Tori Scarlett's Story

"I found you in the back of a wagon clinging to life, some townspeople found you." Livia answered him, causing Ragnar to raise his eyebrows and widen his eyes at her while pouting his lip in astonishment for a moment, as if he was surprised to hear that. He took a mental note of her blue eyes and auburn hair color, as well as her Latinized English accent, all things that Ragnar Lothbrok would take into account as he continued to listen to the door chime, clicking, hissing and other sounds around him caused by the machines.

"Hospital?" He repeated with a strong Swedo-Danish English accent. He was familiar with the Latin term hospes, and the Anglo word hostel, but he did not imagine he would be waking up in one. His eyes continued to trail around the room as he listened to Livia's words over the feint beeping and other strange noises. There was a lot for him to process as he glanced at the lights on the ceiling and the medical table and life support machines against the wall beside his headrest. This was nothing at all like the hospitals Ragnar had seen.

"I am Livia," the casually dressed Legata would inform him, placing her hand over her chest. He took note of her white tank top and denim jacket, a clothing style which seemed very new and foreign to the former medieval chieftain, who was now wearing nothing at all apart from a teal blue hospital gown. Besides being thinner and more ruffly than what he was used to, the gown actually wasn't too much different from some of the long robes and tunicas he had seen back home.

As the door chimed again, Ragnar tried to glance over Livia to see who it was. When the orderly brought the cart around and moved the swiveling extendable tray in front of him, Ragnar would glance over at the containers with a bit of paranoia in his eyes. He could hear the squeeking small cart wheels rolling across the hard floor, and he didn't understand a lick of Taiyou as the orderly greeted Livia in the native tongue. But as the lids on the containers were removed, revealing a small entrée of strange and foreign foods, Ragnar became less tense and squinted a very light smile that seemed more apparent in his eyes than on his face.

"I'm going to undo your restraints, please don't do anything rash." The Legata pleaded as she began to unfasten the restraint binding Ragnar's right arm. Ragnar would rotate his wrist for a moment, regaining some of the feeling and blood flow back in his arm as he tried to sit up again, forgetting about the leather restraint around his neck. He could barely wait to be free again. He waited patiently for Livia to undo the strap around his neck, before reaching around her hands with his freehand and rubbing his throat with a grimacing sigh of relief.

There were knobs and buttons on the arm of his hospital bed which could be used to make the bed recline forward, helping him to sit up. Ragnar Lothbrok wasn't aware of this technology yet, however, so he just sat up on his own instead. At that moment, he got a slight head rush, but he would just squeeze his eyes closed for a moment and shake it off before opening his eyes again. For the first time since his arrival at Emperor Nobuo Takayama's Medical Center, he could look around and see everything clearly.

He glanced over beside himself to the wooden nightstand with opening drawers and the television set on top of it, the large rectangular clear glass window with open grey curtains flanking it, the solid white hard tile floor, the wooden furniture and baseboards, the white walls, wooden cabinets and wall decor. There were picture frames, and medical charts, medical machines with tubes, valves and buttons on them. He took notice of his grey framed medical recliner, and the teal blue gown that he was now wearing. He also noticed the door from where all the chiming sounds had kept coming from, and the denim jeans that Livia was wearing which matched her jacket. He then looked down at his food tray, to the steaming contents in front of him, some of which he was already familiar with, and some of which he didn't know what to make of.

"Can you eat? Are you hungry? Can you tell me what happened to you?" Livia asked curiously.

He picked up the glass of ramune soda and tried to peer down into its straw with one eye, not sure what to think. He listened to the fizzling liquid within, holding the glass up to his ear before taking a swig straight from the glass, ignoring the straw. He tried to swallow, but he couldn't. The soda would tickle his nose and fizz against his tongue. Ragnar would turn his head away from Livia and spit it out, spraying soda all over the wooden cabinet beside him. He turned and cringed, looking at Livia disgustedly before setting the glass of icey soda back down on the tray.

Next he looked at the entrée, a steaming hot dish with squid, rice and fried egg, with a bowl of strange looking soup, and natto served with soy sauce. The only thing that looked even remotely familiar to him was the squid. He cringed again for a moment, picking up a piece of fried tentacle before dropping it back on the plate again. He then picked up the bowl of miso soup and sniffed it, allowing the vapors to touch his nostrils. He glanced back up at Livia the Legata for a moment, before testing the soup with the tip of his tongue. He blinked and smiled at the taste of the soup before suddenly chugging down the whole entire thing with a few large gulps, spilling some of it down his dirty-blonde short bearded chin and on to the front of his gown, before setting the empty bowl down on the food tray and wiping his mouth with his arm sleeve, looking up at Livia.

"I am Regnerus, called Ragnar... Lothbrok..." he said softly, looking over her shoulder to his reflection in the mirror behind her, noticing the gauze bandage on his forehead.

"I was captured by King Aella of Northumbria on my way to Jorvik... yick," he cringed again while picking at his food, obviously not interested in eating whatever the heck it was that the Taiyou doctors had on their menu.

"The King wanted me to convert to his White Christ and repent for my sins... But I refused," he smiled unremorsefully, ripping the gauze bandage off of his forehead to reveal the cross-shaped stitches and scars underneath before picking up a tiny grain of rice with his fingertips and finally nibbling at it curiously, clicking his teeth against his tongue as he tasted it. This too he would spit on the floor beside him before pushing the swiveling food table away from himself, no longer interested in what they had to offer.

"I was whipped, chained, beaten with staffs and clubs, prodded with spears, hung from a tree in a cage, starved for several days and made to walk on hot stones, but still I would not squeel. So the king had me branded and crucified, but still I would not repent. So he let me hang again up in the tree for a few more days, allowing the ravens and crows to peck at my wounds. Then finally, he let me fall into a pit of vipers and other snakes before closing and sealing the door to my earthy grave. With my last bit of strength, I prayed to the gods and my ancestors and tried to claw my way out of the earth. I remember seeing my Christian friend, and for a moment I thought I was in heaven. But then I saw one of the valkyries, and I knew I must have been stuck somewhere in-between... That's all I really remember. Now I'm here," he said before flexing his other arm and snapping his other leather wrist restraint with remarkable ease, despite its thickness and his healing wrist wounds.

Ragnar tried to bend and stretch forward to remove his ankle straps as well, but he quickly winced in pain and laid back down on his hospital bed, having forgotten about the lacerations on his back and the spear wound on his side. He would breathe heavily for a moment, relaxing and regaining his composure before looking back up at Livia the Legata with a look of humour and a slightly perked smile, feeling an increase in his appetite.

"So... what's for dessert?" He asked.

"So... what's for dessert?" Ragnar asked curiously out of the clear blue. Livia paused, a little caught off guard by the sudden random question and by Ragnar's total disregard for his own injuries.

But before she could clear her throat to respond, they were suddenly interrupted by a Taiyou police officer of sorts as he opened the door and entered the room, placing his hand on the pistol grip of his holstered sidearm. Livia had quickly signalled to him that everything was okay, and the officer nodded before turning around and leaving the room again. But not before Ragnar Lothbrok had gotten a good look at the ISSP officer, scanning him over front and back quietly and taking note of the brazened man in uniform. The medieval Dano-Swede gathered that he must have been a guard of some kind, for although he was not at all familiar with the people, the setting, or many of the objects in the room, Ragnar had a very keen observation for most people's voices, voice tones, confidence, body postures, military discipline and body language. Ragnar casually glanced at his leather ankle straps before looking at Livia's eyes again silently.

"Well, this King cannot reach you here.” Livia Caesarius commented after turning to look back down at him, having listened to Ragnar's story, a bit taken in by the suffering he had just endured. It was amazing that he was even still alive to tell the tale.

The Argosian Legata walked over to the window and opened it to let some airflow and light into the room. But because he was still partially restrained to the hospital bed and laying down, Ragnar Lothbrok was unable to see much of the cityscape below. What he did notice, however, as his eyes quietly followed Livia's movement to the window and opened it, were the snow-sprinkled rooftops of a few rectangular buildings which had windows on them and appeared to be rather tall. Little did he know at the time just how big that city was, or just how tall those skyscrapers actually were.

He then watched Livia Caesarius grab the remote and turn on the TV, two things that the long lost medieval chieftain had never seen before. Ragnar's face became blank and void of expression as he watched with unblinking eyes, staring at the television screen for a moment before looking back at her with a slightly distrustful look of concern, unsure what to make of it.

"You’re in a place called Niihama, it’s very far away from where I found you.” she informed him. "Nee-ha-ma", he repeated back to her slowly, making sure he got it right.

The door chimed again, only this time a Taiyou doctor entered the patient's room, wearing a white surgical mask and glasses with a stethoscope draped around his neck. He stepped closer and looked directly down at Ragnar before introducing himself.

"Hello... I am Doctor Takanaka," the doctor said, having a very strong Taiyou accent that was much different than Livia's accent, or the patient's accent for that matter. It was quite obvious that English was not really any of their native languages, and yet it was one of the most common tongues that all three of them seemed to understand. Ragnar gave him a feint smile and a slight nod.

“I am the surgeon that attended to you, I see you are healing nicely.” He said with a hint of pride as he approached the bed. As the doctor spoke, Ragnar would glance at the man's name tag and the university logo on his breast pocket, clearly absorbing everything for the first time with a sort of curiosity that seemed to be quite common among Iskjerne Vikings, only there was something very different about Ragnar Lothbrok that was difficult to pinpoint, probably because he seemed more light-hearted at the moment and wasn't acting very suspicious or violent like the other heathens that the Argosians and Taiyou had encountered on numerous other occasions in the past. This, of course, only added to the mystery of who he was. Clearly, he was not like all the others.

"How are you feeling?” Dr. Takanaka asked him.

"I feel like shit," Ragnar smiled jokingly, his bright blue eyes trailing over to the window again before looking back at the doctor. At that moment, Livia also smiled and mumbled something to the surgeon which the Swedish Dane couldn't understand, and which had sounded to him like the same language the nurse had spoken earlier. Dr. Takanaka nodded before looking back down at Ragnar Lothbrok, his squinted eyes hinting that behind his surgical mask, he was still smiling.

“Your wounds were very serious, but I think you make full recovery.” Dr. Takanaka said, causing Ragnar to make a sort of duck-lipped nod. He then did something that neither Livia and her Praetorians, or the Taiyou had ever seen before from the Vikings they had encountered in the past.

"Thank you" he said, giving the doctor a light-hearted grin, nodding once again with a quiet sense of humility before turning his head to glance up at Livia the Legata with a more serious expression.

"Where exactly -did- you find me?" he asked suddenly, showing that despite his silent and humble demeanor, and their informal small talk, Ragnar Lothbrok had been listening intently the whole entire time while he had been observing.

"Unfortunately, beyond that, I don't know what to say, you were already in someone's wagon when I found you." Livia said with a slight frown, causing Ragnar to stare down blankly at the crack beneath the closed hospital door, contemplating her response quietly as the shadow of someone's feet approached the door from outside.

At that moment the door chimed again, and Ragnar was surprised to see an older man walk into the room who appeared to be dressed in more recognizable attire. Ragnar scanned him over with his eyes, still laying back somewhat sprawled out on the hospital bed while gazing up at Livia and the centurion as he introduced himself, bringing his fist up to his chest just as Ragnar had seen Livia do. He gathered that it must have been some way these foreign people used as a sort of salute. Ragnar fiddled with the switches and buttons on the arm rest attached to his bed. After a moment of tinkering with the controls, he discovered that he could cause the bed to recline back and forth. He would begin to play with the tiny joystick, listening to the legata and her centurion as he then, looking rather silly, started to move the bed up and down, making it exaggerate all the way back so that his back was arched humorously and he could glance at the wall behind him, before pushing the joystick forward again and sitting upright as he heard the centurion mention a familiar name.

The Legata and the Centurion had begun talking in Argosian, and although some of their words were hard for him to understand, given the difference in Latinization between their formal dialect and the more stylized one that he had learned from the English priest, Ragnar still managed to understand the gist of their conversation. He understood certain key words like Legata, Iskjerne, Hrollaug, and gracias centurio. In just a few short sentences, Ragnar Lothbrok had gained a great deal of knowledge already, and his brows would sink as the slightly angry, slightly concerned thought of Hrollaug the Walker crossed his mind at that moment.

As Livia spoke with the centurion for a moment, Ragnar regained his thoughts and glanced over to the TV screen, poking at the moving image with his finger tip before looking at the portrait on the wall again, studying the old Asiatic man's hakama trousers, the emblem on his kamishimo winged jacket and the shape of his katana sword. Ragnar looked amused, and was not very impressed at all with the small size, short length and thinness of the slightly curved pommelless single-bladed sword, or the saya that it was in. To the Viking leader, it looked more like a knife than a sword. What peculiar people, he thought silently.

"It will probably be a week or so before you are healed." Livia said after rubbing her chin for a second and looking back down at him. "I have an apartment here, we can stay there until you are strong enough to return to your people." She added, causing him to gaze back up at her.

"Apart...ment?" He repeated back to her, a little confused as to what she meant as he sat back up on his recliner to look at her. But anywhere would be better than the hospital, he figured, before giving a half-nod. "If that's alright with you, unfortunately these people will not allow you to roam freely, and have placed me under responsib--" Ragnar suddenly interrupted her, changing the subject as he motioned one of his bandaged hands towards the portrait on the wall beside him.

"Who is he?" the Viking leader asked as another nurse entered the room, placing a dessert tray down on the bed table in front of him. Ragnar would look down at the mixed fruit entree and smile, nodding humbly to the nurse, appearing more pleased with the items this time. He quickly picked up one of the cherries by the thin stem, swiped it through the dab of whipped cream and sniffed it before popping it into his mouth. Like a savage, he began filling his cheek with the delicious fruit slices, looking up at Livia with a grin. Ragnar didn't seem to be too worried about anything else at all at that moment, and he certainly didn't appear to be the dangerous, menacing figure that many people had thought he would be. Despite his silliness and strange mannerisms, for a man who had nearly perished from his injuries a couple weeks ago, Ragnar actually looked surprisingly comfortable, and perhaps even a little too calm. It was obvious that he had no fear at all, despite the fact that he was still experiencing a minor pain in his side and had his ankles strapped to the bed. Was this really the man that other Vikings feared and told stories about? It was hard to believe.

Ragnar "Lothbrok" Sigurdsson would glance over at the television screen once again, his lips forming a slight half-smirk at the young man Shimizu, obviously not impressed with his noisiness and arrogant demeanor. What a tiny fellow, he thought quietly, before listening to Livia Caesarius' explanation of an apartment. He would gaze out the window again as she opened the curtains further, nodding slowly as she explained to him that the buildings outside were apartment buildings. To the Viking Age chieftain, however, they looked more like castles without walls or fortifications, something he contemplated silently without interrupting. Imperial majesty? Imperial palace? Emperor? He thought quietly to himself, listening to everything Livia was saying. Ragnar had only ever heard of one empire in his lifetime, and it was a very powerful empire far to the east.

Being inside the recovery room, Ragnar was scarcely aware of the people outside in the waiting rooms and lobbies. He was not aware of Tori Scarlett's presence, or Minori Okiumura's presence as she got up from one of the benches, obviously disgruntled about something which neither Ragnar nor Livia could see or hear from the other side of the doorway to the patient's room. Ragnar was still laying on his hospital bed, recovering from his injuries, as Livia tried to explain things to him.

He would soon finish devouring the fruit slices and whipped cream, savoring the flavor, vitamins and nutrients provided by his hosts. It was apparent that he had enjoyed the entrée, as his face glowed with satisfaction. He watched with widened eyes as Livia then fetched the wheelchair, another strange apparatus that the Dano-Swedish barbarian had never seen before. At that moment, he was suddenly reminded of his crippled son Ivar, and how his brothers used to tow him around in a small wooden wagon when they were younger. Ragnar secretly missed his wives, and his sons, but he suppressed his feelings as Livia finally unfastened his ankle restraints, giving Ragnar Lothbrok the freedom he so patiently desired.

Alas, he was able to move around. Ragnar would sit up again, doing a few neck rotations and shoulder rotations before turning and lowering his legs off the side of the hospital bed, placing his bare feet on the cold white tile floor. He dangled, curled and wiggled his toes, allowing the blood to flow back into his feet. At that moment, a sinister smile formed on Ragnar's face as he humorously stared down at his own feet, wiggling his toes. His retinaculum was still bandaged with gauze and tape which wrapped around the tarsals and archs of his feet from where he had been crucified. He had lost partial feeling in his toes from nerve damage, but given enough time and opportunity, this strong and independent follower of Odin would be able to walk again. Perhaps sooner than later, it seemed, as he placed his hands on the edge of the bed and struggled to push himself up.

Ragnar would stand up slowly, and at that moment, the Argosian Legata would see just how big he really was. For even though his back was slightly arched and he was still slumped over, Ragnar was still considerably taller than she was, and Livia would find herself having to look up just to make eye contact with him. Ragnar Lothbrok was over six feet tall with broad shoulders and lean, powerful muscles, a trait that was quite common among the Vikings due to their rough lifestyle and harsh environment. With his neck bent downward and his shoulders slouched, he continued to stare at his own bare feet for a moment before turning his head to look at Livia with cold blue eyes.

He let out a slight wince and gasp, doing his best to conceal his aches and pains as he turned his body slowly and limped towards her, keeping one hand on the edge of the bed for balance and support. It was obvious that Ragnar was a poker faced, independent, masculine individual who didn't really like being helped, and probably wasn't very used to it either. Even now, in this weakened state, he appeared quite hardened and strong. He moved slowly, dragging one foot in front of the other, taking small baby steps towards Livia, appearing more powerful, bold and daring with each step he took. Even now, the hatred and hardness in his cold gaze had never quite left, and it had seemed as though he was masking his pain behind an expression of anger and fury. Ragnar was a brick, and he had sought to portray that undaunted persona as he limped over to the bathroom, resting one hand on the door frame while nurturing the bandaged spear wound on his side with the other.

Once he reached the bathroom doorway, he would breathe heavily and lower his head again, bending forward slightly to move the hand that was on his side over to the wheelchair, only to let it rest there instead. He would stand there quietly, pausing for a moment to regain his composure again, for his face had turned red and it was clear from his heavy breathing that he was in pain. A small tear of blood started to seep through the wrist bandage on the hand against the bathroom door frame, running down his arm, caused by the loosening of a stitch when he had previously snapped his leather wrist restraint on the hospital bed. But this minor injury paled in comparison to the pain in his side, or the wounds on the bottom of his feet as he lifted his head to gaze up at Livia, suddenly asking a very unpredictable and untimely question.

"Where... are my shoes?" he asked abruptly, wincing in pain. Until now, Ragnar had been wearing absolutely nothing but a simple hospital gown, and was completely naked underneath. Yet apparently, despite everything that had happened to him, the only thing he wanted at that particular moment, was something to wear.

Livia Caesarius watched Ragnar Lothbrok with caution, but remained motionless as he walked towards her. Once he reached the bathroom doorway, she would approach him, placing one hand on his forearm and the other on his lower back. His arm must have felt like solid iron, such was the Viking chieftain's strength and musculature from years and years of power development and hardened labor. She tried to coax him back into the hospital bed, but Ragnar wasn't going to have any of that. He was feeling naked and vulnerable, and a bit uncomfortable to say the least. But not in a physical way, for he was fighting his own mentality and trying to absorb everything around him. As she placed her other hand on his back, Ragnar stood upright, appearing even more taller than he had been before.

"I'm alright..." He said reassuringly, though obviously still hiding the pain.

He pulled the wheelchair away from the doorway with one hand while supporting himself against the bathroom doorframe with the other as he slowly shuffled his way into the small patient bathroom, looking around. He noticed a sink and mirror, a bathtub with a showerhead and a porcelain toilet. It wasn't much, but to the medieval warrior, it had been the fanciest most elegant setup he had ever seen before in his life. Surely, the emperor was a very wealthy man, he thought to himself as he stood in the bathroom doorway, admiring its inner workings. He scanned the small bathroom, looking up at the ceiling and the tacky wallpaper. To the Argosian Legata, it wasn't very fancy at all. But Ragnar Lothbrok had fought and killed men for less money than it must have cost to build the place, as he picked up the bar of soap next to the sink faucet and brought it to his nose, sniffing it.

Once again, there was an awkward moment of out of place humour, for anyone who peered into the patient's room would find Ragnar standing in the bathroom doorway wearing nothing but a cheap pastel blue hospital gown which left his backside completely exposed and naked. There were many thin striped scars on his back, some more faded than others, from the hundreds of lashings he must have received at the hands of his enemy captors. He would scratch his ass for a moment before leaning forward and looking at his own reflection in the mirror. He grazed his fingertips over the cross-shaped stitches on his forehead, examining the tight, neatly worked threading. It was far superior to any kind of stitches he would have received back home, and he was amazed at the surgeon's craftiness in sewing him up.

After a moment, Ragnar lifted the front of his gown and suddenly started urinating into the bathroom sink, apparently mistaking it for the toilet. Livia could tell right away that it was going to take some time to civilize the medieval barbarian as he shook his little snake and belched loudly before slowly making his way over to the bathtub. He seemed to display no shame at all as he stepped into the bathtub and dropped his gown, not even bothering to close the door or curtains. He seemed to have no concept of privacy, as he stood completely naked in the shower, trying to figure out how to turn the water on. He fumbled with the showerhead for a second before playing with the knobs. After a moment, he figured out how to turn the water on as a hot stream suddenly shot out and hit him in the face, catching Ragnar off guard.

Perhaps as a natural reflex, he immediately slapped the showerhead away from his face as if defending himself from the unperceived threat. At that instant, the metal cord connected to the showerhead was knocked off of the hook and hit the bathtub with a loud scratching clunk that could be heard in the hallway outside the patient's room. Ragnar just stood there quietly, looking rather embarrassed as the bathtub slowly began to fill up with water around his feet. He wasn't used to this sort of setup, but he was observant as he looked down and studied the fixture. He toyed with the shower knobs again and turned the water off, before turning it back on. He then turned it off, and turned it back on. He turned it off again, and then turned the other knob. This time the water that jetted out of the showerhead was cold. Very cold, but for some odd reason he seemed to enjoy it as he began wiggling his toes again before slowly taking a seat and sprawling out in the tub, draping his arms over the side while resting his head back as if he were laying in an open spring.

Ragnar Sigurdsson listened quietly as Livia Caesarius explained the very basics of civilized culture to him. Ragnar was still very accustomed to the medieval lifestyle, and to the isolated Viking Age cultures of the far north who had yet to be influenced by Romanesque architecture, plumbing and pipelines. She explained to him how the knob with the red sticker stood for hot water, while the knob with the blue sticker symbolized cold water. He observed her quietly as she demonstrated how the bathtub worked. Of course, he had already figured that out, but he was interested in what she had to say as she demonstrated the proper way of doing things to him. If he was going to fit in, and be seen by the Argosians as anything other than a savage, Ragnar Lothbrok was going to need to pay attention and learn how to adapt.

As she dunked the soap in the water, Livia could feel the ice cold water on her arm. For her and her people, the water seemed perhaps a little bit too cold for comfort, yet Ragnar Lothbrok Sigurdsson appeared to be quite relaxed as he remained sprawled out in the tub with his arms resting over the sides, looking at her. To the Legata's surprise, Ragnar didn't even have goosebumps. Apparently, his body had been adapted to the extreme cold temperatures in his homeland. In fact, as the running water in the bathtub was about fifty degrees, to the hardened Northman it seemed quite warm and comfortable. He started to peel his bandages off as the water began to loosen the tape and soak through the gauze. There was still some blood, but not much, and definitely not enough to be life threatening or turn the color of the bath water as he relaxed quietly.

Ragnar didn't say anything about the soap. He knew what it was, as the Vikings in his homeland had used all natural scentless lye soap to wash themselves regularly. In fact, for having a reputation as savages and primitive barbarians, the Vikings were actually some of the most hygienic and cleanest people of their time period. Whereas most medieval cultures were lucky to even find clean water, with high ruling queens, kings and monarchs bathing only once a year, and lower class people rarely bathing at all, the Vikings were known to bathe once a week on average, and the Northmen even had a specific weekday known as Wash Day in the Norse language devoted specifically to hygiene and cleanliness. Their taste for grooming and hygiene was one of the key factors why the Vikings had been able to avoid the bubonic plague that had swept through Europe and Rome as far as Asia, killing thousands.

Ragnar Lothbrok was one of the few exceptions, however. He had in fact contracted the plague, but only after he had decided to raid Europe and make a decent name for himself. He was sick for a very long time, even on his deathbed, but had managed to pull through with the help of some ancient Chinese medicine he had obtained from one of his slaves. It wasn't the first time Ragnar had almost died, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. After all, here he was again, recovering from several lashings and poisonous snake bites inside the Takayama University of Niihama, being cared for by some of the best doctors and nurses in the galaxy. As he took the soap and began rubbing it on his body, it was clear that Ragnar Lothbrok was going to make a full recovery. He had started to rub some of the soap suds through his hair and beard when Livia stopped him and showed him the bottle of shampoo. This was something new to Ragnar, for he had never heard of shampoo before.

Ragnar placed the wet bar of hypoallergenic soap back on the edge of the tub before cautiously taking the bottle of shampoo and conditioner, examining the contents carefully. Once again, he sniffed it before leaning back and making a strange face. There were so many different scents and fragrances throughout the Taiyou hospital, some more natural than others, he thought to himself as he squeezed a large portion of the shampoo and conditioner into his hand, rubbing it into his hair. It was way more conditioner than he actually needed, but he didn't know any better. It was his first time ever accommodating to such a highly technological and advanced civilization. As he continued to bathe himself in the water, squeezing his eyes closed as foamy shampoo ran down his face, suddenly he heard birds chirping. But they weren't like normal song birds. There was something off about them, for they sounded awfully mechanical and artificial to the Viking pagan chieftain.

Even with his eyes closed, Ragnar could tell that something was amiss. He picked up on the tone of Livia's voice as she began talking to someone over the phone. At first he thought she was talking to him, until she continued talking. Ragnar splashed some water on his face and slid down into the bathtub, dunking his head under the water before resurfacing with soaking wet hair wrapped around his face and neck. He pushed his hair out of his eyes and glanced up at Livia as she spoke.

"I'll leave you to get cleaned up, the doctor will check you over, and we'll get you some clothes." she said before standing up and making her way for the door, closing it behind her to give him some privacy. Suddenly, he felt very alone and uncomfortable again. Ragnar gazed around the empty bathroom, taking a mental note of everything once again and storing the images in his brain. He stood up slowly, feeling more revitalized after taking a bath as the water ran down his body back into the tub. He stepped out of the shower and grabbed one of the towels that was hanging on the wall, wiping his face off. His body was still slightly sore, but not nearly as much now that he had loosened up and moved around a bit. After drying himself off, Ragnar wrapped the towel around his waist like a skirt or kilt before opening the bathroom door and stepping back into the patient's recovery room. He grabbed the wheelchair that had been placed for him and sat down on it. He fumbled with the wheels for a moment, trying to figure out how to operate the wheelchair on his own. After a minute, he rolled himself over to the open window, dragging himself on his heels as he pushed the wheels with his hands.

Once he finally reached the open window, Ragnar Lothbrok gazed out over the open city, taking in the view while savoring the wind on his face.