Fantasy ▽Journey to Lost city of Vesi▽ [clsd]

[sheppard]

NOSTARION
​

After Nostarion *poofed* away from Beaux's door, they reappeared in the hallway between bedrooms, near the bathrooms. They slightly miscalculated and appeared too close to the wall, causing a sort of glitch where they then were punted into the wall, just from the physical proximity instead of appearing in the wall, it was more of a natural very-harsh-shove. Their whole body was slammed, face included. They fell away and onto their ass in the middle of the hall, in view of Zephirel.

Mumbling softly, they rubbed their face, their nose beginning to bleed from the force of the impact. Nostarion looked up to see Zephriel coming down the hall, their cheeks turning a darker shade of blue, giving a meek smile. "Teleportation on a moving object... I meant to go to the kitchen..." They stood, having to suddenly support their weight against the wall with a rush from the head. More color flushed to their face in embarrassment.

With quick glances to Zephriel, Nostarion mumbled an apology as their pendant began to glow again, sparking in an almost erratic manner. Their form glitched out of view for a moment, then *poofed* out of sight or real, and into the kitchen on the other side of the ship. As soon as they landed into the kitchen, they fell to the counters and exhaled, exhausted. Looking down the hall, they could still see Zephriel; Nostarion absolutely could have walked down the hall, and they probably should have after the glitch, but that would've been even more embarrassing. But now, they needed to take it easy, they were losing juice fast and needed to rest.

Nostarion grabbed a towel from one of the drawers and quickly cleaned their nose before washing up and looking through the food reserves to find something to prepare. Unsurprisingly, there was little fresh food, as most of it had been consumed or gone to waste from the beginning of their journey; there was a large storage of preserved and canned foods. Nostarion had been picking through the remains of the "fresh things" in the storage, as well as foraging on the island. Nostarion was a vegetarian, but because of their journey and the storm, they had to learn to eat fish. Maybe when they stop next, Nostarion can pick up some more fresher foods, hopefully with the help of Beaux, since it sounded like he knew his way around the kitchens as well.

They pulled out some items that would make a decent meal and began to prepare it. If the crew wouldn't eat it tonight, maybe they would be grateful for when they wake up.

Juju

 

[TheCrowKing]

Anziium​

A sharp inhale sounded from the tiefling as the intruder was finally dealt with, leaving the trio to their own business. He’d exhaled tiredly, pinching at the bridge of his nose as he moved further into the room to be treated. “Right, right. Blood pressure being high will accerelerate the poison’s travel.” He waved away the precaution, not planning to entangle himself in any further scuffle with Nostarion today.

With Zephriel receiving instructions prior to her treatment, Anziium would take the moment to relieve himself of his soiled outwear. Off would go his knee-high boots, held in place with knotted places before being placed neatly at the front of his bed. The blood and acid covered navy vest would be scooted off to the side, leaving him down to his plain blouse-like shirt beneath. While he couldn’t entirely change, being able to remove some of the filthy clothing made him feel just the slightest bit better. The final action before resting himself upon his bedding, was to retie his considerable length of hair, removing it out of the halfling’s way.

As Zephriel would glance back their way before removing herself for a much needed bath, she’d catch a glimpse of the tiefling as he finally settled, more or less collapsing upon his bed. He didn’t care too much about the filth at this point, too exhausted; there were spare linens in the closet that he’d change them out for later. Eyes having shut for a brief moment, his bronze glaze flicked over her form for a moment, giving a slight nod for her to care to herself, he’d be fine. Once she was gone, he murmured to Flynyas that he was ready if he was, resting his aching head in the soft embrace of the pillow.

A soft snort shook Anziium’s shoulders at the comment, he rolling his eyes behind his closed lids. "I might not be a physician, but I do know a thing or two about buttered words; you're a horrific liar." It wasn’t as though he were pointing out his flaws, but much rather making light conversation to break the potential frost that occurred from the hallway bickering. As he remained still through the initial inspection, he would turn his head just slightly at the strange chittering that sounded through the room. He’d land his gaze upon Patricia as she scurried about with the medical bag before extending a friendly hand from the side of the bed. “The red squirrel, companion animal or familiar of yours, I assume?” Regardless as to whether she came over to inspect his hand, he was still rather amused by its presence.

Attention withdrawn from the squirrel, Anziium would sit up just enough to take possession of the bottle offered to him. Of course, as with any other curious creature, he’d briefly pass the bottle under his nose for a whiff. And it was awful, just as he figured it to be. There wouldn’t be much complain from him though, he propping himself up with his elbow to take the recommended dosage now. A faint gag sounded from him as he forced himself to swallow, recapping the bottle so that it might be set upon the floor for later. “Well, that certainly wasn’t a lie about the concoction being bitter--” Nose still snarled up a bit, he reclined back down into the pillow.

He’d settle back down soon though, wishing for Flynyas to continue with whatever treatment he had in mind. It wasn’t as though he’d reject a helping, healing hand like some people. Not in the least bit bothered with the light contact required for the spell, he’d breathe out a soft sigh of relief as the incantation worked itself within his body, quite literally helping to relieve him of the poison that zapped any strength he had. Thankful for what he could do for the toxin and wound, Anziium aided him by sweeping his length of hair from the site of the bite so it wouldn't be in his way. As he did such, the sight of rather violent scarring leading form halfway up the nape of his neck spanned up into his hairline. It didn’t appear as though it bothered him, but one would be surprised, considering how awful it looked.

“I'd like to thank you for the already multiple occasions you've put forth the effort to help the crew and myself. I won't lie to myself and say that we had greater chances of survival, because we certainly didn't. To be frank, I hadn't the slightest idea what danger I was in in that cavern; I was completely without the slightest clue as to what was happening. Thank you for retrieving me."

Nobody_314 Juju

 

[Nobody_314]

Flynyas​

Flynny was mildly surprised that Zephriel willingly took the medicine and left the room without any other reassurance. Given the sudden whale experience he had subjected her too, it would not have surprised him for her to not be ready to trust him readily. A pleasant surprise nonetheless.

"You are quite perceptive. Over the years I have found it more beneficial for a patient to hear good news they suspect may be a lie rather than bad news that you know to be true."

"Oh, that is Patricia. She is a long time friend of mine and is of this plane, not a summon."
He gave a nod her way and thanked her for the bag. She was likely confused by the recent and very rapid course of events, but he would fill in the details this evening once everyone was settled. She would offer a knowing glance towards Anziium's outstretched hand, aware of its purpose but not following through with her end of the interaction. Instead she slowly took to taking a stroll around the room, in a way that could almost seem like she was casing the place.
Flynyas noticed his attempt at friendly contact as well.
"Do not be too discouraged, she is fairly reserved around others she does not know. Very slow to trust, and frankly, you likely remind her of a past travelling companion she did not get along with."
In a sense as if she understood word for word what was spoken, Patricia uttered a sharp chitter as she was exploring the many strewn books in the room.
"Patricia, there is no reason to call someone that when you have just met them!"
A tail flick was all that was all she communicated in return.

He could not help but let out a chuckle when Anziium struggled with the heaviest dose of the antitoxin.
"Indeed it is, and the next few days of taking a morning dosage will not taste any better. Just not something you can get used to. I have tried mint, honey, and even straight sugar to make it go down easier.... but nothing really manages to overpower that fungus. So I just decided better to just leave it as is."

When cleaning the wound, he did not question the scarring on Anziium's neck. It was not part of this wound, and did not seem to be causing any immediate harm, thus he was in no position to do so. Whatever had caused it did not seem pleasant.
"No need to thank me truly. I couldn't just leave you in there to be fed upon by... whatever those were. Whatever was happening in there was not natural, I could not stand by idly. As for escaping the place entirely, that was a joint effort. We all had that goal in mind, it was not just my idea."
He produced another flask from the bag along with a roll of clean white cloth. Pouring clear liquid from the flask on the cloth, he gave a warning before wrapping it around his patient's neck, however the sharp smell of distilled spirits likely was enough of a warning in itself.
"Since I need to make sure that does not get infected, this is going to sting."

He had treated the poison best he could for the time being, along with managing the neck wound so that it may begin healing as well. It seemed to have gone well, but only time would tell if the toxin had any lasting effects on the young Tiefling's health.
"In all seriousness, you had it pretty rough. I think you will be fine though, medicine, magic, and rest should do the trick. You just need to be sure not to strain yourself, which means no fistfights with the helpful stowaway-" He teased as he searched the bag for supplies he would need to treat Zeph upon her return.

 

[Juju]

Zephriel

Interaction: sheppard TheCrowKing | Mention: bonesbo Nobody_314​

Just as Zephriel turned to leave, she caught the warm amber of Anzi's gaze and the subtle hint it carried. Take care of yourself. She blinked and quickly turned her eyes away. Suddenly eager to be out of the room, she continued down the hall.

It was strange, she had been awful to him before they had even set foot on the sands of Infinite, and she suspected the distaste was mutual. Yet despite all of that he had not hesitated to help her, even risk his safety in face of a warlock. He could have got his revenge in that bubbling needle, something anyone might have done for no reason other than survival, yet even then he held back any previous spite. Would she have done the same in his shoes? Somehow the grime and muck felt heavier, running deeper below the skin. It was guilt.

It suddenly occurred to her that she had not properly thanked him either. After he is treated perhaps, she noted to herself.

To her side she heard Nostarion talking to Beaux through his door. She quickened her steps. As much trust as she had gained with Anziium, she had lost from Beaux. No matter how her crew may disagree, or perhaps try to rationalize it, they hadn't seen those eyes burning like brimstone in the thick, greasy smoke. Even on the deck, he had bared those primitive teeth, threatened her life once more. She hoped it was hollow, yet she couldn't help but imagine Beaux rushing out of his room right now, bubbling vial of poison in hand.

Already on edge, it was all too easy for Nostarion's little 'stunt' to spook her. Zephriel flinched back and gave an embarrassing 'EEP' when the new captain introduced their face to the wall. Zephriel glared at them, face red and fist clenching the packet of medicine in a deathgrip, "You moron! What were you thinking!?"

She paused only long enough to hear their meek apology, which only made her frown, "No, do not suppose to give me that! Do you understand how dangerous such a-"

With a poof the captain was gone, leaving a fuming seraphi behind. "The nerve! UGH! Magicians are all the same! Hmphm, think they are quite simply invincible because they have fancy parlor tricks! The stairs work just fine! But no! They must teleport!"

===​

The rest of the way to the bathroom was filled with similar broody mutterings. She closed and locked the door behind her and was glad to shut out the rest of the ship. Her shoulders sagged, her eyes closed, and she hugged her broken wing like a child might cling to a stuffed animal. The other wings curled around her too, making her look even smaller and frail than she was.

Against one of the walls was the mirror, clean and daunting. There was a lot of things Zephriel expected to see when she peered into that mirror, but what looked back at her was borderline unrecognizable. The delicate vitality of her face had been replaced with a sallow complexion. Shadows gathered under her eyes, mud and blood on her cheeks. Her lips were cracked and stained with a vile purple. The soft curls of hair, once a glorious mane of pink, had become the pelt of a stray cat. Her fingers caught in the mats, pulling out chunks of dust and moss. As horrible as it was, it didn't bother her nearly as much as the state of her wings.

Threadbare and rotting in places, the feathers of her wings were clotted together from months of dust, mildew, and whatever hellish creatures dwelled in the caves. Some had patches and holes in them, fodder to the same bugs that gorged on books. The smallest pair of wings, the ones fitted just under her shoulders, fared the best. The ones that had sustained the most were her primary, sprouting from the small of her back. The left was broken, though you could hardly tell by the state of the right. The long, flowing 'tail' wings were mostly a clotted, tangled mess. She promised herself not to cry, so she quickly entered the shower before she broke it.

===​

In the end the shower was longer than she intended and shorter than she would have liked. Even after a wash she still felt a sickly corruption, as if Infinite had somehow slunk into her flesh. Fortunately, the skin above did not seem to have sustained any serious injuries. She had several cuts, scrapes, and bruises, but they were nothing too bad. Zephriel took the familiar medicine and quickly stopped by her room to change into a clean dress. Then she made her way back to the temporary ward, making sure to knock before entry.

 

[TheCrowKing]

Anziium
Interaction: Nobody_314
Mention: Juju sheppard ​

There were no hard feelings as Patricia chose to keep her distance, none whatsoever. It was understandable that he was a stranger she wasn’t too certain about. Though, regardless of her distaste for him, Anziium would entertain himself by watching the creature scurry about and survey his lodgings. He didn’t figure there was much there that she’d find of interest, it merely a few texts over a variety civilization, journals, things of that sort. Now, if she could read, that would be a different study. “It’s quite alright. Interesting creature, none the less.” An amused chuckle had sounded from him as he had laid back within the comfort of the pillow. “Pity I come across in such a way to her, then. It sounds as though the travelling companion wasn’t her favorite person.” What someone could do to permanently gain mistrust in a squirrel, he was uncertain. Obviously enough to linger in her memory.

With the medicine choked down, the tiefling would allow the halfling to continue his work, catching bits of the conversation between the soft cotton of the pillow that cradled his head. “Helping me wasn’t of any gain to you, but rather a choice meaning you actually spent a moment to decide to do such. There was a chance you’d choose not to, but you did regardless of what lie in that cavern. So, I suppose I’m thanking you for deciding to stay.” He murmured, a yawn pushing its way from between his lips, the exhaustion of the events of Infinite catching up with him.

Anziium would go silent once more, only giving a minor grumble of acknowledgement at the incoming stinging of the wound. He wouldn’t complain or whine and try and get out of it, only show his displeasure in a wince and irritated swish of his tail. “Mmm-!” He huffed at the initial contact, tense until the stinging would fade out as the cloth continued to be wrapped around his neck. After the final touch up, he’d come up from his position upon the bed, gingerly running his fingers over the bandaging that encircled his neck. Hopefully. there wouldn’t be need for anything further than this in the future.

Knowing that when Zephriel returned, she would throw a fit at the soiled sheets he had laid upon, Anziium would migrate to the closet that held the spares, taking down a set for their medic to tend to. Back turned to Flynny as he did such, his expression turned a bit sheepish at the mention of his behavior towards the stowaway. What he had said was childish in the moment, but held a bit of truth to it. A hefty sigh would leave him as he selected the new sheets, shutting the closet and turning back to him. “Their offer to...help….was extended at the wrong time. And because of such, I lost my temper, which, given the cirumstance we just escaped from, are fairly justified.” A bit disgruntled with the topic, he had to remind himself the comment was in jest and shouldn’t be taken to heart. At least not right now.

~~​

With the minutes ticking away as they waited for Zephriel to return, Anziium had removed himself from the bedding in prepartion of her arrival. Moving to rest at the desk, he rest his head atop his arms as he dozed, aware enough to hear the gentle knock, but tired enough to figure Flynyas would get it.

 

[Nobody_314]

Patricia​

So much material... she will pick some favorites and remember this for later. It would be a cake-walk to retrieve them while the patient rested that night.

Flynyas​

Flynyas eyed Patricia as she made her rounds through the piles of books, knowing good and well her intentions were not mere curiosity.
"Yes.... interesting indeed. But as for the travelling companion, several threats of roasting her on the campfire spit was not well received. Not to say that it wasn't necessarily deserved at times."
A tail flick from Patricia, her back turned to the conversation, could almost suggest she understood the comment.

Upon receiving the sheets, Flynny discarded the dirtied linens from the bed. In placing the new fresh sheets, they were more so just laid over the bed surface, not neatly tucked in any way. The concept of making a bed was all but foreign to him.
"I agree, but until we can discern their true origin and agenda, it would be best not to anger them. They obviously possess some magical prowess given their chosen means of movement, who knows what else they can do. For now however, they only seem to want to help. Best to use the period of peace to better lock down their nature."

When Zeph knocked at the door, he had finished preparations for her treatment. With no major lasting ailments, physical medicines were not so much necessary. In order to fix her broken wings, he would rely on magical remedy.

"Please feel free to come in!" He called out, before casting a mischievous look to Anziium. "Don't worry, I convinced Anziium to make himself decent before you showed up. For some reason he was quite opposed."

 

[Juju]

Zephriel

Interaction: TheCrowKing Nobody_314
​

Zephriel's hair and wings were still wet when she opened the door. She seemed to be in a slightly better mood too, or least until Flynn tried his hand at a jest. Zephriel blinked in utter surprise, tilting her pink head with a frown. "Hmm? What do you mean he was opposed?"

That was very strange. Why on earth would Anziium do that? He seemed to be half asleep as far as she could tell. It must be due to the wounds or treatment. A possible side effect perhaps? Did that little imp try to use a half-baked spell? Was he even healing the wound properly? She realized she knew very little about this half-man, aside from how he turned her into a whale.

A cross look painted her face as she approached, towering over Flynnas. She crossed her arms. "Are you using a standard method of treatment? Come to think of it, I have no idea if you are even qualified for this. Were you recognized by any official schools of mending, anatomical or apothecary arts? Do your kind even have such institutions?! I do not suppose your use of folk remedies supports such a theory..."

While waiting for an answer, she promptly inspected the makeshift medical ward, noting the change of sheets. She seemed satisfied with that, or at least, tolerable of it as she did not comment on it. Anziium was a different story. "Why is he sat here? Should he not be resting? Anziium go to a bed and sleep, you fool!"

She moved closer to him and squinted at the wrappings around his neck. The pungent smell of cleansing alcohol wafted from the bandages, even at a distance. At least the gnome had sense to sanitize the wound and its dressing. Beyond that, however, she really had no choice but to rely on the word of Flynnas... and place faith in his healing methods. The nearest healer was miles upon miles away.

With a sigh she picked up a book resting on the desk, careful not to move her broken wing too much. "And this room is an absolute disgrace. If we are to use it as a temporary infirmary it will need tidying... and that is not to mentioning the lack of any proper organization of books. The Grand Librarian would die from shock alone if he saw the state of this private collection!"

She turned turned over the book in her hand, not recognizing the title or author from anywhere in the Solrashi library. That would make things much more difficult, but she couldn't stand the current sorting method. Carefully, she brought it over to the bookshelf and tried to make sense of whatever outdated pseudo-sorting method was in use.

 

[bonesbo]

BEAUX

Beaux sat against the wall of his workshop, staring exactly nowhere but into space. He pulled down his spare goggles (he'll have to find or make better ones to replace the pair he lost down in the cavern) to look over at the sporadic sketchings on his chalkboard, spiraling around a centered picture of an arm prosthetic. He's made prosthetics akin to this before but never has he had to... Execute...

He placed his hand over the joint that used to be his elbow, wincing at the immediate sensation of pressure on such broken nerve endings before more of less all pain went numb once again. He blinked back tears then rested his head against the wall. Lights of the lanterns flickered and danced shadows across the tall ceiling. The sounds of the engine purring and cranking filled his mind as the ceiling grew further and further away from him.

Closing his eyes quickly to stop the panic from creeping in, exhaustion waved over instead, salted tears escaping anyways.

What the ever loving hell was going on.... What even is he doing here...

 

[TheCrowKing]

Anziium
Juju Nobody_314 ​

While it might have been within his best interests to take the advice given in regards to Nostarion, quite frankly, Anziium didn’t care at the particular moment. He had meant what he had said about his disbelief in ‘fate’ guiding them here. If anything, they should be counting their blessings that the ship had been there for them to take refugee, least they had joined Infinite’s ranks. Bronze eyes rolling beneath his heavy lids, he ushered a huff before lulled by the rocking of the waves against the ship.

Unfortunately for Anziium, even the pull of sleep wasn’t enough to muffle Zephriel’s delightful entrance. One eye would slowly crank open as she continued, merely watching as she chose to yet again to be difficult. At the very least, she seems to feel better after bathing. Picking his tired head from the cushioning of his arms, Anzii come to rest his chin upon his palm. “I most certainly would like to find comfort in my own bed, but it is currently open for the continuation of treatments. In short, I’m waiting for you to hurry and get treated so that I can sleep.”

A faint frown would crease the tiefling’s features as she instead took to rearranging his lodging to her standards, completely ignoring the real reason she was here. With a sigh, the diplomat would stand so that he could find his place beside her, a hand gently, but firmly stopping her from continuing her sorting. “Zephriel, you have no room to be especially particular about your medical treatment. Sorting my belongings will most certainly not heal your wings, I can guarantee you. Now, if you will be so kind as to sit down and allow Flynyas to heal you, we can both get some much needed rest-” Removing the unmarked booklet from her grasp, he very specifically put such work upon his desk before gesturing for her to sit on the open bed.

 

[Nobody_314]

Flynyas​

Mildly disappointed that his jest did not take hold, Flynyas merely moved on to the next. The individual before him was most definitely a scholar, and Flynyas was about as far from a scholar as you could get. He had almost never even touched a book in his life, and certainly never taken the time to learn to read one. The one thing he did know about a scholar though, is oh are they so much fun to annoy.

He furrowed his brow and looked whimsically over Zephriel's shoulder.
"Medical... Schools..? Such a thing exists? I have never even heard of such, but what a splendid idea that would be! The world needs more people knowledgeable in the ways of medicine!"
He finished the last two statements with a wide grin of feigned wonder and excitement, before adopting a more serious expression.

"But no, it is important that you trust in my capabilities, especially if we are to encounter more difficulties during this expedition. I have not been to any school of medicine, and have not undergone any official training. However, I do know what I am doing. Through extensive self study and practice, I have acquired an extensive grasp on various physical and magical means to cure diseases, remove toxins, and mend physical damage to the body. I am no wizard, but I can channel the energy of nature that drives life around us. This being the cycle of life..."

He outstretches his left hand, and within but a few seconds the bud of a flower formed in his palm. It grew in size until blooming in to a white lily (Druidcraft).
"...alongside that of death..."
The flower was then consumed by flames erupting from his palm, which he dispelled by closing his fist (Produce Flame). He opened his hand once more to allow the remaining pinch of ash to disperse off of it.

"I was able to properly treat the toxin in Anziium's body, and am more than capable of fixing a broken wing."
He then turned away, making his way over to the fresh bed.

"As for the state of this makeshift ward, Anziium has quite generously offered his bed to you for treatment, as no proper ward yet exists on this ship. I will see to that eventually, but for now, this will suffice. Anziium has plenty of time to rest, and will be able to do so properly once I get your wing patched up."

Seeing her dismay at the state of the books scattered throughout the room, Flynny's memory was jogged to the time he and Anziium had retrieved before. He had removed it from his person and set it beside his satchel, on the floor next to the bed.
"Oh, and before my 'uneducated' mind forgets once more, I do believe Anziium mentioned that tome over there is quite important to you? I must say that, given my stature compared to its size, it was no light burden for me to tote it out of that place."

Not needing supplies for a physical remedy for the treatment he had planned, there was little prep work necessary and Flynyas was ready to begin.

"Whenever you have satisfied yourself with altering the condition of the room, I am ready to begin. Please lay down on the far side of the bed, back towards me so that I can extend the broken wing out."

 

[Juju]

Zephriel

Interaction: TheCrowKing Nobody_314​

Zephriel snorted indignantly, her back still to Anzium,"If it really came to it, my own chambers would be just as suitable."

She eagerly fell into the bicker, diverting her words away from the real truth: she was avoiding the treatment. If any of the crew had less than half the cultural customs of a seraphi they would know that touching another's wings was taboo, unless you were family or very close. This little hobgoblin was neither of those. A seraphi's wings were believed to be a gift from the suns, where one's soul made manifest. To have her own in shambles was one thing, but to be unable to treat it with a seraphi healer or family? Saying it was embarrassing on a spiritual level was putting it lightly.

When Anziium stopped her sorting she paused and looked at him, surprised to see him up and feeling a rush of anger that she made him he had forced himself in such a sorry state. She gave him a lukewarm look and sighed heavily, defeated even. "Fine, I shall refrain from ordering this chaos, but I insist that you clean up this place. Your ordering system is a disgrace at best. I pity the books."

Her eyes shifted to Flynn, clicking her tongue in unsurprised disappointment to hear that he had not received any official training. Of course, she should have expected nothing more from a member of the the more 'primitive' races. If she looked sour, it didn't last for long. Instantly, her expression and pose changed when Flynn mentioned a tome. Could it be? It wasn't lost afterall? She rushed over to it and lifted it, feeling the familiar weight. It came alive at her touch, the twirling locks giving way and the pages fluttering open without prompt. It opened to a page with a list of names, though Zephriel shut it not long after, seeming relieved.

"Important!? This tome is one o-... it's very important for my duty as librarian and scholar to keep it safe. To think that it was lost at the bottom of the sea..." She glanced almost sheepishly at the not-so-hob-goblin, "I.. I cannot thank you enough. On behalf of myself, the Great Sol'Rashi Library, and Grand Librarian, you have our greatest gratitude."

"...I guess the least I can do is cooperate..." she said stiffly, placing down the Infinity Tomb. Dutifully, she lay down on the bed as instructed without any further complaint. However, she did not look so pleased. She picked a blank part of the wall and stared at it, biting her lip nervously.

 

[sheppard]

NOSTARION

It took a moment for Nostarion to get their bearings in the kitchen. They had of course explored, went through, and documented almost everything on this ship out of boredom, but it didn't quite compare to the stress they felt that tensions were up in the ship. Everyone returning probably had a huge appetite for not eating for however long they weren't able to eat anything substantial or maybe like Beaux and Zephriel, they lost their appetite through tossed bile. Nostarion paused with their hand upon a skillet, a shiver running down their spine. Ergwh. They didn't want to imagine what went on to cause such horror and discomfort beneath the island.

Whilst paused, Nostarion pondered. They actually didn't know what everyone preferred to eat. Or what they could eat. Did Beaux have certain restrictions that didn't overlap with the short one - Flynyas was his name? Zephriel seemed like she would be very restrictive about what she ate - but what would she be willing to eat??

Nostarion gave a small sigh and shake of the head. They turned the heat for the skillet on and rummaged throughout the storage closet to find whatever remained in the food boxes that would be somewhat edible and enjoyable for most of the party. Nostarion recalled a portion of salted and sealed meats in the other closet and retrieved a batch of such. Soon, with oil poured and high sizzling, a smell of cooking would be wafted from the kitchen down the hall. While the meat sat cooking, Nostarion began to gather some dried ingredients into a batch of flat sweet breads to cook on a separate grill ware. The combination of sweet and salty steam and smoke billowed from one of multiple steam vents to one of the ventilator towers along the back of the ship. They ended up opening the two port hole windows the small two inch allotment that they were able to open, so the heat or smell didn't overwhelm this floor, especially if someone wasn't in favor other either foods they were making.

They carried on, humming softly to themself as they moved about and prepared several plates to bring to respective rooms for when everything was finished cooking. ​

 

[Nobody_314]

Flynyas
​

Everyone knows the feeling: You are in an argument, your blood is up, and you are on the edge of your seat with the next spicy comeback. Flynny was ready to go, ready to meet the doubting bird-woman word for word with each doubt she had for the procedure. But then she thanked him... very heartfelt thanks at that. Totally derailed from the way he thought this conversation was going, he did not know what to say in return to the sudden tonal shift. He stood there for a few seconds before snapping back to his senses.

"Oh.... well it was not that big of a deal really... I am glad I was able to get it out of there if it is that important."

As Zeph climbed on to Anziiums bed, Flynyas sensed something else in her demeanor. This was not begrudging acceptance... there was something more. He had never seen, and certainly never treated, any of this race before. However, he was very familiar with a scared patient. A Tiefling is particular about any modifications to their horns, and a Dwarf would sooner die then let you shave his beard to treat a jaw wound. It did not take much to infer that Zephriel's wings held some personal significance outside of just flight granting appendages.

"You know, I don't need to touch your wings if you would rather I not. The treatment I plan to use for these injuries is purely magic in nature. Just a few broken bones, scrapes, and burns is fairly easy. I know it will hurt, but just do your best to extend them and reveal as much surface as possible for the light to touch. Once the spell takes hold, the pain will cease."

After allowing her a few moments to get her wings stretched out as far as injury would allow, he began the casting. He traced his left hand in the air while speaking in a tongue no one in the room understood. The ring glowed a deep green as it left behind a trail where his hand drew. In just a few seconds, an intricate symbol was formed. The symbol floated up, transitioning from vertical in front of the bed to horizontal a few feet above Zephriel. With a snap of his left hand, the ring flashed yellow and simultaneously the symbol did as well. The symbol spun and coalesced in to a small bright yellow orb about the size of an apple, and it cast a bright light on to Zephriel's outstretched wings.

At this moment, the pain in her wings would vanish. Replaced in its stead would be that tingly feeling you get when you lay on an arm or leg for too long. With many of the feathers burned away or otherwise missing, you could see the framework of bones shifting under the light: fragmented pieces under the skin moving back to their proper positions and fusing together. Not just this, but the surface scrapes and cuts closed over and healed as well, before finally being covered again as new feathers grew in to replace that which were lost or damaged. Those of which that were missing simply fell off and rested on the bed or drifted to the floor with the rocking of the ship. When a minute passed, the spell was complete, and the light faded until it had vanished completely (Healing Spirit).

"There ya' go! Good as new! They will likely be stiff and tender for the next few days, and I would not recommend attempting any flying for at least a week to make sure there are no lingering complications that surface dozens of feet above ground or sea."
He would offer a hand to help her off the bed, along with a kind smile.
"If you discover any other ailments that were not noticed before, come let me know."

He gathered up his bag and beckoned Patricia away from the piles of books, before taking his leave.
"Now! Off to rest for you two!"
A solid three seconds passed after he left the room, before he popped his head back in.
"Where is my room?"

 

[TheCrowKing]

Anziium
Juju Nobody_314
​

There certainly was no arguing with this woman, the tiefling ready to exhale a worn sigh as she came to express her grief over his space. Really, truthfully, he hadn’t the strength left to argue as to whether he was an individual of lower ilk at the moment when she desperately needed herself tended to. As he placed the unmarked text upon the desk, he gave a gentle shake of his head before turning around to face the two guests in his chambers. “You needn’t worry about my space. I can guarantee that despite organizational appearances, each text is well loved and cared for. Now…” Whereas he expected to meet further resistance, the Seraphi woman would finally agree to the healing of her broken wings, thoroughly surprising the diplomat, given Zephriel Starwind was...well….a stubborn young woman.

“If I had any granule of distrust towards the man, he would not be within my personal space, nor would I have allowed him to treat my wounds. As Flynyas and I had discussed while you were away, he did go out of his own way to aid our crew when we very much so needed it. The very least we can do is act like the civil individuals we are and not be casting suspicion his way; if he does have any foul motives, I am very much so blinded by his courteous gestures and will suffer from such if I am, in fact, incorrect about my intuition.”

With this tidbit of reassurance and touch of remembrance to mind her manners, Anziium took this moment to gently examine the very book they had rescued from the moldy caverns of Infinite. Body finding itself resting against the opposite side wall, he trailed his fingers over the outer exterior of the text. While he had never seen or heard of such a thing, his interest was piqued as to its purpose and sentiment to the Seraphi. “At the very least, recovering it does not seem to have been a waste.” It was nothing more than a soft murmur to himself as he tapped a pointed nail atop the sealed locking mechanism. Obviously, he couldn’t pry into its contents even if he so wished to, but the remembrance of it being a pocked book of Zephriel’s that Caywood had used to lure them on the island had Anziium’s dark brows knotting. A moment of self annoyance overtook him before he decided it best if he were to not touch her belongings again.

His bronze gaze lifted as the healing process came to an end, not having looked her way during the session as to give her a sense of privacy, even if it were his own quarters. One glance at Zephriel’s wings and it was quite obvious the treatment had went well, the bone structure set properly and new feathers taking the place of the ragged ones. It couldn’t be helped, a faint smirk of satisfaction lining his lips as she stood from the bedding; he was happy for her.

“Zephriel-” Anziium extended the Infinity Tomb, it resting in his hands for her to take back into her possession as she left. Attention drawn back to Flynyas, he nodded at the offer of further medical needs, doing a double take as he burst back inside. “Ah, I do believe there is an open room across the corridor, actually.” Gesturing behind Flynny, there would be another doorway leading to a bedroom, one of which just so happened to be labeled with the halfling’s name. Tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, Anziium offered a shrug. “I suppose you were who you claimed to be and were apart of the crew for this journey from the beginning. In that case, the space might need a thorough dusting tomorrow, but for now, good night.” Glancing at Zephriel, he inclined his head as she stepped into the hallway as well, looking as though he might wish to say something else. “Goodnight, Zephriel. Rest well-” Nodding once, brow furrowed, Anziium would retreat back into his bedroom. As the hours passed late into the night, the tiefling would find himself back at his work desk, quill in hand and eventually, a familiar in lap.

 

[Juju]

Zephriel

Interaction: TheCrowKing Nobody_314​

"Treatment without touching my wings is... preferable." Zeph said stiffly, keeping her eyes forward. She chewed on her lip and furrowed her brows, knowing full well that it would hurt to extend her wings, but knew that it had to be done to set the bones in their proper place.

Slowly, she unfurled her wings. She flinched, contracting them back after a sudden, sharp pain, but grit her teeth and forced them to stretch out. They trembled from it, and Zeph had to try her hardest to hold back a whimper, but thankfully the spell caught hold in a flash of soft yellow light. In that moment the pain subsided and her wing went numb, save for a faint tingling. All at once it was as if a great, heavy weight had been lifted. Her shoulders relaxed a bit, and although she was not entirely happy about the situation, she was at least no longer in pain.

Inspecting the Infinity Tomb

While the seraphi waited patiently for the spell to complete, the Infinity Tomb lay silent and motionless on the table. As Anzii inspected it he would easily notice the large, red-orange gemstone embedded into the center of the cover. It was rounded and convex, easily catching the light whenever it moved. It was opaque with a unique sheen to it that made the light collect in a thin line all the way down the center, like a cat's eye. No matter where you turned it, that slit always was towards the viewer. A simple optical illusion, though one that made it look much like an eye following them.

His fingers trailed along the dull gold casing around the corners, the elaborate features worn and made almost a bronze color by age. Symbols were etched into the grey leather around the large eye-like gem, accented by more bronze-gold. Other, much smaller gems, dotted the book's corners and spine, but none of the same color or mineral as the one on the cover. The lock was a twisting mechanism that seemed to meld into the rest of the gold, yet did not appear to have any sort of key opening. Upon closer inspection there were tiny engravings of chains upon the mechanism.

Finally, the spell was complete and Zephriel was eager to inspect her renewed wings. She sat up and flared out all six of her wings, slowly stretching and flapping them like a baby bird before its first flight. They were still tender, as Flynn was quick to explain, but she didn't really care. A happy, genuine smile crept on her face as she saw the health of her wings restored. A seraphi who could not fly was a cursed thing indeed, and there were no words for Zephriel to describe the sheer relief to know that she could return to the sky again. She folded her wings back, sitting them neatly behind her.

"Of course, I will take no chances until I am absolutely sure my strength has returned in full." Zeph said, regaining her composure and quickly shifting back into her usual no-nonsense expression and tone. She glanced at Flynn's offered hand, seemed to consider it for a moment, then took up the offer and allowed him to help her stand up. For a moment she looked rather awkward, unsure of what to say, but was snapped back into attention when she was told to report any unusual or unknown ailments. Zeph looked away, at the ground."Y-yes of course. You will be notified immediately should I experience any further issues... ah... and thank you, Flynnas."

Zeph waited until he had left before turning to the bed and began to silently collect the damaged feathers that had fallen from her wounded wings. What a disgraceful mess! How embarrassing! She had to clean them up immediately. It made her flinch whenever Flynn popped his head back in, but thankfully Anzi took care of it. She finished gathering up her shed feathers and promptly began to leave the room, eager to dispose of them properly, when she was stopped by Anziium.

A surprised look passed over her face when he held out the Infinity Tomb to her, realizing that in her rush to leave she had almost left it. She blinked and took it silently, feeling the familiar heaviness of it. Since Flynn was in the doorway, she waited until the conversation wrapped up before she exited. It would seem that Anziium had stepped out as well, and she turned to him, realizing he looked like he wanted to say something. It had better not be a comment on the feathers, she thought with a small rush of dread.

In the end it was a simple, yet pleasant goodnight. Zephriel's eyes widened slightly before narrowing to match her scolding tone, "You're the one who needs to rest well, instead of standing out here!" she paused then added, a little more softly and gave him a side glance, "But, ah...you have a good night as well."

Then they parted ways. Zeph closed the door to her chambers and placed her discarded feathers into a bowl along with a sweet smelling powder. She opened the window at the far corner of her room and set the bowl beside it. She then lit a match, said some words, and dropped it in with the feathers. They began to smoulder, the smoke rising out the window. She watched the tendrils rise for a time, before the exhaustion caught up and she surrendered into the softness of her bed. When she awoke they would be nothing but ash and a memory.

 

[bonesbo]

TIME CHECK: Day 129
Time: hour: 27:14. (Remember- 30 hour days. White sun sets at 16 (rises at 4), while red sun remains constant.)
Location: Midst of Escainian Reef
Destination: Outer port of the Escainian Reefs : Port of Rowrood.
Weather: Foggy. Cold. Red sun is high. A breeze coming by as the ship sails.

JOD & BEAUX

TheCrowKing Nobody_314 Caligena sheppard Juju

Mercury sails on. With navigational expertise and a constant running engine of steam and water, the crew mindlessly continue along their way to the next destination. Everyone has some healing to do, mentally, physically, spiritually, emotionally. Just on the first stop did our crew face terrible manipulation of the mind, and ill-fated harm and loss of life. This was not the right foot to start on. The world is filled with magic and love and excellence and splendor; only once one steps into the shadowed realms do they feel the change of temperature. Ghastly shadows are stark among the brightest of suns.

The crew finds themselves in unease. Our new unofficially appointed Captain, fearing and stressing for more than they let on, legs dangling from the edge of the crow's nest railing after an unsettling first impression. Our Fighter, absent of mind and flesh, most likely crushed and disposed of beneath the island where she lies to rust with those that pulled her strings. The Paladin, new and feathered, sits among family and friends in her home of Catawba, yet unaware of the journey she may embark on with strangers lest she doesn't kill them first. Our Diplomat, stirred by unsettling dreams, bleeding and sweating as he tangles painfully somewhere far from rest. Our Healer, tired and worried, sitting in an unfamiliar ship to assist in a new chapter of his life, unsure of the future to come. Our Chronicler, wrought by stress and guilt and pain, watching smoke gather before allowing her body to rest and heal after such trauma occupied her mind for months. Our Artisan, flooded with emotion that he drowns over and over again, feeling nothing but the frequency of numbness, pacing through the night as he wracks his mind away from the need of rest and recovery.

Mercury is guided by the magnificent ship head piercing through the frothing wine waters of the reef, brine splashing the hull and upon the deck as whistling winds disturb the night's peace. The fog is settled over the reef, thick and choking. Rotating lanterns and navigational sonars keep the ship clear of any more possible collisions. If anyone were to remain awake and peer ahead, they would see nothing through the blood fog but opacity; though, the figure perched on the tip of their mast head watches all with bitter sight, shuffling Its feathers to ward off the moisture as they unintentionally lead the ship through the thick fog.

Our Artisan paces back and forth, his feet raw from the exposure to chemicals and sharp rocks, but now growing further numb and deep and color from the anxiety drilling them to the metal flooring. Beaux rips the thing that was once a shirt off his body, muffling a cry as it pulled melded, scabbed, and melted flesh along with it. He clasped his right hand to his left shoulder, his eyes darting back and forth across his shop to try to convince himself one way or another, one way or another. With a groan of utter frustration and agony, he took one of his chests of random pipe connectors and endings, and was able to lift it from the desk perch and throw it to the wall, shattering the wood and scattering the pieces across the floor. The exertion left him in an instant, leaving him heaving breaths and staring at the mess. His eyes roamed the parts and pieces before darting to his large blackboard of newly drawn, smudged-in-rage, redrawn, erased, redrawn chalk schematics of a prosthetic for himself. Whether or not he could commit to the idea was where he lie. The umpteenth bought of rage sobered him for a moment, enough to grab one of his tattered cloaks and exit his workshop.

Beaux climbed the stairs of the ship, his good hand gripping the railing as Mercury swayed and groaned. He ventured through each of the floors's halls and rooms that were not private bedrooms. His mind not truly at peace but more akin to static. However, a sound from the bedrooms caught his attention, and he turned to venture there instead of aimlessly haunting the halls.

Near an hour later did Beaux exit the room of Anziium, feeling a different sort of empty within him. He still held a piece of charcoal in his hand from his example of a drawing, but he felt secured with a decision to not return to his workshop to drop of the piece until he was ready. The cloak that covered him fell from his scarred face as he went to the kitchen. Remainders of what meal Nostarion had prepared laid on the table. He picked a a few pieces of the cooled down meat and took one of the breads, nibbling gently. He removed his cloak and slightly winced as it brushed upon raw flesh. But without the cloak covering, he took the charcoal and drew a few rudimentary marks across skin that would support it.

His design for a prosthetic would be to remove part of his arm, just above his elbow, where it was past a point of recovery. The prosthetic would attach at the bicep and would continue up and cover the shoulder completely, with a wrap to the other shoulder and covering part of his clavicle. Of course, with all the additions of mobility and nerve-connection, the arm would be a bit bulkier than his natural one, but it would be better than a dead arm. Beaux marked where to cut. There no longer was a decision or morality poking his thoughts but the execution and get this over with. The benefits outweighed the pains. He would surely need to see their new healer once this was done but for now.... He... he needed help...

Beaux left his cloak in the kitchen and walked down the hall, hesitating his closed hand over one of the doors before going to the next without confidence. With hesitation, he knocked on Zephriel's door. He waited a moment; nothing. He knocked again a bit louder then entered a second later.

"Zephriel," He addressed her with a quiet voice. He stood across the room from her bed, clutching his hurt arm. This would be the first time she would see his wounds without any of him-trying-to-hide it. His left side of his face covered in a deep burn, which only worsened as it went down his arm, resulting in disfigurement and completely charred flesh and partially exposed knuckle bones. His figure was silhouetted in the dark room, only his face being illuminated by beams of redsun and moonlight coming through the porthole "Oi. Pinky. Ah need yer help... Please. Ah need ye te cut ma arm."

 

[TheCrowKing]

Anziium​

An audible sigh escaped the tiefling as he collapsed upon the cool bedding later that night, it sinking beneath his weight. After escaping that wretched freakshow and setting the ship far, far from it, the crew had had the chance to finally rest.Too many things had been seen and experienced. And judging by how they had escaped by the skin of their teeth, no one was as prepared as what they thought. Anziium had known that before he had accepted the invitation upon the journey, he knew this sort of thing would happen. A secondary sigh left him as he shut his bloodshot eyes, expression into one of great pain. He hated what had transpired on that island, a deepl-rooted sense of guilt telling him that maybe he could have done more with help of the halfing. Yet, he knew that given his own condition, it would have meant he’d have suffered the same fate as Magen and the rest of Infinte’s braindead; he most certainly would have had to be left behind. Nothing more could have been done. Well...there was one thing, and he’d do it as soon as possible. The tiefling knew it was to come, that he had made a mistake in coming here.

His resignation letter was already written up, lying neatly folded and addressed to the crew atop his desk. He’d flee the ship at the next port, leaving the crew with the goodbye in ink rather than face to face. There wasn’t ever a point in coming to begin with, not with how you are. Why stay and get attached to these people, only to watch them die? It nearly happened already...

For now though, he wished to rest, his body unreasonably sore with a throbbing headache brewing behind his eyes. His clothing was quite disgusting, yet there was no remaining strength in his arms or legs to change into something; One night in filthy clothing wouldn’t kill him. Biel had already curled up upon his stomach, falling asleep quickly under the soft brushing of his fingers against his slick flank as he ultimately caved to resummoning him, despite the obvious reasoning to rest more before exerting himself. Anziium’s expression flickered to one of remorse, sorry that he had brought the poor thing into this as well. No matter though, they’d be returning home, soon. Just a little longer and I’ll leave.

Willing sleep to come, he soon shut his eyes once more, breathing slowly and deeply. Yet, it didn’t quite seem that would be happening, as he had laid there for far more than a couple of minutes to no avail. This mind had made itself up, that he wouldn’t be gathering rest, but rather thinking of the unexplained visions that he had received while upon the island. That part ...that part had never been answered, without him speaking up about it. That figure, the train...that cave ...something about bits of that vision sparked a deep fear within him and he wasn’t sure why. It was familiar yet wasn’t at the same time, stressing him greatly. Something about it just prickled his skin, a poking in his brain that he couldn’t swat away. “Stop thinking about it. It wasn’t anything real. Something from that creature in the cavern.” He whispered to himself in the dark, staring above at the ceiling until it blurred at the edges. Finally, sleep had come. Or at least he had believed.

Now, left with Beaux’s parting words from their chat after he’d awoken from the nightmare, Anzi remained seated upon his bedroom flooring. He’d remain that way for several minutes, gaze distant as he tried to make sense and accept his words, but he didn’t quite find them to be true. Finally, after what seemed to be hours later, when in truth it had only been a few moments, he managed to find his feet. An exhausted glance around his lodging would leave him with a lost expression, not particularly knowing what to do now. He wouldn’t be returning to bed, not after that nightmare, despite how much he wanted to rest.

A few moments of mindless staring at the soiled bedding and he’d make his decision to remain awake and entertain himself with a much needed bath to rid himself of the sweat, dried blood, and filth from their excursion. His bedroom doorway would give way as he pushed it, he leaving it wide open without much worry anyone would be awake to venture inside. It didn't seem as though his crying out had awoken anyone, anyway. With Biel worriedly slinking around his feet, the tiefling would make his way to the bathroom closest to his bedroom, closing the door behind him so that he could look at himself in the mirror.

He looked wretched, hair slicked back from sweat and what water he found in his lodging to wash most of the crimson some it. Flecks still remained, peppering areas among his face he couldn't reach. It was then his gaze would land upon the bandaging, it too suffering from the affects of the nightmare. It got him wondering. He'd previously assumed these….visions
..were oddities arising due to his wounds, but with them tended to, he couldn't be sure. If that wasn't the case, was it his own mind making these things up, creating fantasy? His brows knotted, knowing if that were to be true, they would only plagues him once he left. Yet, if he spoke of it to anyone here before his departure, it would lead to him sounding crazed.

Uncertain what he should do, he simply disregarded it entirely, not wanting to think about the man in the visions or anything relating it. Instead, he'd begin the running of the bath, unaware of the conversation just down the corridor.

 

[Juju]

Zephriel

Interaction: bonesbo​

Exhausted from the month that had seemed to last no more than a few hours, Zephriel's sleep was both much needed and greatly welcomed. It had only been interrupted by Star's cooking, which considering she had not eaten a proper meal in months, was one of the best meals she could remember. As the midnight sun yawned across the sky the seraphi slept, her expression peaceful and relieved of her stresses for as long as she remained among the sleepers.

In the twilight, someone came to disrupt this peace. It began as a knock, slowly bringing her back to consciousness. Zeph blinked awake, rubbing an eye and squinting into the darkness. What time was it? She glanced out her still open window, seeing the position of the lower sun and its constellations. The ceramic bowl held nothing but cool ashes. The 27th hour, and long before the dawn.

Perhaps it wouldn't have been so bothersome had she not recognized that terrifying irritating voice. Zeph was jolted into immediate wakefulness, gripping her fingers into the lavish silken sheets. It was Him. She recalled quite clearly how he had threatened to kill her, twice. Once beneath the sea and once in the light of the elder sun. She also remembered that she had left her door unlocked since coming back from the kitchen. How had she been so careless? Had exhaustion really dulled her wit that much?

She didn't have time to scold herself further before Beaux entered the room. He said her name, standing just over the threshold and staring at her. In the moonshafts she swore the angle made his nocturnal eyes catch the reflection, like a cat's. Maybe her hypothesis was correct. Zeph sat up in her bed, clutching some of her blankets to her chest protectively, staring at the vague silhouette against her door. It occurred to her that he could likely see perfectly while her she could only make the best of the moon and lesser sun. She felt the throb of her heart in her ears, waiting.

Zeph wasn't quite sure what she was expecting, but it was anything but what he asked for. She wasn't quite sure if she was more relieved or baffled. "You need me to do what!?" she sputtered, narrowing her eyes at the limb in question. At first she had just thought it to be the crimson light of the sun, but now that she inspected it closer, the flesh was quite an off color.

"Beaux that is quite a brash dec-" She leaned over her bed to flick on a small crystalline lamp and gasped at the sight of his arm. It was in horrible condition, the skin peeled back to reveal melted and charred muscle. Were those the knuckle bones? Zeph brought a hand to her mouth, the horror in her eyes greater than that of her assumed-killer-Beaux. She also remembered how he got it. In a way, it was partially her fault. Even if it was out of self-defense, she couldn't shake the hatred in his eyes after he had fallen into the acid.

"No. No, Beaux this is insane. We do not have the proper equipment for a procedure such as that. Think of blood poisoning! The shock of a sudden drop in blood pressure! I-infection! Clots! You could very well die of blood loss if done improperly!" Her newly repaired wings fluffed up, her face paling. Already she could see that the flesh of his fingertips and other badly charred areas was dead, a danger in itself. The procedure was far too much of a risk though! How could they have survived Infinite just for another crew member to die from an impromptu medical procedure!

Zeph swung off her blankets and walked closer to Beaux, daring to inspect the arm even closer. She looked away for a moment, gathering her thoughts and steeling her gut before looking back. This was bad. The flesh was in horrible condition with very little hope of salvation. Quite possibly, infection was already taking hold. "Why did you not ask our healer? Why me?" she demanded, her voice sounding frail and faint yet her eyes still sharp.

She had read books on anatomy, attended corpse dissections, and repaired logbooks of long dead physicians, but never had she actually acted out such a procedure. There was no way she could do this! Any small mistake and he could die a very long and painful death.

 

[bonesbo]

BEAUX


Beaux stepped back as Zeph did forward. He put his hand out with an accompanying "shh-shhh..." He looked back over his shoulder and shut the door to her room as he heard movement down the hall.

"We have ah 'ealer?" He asked, confused. He shook his head and reset himself for the moment. "Just- Sh- Listen tae me! I need ye te cut et off. I knowe-" He sighed and shook his head, setting his good hand out again to prevent her from coming closer, "Ye ken the body. Ye ken anatomy. R-right?" For just a moment, he looked fearful, "This'll be they end ah me if Ah dinna git rid o' it. Ah ken howe tae do prosthetics an-" He hesitated again, eying her warily, "I ken the body. I jus' do. Ah ded amputations where Ah stayed. Butay cannae do et on ma own. Look." He gestured to the mark on his arm, about halfway through the bicep.

"E-ets all numb, anyways. They drugs... They acid," He shook his head, his expression truly pained at the moment as if he were to cry. "Ah canna use ma arm, Peink [[Pink but with an 'ay' sound instead of 'ih']]. Ma neurons ar sevred and ma mussle tisshue is diss'ahvlin by the hour. Ahm pretty sure there be at least 9 outay 32 bones broken. Humuerous being one ay them." Beaux took a shaky gasp and stepped back again. If he could cry tears, he would be doing that at the moment. However, his diction and body shaking were a substantial replacement.

"A- Ah have they tools i-in ma shop. If ye canna do it, I will myself... Ah canna help the clarty blood. Ahm already dyin', Peinky..."

Juju

 

[Juju]

ZephrielInteraction: TheCrowKing | Mention: Nobody_314

"Yes we have a healer!" Zeph said shrilly, her panic leaking through her voice until she was shushed by Beaux.

As Beaux went to close the door she bit her lip nervously and began to pinch the hem of her nightdress between her fingernails. Even if he was acting 'stable' right at this moment, she could only think about the deathly glint in his eye when he threatened her earlier. The way those horrible teeth glinted in the sun. They were nowhere to be seen, but could this be some sort of trap? It was possible, but if so this was a lot of acting beforehand. She was left uncertain, until he asked her about anatomy and her knowledge in the field. It wasn't for very long, but fear flickered in those abyssal eyes. At that moment she realized he was more afraid than she was.

His accent was hard to follow, but she was getting used to it by now. Seeing him wave her away at her approach, she kept her distance, not wanting to further push the delicate rope of sanity Beaux already seemed to tread on. She straightened her posture and tried to sound more sure than she felt. "You are correct, I am knowledgeable in vertebrate anatomy. I have done multiple animal dissections and attended educational autopsies on seven different humanoid species."

Zeph peered at the marked line, but couldn't help but glance at the ruin of his arm as he explained it in personal detail. As much as she disliked Beaux she would never wish for him to experience something such as that. It had only been a few hours since her own wings were made whole again, and that outcome had been a lucky one. Of course, she had already suspected everything that Beaux said, but to realize that he also knew the depth of the damage in such great detail... it was unsettling. He had always seemed oafish to her, if not for a spark of insane genius, but he was not lying when he said he knew anatomy.

The sudden nickname was even stranger, but she didn't have the luxury to acknowledge it right now. She could feel her feathers rising at the solidification of this dread, of the realization that this plan had to go forward. If she refused he would do it himself, and it didn't take an anatomist to understand what would happen if he went through with that desperate plan. Zeph wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly regretting opening that window. The lingering smell of ash, still delicate, now made her stomach sick.

Feathers ruffled softly as she pressed her wings tightly against her back, tense. "F.. Fine. Though if I do this I have one condition; you must allow Flynyas to see to your wounds. I will do my part to make a concise, clean cut but you have to let him stop the blood and purification. I do not care if you forbid him from overseeing the procedure, but you are seeing him afterwards. We did not make it out of Infinite just to die on the threshold."

 

[bonesbo]

DISASTER BEAUX

"Wh- Who be Flynyas...?" He murmured, shaking his head slightly. Zephriel assumedly begrudgingly told him once more and he gave a small nod. "Okay... Yull need tae fetch 'em. Ahll be unconscious. Ahll- instruct ye beforeh'and, then give ye they tools." Beaux clutched his hand to the back of his neck, taking another shaky breath. He dragged his fingers down his neck, and while he didn't have nails to scratch at his skin, he had pointed fingers, and ridged gills along his neck. He took another breath as he released his hand with a struggle; he needed something other than pain to focus on at the moment.

"Lets go. M'tired of waiting. Doen let meh die sooner than layter." He gave an unsure nod, eyes now roaming the floor with a dizzy composure. He turned and opened the door, though hesitated and put his hand on the frame as he lost his balance, a swell of a wave beneath the ship tossing his footing and causing more knots in his stomach. He made the physical shoulder tensing motion as if he was going to throw up once more, but he continued without doing so.

Beaux managed his way down the staircase to the workshop that resided alongside the engine base. Most likely, Zephriel would have not been down here. Upon arriving into the dark red-lit workshop (picture a Darkroom for pic development), condensation (and perspiration) would appear on her skin immediately from the sheer humidity of the churning steam engine directly next door. Beaux didn't seem to mind this. There was a chain to pull for the lights near the door, and if Zephriel were to pull this, Beaux would shield his eyes from the sudden light and pause to place the goggles over his eyes as he moved through the room.

The room was absolutely chaotic; it looked as if someone rampaged through here in complete madness and total panic and hysteria. Papers and tools and cloths and bolts and spare parts littered every single surface, though it was obvious that this was not the natural state. The workshop is a whole combination of mechanics and fabrication and engineering as well as chemical work and woodworking and needlecraft; parts and components and all mediums were supposed to be organized into masses of shelves and drawers and boxes that lined the room along the large workbenches and racks, not to mention the huge chalk board that spanned 3/4 walls. Somehow this workshop seemed to fit everything into the space of the bottom level of the ship, discounting the engine that functioned as part of the ceiling and wall. The chalkboard currently held massively incomprehensible scribbles (as if these two (A / B) images were combined into a singular handwritten language) that had been repeatedly erased, scratched out, wiped off, redrawn over the poorly-erased, overlapping writing. Long trails of what looked like chemical formulas and equations spanned an entire wall, while the writing encompassed another, and on the third were the drawn-on-chalk schematics for a new prosthetic arm and also pinned-to-the-board-drawn-on-paper final designs of the arm. Over to the side where chemicals boiled, evaporated and clarified among other verbs for alchemical situations, a vial of the purple acid sat in a holder, untouched, while the main focus was on a process of distillation for a clearish blue liquid dripping down into a beaker.

Beaux entered in, muttering to himself and swaying with the ship as he walked, ignoring any complaints Zephriel had to say about the mess. At this point he was entering into another state of hysteria again. He started rummaging through everything on the floor, on the counters, in the drawers to find what he needed. He grabbed several tools that looked very capable of dismembering and sawing, both of the electric and handheld variety. Beaux then shoved everything on a counter space further onto the floor, placed the tools on it, then went over to the bluish liquid in the beaker and swallowed the amount within in one gulp.

Beaux set the beaker down as he near faltered in his stance, "Bad 'deah..." He grumbled some cursed then blinked at Zephriel without a clear focus on her person, as there were about 3 of her at the moment. He could feel the numbness begin to instantly spread through his limbs once the solution entered his stomach and worked instantly to his bloodstream. "Jus... Ye need tae cuh' firs un..." He pulled his way back to the cleared counter top, gesturing loosely to the first tool on the left. He went down the line of tools, explaining in a heavily accented and slurring voice how to properly, and somehow still manage to be sophisticated in operation, surgically remove his arm. Eventually, it was evident that he could no longer stay conscious, as his body began to drip lower to the floor, his grip lost hold on the counter, his words turning into a new language that Zephriel had never heard, the vowels long and consonants sharp and clicking. His grip and eyes eventually fell before he collapsed onto the floor, completely in a state of extreme anesthesia.

Juju Nobody_314

 

[Juju]

Zephriel

Interaction: bonesbo Nobody_314​

Before leaving her room, Zeph quickly grabbed her Infinity Tomb. Beaux did not seem to notice or care, but even if he had, she would have made up some reassuring excuse. In truth, she brought it because it made her feel more capable of what she was about to do.

She followed Beaux as he stumbled through the halls, and more than once Zeph was sure he would collapse against a wall. She glanced nervously at the door to Flynyas's room, wondering if she should break from Beaux and contact him immediately, but already Beaux had entered his workshop. If he so much as changed his mind about the procedure all it would take was a turn of a lock and Zeph could not stop him. There was no way she could leave him like this unattended.

Zephriel squinted into the dark underbelly of the ship, feeling her way with clammy fingers. "Beaux slow down, I can hardly see in such lighting..."

Somehow it was worse after she found the light switch. The shadows fled to reveal a workshop in a state of utter disarray. Cabinets were open, their contents carelessly spread across the floor and tables. Zephriel clicked her tongue at the mess, but what made her hold it was the sight of the chalk boards. Every possible inch of the black surface was covered in a strange scrawling text, one in which she did not recognize in any of the 300 linguistic encyclopedias she had read in the library. Had she not known any better, she could almost say that the symbols seemed to repeat, though perhaps that was simply due to the way they seemed to have been erased and copied several times. The only thing she was certain of was that this was not a good sign.

She glanced at Beaux and did her best to hide the uneasy look pooling into her eyes. Her suspicion only grew when he became gripped by another crazed episode, muttering and shifting through the mess to collect several instruments. He even drank what looked to be a distilled solution made from the purple acid from Infinite. Zephriel carefully listened to Beaux's slurred instructions, but took a few steps back when his words began to drift into something else. Whatever language he was speaking, it was nothing recorded by hundreds of years worth of seraphi scholars. She glanced up at the chalkboards after his words faded into anesthesia, the back of her mind still hearing the eerie clicking words spoken by the mechanic.

"What in the seven hells is going on!?" she whimpered into the fresh silence, keenly aware of how alone she was right now. "Beaux you bloody fool! Damn you! Why me... I cannot do this!"

Zephriel ran her fingers through her hair, her wings shifting nervously. "No no, calm down. You mustn't let emotions get in the way of logic. What would Aethron do? I... I need to think. Step back, what do you know? Beaux is acting strange... though he has been strange since... Infinite. The arm is infected...no. Could it be possible that something more than infection was contracted in Infinite?"

She glanced at the chalkboard and at Beaux, a sudden burst of defiant determination in her chest. With a hand motion, she brought the Infinity Tomb to levitate in front of her, the quill ready. It was childish, but she had never commanded it herself. All this time she did not want to accept it, but now was not the time. She was no longer the scribe. "Copy the writing. Section 45, appendix C. Add section for additional observations. Turn to section 32 for following medical procedure and add footnote regarding the unidentified runes, additional footnote regarding Infinite." The pages fluttered to the desired location, the quill trailing ink in flowing strikes like a dragonfly's dance.

Zephriel searched the mess of a workshop until she found suitable ties. "Subject's name is Beaux, age unknown, assumed gender is male, species unknown. Date of writing is day 129 of Vesi expedition, time is approximately 27:23" She placed the ties upon the table then gripped Beaux under his arms, pulling him up. "... procedure is amputation. Limb to be removed is left arm. Damage extensive..." With a huff, she tried to heave Beaux up, managing to get his back pressed against the side of the table. She tried again, flapping her wings for added strength. "physician *huff* unavailable; stand in... Zephriel Starwind..." She got his upper body on the table and quickly dragged up his legs. After it was done Zeph leaned over his unconscious body, her wings dropping and her arms shaking. She was panting "qualifications: substantial...regarding section 14 of ...emergency protocol.."

Zeph stood up and looked down at Beaux. He was still quite unconscious, but if Infinite taught her anything it was that those asleep could be the most dangerous. If there was any chance something had squirmed its way out of that watery hell she would not let it go any farther. She retrieved the ties and tightly bound his arm above the marked cut, cutting off the circulation, then used any additional wiring to bind his wrists, shoulder, and ankles to the table. It was for both of their safety. If he woke up and squirmed she could accidentally kill him, not to mention it was unlikely she could fend him off should he retaliate. There was also another reason.

"Add secondary physician: Flynyas. Qualification: unofficial mending. End note." with that, Zephriel ran through the workshop, almost slipping as she rounded the corner outside of the doorway. She didn't even waste time knocking on the door, instead bursting into the room. Her face was pale, her limbs shaky. "Flynyas, you must come with me immediately. It's Beaux, we don't have time for questions. I will explain more. Get antiseptic if you have any and hurry to the workshop, please!"

 

[Nobody_314]

Flynyas​

As he was directed to his lodgings, Flynyas gave a final nod to Zephriel and Anziium and entered his room. Sleeping under a roof was relatively foreign to him, even estranged more so from the presence of the bed. Exhausted from the day(s?) events, he did not delay on attempting to rest. Unpacking and redecorating could wait util the next day.

Some time passed as he tossed and turned in the bed. It was suffocating. Sinking in to the fabric quickly got too hot, and the amount of give was far more than what he was used to.
When the door was suddenly kicked in, Zephriel was greeted with the strange site of a fully pitched tent on the rooms floor, and a squirrel curled up contently in the middle of the actual bed. At the commotion, Flynyas popped his head out from the flap in the tent wide eyed.
"What in the nine hells is going on?!"

At hearing her mention Beaux, Flynyas' shock evolved in to more of a panic.
What did he do?! Did he poison someone like he threatened earlier?!
Numerous grim possibilities swirled in his head as he looped an arm around his bag and grabbed his quarterstaff with the other. In his night tunic he took off at a rapid pace following Zeph, and waiting further explanation of the situation at hand.

Patricia
​

When the two left the room, Patricia, who had lazily opened an eye to observe the intrusion, closed it once again and returned to sleep on this wonderfully soft object. Perhaps she would not need to take and shred some of those strange objects in the horned-one's room after all...

 

[Juju]

Zephriel

Interaction: bonesbo Nobody_314​

Zeph was sure to wait for Flynyas before entering the workshop again, reluctant to venture in alone. Occasionally she would glance over her shoulder as she hurried into the clammy room, just to make sure he was still following. The room was as dim as ever, like it was somehow too big for the meager light, or perhaps did not take kindly to it.

Her wings were tight against her back, her knuckles white from clenching her fists too hard. The skin of her face had lost its rosy color, but luckily her back was to Flynyas. As she walked she tied back her hair, twisting it into a rushed bun. "Beaux woke me up not too long ago, asking me to amputate his arm. A dreadful idea, and absolutely idiotic. I would have refused, if not for the state of his arm... and his quarters. Well, you will see what I mean soon enough. Mind your step."

She held her breath as she crossed the last few meters leading into the inner workshop, seeming farther than before. When they arrived nothing had changed. The writing still bled across the whiteboards and the floor was littered with carelessly tossed papers and tools. Beaux still lay where he had been, unconscious and tied to the table with crude binding and trained knots. Beside him the mechanical saw waited. The Infinity Tomb lay closed on a table

"You see, the wound is rather severe. The outer flesh is already dead, and beneath it I suspect it is already going through the stages of putrefaction. I-I was there when he received the wound..." she explained, remembering the look of sheer resentment in his eyes and the sickening slough of skin, "The source was... was that terrible acid. I do not think the limb is salvageable."

Shakily, she picked up the electric saw, feeling its weight. "I told him I could amputate it, but on the condition that you would stop the blood and mend it afterwards. That's why I got you but also..." Her eyes drifted to the strange writing on the board. "Should he awake and struggle during the procedure I will need you to hold him still. I do not trust Beaux, and I do not trust Infinite. If there is any chance part of that hell has slithered on board I will personally ensure that it is shoved back down into the depths where it belongs."

Seeming to gathered up enough resolve, Zeph turned on the tool. It hissed to life, a sharply dull sound. "If you are ready... we can begin..."

 

[Nobody_314]

Flynyas
​

Flynyas rushed off after the winged woman, with far more questions than there was time to answer in the mad dash across the ship. When they entered Beaux's... "room?"... Flynyas took notice of the mess, but the writing was as illegible to him as written common. The equations and scrawls could have easily been detailed and precise notes in his eyes, gibberish all the same. (OK...I have tried to get this first paragraph to align at left-page and it just will not so here we are x-x)

When they made it to the bound Beaux, it was immediately apparent the limb could not be saved. He had his doubts as they rushed there, that amputation would likely not be necessary. It is wondrous to what degree magic can heal even the most severe of wounds; capable of knitting together rended flesh and shattered bone within seconds. This limb was not damaged though, it was dead. In the hands of a mage much more skilled than he, saving the limb would be child's play, but such methods were beyond Flynyas' scope of magical or medicinal skills.

Flynyas had never seen a device such as the one Zephriel was holding, along with so many other objects on this ship, but he could discern its purpose rather easily.

"Hold on a moment! We need to ensure he will not bleed out and that the cut will be clean."

With a flurry of finger movements ending with a snap, Flynyas touched the line on Beaux's arm where the sever was to take place. Frost formed over Beaux's skin, but this would not be enough. Holding it there, he repeated the casting several more times with his off hand, and thus channeling the spell into the same spot until the flesh would be frozen to the bone (Frostbite).

"Now cut, it will not bleed now, and we need not worry about contaminating his blood further."

While Zephriel performed the cut, Flynyas prepared the similar concoction he had whipped together for Anziium. A bitter blend that would help fight the toxins ingested from that place. Just to be safe, he upped the concentration by half. He went over to Beaux's head and lifted it up, carefully force-feeding him the first and largest dose while Zephriel finished up the limb's removal.

"Perfect, the cut looks about as perfect as could be desired in this circumstance. I for one am not the best when it comes to the surgical side of things, I generally leave that part up to magic if possible. Regardless, before it thaws I can seal up the stump enough to prevent bleeding."

He began casting a simple cure wounds over the stump. While generally used for gashes, stabs, and other semi-small wounds of the like, it should be enough to seal up the cut with enough flesh to prevent bleeding and protect against infection.

"While I patch this up and wrap it, can you write up a note for him upon waking. If you said he was aware that this treatment was necessary, hopefully if we lay him down to rest up he will not freak out upon waking. The note should detail that he should take a swig out of this bottle twice daily."
He set the bottle down on one of the workspace counters upon mentioning this.
"And in addition, he should avoid scratching the stump as much as possible. If need be, he can come see me for a salve to help. The new skin is thin there, and will likely bleed and get infected should he break it. That is, unless you plan to stay down here with him until he wakes to inform him in person?

Flynyas wrapped the stump in gauze, and with that repacked the strewn supplies back in to his bag.
"That should hopefully work, and the medicine should keep the poison from killing him until his body works it out. We can probably untie him now, and if possible move him someplace better to wake up than on the table.... I will likely not be of much assistance in that specific task."

Whether Zeph would choose to stay, or otherwise, Flynyas would return to his room once the job was done, eager to get some proper rest himself. Dropping his bag off to the side, he slipped back in to the tent and his bedroll. Maybe he could get a few hours of sleep before another crewmember decided to start dying.