prefer to lose it below the joint.

[just so viktor has an idea of what fitz came here expecting to experience today.]

Edited 2022-12-09 20:19 (UTC)

Eh, feel free to be thoroughly irritated by the nonsense. I find some delight in being spiteful to the nonsense we're put through. [viktor replies as he moves closer to regard fitz's rather obvious problem with his leg.

even more when he pulls his trouser leg up. hell. viktor doesn't grimace but he wants to, clicking his tongue.] I've heard of this. It happened last year, I believe. Before my time.

[palamedes suffered it. good to know the old classics were coming along. he's considering if he should call someone else to handle it or try some things himself before fitz's comment has him blink.]

Oh, no no, you will be fine. From what I understand your knee here has bloodstones forming around it- they can be extracted even this far along, though it will take a bit of time. What is your bloodtype?

[his relief at discovering that he isn't about to lose his leg below the knee is palpable, but also short-lived. recalling one of his first conversations with another sleeper while thawing out on the boardwalk, he does remember discussion of blood, and blood corruption--but as for a convenient and helpful to that last question, he is drawing a blank.]

...I'm not sure. [admitting this brings an uncomfortable, chagrined crease to his brows, and he scratches pensively at his jaw before looking down at his discoloured knee again. hmm. wait--] Ah, I cut myself once accidentally while repairing the cottage I've claimed in the Trenchwood. I bled green, if that tells you anything.

Vileblood, probably. Let's see for sure.

[he moves away to come back with a needle, though he offers it to fitz. he imagines people prefer to handle this themselves than someone poking at them for something as small as a pinprick.] Poke your finger, if you don't mind.

[vile blood. that causes him a feeling of some kind, for sure, and fitz does a poor job of masking it, an exhausted brand of resignation that of course, of course his blood would still be 'vile' even here. his eyes follow viktor tiredly as he steps away to fetch something, only sharpening when he returns with a needle--and then relaxing again once it becomes clear that he isn't about to be stuck with it.]

I've had worse flesh wounds. [a joke! it's a joke. he turns up his palm and applies the sharp point of the needle to the tip of his little finger, and does not even flinch at the bite of the point into the skin. immediately the foul-coloured green blood wells up into a single drop on his fingertip, and the floral aroma is so incongruous with the weather outside that fitz feels dizzy, just for a moment.]

Is it really so vile? [he's mostly speaking to himself as he says this, though he does glance viktor's way a moment later to ascertain how his new acquaintance feels about the sight of his green blood.]

[viktor notes the tired look- fair, it's an unpleasant name and implication, more so of how the trench feels about vileblood. gods know he gets what it feels like to have an entire place look down its nose at you like something foul.

he focuses on the blood that pops up, a nod as he offers a little tissue to fitz.] Hardly. This place is often ridiculous about bloodtypes. Warmbloods called a 'waste' simply because they don't have the same magical inclinations, despite having very high tolerance to corruption, meanwhile vilebloods were shunned for the assumption they had a low tolerance to the same.

People always find a reason to ostracize one way or another. [he turns to go get some tools now that he knows what they're working with.] Do you now know much about vileblood then? I can give you a rundown while we work.

i know a bit. there was, [pause; what was darth maul, exactly,] a fellow on the boardwalk who spoke of blood and corruption. i confess i may have forgotten some of what he told me, we were both still frigid after coming out of the ocean again. ['we' he says, clearly referring to himself and nighteyes, who now sits on his haunches with his tail curled around his paws, still watching the pink creature with perked ears and very inquisitive eyes.]

that is to say, an explanation would be welcome. [even though that isn't the reason he'd come here, he won't turn away knowledge from someone who sounds like he won't hold fitz's blood type against him. speaking of that, though--] ah, should i--do anything, to help you with this?

[like should he move to a different chair, should he take his boot off, should he just continue to sit here looking manly and stoic until the procedure is over, etc.]

[a soft snort] Understandable. It is a lot to process regardless, and this month has been eh... sparse in the welcoming party.

If you can lie down on one of the beds- Rio can help steady you, if you need it. [is his answer to that, nodding to rio. apparently the name of the truly massive omen, who stands from her own inquisitive staring, thumping her tail. definitely big enough to lean against if need be. she makes a very good mobility aid sometimes.

but-] Well, for one thing vilebloods are far less susceptible to poisoning. I wouldn't say to test that but I have met one who was able to drink bleach without even discomfort.

[he follows viktor's glance backwards towards rio and--ah, right. pensive, fitz allows his wit awareness to quest thoughtfully out towards rio's mind before thinking better of it. perhaps after he's had these bloodstones removed.]

I should not like to test out my immunity to poisoning, [he notes with a dry huff of laughter, spoken like someone who has already been poisoned before and would like to pass on revisiting the experience, thanks. he carefully hoists himself back upright, and there nighteyes appears at his side to support his weight.] Ah--I think I can manage it this time. But thank you. [this to both viktor and to rio, smiling a little, as he makes his way to one of the exam tables.

he settles himself as instructed and looks only modestly uncomfortable as he does so. best to keep the thread of that conversation going so he doesn't have to focus too much of his attention on what might be required to extract the stones from his knee.] I have noticed that. The lack of pain, that is. I'd wondered if I'd simply been fortunate enough to leave some older aches and pains behind me in my world, but it seems like I've traded one malady for another.

[fitz gets a point for speaking to rio as her own entity- viktor's well aware she's more than likely exactly what omens are supposed to be, some aspect of his mind. even so she was a creature he cared about and lost once, so he allows himself to imagine maybe she truly is her own being. without definitive proof otherwise it doesn't hurt.

rio settles back down with a little blep of her many tongues as viktor comes over with a little rolling tray of various medical things- vials, a little gun with a needle used to administer medicines, scalpel, etc. he's already wearing one glove but he puts on another as well.] So you're sensible, how rare for most sleepers.

[dry, but again. he knows a guy who drank bleach just to see if it'd be fine or not.]

In this case that tolerance may help. What I am going to do is make incisions and carefully try to remove the stones. It may take a while, as well as being a bit eh... complicated. Spilling too much vileblood can warp the senses, which would be very bad for the person putting a knife to you.

Because of that I ask you keep a close eye on me. If you think I am acting off in any way inform me, or Rio if I am that far gone. She'll pull me away. [a glance to fitz] Besides that I'll give you a local anesthetic to keep any pain to the bare minimum. Is that acceptable?

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fitz and viktor | lockjoint

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cw: needles

cw: pricking his finger with a needle! and a bit of blood.

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