lifeaftr | [OPEN] Press 'E' To Call For A Medic!

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[OPEN] Press 'E' To Call For A Medic!

Who: Doctor Faust (

wanderingdoctorfaust) and everybody else brave enough to come within thirty feet of him!
What: Cleaning acid burns, writing to-do lists, perhaps receiving visitors?
When: Backdated to June 26th
Where: The Ensō Clinic & Infirmary (located on square B6)
Warnings: May contain trace amounts of medical malpractice (please mark your content warnings!)

The events of the past week have proven...interesting, to put it mildly. Mind and body alike were swapped, a particularly horrifying construct menaced the local populace, and a god they didn't even know was incomplete has been restored to their former greatness. The implications given by all of these extraordinary events are beyond astounding, and as such, time should be set aside and dedicated to studying and understanding them as soon as possible!

...at least, that is what the good doctor wants to believe, but frankly? He just spent a week and a bit navigating through the isles whilst controlling a stranger's body (deprived of his long-mastered abilities, no less!), had to fight an acid-spitting eldritch horror with naught but a weird sledgehammer and heartburn-inducing flame breath, and worst of all had to witness someone else waltzing around in his body with no concern for the consequences of his face being seen. So Faust might be just the slightest bit cranky.

As such, he'll endure the multitude of aneurysms he's most likely going to suffer from trying to process everything that's happened later; right now, he has an understaffed and ill-equipped clinic that is about to experience an influx of patients. After all, it's not like people are just going to sit at home ignoring the pain instead of seeking medical help, right?

Regardless, he won't be at the reception desk when you come in - Mini-Faust is currently commandeering it instead, though he's only able to spare a distracted half-wave, too busy swinging around a small stick like a wannabe Shaolin monk. Faust himself is likely inside the supply room, judging by the concerned 'hrm's and 'argh's and muttered curses of frustration coming from within. Welcome to the clinic!

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With all that's been going on, Ginko wants to make absolutely sure that he can be around the clinic when Faust needs an extra pair of hands - or a few more bundles of herbs. They may not be the most efficient form of medicine available, but it's what Ginko is most familiar with, and there's only so much that they can get without spending offerings.

He raises his eyebrows slightly as he steps in to find Mini-Faust attending the desk, then follows the frustrated sounds to look toward the supply room. Ah. "How long's he gonna be in there, d'you think?"

Theoretically, he's talking to Mini-Faust, but that doesn't necessarily mean he expects them to be able to answer, given... Mini-Faust.

Mini doesn't even acknowledge Ginko's response, far too distracted with their newly-developed freestyle martial art, defined by striking increasingly more ridiculous 'combat poses' whilst narrowly avoiding smacking themselves upside the head with The Mighty Stickscalibur. They have absolutely no idea what they're doing.

"-oh? Is that you, young Ginko? Hang on!"

Having apparently overheard his fellow employee, the familiar form of one doctor Faust deftly ducks out of the supply room, visibly relaxing at the sight of a familiar face. He gives a far more enthusiastic, if not slightly perturbed, variation of Mini's earlier wave as he approaches.
...he's also firmly grasping a surgical clamp in his other hand for some reason. Did he forget to put it back?

"Welcome back! I was just taking stock of our inventory - I am pleased to inform you we have no patients at the moment!"

'Pleased' because it means nobody is sick or injured. Except he hasn't heard a single peep from any of the islanders he knows suffered injuries during the fight with that maniacal monstrosity, which is...definitely cause for concern. Hopefully they've found some method of magical healing, because he hasn't seen a single pinch of baking powder nor salt since he got here...

Who knows why he followed Ginko into the clinic? He's far beyond what any medicine can do for him, and the only skill he has to offer is setting bones without all the flesh in the way, and that only applies to himself. He's just winging it, that's what he does. All day, every day. Whatever seems like a good idea at the time is what's going to happen.

So he ambles on in a few moments later, bare feet clacking on the floor. There's probably something useful he could do in here. Count supplies--that takes no medical training. "Hey, Ginko. How's--gaah! No! No! What is he doing in here?!"

Gee. Who could he possibly be referring to.

"...None, huh." That figures. Ginko knows he doesn't exactly have room to talk when it comes to getting health problems sorted out, but, man, he'd expect that at least some of the people who he heard went after that clown thing would be better about it than him.

He's about to say something - suggest making an announcement, maybe nudging those who might be injured in case they forgot about the new clinic - when he hears the familiar, uneven clacking of Hector walking in behind him. Ginko turns to greet him, and--

"--What?" He looks to Faust ~~because he can't imagine Hector would be reacting like that to Mini~~, then back to Hector, brow creasing. "He's here because he runs the clinic - what's wrong?"

Faust immediately recognises the pensiveness in his colleague's eyes, and for a moment he feels a twinge of relief that his concerns aren't wholly unfounded. Perhaps, if the clinic was properly supplied, each member of the team could individually visit the populace of the isles and perform house calls? Morbid as they often are, acid burns are far from the most difficult injury to treat...
Unfortunately, that's about as far as he can get in his musings before an uncomfortably familiar voice echoes through the entryway, and-.

"-Y-YOU...!!!"

The pose he strikes in response is as malicious as it is far too overdramatic - body angled backwards akin to a vampire repelled by sunlight, free hand used to point at Héctor as if to accuse him of manslaughter, surgical clamp brandished like a charm meant to ward off demons - and it's literally only the thought of a new acquaintance getting caught up in this ridiculous mess that manages to stay the good doctors hand.

"...yes, I'm the deputy medical director here."

Unfortunately, Mini is not restrained by the silly ethics of their master: the split second Héctor realises Faust is here, Mini dives for the floor, sticks the landing with a roll, and then valiantly charges the foul necromancer with The Mighty Stickscalibur held high, fully intent on smiting him with their mighty weapon of justice!

Oddly enough, there's nothing wrong with his reflexes. He flings himself to the side to avoid the... creepy child... and now he's cornered, up against the wall. But his imminent doom is not really what's on his mind right now.

This is so wrong. What on Earth has Faust done to the kid?! Why's he raising them up to be a mini-Faust?? Complete with another paper bag over their head??

"No! He can't be, look at him! He's not a real doctor! He's a maniac running around with a knife and a bag on his head! He can't be treating patients! And who let him have a kid?! Who let him anywhere near children?"

"Hey, hey!" Ginko moves to block Mini-Faust from attacking Hector, because that seems like it would only make everything worse.

"First of all, what am I missing here? What's this about Faust not being a doctor?" Setting aside that Ginko himself is definitely not a doctor. "If there's some history I'm missing here, I'd appreciate at least a little context!"

Mercifully, Mini's tunnel vision easily proves to be their undoing - they run bag-first into Ginko's leg with a gentle whomp, falling onto their backside as The Mighty Stickscalibur clatters to the floor beside them. Undeterred by the minor setback, they reach for their weapon and scramble to their feet-

"Mini, that's enough!"

-only for Faust to reach into his coat and, inexplicably, produce Mini - dangling from their collar between the good doctor's thumb and forefinger. The little familiar swings feebly against their captor, flailing their tiny fists and feet in a pathetic show of defiance against their master. Faust himself, on the other hand, simply glares back at them through a rapidly shrinking eyehole, never taking it off of Mini as they address Ginko's queries:

"This skeletal construct insinuates I could not be a medical professional due to my abnormalities. I in turn believe his very existence to be affront to nature, and assert he is likely the result of a necromancer either here on the isles or from his home plane. I do not trust the more subtle implications he is autonomous or, god forbid, sentient, but if he is..."

Faust finally takes his eyehole off of his familiar, who has now resigned themselves to their fate, and projects the exact same calm contempt he had for Mini's misdemeanours onto Héctor instead.

"...then as my professional opinion as a doctor, I prescribe euthanasia. It is the most merciful option."

...That's not a child. What the hell are they? He'll probably never know, because he's not going to ask. Too busy yelling right back at the walking talking urban legend.

"See! What kind of doctor says things like that!" There are doctors in the Land of the Dead, of course, for broken bones and such. And they would never!!

"I can't believe the words coming out of your mouth, you circus freak! You've got a bag on your head! Who's going to trust a doctor with a bag on his head?! I wouldn't!" The accusations are only getting wilder and wilder, from both parties. "He's probably keeping a basement full of dead bodies back in the real world!"

"What?" As hard as Ginko has worked to stay steady and composed between them, not wanting to accidentally escalate things with his instinct-driven temper, now his attention snaps around to Faust.

"He is not a goddamn necromantic construct or whatever you've decided - have you even bothered to ask where he comes from? In case you've forgotten, people here originate in all different realities; you can't go charging into things assuming you know exactly what someone is and why they are the way they are, that's irresponsible and ignorant at best and, clearly, dangerous at worst!"

He's fully facing Faust now, and might have taken a couple steps closer without noticing; he can't exactly loom over a guy who's nine feet tall, but he sure seems to be trying. He does, however, glance briefly over his shoulder at Hector, still scowling but not quite so scathing in his tone. "The paper bag does not matter, Hector, and not thinking before he makes decisions about people doesn't make him a serial killer."

Ginko is sure they can fill in what it does make him for themselves.

"I would suggest that you two take some time to clear this crap up, and I would be glad to stay right here with you until you do."

Faust is already prepared to escalate this belligerent bickering initiated by the little bony fiend by the time Ginko personally intervenes. Truthfully, staring down Gears five times your size can alter your perception of what is or isn't sufficiently intimidating, but the thinly-veiled fury within their colleague's tone gives the good doctor pause.

"...you are vouching for this...individual, young Ginko?"

This kind of focused umbrage isn't like them at all...which, begrudgingly, is enough to tip Faust off that he has certainly overstepped some boundaries - to the point that he is forced to consider that if the skeletal construct over there was swapped out with anybody else on the island...
Damn it. Has he been steadily turning into the thing he was trying not to be this entire time? Is he destined to become a senile, racist grandpa no matter what? Is this really what his future is going to look like?

"...fine. I can't say I've been enjoying the current state of affairs between us...sir."

His tone is extremely uncomfortable, bordering on indignant, but there is a touch of genuine honesty in his words as well.
In addition, Mini has stopped moving, all of a sudden watching Héctor with a firmly neutral expression.

Yes, the goddamn paper bag does matter, more than the freakish height. He's 'breathing' heavily, ribs clattering a bit, trying his best to cool down a little. Trying.

"Okay. Fine. If he takes the bag off." He jabs a finger at Faust again, rather pointlessly. They all know who he's talking about. And, well, Ginko at least would know why he might have some issues with frauds and liars. (Ha ha ha.) "I already know what he looks like and I'm not talking to some phony with a bag on his face."

Some people just have to get the last word in!

"I am." Ginko's voice is still firm, but he breathes out slowly, trying to push back the last remnants of that burst of anger, and glances at Hector, raising his eyebrows slightly.

"...That... seems like an odd request, honestly."

But he guesses it's not really up to him, unless this turns into more of a conflict. He looks uncertainly at Faust again. Maybe he would know better what to expect if he knew why Faust wore that bag, but... again. Not really his business.

Edited 2019-07-29 03:39 (UTC)

Faust physically recoils in response to the invasive demand, both his and Mini's eyeholes shooting wide open in complete shock at the audacity of this...rude little creature! How dare he?! How dare he act like he isn't asking the world of him?! How-!

"-h-hang on just a second there, you...! I don't recall ever showing...!"

...the bodyswapping...! There's no way that...?! He explicitly told Church NOT to unmask himself, at the very least not in public! There couldn't possibly be any chance that he...!
No, no. He will interrogate Church about this later, but until that happens, he has to trust them. He is not going to abandon his rationale at such a critical moment. Not like this.

Thus, the good doctor makes an admirable effort to recover from his outburst, straightening his stance once more and depositing the clamp onto the adjacent desk. Mini is unceremoniously dropped next to it, quickly crawling away from their former captor before launching themselves out of sight, as if they're diving for cover. Uh-oh.
When Faust speaks again, there is no hesitation nor trepidation in his voice. Only the calm and collected authority of the clinic's Deputy Medical Director.

"...so be it, Mister Strawman. I shall grant you what it is you desire. If this is the price of peace, then...SO BE IT!"

He poses! He points the devils horns at Héctor with his free hand! HIS BODY IS LITERALLY STARTING TO RADIATE LIGHT! Exuding this valiant aura of confidence and determination, the good doctor slowly reaches for his bag, dramatic tension flooding the room as his nails dig into the corner of the delicate material, his fingertips grasping it with the willpower of the dragon!

"In the name of our mutual co-existence and harmony, I, Doctor Faust, will oblige you! BEHOLD!"

With a flourish one could only achieve through decades worth of dedication to the stage, Faust removes his grand veil and unleashes his true form!

...

...it's kind of hard to make out. It's not entirely impossible to see the vague silhouette of his head if you squint, but it's obscured by all of the intense rays of light emanating from him like a burning star. Just looking in his general direction will strain the eyes...but if you're willing to risk your eyesight, you might just make out the smooth dome of a bald head...

"Gyah! No! Turn that off! Dios! I'm so sick of you!"

One could power a small city off his level of pissiness. Blind, stupid fury--literally, he can't see and he's tottering about. Worse than that, his eyeballs fell out and are rolling around on the floor somewhere.

Luckily, they're glass eyeballs and not the meat type. Otherwise it might be a bit gross!

"Fine! Keep the dumb bag on, you win!"

Oh of course it couldn't be that simple.

Ginko winces and shields his face with one hand, because he would rather not lose the use of his one remaining "normal" eye, thanks. "--However the hell you're doing that, some warning would've been appreciated!"

He risks moving his hand enough to kind of squint at Hector questioningly, though. He's not sure if that 'you win' means that he'll actually drop the subject or what. "Meaning?"

On the one hand, he does feel a twinge of guilt at horrifying the bony apparatus like this, but on the other hand, he also believes they absolutely had this coming. Shame on you for your insensitive demands, skeleton! Granted, you had no way of knowing this was an incredibly touchy subject, but still! Shame on you!

"I am glad we have come to an agreement."

Faust straightens himself back up and gently places the bag back upon his head like he's covering a lantern. The reception's lightshow immediately ends, and the chaotic energy in the air fades into something far less disconcerting. Equilibrium has been restored.
Well, besides Mister Strawman's eyeballs being on the ground. He's making a very, very concentrated effort not to be visibly disgusted by them.
...
Oh good grief, fine. Helping them out will at least ensure they leave the premises faster, right?

"Here, let me help you with that."

Speaking with a calm but firm tone, the good doctor cautiously steps over to Héctor and grasps one of their outstretched limbs as gently as possible - with the intent of guiding their phalanges to the nearest dropped eyeball...
This is actually extremely discomforting. Faust has so, so many questions about this individual. But frankly, whereas he doesn't trust Mister Strawman at all, he does trust Ginko's word. Though he's definitely talking to them about this later.

He's dazzled by the lightshow, he can't see or even put his eyeballs back where they belong, and someone's grabbing him. Someone distinctly not Ginko. Cue complete utter (loud) panic.

"Let go of me! Hands off! Get your--" He's yanking his arm back as he's yelling, and it doesn't take much force for the whole thing to pop off. Great, great, now he's lost his eyes and arm! He's never going to make it out of here. "For pity's sake!"

For a second there, blinking away the last effects of the sudden, blinding light, Ginko wonders if things might be winding down. He hopes they are--

Then there's some shouting, and a truly concerning pop, and oh shit Hector is just losing body parts everywhere. A couple alarmed clicks burst from Ginko's throat and he rushes over to the two, ears back. "--Damn it! Okay, Faust, probably don't touch him-- Hector, do, uh... do you want your eyes or arm back first?"

This is... getting weird. Not as weird as it maybe could be, but weird.

Faust is...standing there. Motionless. His eyehole is as wide as a saucepan yet he is completely silent - not even his breathing can be heard. And then, slowly, gently, his head tilts forward to gaze upon severed limb trapped in his grasp.

"...oh. It...comes off..."

It's barely above a whisper, but the barely-restrained horror in his tone couldn't be more obvious.
And yet, perhaps, if someone were listening intently enough, they could hear the quiet snicker barely bitten back through gritted teeth. Perhaps, if someone was looking in the right places, they could see the start of a delicate caress from his thumb, just across the exposed scaphoid. Perhaps, if someone asked the good doctor who exactly these bones belonged to, he would answer with

no.

No.

No.

It's over as suddenly as it started - in one explosive flurry of motion, the offending limb hits the floor like a dropped glass, and the good doctor all but slams his back into the receptionist's desk, clutching the edges with a white-knuckled grip.
His entire body is shaking, his paper bag rapidly inflating and deflating from the hyperventilation occurring underneath the surface, cold sweat coating the material like condensation on a window. His eyehole won't leave Héctor's missing arm.

"T-that. That is not, h-how. Limbs. W-work."

"Eyes! Eyes first, I can't see a damn thing!"

Wonder of wonders, his detached arm hits the floor without cracking--not much pain at all, good deal. The dazzle is dying down in his bizarre magical glass eyes, but unfortunately he's still not sure where they went. Until they're back where they belong, he's going to stand completely still.

"...of course that's how they work, I'm a skeleton!" Zero sympathy for Faust. The world's worst doctor over there brought this upon himself, none of it is Héctor's fault. Have your stupid panic attack, he doesn't care.

"Got it-- I'm going to put them in your hand one at a time, alright?" It's not like Ginko's never popped a glass eye into someone's head before, but... well, Hector is a fully-conscious grown man and not a passed-out child, so he can probably do it himself once he's got a hold of the thing.

Unfortunately, this whole thing is complicated a little when... everyone is upset and needs some kind of help, apparently. Ginko gives Faust a worried glance over his shoulder as he scoops up Hector's eyes; he knows that getting used to how easily Hector's various pieces just come off can be pretty rough, but it seems to be hitting Faust harder than he'd expect.

"Yeah, but he's not used to that-- here's your eye." He sets one glass ball carefully in Hector's remaining hand, making sure he's got a grip on it before letting go, and holds out the other for him to take once he can see again. "He's sort of fragile, Faust. You should probably sit down."

And maybe not try to help.

It'll take several moments, but eventually Ginko's words seem to be enough to snap Faust out of whatever he's going through at the moment. The good doctor's vice grip on the desk loosens, and he manages to push himself back onto his feet with minimal difficulty. It takes far too much energy just to speak, and he almost flinches at how raw his voice sounds.

"...r-right, yes, I should...I'll...you've g-got, this one."

With nothing else of value to contribute, it's all Faust can do to awkwardly shimmy over to the opposite side of the desk and deposit himself upon the chair like a floppy, deflated balloon. He'll remain silent for the rest of the procedure, outside of the occasional crinkle of paper as he buries his bag in his hand, eyehole and body language alike shifting between disappointment and frustration.

Funny. He vaguely recalls that a famous philosopher once claimed one's demons become stronger in the dreamscape, rather than weaker. It is unfortunate he cannot remember their name right now - he clearly owes them a drink. And a solid smack upside the head.

No hesitation, in goes one eyeball and then in goes the other once he can see well enough to take it, picking his detached arm off the floor too. He is now free to resuming glaring at the real troublemaker in the room, snapping his arm into place and... not leaving.

"You've got some serious issues, bolsito." Understatement of the century. You put on a wig if you're ashamed of being bald, not a paper bag. "Hands off me from now on, okay?"

Ginko steps back while Hector finishes putting himself together, and just... sighs. "Yeah, I think he's about got the idea. How are you both doing?"

Given the Hector just kind of fell apart for a while there, and Faust looks like he's trying to melt into the floor, he gets the impression that they could both afford to be checked on. He just hopes that they can maintain the maturity to each let him check on the other without making it an issue.

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the heckoning

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CW: PTSD

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