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Snippet #1326804

located in District Delta, a part of Revelation: The City in the Sky, one of the many universes on RPG.

District Delta

District Delta

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Pandora straightened, wiping the beads of sweat from her brow with the back of one hand and frowning as a worried mother, shooting a reproachful look at something the mage could not see outside her door, brought in a young boy. The poor thing appeared to be unconscious, though she did not rightly know why. She sensed no traces yet of a lingering disease; it appeared as though something external must have been the cause of the fainting spell. Well, that was easily enough dealt with; Pandora gave the woman a reassuring smile and headed to an old cabinet leaning against one wall of the warehouse.

She could not readily afford advanced medical supplies, and she wasn't exactly an expert in their use (healing-type magi and physicians approached the same thing from very different angles, after all) but she did have a few basics. Forcing the boy back to consciousness would have required quite a bit of energy, since she would be working against the body's natural inclination rather than with it, but some person rather more ingenious than her had invented smelling salts, which she had purchased on her last trip to a medical supplier in Beta.

Waving the salts under the boy's nose, she was rewarded when his eyes flew open and he sat up rather too quickly, causing him to fall back into her waiting arms. Pandora grinned down at him, an expression which he returned before she handed him across to his mother. "There you go. He'll be fine now. Come back if you need anything else, okay?" The woman nodded hesitantly, and the mage knew that she felt guilty for not being able to offer any form of payment. As the two left, Pan couldn't help but sigh. That was so very like the people here. They always wanted to offer her something for what she did, but she knew most of them had even less than she did, and was not about to take anything for her trouble. How could she?

Still, she hoped there would be another call from the inner districts soon. Those were the only reason her little family unit was still going. She scarcely noticed the next patient come in, busy as she was stowing supplies, but it was hard not to miss the tingle that went up her spine. Somehow, perhaps because of her talent for the metaphysical, Pandora could usually tell when she was being watched. In this case, it was hostile. She knew of only one soul who bothered to waste so much vitriol on someone as inconsequential as herself, and resisted the urge to sigh again. The first time, she had to admit, it had unnerved her quite a bit, especially coming from a patient, but despite her timidity, she allowed little if anything to interview with her work, and belligerent as he was, he was still in need of her assistance.

Turning, she offered the same pleasant countenance that she did to everyone else who passed through the doors of this old warehouse, refusing as much as possible to be intimidated. If he were truly the sort to wish her harm, he'd had plenty of opportunities already, and had not taken them. "Good morning, Eos," she greeted amicably, raising an eyebrow a bit at the state of his arm. She'd managed to weasel his name out of him last time he'd been in, though she doubted he was too pleased with that.

"I've got a scratch." Sarcasm was usually beyond Pandora, and she processed that statement for a few seconds before deciding that no, he was indeed referring to the rather nasty gash on his arm. If that was a scratch, she would rather not see a cut, or- gods forbid- a wound.

"I'd noticed," she replied without a hint of the dryness one might expect to find in such a statement. Crouching beside his chair to examine the thing, she frowned slightly. "It's already getting infected. How did you get this, anyway?" She had learned by now not to expect answers to her questions, but asking them was automatic, and she was in the habit of speaking to fill silences. Even the most reticent patients did not often like being treated in complete quiet, and so she took it upon herself to make them as comfortable as possible, even if she did think she sounded a bit silly sometimes. Better silly than sullen after all.

"I don't want to know, do I?" Shaking her head, she stood once again, running a pale hand through paler hair. She didn't have the supplies necessary to deal with this, and the infection was clearly setting in besides. That just meant she'd have to force it out herself. Taking a deep breath, Pandora regretted it a moment later, when her nose filled with the scent of a festering wound, and -perhaps more strongly- day-old alcohol. She frowned again, and regarded her unlikely patient with uncharacteristic solemnity.

"You're going to kill yourself, this way," she warned him. Generally, Pan tried to stay well away from lecturing those who came under her care, but she was honestly worried for this one. A rotted liver was one of those things that even someone of her talent would have difficulty with, and to her knowledge, a Physicians' Guild doctor had no solution to. And there was no way those wounds he tended to come in with were the result of anything but fights. Realizing it had been several seconds since she began her statement, the mage shook her head, snapping herself back into the present. "What happens when you wake up worse than this and can't get here, Eos?"

"But it's not my job to be your mother; I'm sorry. Here," the concerned tone was replaced with a more professional one, and she carefully adjusted his arm so that it was straight out, trying not to jar it unnecessarily. Swallowing, the young woman closed her eyes and let her palms hover a few inches over the wound. To her extra sense, the injury was hot, damp, and malignant, which was always the first clue as to what kind of battle she was in for. The infection would have to come first, she reasoned, and muttered a few words in a long-dead tongue under her breath, signaling the beginning of what was perhaps best described as something between a fight and a dance. It was nothing quite so simple as dumping energy onto his arm and letting his body sort out the rest. There was a subtle art to it, knowing where and how to apply the stuff, though to the naked eye, what she was doing would simply look like the infection disappearing and the flesh knitting itself together under glowing blue-white hands.

It was not an easy thing, and she suspected he'd been passed out somewhere less-than-clean (but then, where in Delta wasn't?) for quite some time, for it to be this bad so soon. When all was said and done, Pan was feeling a bit unsteady on her feet, but trying as best the was able not to let it show. She opened her eyes and stepped back. The room swam for a few seconds, but eventually settled back into place. "There. All taken care of."