A Novice Vagrant [Open]

[Victor Lark]

Even after nearly making a fool of himself on the streets of a dignified city, tolerating petty disinterest in the face an intimate secret, and wheeling effortlessly through every turn in the boy’s chaotic attention-span road, the doctor remained undaunted by Lark’s latest obsession. He answered the barrage of questions easily. He spoke with the patience of a good educator.

And though he did not yet know it himself, Victor had unconsciously resolved to break that temperament. He needed to inspire some sort of reaction from this man. His mission would not be complete until he saw a crack of awe or the rise of an eyebrow. As he had been practicing to do in these last minutes, he caught the flipping knife in his hand. This time, he held it. “Speaking of which—” he returned, his mind on the knife. He considered asking to see what nuit flesh looked like when cut, but he decided that sort of clarification would be redundant. The visual learner turned his attention to some of the oldest propositions of the morning, trapping fresh questions in a pocket of memory for later use. “I think you owe me lesson.”

As if his new knack for boating and insight on a race of people were not enough.

Without considering whether the boat contained the necessary equipment, Victor volunteered himself as the dummy for the demonstration on medicinal healing. He took the dull blade to the fat of his left forearm and, without warning, proceeded to cut into the skin there.

 

do nothing,

It was a shallow wound, and sufficiently irregular: the kind that would heal cleanly if the right measures were taken. Nonetheless, it bled; glorious red bloomed where it had touched. His wide smile faltered as he realized the pain and the tainted utensil dropped into the dirty sand. His brow was beaded with fresh sweat, but as his grin regrew, he looked up at Reaver in anticipation. “How would you solve this problem, doctor?”

 

intervene,

He looked up at the doctor, disappointment hanging in his eyes for a moment. But he understood that it was a stupid idea to act upon, even though it seemed like fun. “Oh, come now. What's the worst that could happen? Surely there are at least some medicinal herbs in the forest, or something.” He turned the knife in his hand so that the sharp end did not threaten anything else. “Besides, we had a deal.”

OOCThought I'd try that thing, too. :P Sorry it's kind of random... I'm struggling for a creative outlet between studying and studying.

[Reaver]

Reaver stood waiting for another question, then almost forgot he had mentioned it as he asked to become the student. He looked to the sky as he began to think of what to do. When he looked back down from the sky, his teacher-turned-student cut himself quite cleanly... Somewhat. With little reaction, Reaver pointed to the water. "Wash it off. It could heal on its own as long as it stays clean." Reaver paused as if ending the sentence there, but then continued. "But, I suppose I could show you the proper way to slow the bleeding to speed up the process."

Reaver went over to the boat, and pulled out the bag he had wrapped in his cape. Opening it, he pulled out a bottle of alcohol and some rather plain gauze. If Victor recognized the brand of alcohol, it was a very strong one. He poured some of the beverage on one of the ends of the gauze, then squeezed the gauze to spread the liquid thin over a wider area.

Reaver would then asked Victor to wash the wound if he had not done so yet. After his supplies set and the wound washed, Reaver would hold Victor's arm outstretched. He completed each step as he described it. "Now, watch carefully. Alcohol-treated section over the wound. wrap around somewhat tightly. It can't fall off, but not as strong as you can, either. After two or three loops around, do the next loop rather loose. Then on the fifth, tie it around the fourth loop. The slack from the fourth loop should vanish when you tie it, so be sure it's tight when you're done. Hard to practice with one arm, though. Practice on your legs, and don't hurt yourself." Having finished, he repeats a motion similar to pulling down a sleeve over the gauze opposite of the wound and the knot. "If that removes the gauze, it wasn't tight enough. Properly applied, the wound will heal faster." Reaver will go back to his supplies, and pull out some more gauze, while putting the bottle back. Reaver handed the gauze to Victor. "Now, practice on a leg or something, so you can use both your hands. When I think you've got that down, I'll have you try a harder spot."

Extra InfoShould you ask Reaver about the alcohol, his reply would be "It kills and cleans everything in the right amounts. Just get it strong." OOCQuite acceptable use of the tabs in this case, actually. They are quite different resolutions. And feel free to move the line about the alcohol into your post if it comes up. | Reaver isn't a natural teacher, he just feels like one from being a Nuit. XD His instructions aren't much better then yours.

[Victor Lark]

OOCAs finals come up, I probably won't be on as often. Please be patient with me until Wednesday the 11th!

Victor’s struggling grin finally fell into a frown of disappointment as he received dry instruction from a straight mouth. Obediently, he shuffled to the water and wetted the hems of his pants yet again as he soaked and rubbed the wound. It was almost sad to see the blood wash into the water and disperse. He traced his thumb over the reemerging red line, which would reappear at a slower rate every time he did it.

When he turned to face the doctor, the boy recognized the bottle of alcohol and smiled. He assumed it was for drinking, despite its irregular strength, to numb the pain, as it were. But then he poured it onto that cloth and Victor’s brief bout of hoping became even more disappointment. “Why do you do that?” He asked, trying to maintain his former eagerness.

"It kills and cleans everything in the right amounts. Just get it strong."

“Kills it?” He replied, but was suddenly preoccupied with the excruciating pain of alcohol against his raw, broken flesh. He cried out, but did not pull away. Though the pain surprised him and every human instinct recognized it as bad, he did not seem to concerned about it; he might have even smiled. Then one, two, three, Reaver bound up the cut and hid it from sight. Victor twisted his arm to get a better look at it, impressed. Before he knew it, more of the stuff was placed in his hand and instructions were made. Nodding, he kneeled and pulled a long strip from the circle of gauze.

“One, two, three,” he said absently as he wrapped it around his leg without pulling up his pant leg. Leaving one layer loose and tucking in the next was easy enough. As he did it, he filled the silence with a secondary conversation. “So... what did you mean when you called yourself unnatural? Is that the same as being dead?”

Then he stood and immediately raised his leg to mid height, balancing bouncingly as he offered his handiwork to his teacher’s inspection.

[Reaver]

Reaver used the motion he had against Victor's arm again over his leg. The cloth moved with his pants, but was otherwise intact. Reaver thought about it a moment before undoing the knot. "Perhaps your lower leg next, without the clothing blocking it. In this case, the alcohol doesn't kill, but cleans the wound instead. I'll have a better idea of your progress that way." Reaver waited for Victor to start before he answered the other question. "I said I was not natural before I mentioned I was dead. Being dead and holding my soul to a body is quite outside of the realm of nature. In this case, that leaves being dead the cause of my lack of being natural. I've mentioned a lot about me, what insight can you offer me on your being?" Maybe if I learn of his parents, I could tell them why he vanished. Not that they'd believe me.

[Victor Lark]

Another nod preceded Victor's dropping to one knee again. He peeled the gauze from his thigh and wrapped the crumpled material around his exposed calf. “Well, I’m human,” he replied, unsure of the question. “You know. I bleed; I breathe; my heart beats. I’m natural, so you say.” A beat. “I don’t like that term.”

This part of the limb was slightly thinner, but it hardly any more difficult. He made it tight enough that, after a few moments, he could feel the blood pump lightly against its restraint. Then he stood, lifting his leg towards the nuit again. With his ankle held higher, his arms were forced to flail for a moment to keep his balance. “I say: if it’s possible, why isn’t it natural? You donnot give yourself enough credit, doctor.”

[Reaver]

Reaver almost smiled as Victor launched his first reply, but Reaver did his best not to appear rude by laughing. It would have been funnier if it was intentional. "No, your being. You as a person. If you need a place to start: Why did you choose to learn how to leap about well? What drove this to be used in combat?"

Reaver checked over Victor's work. "A touch too tight. It would be fine for cuts and scrapes, but any serious injury would be damaged when you needed to remove it again. The body needs to breathe some to heal. You couldn't wrap your chest that tight. Other then that, quite well." Reaver removed the gauze, and handed it back to him. He spent some time thinking of what to wrap next. "Let's try something different next. Your hand, as in the back of it." Reaver gestured to the back of his own hand as he did so.

Reaver's eyes locked onto Victor, searching for a reaction. "And to answer your next question, it isn't natural because it wasn't my body before." Reaver expected confusion once more, perhaps some fear. He stayed ready for anything, though.

OOCI might add it would be REALLY hard to use the gauze to wrap your hand without shredding it, or retaining the use of your hand. He skipped some intermediate steps.

[Victor Lark]

OOCSorry it’s a little choppy. Our conversation is getting kind of mushed up and nonlinear.

His dark eyes brightened when he noticed the flicker of a smile escape Reaver’s pale mouth, but he tried not to betray his satisfaction. An answer to the inquiries of his being mulled in his mind silently as his ears absorbed advice and information. He offered his hand when asked for it, then looked up to find his teacher looking awfully serious. The itch of confusion twitched in his eyebrows as their eyes met and locked with sudden, newfound intensity.

“What?” He replied, more incredulous than fearful, “Not your body? What is it then, if it’s not your body? Someone else’s? Who are you if you are not your body?”

Ignorant to the statement’s reflection of his own naivety, he laughed and turned his attention the fragile, wrinkling gauze again. He noticed that the material was wide enough to cover his whole hand, so he twisted it into a thinner, lumpier version before he held one end with his thumb and wrapped it around his palm in much the same fashion as before. He seemed content enough to repeat the boring process in order to talk about himself. “I, ah... was a child in Ravok!” That explained everything. “The buildings are easy to scale here, and there are no grown-ups in the rooftops. Then I guess I never grew out of it.” A chuckle could not be helped when he tried to explain his own experience with combat. “My cousins back home, and the men who sit in bars, are easily...” He paused to find the word, “Antagonized. So I get punched more than I throw punches, and I learned that I’m more of a runner than a fighter. Such is life.”

[Reaver]

OOCReaver's personality is a touch strange, so it tends to lead to that. Several time-lines at once is sort-of a specialty I've been developing. I'll smooth it out a touch, and clear up what he's been doing.

Reaver relaxed his gaze at the reaction given. He didn't offer much of any response at that point. He focused on how Victor went about wrapping his hand, which he did so twice. He didn't ignore the answers, however. "A simple enough story I suppose. Answers for answers, we'll learn something I'm sure." Reaver sat down, crossing his legs. "Who am I if I'm not my body? I'm still Reaver. A Nuit continues to exist past the existence of his or her body, by moving to a different one." Reaver stared off into the sky, as if searching for a memory. "Sadly, I transfer to, used bodies, and as such they do not last long. I'm a bit of a runner myself, I think. Outrunning death itself, or dancing around it. If needed, I also run from the people it would send to collect me. Back to you. By your answer, are you fond of antagonizing your cousins or the bar patrons?" As he finished, he seamed to reluctantly bring his gaze back down to Victor. "So far, what is your favorite memory?"

[Victor Lark]

It was a little disconcerting to hear Reaver speak with such straightforward nonchalance as he mentioned the nature of his existence and the transferal of bodies. It had never really suited Victor to be religious and he was not familiar with the idea of the soul. While before he was not concerned with revealing his utter ignorance, these latest topics found him embarrassed to ask for any more clarification. Luckily, the doctor was more than happy to indulge in the stories of his student, instead.

He tightened and re-tucked the gauze around his hand and said, “People are more fun when they’re angry. Or emotional.” It was an intentional jab at the Nuit’s lack of enthusiasm. “You know what they say: conflict makes good drama. And life’s just one big performance, really. Will you look at this?” He offered his hand for inspection. Because the bandages were wrapped into a spiral to make them thinner, the wrapping was more irregular. “Is it any good?”

Interrupting Reaver if he chose to respond, Victor continued. “As for my favorite memory... well... I’ve never been asked that before.” He laughed as he recalled a memory, though not his fondest. “I once got drunk with my cousin, Edgar, then lost him on the streets. I don’t know how he got lost—I mean, the city isn’t that complicated. Anyway, the next day, when no one could find him, I convinced everyone that he had died! I’d never seen so many tears in one room! He didn’t find his way home until three days later. Good thing they hadn’t started partitioning off his things. Ha!”

He hardly breathed before turning his wandering mind to the sky-seeking Reaver. “What about you, doctor? I bet you had a favorite memory in mind when you asked me for mine. Did you outwit one of those collectors, or what?” The citizen of Ravok had never heard a story of a slave collection from the foreigner’s point of view.

[Reaver]

“Will you look at this?” Reaver looked to the cloth, he wasn't quite sure where to begin correcting the errors contained. "It's... unique." Reaver will take the gauze, and carefully fold each section of it in half as he reached it, raveling it up as he did so. "Edgar doesn't sound like the brightest bulb in the bunch. I'm surprised he made it back at all." As he reached the end of the gauze, he pulled Victor's hand forward, and wrapped it. As he worked on it, he spoke. "My fondest memory? I'm quite sure I've forgotten it by now. What do I remember? I know what it feels like to be a slave, I know what it feels like to take a life, or fail to save one. I've made a number of trinkets you would be fascinated by, I'm sure. Are you familiar with the basics of picking a lock? You take these special sticks or something, and you try and make the lock think those sticks are the key. Imagine, the lock closing itself a second after you opened it. It does that if you use the key, too."

About this time he finished his final loop. Rather then a random knot this time, he managed to tuck it under some other bands so it held tight. If Victor was paying attention, he'd notice that it would be very hard to recreate the loops he made with only one hand available. He would also notice that Reaver's hands were wrapped in an even more complex fashion, using black gauze. He flipped his palms upward, and opened and closed them a few times. "It's different without the gloves."