Completed Memories and Medicine (Amora Jade)

[Rorick Set'ani]

Season of Winter, Day 32, 508 AV Night was a dangerous time to be out in Sunberth, but Rorick didn't care. Truth be told, he stopped caring about a lot of things recently. He brought a bottle of cheap whiskey to his lips, and took a long, dangerous swig, the liquid burning down his throat. Rorick didn't usually drink, but tonight was special. He was celebrating tonight, an unusual celebration, but celebrating none the less. It had been a year and a day since his father's death. His father had been a good man to those who knew him, and kinder one to those who didn't. He, much like Rorick was trying to, set out to not only help his community, but improve it through his medical prowess. Which is to say, he was completely and utterly delusional. Like father like son, so they say. "So here's to you, you crazy, stupid son of a bitch!" It felt good to call him out, to cast down everything his father tried to accomplish as one, big, stupid dream. A lazy smirk found it's way to his lips, a wide smile of cynicism, telling a story of a jaded soul. A smile that no longer cared, not about people, not about money, but only the drink in his hand and the bed at his home. Maybe Rorick had finally accepted his fate, to be just another wretched man in a sea of wretched people. A man who no longer cared. But he knew that wasn't true. His father raised him better than that. His father had taught him surgery, medicine, and herbalism so that when he died, Rorick would continue his work, his legacy. His father wanted him to be someone of worth, to change a bad place into a good one. And with that, his smile faded, his brief moment of happiness, of weakness, gone. Suddenly aware of the numerous glances thrown his way, the creatures of the night watching their prey, Rorick continued the long walk from the tavern to his, no, his father's apartment. While he could handle himself fairly well with his blade, Rorick concluded it would be best not to tempt fate. He was feet away from his apartment when he heard a shill sound he knew all to well. It was an animalistic, feral sound. It was the sound of someone in pain, in danger, a cry for help. It was the resounding, unmistakable call for a doctor. Rorick, gave a quick glance back at his apartment, where his bed and a good night's sleep awaited. "Whoever it is, they probably deserve it." He growled. " I don't need to get involved!" It was a futile refusal. He was already moving to the sound, healer's kit in hand. A lot of things could be said about eighteen year old Rorick Set'ani, but only one thing was an unmistakable truth. He was his father's son. OOCSorry its a bit short, but I'm still trying to find my pace.

[Amora Jade]

The air was bitter cold, snow stuck to the ground, it was early winter. Amora was never a fan of the cold, but needed to make a few coin regardless. Her mother had recently gone into hiding and left her fourteen year old daughter to fend for herself. The wool jacket helped greatly in keeping her warm once she pulled the hood over her head. It had been awhile since the sun set and was finally safe enough for her to venture out without being recognized, so she stalked the streets in hope to come across some clueless stranger with a large change purse. The snow made a quiet crunching sound as she stepped around the corner of a tall building, tailing a large drunk man through the alleyways. Using the shadows to hide her was all she could do, the small dagger she kept strapped to her leg wouldn't do much good against someone of his.. stature. He stumbled and stomped his way down the street while taking his empty wine bottle and crushing it at his feet. The piercing sound of the glass shattering sent a bit of fear into Amora as she eased her way up to the man. It had been three nights since she last had a meal, and she was desperate. Surprisingly enough, it was easier for her to steal money than it was food. Probably because of how valuable food could be to the poor people who lived in this city. Slowly she made her way up to him, crouching down behind him to keep out of sight. In one swift movement she grabbed onto the purse that hung from his belt and pulled away, but it was stuck. Her heart stopped as the man swung around and pulled her off the ground with one hand around her neck. His breath reeked of the alcohol as he growled in her face before pulling a small blade out of his pocket. Before she even had a chance to react he had already buried it into her hip, forcing a painful shriek out of the girl before he dropped her and ran off. It was the most painful thing she ever had to experience, and it wasn't even over. Crying with pain, she scooted herself behind the nearest building, trying to stay out of sight of anyone that might be passing by. If anyone recognized her she wouldn't see another day, and if some perverted man saw her he might take advantage. With her left hand she grabbed firmly onto the end of the blade that stuck out of her skin and pulled. The pain sent a shock through her body and she let out another painful cry, unable to get it out. Instead of trying again she just sat there, propped up against the wooden planks of the building, to wait to regain her strength. OOCIt's okay, it's actually long compared to half of my recent posts, I'm still trying to get into the swing of things too. If you're wondering about the thing with her mother you can look at my flashback thread tab on my CS. It would be Information Bought.

[Rorick Set'ani]

A strong blast of wind pierced through Rorick, chilling him to the bone, tempting him to retreat to his warm sanctuary. It had been ten chimes since he had heard that scream, ten miserable chimes of fruitless search and freezing winds. It seem to him that Dira was determined to keep this unfortunate soul, sending gust and gale to rebuke his efforts. And yet, he soldiered on. Rorick knew that a life may be at stake, and that motivation was enough for him to move mountains. A drunken figure dashed past him, pursued by no one but that damned chilling wind. Rorick allowed himself one, grim smile, at least he knew where the scream came from, the place where that drunkard was running from. It was another five chimes before he saw the wounded girl, the source of the scream that ruined his night. She looked...young. Scared. And who wouldn't be, in a city where murders were a weekly occurrence. Perhaps he should leave her, let her bleed out and allow her a respite from a life filled with misery and hardship. But no, he wouldn't, that wasn't his choice to make. "Hello, my name is Rorick. I'm a Doctor. I can help. You have a deep stab wound, it'll most likely require stitches, and sterilization to prevent infection." Rorick spoke slow and carefully, as if speaking to an injured animal, he didn't want to scare her off. A deafening silence choked the cool night air, and Rorick stood there, with pleading eyes, waiting for her response.

[Amora Jade]

It seemed to her that she had been sitting there for days as she lost more and more blood. It stained her clothes and tainted the snow she sat on. Slowly she became more weak, and more desperate. Amora had her hand pressed firmly against the wound, wrapped around the blade that still stuck there. The winter air became more harsh by each breath she took, nearly choking her. The sound of footsteps was startling, forcing her to press herself tighter against the building in a failed attempt to hide. The man who approached her didn't seem dangerous, he kept his distance as he spoke. Normally someone claiming they were there to help her made an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, due to the fact that they usually wanted more than they let on. A small breeze brushed past him, throwing the smell of the alcohol he had been drinking in her direction. Letting out a small, painful laugh, she looked up at him, "You've been drinking." Her voice was barely audible and was shaky. Now that she had actually looked up at him past the hair that hung in her face, she saw how young he was. There was no way that he could be too much older than her, the fact made her even more nervous to accept his help. The blade wasn't going to get itself out though. Carefully, she moved her hand away from the wound. "I.. I can't get it out." She hadn't realized she still was crying a bit until she spoke again.

[Rorick Set'ani]

Alarm shot through his eyes as he saw her wound. The bleeding was substantial, and it was obviously causing her a great deal of pain. Left alone she might last another two-three bells before she bled out. Caution was still necessary, if she resisted the surgery or the stitching to much it would only increase the severity of the wound. Rorick needed to put her at ease. "Hey, drunk surgery is my specialty." He cracked a smile, hoping she caught the joke. He heard a croaking sound, whether it was laughter or sobbing he could not say. Maybe a bit of both. It didn't matter, he couldn't delay any more. "I'm going to remove the dagger now, it's going to hurt, but I need you to stay as still as possible." Rorick gripped the hilt of the stained weapon, and gave it a sharp tug, pulling it free. His reward for his efforts proved to be another shrill scream from his wounded patient, and a renewed stream of blood pouring from the wound. Nothing he didn't expect. Moving quickly, he reached into his healer's kit, pulled out a rough linen bandage, and pressed it down on the wound. He motioned for the girl's hand. "Keep pressure on this for a little bit, I've got to get some more supplies out of my kit." He wanted to keep her busy, didn't want her to see the needle, not yet. It might scare her enough to resist the stitches. Emptying the bag on to the frozen ground, he spied his needle and thread, a bit of Krolar Poultice, and a cool vial of clean water. Just what he needed. Shooing his patient's hand away, Rorick cleaned the wound with water and applied a bit of Krolar to numb the pain. His fingers numb and clumsy from the cold and alcohol, Rorick sent a prayer to Rak'keli and hoped the girl wouldn't mind a couple of mis-stitches. OOCHope I didn't bore you to much with the surgery scene, but I felt it was needed as opposed to a "Poof" you're better moment.

[Amora Jade]

It was nice to have a bit of humor in a situation like this. It was something Amora's mother always tried to do when she was really young and got hurt. Though the small laugh hurt, she felt good to have a smile on her face. Drunk Surgery really should be a practice in Sunberth, she thought as she began to imagine a bunch of doctors walking around with a mug of ale in one hand and a scalpel in the other. She hadn't quite heard him clearly when he said something about pulling the dagger out, it was a good thing though because she hadn't enough time to react and it came out cleanly. The pain shot through her body as she let out another loud shriek. It hurt worse coming out than it did going in. Again before the girl could do much to react, the man pushed a bandage firmly against the open wound, causing her to cringe. She did as he said and held the bandage against the bleeding. There was no desire in her to disobey someone who was possibly saving her life. It was becoming more difficult by each chime that passed for her to stay conscious. Obediently, she moved her hand away to let the doctor do his job. A strange feeling started to spread on the wound and the skin surrounding it when he put something on it. It felt like when she kept her hand in snow too long, how she lost the feeling but at the same time could still feel pressure. It calmed her a bit, until she could feel the needle he was using to close her up. Sure, the numbing agent helped, but didn't completely get rid of the pain. Unable to stomach watching the procedure, she looked away and closed her eyes tightly, grinding her teeth against the pain. OOCNo it's great actually The more detail the better.

[Rorick Set'ani]

The girl was tough, Rorick would give her that much. He had trained with his father all his life, he had seen grown men cry under the knife, but this teenage girl was made of sterner stuff then all those brawlers and soldiers. Dira be damned, this girl would live if he had a say in it. Rorick realized that now probably wasn't the time to insult the gods, and went on with the delicate process stitching close the gaping wound. Cross-stitch. Remember Rorick, It doesn't have to be pretty, it just has to close the cut. He heard his father's voice as he worked, that gentle, soothing tone he used as he taught, a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Would he be proud of him, of what he was doing now? Stop. No time to get caught in memories, he was almost finished. With one last pull, Rorick closed the wound and tied the remaining thread into a knot. He checked her vitals once again, a steady pulse; slow, tired breathing. It appeared she was slipping into a deep sleep. She's probably homeless, he realized, out on the streets all alone. He couldn't leave her out here, she would risk her health if left to her own devices. Sighing, Rorick scooped the girl's delicate frame into his arms, and began that slow walk back to his apartment. It must have been fifteen chimes past the third bell when he finally got home, girl in arms. With a tired grunt, Rorick shoved open the door and made his way to his bedroom. His patient's breathing had regained a normal pace, though its undertones remained ragged and forced. Lowing her gently onto his bed, he went back to the door to repel the night's cool air. He motioned to close it, when he saw a drunkard across the street. The same drunkard who did this to his patient. A slow, silent rage overcame him, and he reached for his sword hilt. Nobody would miss that scum, nobody. One life saved, one life ended. The scales were balanced as far as Rorick was concerned. As he re-entered his room, he set his bloody sword and the drunk's coin-purse aside, falling asleep on the rough, wooden floor.

[Amora Jade]

The pain of the needle entering her flesh over and over again was more annoying than anything. It didn't hurt her very bad, possibly due to the numbing agent and the pain she had recently gone through with the dagger. Amora looked at the boy stitching her up. He looked very concentrated in spite of the spirit he had recently indulged in. It was almost as if someone was over his shoulder telling him what to do. The fact that he seemed confident in what he was doing calmed and relaxed her. The night passed by slowly, it was quiet and very cold. The lack of excitement around and lack of energy she had was forcing her into sleep. She didn't realize she had passed out until the sound of footsteps against a wooden floor woke her. He had brought her to his home, and sat her in his bed. The fact made her nervous and she thought briefly that he was going to take advantage of her as she originally thought when he first approached her outside. The thought quickly disappeared when he turned and left out the door. Amora had no idea what he was up to, and could really care less. She was too worn out to try and figure it out. Instead, she let sleep overcome her, relaxing in the comfortable bed. It sure beat the cot she slept in at her apartment. The sun crept slowly through the room, reaching the closed eyes of the wounded girl and waking her. Slowly, she sat up and stretched a bit. It was still painful for her to move to quickly or breath too deeply, but it sure beat having an infected and untreated open wound. A guilty feeling overcame her once she saw him laying on the hard floor. Not only did he help someone he didn't even know, but he also gave her his bed. A person like that didn't belong in a city like Sunberth. He deserved a city of selflessness, somewhere he could thrive in his profession and not be taken advantage of. She sighed and barely lifted up her blood-stained shirt to look at the work he had done. It wasn't perfect or pretty, but it was closed and healing. That was all that mattered to her.

[Rorick Set'ani]

For the first night since his father died, Rorick slept a deep dreamless sleep. No nightmares, nor ghostly visages of a man he let down, just a blissful, black void. Sunlight started its daily trip though his room, shaping itself in strange patterns formed by the cracked windows of his apartment. With a blinding headache, Rorick's eyes creaked open ever-so-slightly, just enough to see that he was lying on the floor of his room, in a puddle of his own drool. Graceful as an ox, Rorick lumbered past his worn table to his cupboard, barley noticing that his patient had awakened early than he. She could wait, at least until after breakfast. Rorick smirked at his little joke, opening a cupboard which contained a half loaf of stale bread and a pitcher of clean water. He'd have to go shopping later today. Rorick cast a lazy glance at the girl in his bed, and a distinct realization hit him. He didn't know her name, she hadn't given it to him. Shrugging, Rorick decided he would just have to give her one until she told him. She almost died, so Ghost would do. "So, what are we going to do with you, Ghost?" He said through a mouth half full of his breakfast. He saw a quizzical look shoot through her eyes, one he took as amusement of her gifted name. "You're pale, you almost died, and you scream like a banshee. It fits." He explained, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment. With a flick of his wrist, he motioned for her to join him at the table. Rorick was curious, curious about this girl he saved, a girl that fought when it would have been easier to let go. A girl who let him help her. OOCI figured since Rorick didn't know Amora's name, he would create a nickname of sorts for her.

[Amora Jade]

Amora rubbed the stitching on her hip softly. Later today she would probably go to the Aquillar Hot Springs to relax in a hot bath and clean the dirt off her. The boy startled her when he woke and stumbled across the floor in search for food. Knowing he had to be sore from sleeping the way he did made her feel even more guilty. All she did was take from him. Ordinarily that would be considered a good thing in her way of life, but this boy helped her. Ghost? The nickname made her laugh a bit, she was careful not to do so too harshly because of the pain it still caused her. No one had ever given her a name before besides her mother. It was cute, she liked that he didn't ask for her name though he gave her his. His comment on how she screamed was a bit offensive. I don't sound like a banshee.. When he motioned for her to join him, she almost refused. The only thing that made her want to get up and walk over there was the fact that she was starving and that he had done so much for her already, the least she could do was let him enjoy the 'pleasure' of her company. Grunting as she pushed herself off of the bed from the sudden pain, she got up and stumbled over to the table and sat down. The stale bread looked like an amazing feast to her. Her stomach growled loudly as she eyed the food. Embarrassed at the horrid sound it made, she turned her head and grabbed her stomach, trying to get it to stay quiet. OOCI like it, it's cute