|
Post by Aleksandr Brovsky on Mar 15, 2006 15:57:01 GMT
Aleksandr looked down at the squatting scientist, then over at the sick man's companion.
"Anesthetics will keep him out for some time. If you will be so kind," he said to Blanca, "have your assistant help me carry man to inn for recuperation?" He nodded, then turned to Zoltan.
"You did well, old man," he said congenially. "Perhaps I will visit your shop some time. Hopefully, will be more peaceful second time."
|
|
Blanca
Regular
Working for the Father
Posts: 122
|
Post by Blanca on Mar 15, 2006 23:50:53 GMT
"Of course I will." Blanca gestured to the man that had been waiting for this whole time, "Come, we must get Dameon to the inn." They picked him up and left.
(out)
|
|
|
Post by Aleksandr Brovsky on Mar 16, 2006 3:55:00 GMT
The chemist raised his arm in silent farewell to the two departing men, then closed the shop's door behind them.
"That was exciting, but tiring," he said to his remaining companion.
"I was in middle of nap before this started, and I would like to go back to it, if you do not mind. Do not forget your cat, sir."
((out))
|
|
|
Post by Zoltan on Mar 16, 2006 7:26:08 GMT
"Yes, offcourse, I'll be going. Good day to you, sir," Zoltan said friendly as he walked out the door with Trix next to him. "You remained awfully quiet, little miss," the old man told the cat. "Why, I wonder?" "Meow." "Ah, I see. I wouldn't be talkative either if I were to see that."
(out)
|
|
|
Post by Aleksandr Brovsky on Mar 17, 2006 20:28:32 GMT
((slightly rested, and back in))
Aleksandr woke from his own loud snoring. He grunted and spluttered to a sitting position, rubbing his eyes tiredly.
He realized he had fallen asleep still in his coat, boots and belt. He admitted to himself he could be rather absent-minded at times. Judging by the light outside, no more than an hour had passed since the excitement earlier in the day.
Aleksandr climbed off of his small bed and went to the mirror, trying to make his hair more presentable before going out.
The chemist was at a bit of a loss. His latest experiment required a great deal of sulfurous rock, and he was bone-dry in that department. He had set up a flier throughout the town, but no one had responded yet. Patience was not one of Aleksandr Brovsky's virtues.
With nothing to do, the chemist went through his supplies, making sure he still had both ammonium carbonate and basic anesthetics. He did.
"Is going to be long afternoon," he muttered in his heavy accent, rubbing the bridge of his prominent nose in thought.
|
|
|
Post by Imoira Raven-born on Mar 17, 2006 23:02:52 GMT
Luckily, Imoira's feverish stumbling took her down the proper path of houses, shops and inns. As she stumbled down the road, her eyes registered a large, bold sign noting the house to be a chemist's shop. She thanked whatever gods happened to be watching over her that day, and started up the steps.
Forgetfully, she put her hand on the rail for support, then suddenly cried out in pain. She looked down at her injured hand, the hand she had forgotten about in her fevered wanderings.
Where a slim, delicate thumb should have been, a bloated, purplish ball of swollen flesh was there instead. The thorn that had pricked her had gone too deep; she couldn't pull its poisonous fang free.
The elf knocked on the door weakly, then supported her tired frame against the step's handrail, waiting for the chemist.
|
|
|
Post by Aleksandr Brovsky on Mar 18, 2006 5:00:30 GMT
The chemist stood from his chair with a grunt. If that is another old man with cat, I am selling shop, he thought darkly as he went for the door. Before he reached it, through the window he saw the visitor was no man, but a pretty young woman. His step quickened slightly.
"Yes, welcome, how am I helping you...?" he trailed off as he actually saw the girl's face. She was pale, and perspiration dotted her forehead. Her glossy eyes certainly looked feverish.
Aleksandr's eyes lowered down the girl's body, until he noticed her injured hand.
"May I... help you?" he asked, as though he actually didn't know if he could help the girl or not.
|
|
|
Post by Imoira Raven-born on Mar 18, 2006 7:42:51 GMT
The elf's lips parted as though she was about to speak. Instead, she fell forward through the doorway, her days of traveling poisoned left her too weak in the end.
"Poi...son... thumb..." she moaned. "...help..."
|
|
|
Post by Aleksandr Brovsky on Mar 18, 2006 16:34:05 GMT
Aleksandr caught the girl as she fell forward, and stumbled backwards a few steps. Thinking quickly, he scooped one arm under her knees and carried her over to the Chemist Shop's counter. He knocked things aside quickly, hoping they weren't important.
"Stay there," he said, somewhat stupidly, and rushed behind the counter for a potion that would slow the poison's seeping through her body.
Finding what he needed, Aleksandr thumbed the stopper off and positioned it by the girl's mouth.
"Drink," he pleaded, but the girl seemed to be too delirious to comprehend what he was saying.
|
|
|
Post by Imoira Raven-born on Mar 19, 2006 0:00:50 GMT
Imoira had the impression of falling, but if she hit the ground she didn't feel it. Suddenly, she was weightless, was flying. Now on her back, something brushed against her lips, and she squirmed away weakly. ((If that was confusing, here's a non-delirious recap. She fell, you caught her, lifted her to the table, tried to give her the antidote. Basically, I added nothing expect her squirming away )
|
|
|
Post by Aleksandr Brovsky on Mar 19, 2006 10:07:29 GMT
"Damn it," the chemist cursed. He held the girl's head in place with one bony, but strong, hand, and awkwardly parted her lips with the other, then slowly trickled the greenish potion into her mouth. She resisted, but in her feverish state he easily coaxed her into swallowing by massaging her slim throat.
Once he estimated the antidote vial to be half empty, he tilted it up and replaced the stopper.
"There," he said, to no one in particular. The antidote wouldn't cure the girl, but it would hopefully stop the poison's spread while her body fought against it. Seeing the delirious state the girl was in, Brovsky decided a chemist shop counter was no proper spot for recuperation, and once more scooped her up and carried her up the steps and placed her on his small cot-like bed.
"It seems I am not shopkeeper, but doctor... all I do is take care of little birds with broken wings," he continued muttering darkly as he walked into the laboratory. There, Aleksandr soaked a small towel in a bucket of cold water, and brought it back to apply to the girl's forehead to help her fever.
|
|
|
Post by Imoira Raven-born on Mar 19, 2006 18:15:41 GMT
Some time later -Imoira had no idea how long she had been asleep- the elf slowly opened her eyes. Her head, and her left hand, throbbed painfully, and her throat felt so dry and swollen, she absently wondered if any air was getting through. Still, she was now well enough to realize how sick she had been, which was a good sign, she figured.
When she tried to sit up, her head swarmed with pressure, and her throat clenched horribly. She fell back to the pillow, breathing heavily. Definitely not recovered yet, she thought.
"...Hello...?" she croaked weakly. No one would be able to hear that, so she tried again.
The second try was much louder, but so strenuous it sent the elf into a fit of painful coughs.
|
|
|
Post by Aleksandr Brovsky on Mar 20, 2006 1:47:57 GMT
"Do not strain yourself," the chemist said as he climbed the stairs. "It is good that you are awake. I was hoping for fever to break, before I worked on curing poison. You need all of your strength, for that. So rest, and..." for the first time Aleksandr got a real look at the young woman. She was an elf!
"Friend elf! Greetings, and my apologies, I must be getting blind from too many chemicals. Ah... if you would rather stay at inn...?... little chemist's cot is no place for elf. Truly, my apologies." He bowed erratically.
|
|
|
Post by Imoira Raven-born on Mar 20, 2006 7:27:04 GMT
"No apologies needed," the elf said with a weak grin.
"I'm sure you had other things on your mind. Like saving my life."
The elf tried sitting up once more, but this time much more slowly. She achieved a sitting position, but had the wall not been there, she'd likely have fallen.
"So... this is Aldorm?" She had been a day's travel from the great city when she was pricked by the thorn bush... but she could have as easily wandered into a small village.
|
|
|
Post by Aleksandr Brovsky on Mar 20, 2006 20:09:57 GMT
"Yes, is Aldorm. Though, I must warn you, most of city is not as glamorous as my apartment." His dark-featured face remained serious as he said this, but his eyes crinkled with amusement.
Changing the subject back to the elf's injuries, he said, "Tell me, do you feel up to me extracting thorn from your hand? If thorn is deep, and has been there for many days, could be quite a painful procedure. But, weak as you are, I do not want to anesthetize you."
|
|
|
Post by Imoira Raven-born on Mar 21, 2006 5:49:34 GMT
The elf laughed delightedly. The man's apartment was pretty barren-looking, so he was obviously joking.
She then looked at her hand. It was pretty frightening to think of it as hers; the ball of her thumb was an unrecognizable swollen lump, and the tip of her finger was blackening.
"Yes, please cut it out. I've never heard of a one-handed archer," though she sounded calm, Imoira hoped the human couldn't tell how afraid she was of losing her dexterity, or even losing a finger.
|
|
|
Post by Aleksandr Brovsky on Mar 21, 2006 20:44:45 GMT
Aleksandr Brovsky nodded somberly, and left the room to retrieve his medical utensils. When he returned, he was carrying a long, thin needle, and small forceps. He pulled up a chair to the side of his cot, but before he began, he held the needle over a candle's flame for a moment.
"Brace yourself," he said, and then began poking as gently as he could at the elf's hand.
|
|
|
Post by Imoira Raven-born on Mar 22, 2006 1:45:54 GMT
Imoira winced as the human began prodding her swollen, sensitive thumb with the needle. Still, the pricking was easier to bear than she had thought.
But the man poked deeper still when he could not find the thorn. The 'pricking' was now a small white flame licking at her hand each time the needle descended. She began fidgeting, the fingers of her other hand gripping the bedsheets tightly.
|
|
|
Post by Aleksandr Brovsky on Mar 22, 2006 6:11:44 GMT
Aleksandr licked his lips absently, intent on both removing the poisoned thorn and inflicting as little pain as possible on the discomfited elf.
After several more moment, Aleksandr grunted.
"See here?" he asked, pointing to her thumb. He applied some pressure with his index fingers, turning a small part of her hand a bloodless white. Within the gap between his fingers, a dark line could be seen, deep within her hand.
"Such small thing, to cause such pain. Poisons are truly amazing, you know. There is snake in Dimien Mountain Range that--" he cut off suddenly, and held the needle in front of the elf's vision. At the tip was stuck a small sliver of black wood.
|
|
|
Post by Imoira Raven-born on Mar 22, 2006 20:24:48 GMT
"Then it is done?" the elf asked in a strained voice. Her hand was throbbing much worse than before, but she knew that the pain was only temporary.
"I thank you. My name is Imoira," she bit her tongue to stop from saying Raven-born, the derogatory title given to her by her elven community of Greenglade. "Imoira the elf. I would know the name of the human who saved my life."
|
|