(2015-11-25) Injured Parties
Injured Parties
Summary: Quinton and Elijah are recovering while Piper and Isabeau visit.
Date: 11.25.2015
Related: Inflicting Healing
Players:
elijah..isabeau..pied-piper..quinton..

Medical/First Aid

This small two bedroom apartment is nothing exciting. The inside is a decade or two more modern than the outside at least, but drab. Beige floors, off white walls leaves the place looking a bit instititutional. At least the previous occupant tried to liven it up a a bit with modern furnishings.

The kitchen is divided from the living room by a breakfast bar and a window lets in light from outside. Two furnished bedrooms and bathroom lead off the living room.

The two bedrooms are used for patients. Each bedroom is furnished sparsely with three twin beds each and several candle heaters to keep the rooms warm in the cold of fall and winter as well as to provide needed light. A small nightstand sits next to each bed with an additional lantern for light.


Soft light filters through gauzy curtains as the morning sun shines through the open eastern window. A cool breeze wafts through, keeping the room from getting stuffy on the warm late fall day. Besides the birds and the soft feminine singing, it is peacefully quiet, which is good for the patients that are currently residing there. In one room is Quinton, Elijah and Piper, the other has Lorenzo and Anita. Injuries have been treated and bound up properly, most likely by the Vets at camp since the Doctor isn't fit to practice at the moment.

It may be a combination of all three things, the voice, the breeze and the soft light that has Quinton sliding open his eyes. He shouldn't have slept, they shouldn't have let him, but with so much commotion, and so many patients, it's easy to see who they could overlook something so small as a poet with a concussion. To be fair, he acts like he always has one. His pale eyes are still dilated. The shifting in the bed is really the nobly indication that he's awake. No words come through his lips.

Elijah had been in and out of uneasy sleep most of the night. Upon returning from all the chaos, Eli had been treated for his wounds. Most notably the giant rebar that had been impaled through his thigh as a result of the explosion and debris. The same leg as the previous gunshot wound no less! Figures. Aside from that he just had scratches or cuts from debris and a still present ache in his ears.

While they had given him medicine to help with the pain, finding a comfortable posit to sleep without aggravating his leg was not easy…so yet again the doctor was awake in his bed. His gaze is out the window, his thoughts distracted for a moment with the background sound of Piper's song.

Isabeau is slow making her way to the area, vet kit slung over her shoulder as she peeks carefully into the area designated as the medical space. She scans the room, and it's Piper's song she follows, making her way over to the woman. The more she sees of the injured, the more those full lips press together and her eyes narrow beneath the brim of he hat. "You ok?" She asks the woman, before holding out her kit. "I am not really good with stitching up people," Her rich alto lilts, "But I figured your Doc could make use of some of what I've got left in my supplies. Didn't know how bad folks were hurt."

Of the three Piper is probably in the best shape. At least she is upright and vocal, even if it is just singing as she prepares a few glasses of willow tea for them all. Not all of the supply was crushed in the explosion. As Isabeau enters the song falters some and she looks up from her work. Gah! The woman's beautifully exotic face is criss crossed with angry looking cuts and scratches, one under her eye that required stiches covered with a band-aid. She moves quite stiffly, clearly she is in pain. The question has her looking at Isabeau and then shaking her head. She won't lie today, her body language would give her away.

The singing stopped. Why did it stop? Quin blinks, confused and will turn his head slightly to try to figure out why. The man grunts softly at the effort. It's a combination of the room moving, and the stiffness that's settled all over his body. The poet's mouth opens, but no words comes out.

With the arrival of Isabeau, Eli's attention is pulled from the window to glance in her direction. Then his gaze shifts back to Piper as she moves, frowning at her pained movements. Then, Quin's grunt grabs his attention. Each shift in his attention was slowed…perhaps from his medicine, but it was obvious he was able to focus at least enough. "Quinton. On a scale of one to ten, with ten being the worst…how severe is your pain?" Yes it was a cliche doctor question, but he needed to know. As he was coming more around…he needed to help people. He had one job!

It is almost visible, that wince at seeing the state of Piper's face. "Terry said there was a girl, and then West Main was leveled." She doesn't try to hug the smaller woman though it looks as though she might. Moss green eyes focus on Quin, brows knitted together. She glances over at Eli with the question. Standing with her kit over her shoulder, as though waiting for marching orders.

Piper knows that look, there was a time she feared it, the fear is much less but she still isn't one for unsolicited touching from people she doesn't know well enough. A step back is taking and her head turns slightly, angling her right ear toward Isabeau as the other woman talks. Not a particularly good sign, that. The words has the the injured woman blanching, as if she wasn't already paleish thanks to the way she is feeling. And then the pained noise comes from Quinton and she takes the cup of aspirin like tea and quick steps the few steps to his bedside, perching on the edge and leaning over so him so he can focus on him. She isn't an order giver, but clearly she has a handle on the injured Quinton.

"The willow bends, but didn't break until the thunder rolled over…" Quin's voice is raw, but it's not that stuttering hesitance that he fights with usually. There's an almost….stage quality to it. His pale eyes turn towards Eli, that's clearly his answer. Take it or leave it. Another slow blink and he'll slowly trying to sit up, leaning against his elbows as he rolls to his side. If he's heard Isa's words, he doesn't respond. Piper's suddenly next to him and he stops squirming, looking up at her, "I'm still falling."

Elijah lofts a brow before just giving Quinton a nod. He guessed that meant he was ok? His attention then goes back to Isabeau as Piper seems to be on top of caring for Quin and was moving at least decently herself. "You mentioned supplies?" In a moment of absent mindedness he tries to move from the bed, shifting his leg and instantly regretting it with a wince and sharp inhale of pain. "Sorry…would you mind bringing them here? I can take a look…thank you."

Piper's tilt of her head draws another furrow of brows, and Isabeau just nods as the woman moves to care for Quinton. Despite the beaten and battered state of them all, Quin's words or rather the lack of hesitance in them and there's just the faintest upturn at the edge of Isabeau's mouth. Barely there, but there none the less. When the good Doc addresses her she starts moving even before the inhale of pain. The bag is dropped and opened, most of the medicines are designed for animals, but there's gauze, tape, suture thread needles and various surgical implements, neatly arrayed within their own tool wrap. "I imagine this means you folks will be moving on?"

She couldn't say what bit of poetry Quinton is reciting from, but Piper does realize after a few moments that, that is in fact what he is doing. She looks worried as she studies his face and then will do what she can to help him sit up and them offer him the luke warm, bitter tonic that fills the cup. He is reciting to her so she recites right back, but for her it isn't poetry but song lyrics…which in a grand scheme is the same thing. "I?m still learning, still burning, yeah, still wanting, still all-in, still falling." her's is more of a singing recitation though. She then taps the cup. Isabeau's question makes her glance back at the woman "No." she states firmly whatever she means to say after that, and there was something, is lost.

Quinton frowns, confused as to why they didn't get it. It's clear to him. He sways, the room spinning slightly as Piper helps him sit all the way up. Her lyrics have him blinking, trying to focus on her, "The lights go out somewhere over Ohio and the planes all tumble like dead metal gods." He doesn't take the dink until she insists. but even then he only brings it to his lips, but doesn't drink. The smell of it makes his stomach turn. "Running doesn't win wars. It only builds endurance to survive…The brass ring is to live." Is this really how his brain processes stuff?

Elijah glances back over to Piper as she replies to Quinton in a way that doesn't make any more sense to the doctor than what Quin had said originally. Then…Quinton responds back. How hard had Eli hit his head? Was any of this making sense to Isa? Or was it some sort of hipster love code? Either way he glances back to the bag of goodies offered by Isa.

A slow blink is given as he works to focus on the contents before finally nodding "Thank you. This will help…a lot." His speech isn't slurred, but sounds very tired. At her last question though he looks back up to her, lofting a confused brow. "Why would we leave?"

Isabeau isnt sure who he's quoting, but that the man is speaking in lyrics ''only'' has suddenly dawned on the woman. She needs a minute to process. "Survival is an endurance race." Isa notes quietly, "'cept there is no finish line anymore, unless you count what you are running from.". Eli's question earns a darkly humored look. "Bomb came from somewhere Doc. If they found you already there is no sense in sitting around until they finish the job."

He's a poet, she is a musician the pair could probably go back and forth all day reciting things to each other. She doesn't torture them with that though, "First wave." Piper comments easily enough to the first lines and she frowns when he doesn't actually imbibe any of the tonic. Isa's words make her eyes drop and the cup is pulled away absently as she rolls it nervously between her hands "No." she repeats again "Arrogant. Won't send," she glances up to look at Quin and then over to Isa and Eli, "ticking child.

Quinton's not moving , the room is! The poet's frown stays and he brings the drink away from his lips. That's not happening just yet. "The finish is the beginning." He points up, instinctively in the direction of the looming spaceship. He knew, but to hear it out loud, how the bomb got there…. Quin's suddenly keeling over, searching for the trash can he's hoping they were smart enough to leave for the concussed man.

Elijah looks to Isa, hearing her words and frowning. The thought that they had brought this danger to this town was bad enough…but Piper's words have him looking over to the woman. His expression shows confusion a moment…before the horror sets in at the realization of her statement. It causes a lurch to rise up in his stomach as well, but he turns his head away from them and back towards the window, eyes closing as he swallows the urge to vomit away. At this point he was certain the medicine wasn't helping his physical nor emotional responses at all, but the doctor would fall silent for a moment while he tried to regain his composure.

Isa looks to Piper, worry lines forming faintly on her brow as she squints in confusion. "A ticking - child?" It's Quinton's reaction that clues the rancher in, and her expression grows harder. "Can't fight a siege here, not ready for it. And if that wasn't a missile or a bomb drop, then." She frowns. "They know where we are."

Someone was smart, Kayla probably, not a wastebasket, but a bucket by Quinton's bed. Piper quickly grabs for it with her free hand and shoves it at the poet as she scoots back on the edge of the bed. She figured her words would get a response, though this isn't the one she figured it would be. She's good with no questions as to how she knows. As she averts her gaze from the being sick Quinton she chews on her lip, though out of concern or because there is more she knows that she isn't telling is unknown. Either way she falls silent.

Quinton heaves, but there's nothing in his stomach. So it's a short lived, but painful few seconds. His fingers are white knuckles around the rim of the bucket. A pitiful sound escapes the man and he repeats, "I'm still falling…" Both eyes are screwed shut, from the room spinning and the ideas that are being discussed.

Luckily, even despite his sensitive sense of smell, Eli was used to the sound and smell of vomit from his work and studies in hospitals. Otherwise he might be a sympathy puker. As the poet speaks again, the doctor turns his attention back to look at him. Making sure he was alright. Isa's words gain a response though. "It may not necessarily mean they know. Could have just sent out the girl…and a timer or…" He closes his eyes, quickly shaking the thought away again. Nope. Not ready to theorize.

Once the retching…or at least the attempt is done, Piper once more scoots closer a hand reaching out to rub Quinton on the back in a comforting fashion. Taking away the vertigo is outside her means but she is pretty good at being a calming presence. Her good ear is cocked toward the conversation between Isa and Eli and she sets the cup down to point at the doctor "Yes." she seems to agree with what the doc says.

The wheels are turning in Isa's head, as she watches the scene play out, a thoughtful, quiet look given Piper. The retching Quinton. The Doc's assessment. "A kid." Isa comments, "It was a kid that brought the bomb in." There's still disbelief there, still. "What else does it mean?" She asks gently. "Is it worth putting in the effort to secure and develop a place that's already compromised?"

Quinton stays quiet, nothing he has to say will make any sense to anyone. He's breathing though his mouth, hunched over the bucket. Piper's hand on his back does seem to calm the man a little. If a person can be calmed at this point.

A glance is given to Piper as she agrees with him, Eli then glancing back down at his covers with a furrowed brow. At this point they had to talk about it. Even if they didn't want to. To determine if there was a threat or not. He closes his eyes, head staying lowered as he gives a heavy sigh. "If it was a timer…they may not know. Unless they have ways to track…and determine where she…" he clears his throat. He couldn't say it. Isa was right. It was a kid. They were children soldiers. A hand goes to rub the side of his head.

Teenage soldiers, toddlers…babies practically as bombs, the aliens are showing an amazing amount of evilness in their tactics. Given what she seems to know is it any wonder why Piper collects children. To save them from being used in such a fashion. Now if she could only save them all. Her hand continues to move up and down Quinton's back again remaining silent as the other two piece it together with no needed input from her. Then a baby's cry is heard from the other room. Quinn is awake and demanding her attention. Getting to her feet, fingers caress the poet's neck a final time before she leaves to see to the needs of another child that won't be used for destruction.

Elijah looks to Isa, hearing her words and frowning. The thought that they had brought this danger to this town was bad enough…but Piper's words have him looking over to the woman. His expression shows confusion a moment…before the horror sets in at the realization of her statement. It causes a lurch to rise up in his stomach as well, but he turns his head away from them and back towards the window, eyes closing as he swallows the urge to vomit away. At this point he was certain the medicine wasn't helping his physical nor emotional responses at all, but the doctor would fall silent for a moment while he tried to regain his composure.

Isa looks to Piper, worry lines forming faintly on her brow as she squints in confusion. "A ticking - child?" It's Quinton's reaction that clues the rancher in, and her expression grows harder. "Can't fight a siege here, not ready for it. And if that wasn't a missile or a bomb drop, then." She frowns. "They know where we are."

Someone was smart, Kayla probably, not a wastebasket, but a bucket by Quinton's bed. Piper quickly grabs for it with her free hand and shoves it at the poet as she scoots back on the edge of the bed. She figured her words would get a response, though this isn't the one she figured it would be. She's good with no questions as to how she knows. As she averts her gaze from the being sick Quinton she chews on her lip, though out of concern or because there is more she knows that she isn't telling is unknown. Either way she falls silent.

Quinton heaves, but there's nothing in his stomach. So it's a short lived, but painful few seconds. His fingers are white knuckles around the rim of the bucket. A pitiful sound escapes the man and he repeats, "I'm still falling…" Both eyes are screwed shut, from the room spinning and the ideas that are being discussed.

Luckily, even despite his sensitive sense of smell, Eli was used to the sound and smell of vomit from his work and studies in hospitals. Otherwise he might be a sympathy puker. As the poet speaks again, the doctor turns his attention back to look at him. Making sure he was alright. Isa's words gain a response though. "It may not necessarily mean they know. Could have just sent out the girl…and a timer or…" He closes his eyes, quickly shaking the thought away again. Nope. Not ready to theorize.

Once the wretching…or at least the attempt is done, Piper once more scoots closer a hand reaching out to rub Quinton on the back in a comforting fashion. Taking away the vertigo is outside her means but she is pretty good at being a calming presence. Her good ear is cocked toward the conversation between Isa and Eli and she sets the cup down to point at the doctor "Yes." she seems to agree with what the doc says.

The wheels are turning in Isa's head, as she watches the scene play out, a thoughtful, quiet look given Piper. The retching Quinton. The Doc's assessment. "A kid." Isa comments, "It was a kid that brought the bomb in." There's still disbelief there, still. "What else does it mean?" She asks gently. "Is it worth putting in the effort to secure and develop a place that's already compromised?"

Quinton stays quiet, nothing he has to say will make any sense to anyone. He's breathing though his mouth, hunched over the bucket. Piper's hand on his back does seem to calm the man a little. If a person can be calmed at this point.

A glance is given to Piper as she agrees with him, Eli then glancing back down at his covers with a furrowed brow. At this point they had to talk about it. Even if they didn't want to. To determine if there was a threat or not. He closes his eyes, head staying lowered as he gives a heavy sigh. "If it was a timer…they may not know. Unless they have ways to track…and determine where she…" he clears his throat. He couldn't say it. Isa was right. It was a kid. They were children soldiers. A hand goes to rub the side of his head.

Teenage soldiers, toddlers…babies practically as bombs, the aliens are showing an amazing amount of evilness in thier tactics. Given what she seems to know is it any wonder why Piper collects children. To save them from being used in such a fashion. Now if she could only save them all. Her hand continues to move up and down Quinton's back again remaining silent as the other two peice it together with no needed input from her. Then a baby's cry is heard from the other room. Quinn is awake and demanding her attention. Getting to her feet, fingers caress the poet's neck a final time before she leaves to see to the needs of another child that won't be used for destruction.

Isabeau looks between them all, shaking a hand through the wild mane of curls that hang loosely today. "The other scenario is that they already knew." There's a pregnant pause with this, as she watches Piper and the poet. "The implications of either aren't pretty. Is it possible they could have traced the energy signatures off the batteries you all used to get here?"

Quinton's head to to scrambled to answer, to even try to answer. He concentrates on his breathing. Whe Piper steps away, he'll mutter, "We have to stop falling." But that's about as much help as he's going to give on the matter currently.

Elijah watches Piper as she steps out, looking back to the others once she's gone. He's shake his head, looking to Isa "There's no way to know for sure I suppose? I don't know…" None of this was anything he could process right now. With Quinton's statement he'd look at the young man, frowning. Well…he wasn't wrong.

The rancher shakes her head, "I don't know how to stop falling. " She admits, with a rough sigh. She leaves the rest to the imagination. Her hand rumples her hair and gives it a shake as though arriving at a decision. " Isn't going to stop me from trying though I suppose." Another nod, "Focus on the things we can fix right now I suppose, and go from there." She tips her chin to them. "I should let you gentlemen get your rest."

Quinton wishes he was wrong. His eyes slide closed and he spits once ingot eh bucket, trying get the taste of acid out of his mouth. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he'll be more helpful. He hopes.

"Alright. Thank you again or the supplies and for stopping by…" Eli nods to Isa before looking back to Quinton. His gaze would then go around the room a moment before he spots the pitcher and cup left by his own bedside. "Here…" He pours some water from the pitcher into the cup, offering it over to Quin. "Water…"

Isabeau nods tipping her chin, "You have your patients Doc, and right now yours need them more than mine do. If you need an extra pair of hands, let me know." And that serves as her farewell, as she heads out.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License