Day 248, Night ♈ Open

[emissaries]

Who: the Emissary, the Disciple, the Psiioniic, and you!
Open: Open like love is a door
When: Day 248, some hours after this.
Where: Near the entrance to the Skyway.
What: The trolls finally drag their asses into the Bastion.
Format: Starting with prose, but will follow.
Warnings: Troll blood and injuries. Also, the Psiioniic.

Darkness descended suddenly upon the three trolls as they passed into the limits of the Bastion, the sourceless, diffuse light from the Skyway fading to almost nothing within the span of a minute. Though a bit surprising (at least, until the Disciple explained this was normal), to someone nocturnal it was like coming into light after hours in the dark. Night felt safer, and the lights in the windows were a welcome sight, even with the architecture so unmistakably alien.

They must have made an odd sight, the three of them. Though the Disciple had already lived here for a little while, her two companions were new. One was a woman, with huge spiraling horns (yet somehow wearing a fedora), her black-and-red pantsuit stained liberally with something dull yellow. The other was male, carried on her back, severely emaciated and barely conscious, with the same yellow substance oozing from and beginning to crust over dozens of punctures and gouges, the worst along his spine and head. (The yellow stuff, of course, was his blood. We are all completely blown away by this stunning revelation.)

The Emissary glanced from building to building as they passed, trying to determine which one was their destination. Not having an amulet of her own, she couldn't read any verbal signage, and while some of the visuals explained themselves, none suggested a culling hive¹ to her. If they were to run into any locals outdoors, she hoped the situation - and the Psiioniic's urgent need of care - would be more self-evident, without the need to play charades.

¹ "Culling" means "taking care of," or "nursing back to health." Obviously. Everybody knows that.

Comments

[scary_music]

[And coming to greet them is a fellow troll-wait no, it's just a human with hair horns for some reason. Ibuki was up for who knows why, maybe she had a surge of energy for some reason]

Uwah?! Has Ibuki finally met kindred spirits?!

[Ibuki those are real horns, but wait, more importantly-]

Wait, one of you is hurt! There's a hospital over here, follow Ibuki!

[disciplewhomsignlessloves]

Kindred--what? [She's tired, mentally exhausted, and there's a strange pale girl with ridiculous hair talking about spirits. Spirits? They were hardly ghosts. She's about to dismiss her and head to the eight story walk up when she comments on Psii's condition]

Hospital? What, like a person to look at his wounds?

[She's pretty sure about Psii's feelings on the matter. Docterrorists are rarely helpful and they had always gotten by on the knowledge of plants her and Dolorosa shared and medicines sold in towns. Going to a hospital seemed like a death trap to her. They'd chop off his limbs or something to save his torso--she'd heard stories. ]

[emissaries]

[Aradia nearly mistook the girl for a troll at first, too - wrapping hair around your horns was unusual in most eras, but that wasn't to say it had never ever been fashionable. But she wasn't grey, so either she had some kind of skin condition or she was one of the pink aliens Disciple had mentioned - probably the latter. She couldn't understand a word she was saying, of course, but it sounded oddly like East Beforan.

She stepped forward urgently and responded in kind. In reality East Beforan isn't mutually intelligible with Japanese, they just sound kind of similar, but the amulet will translate it regardless so that's kind of a moot point.]

<Yes! A hospital! Please, he's badly hurt.>

[polariity]

[It's very sweet that everyone is so worried about him, really.]

[A shame that the Helmsman's only response is for red-blue energy to crackle around one hand and gently fold in his fingers until he's flipping everyone off.]

[scary_music]

Ibuki doesn't know if there's anybody there right now to look at him, but the place is magic and should help him heal just by being there! Come on, come on, it's this way!

[And Ibuki will lead the way, specifically towards the B-wing for its healing properties]

[disciplewhomsignlessloves]

[She snorted at Psii, shaking her head. It's like him enough to make her smile. Less worried maybe. He's still being his asshole self.] Psii you aren't helping at all.

..Magic. Magic healing. Sure--why not. Let's try it. [She's actually slightly more hopeful about the fact that he might get help without a terrifying person with saws and clamps and knives getting near him. Even if magic isn't real. Maybe it's powered by a psychic who can heal or something. She's heard weirder things

She gestures Aradia and Psiionic to follow their hair-horned lead]

[emissaries]

Magic?

[Aradia was a little skeptical about that, but... she wasn't one to look a gift hoofbeast in the mouth. Anyway, there's that old saying: "Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic." - Troll Bea Arthur.

She's reasonably sure Troll Bea Arthur said that.]

I... suppose it's better than nothing. [If it's legit, anyway. But she'll follow along with them, at any rate.]

[four_quarts]

[Well, tending to an apparently badly wounded new arrival hadn't exactly been what Ghaleon had planned to do with his evening, but the presence of that much blood at once - no matter what odd color it may be - always means that any prior engagements are canceled. Instead of bothering with pleasantries, the healer gets straight to the point.]

Follow me. I will take you to the hospital.

[polariity]

[For Ghaleon's generosity, he'll get something that sounds... like nothing at all, honestly, since the Helmsman's mouth and words still aren't really acquainted, but there's the feeling of vulgarity in them.]

[Ignore him.]

[If Ghaleon decides to do a closer inspection, however, he'll find that the only areas which are still oozing any sort of blood are the ones on his back. The Helmsman still has his goggles, and, strangely, a lot of the pinpricks dotting his arms seem to be freshly healed.]

[Sure is a weird thing, yep.]

[emissaries]

[Unfortunately, Aradia didn't speak Ghaleon's language, so the request to follow went over her head. Clearly the fellow was demanding something, but heck if she knew what. He looked like he could be a guardsman, or a soldier maybe?]

Uh - I'm sorry, dear, but I don't understand... [Too bad her hands were full, so she couldn't really gesture to that effect.] We come in peace. Our friend, he needs a doctor.

[disciplewhomsignlessloves]

[She bites her lip. Doctor? Does he really need a doctor? And what an odd way to shorten the title. Fine, she sighs inwardly. She'll indulge her new companion and this other one. If anything looks suspicious, she's got claws.]

Which way then? He's--he's no dying. It was just bloody getting him out.

[Bloody and tearful. She'll have to soak her clothing to get this out. A small price to pay.]

[four_quarts]

[...Yeah, he's not going to ask out of what. From what he can see of the locations of the injuries and past experience, he can hazard a guess. Instead, he starts off in the direction of the hospital, glancing over his shoulder to make sure that they're following.]

Fortunately for you, I happen to be a doctor of sorts.

["Of sorts" since he primarily uses herbal remedies and what is for all intents and purposes a form of magic.]

[polariity]

[More muttered and incoherent swearing. You're going to have so much fun with him as a patient, he can promise you this, Ghaleon.]

[findsrisks]

The Disciple is one that Nanaki knows. They had become acquainted not too long ago, when the Disciple had first arrived. The other two, however, are new to Nanaki.

She does not recognize the yellow blood as blood at first. It seems more like the color of mustard. But as she approaches, she sees that the 'mustard' is actually coming from several cuts on the Psiioniic, and mid-sentence her words turn into a scream.

"Oh hey, is everything alriiiiIAAAAAAAHHHH why is he bleeding yellow?!"

[polariity]

Middle fingers! Middle fingers for everyone. It's like he's at the head of some douchebag parade throwing out candy to everyone.

He's not actually well enough to do this, mind you. If Nanaki pays attention, she'll notice there's a faint and alternating red-blue glow around his hands. Psionics are a beautiful thing.

[disciplewhomsignlessloves]

She blinks. Well, that's a new reaction. She finds herself wondering what color Nanaki bleeds to be honest, to put her in such a worry. These humans are always finding something new to worried about.

"He's yellowblooded, I'm green, she's red, we're practically a conveyance light. Calm down a little, you'd think you'd never seen colored blood."

[emissaries]

Personally, Aradia would be surprised if that was really what the girl was so alarmed about. Their little group looked a right mess from their travels, besides which a lot of the species she'd met had found trolls intimidating at first. It'd probably make more sense if she could understand what Nanaki was actually saying, but...

"We come in peace," she said. "But yes, our friend is injured. Is there a doctor in this village?"

[findsrisks]

Oh right. Doctors. yes, this guy would need a doctor, regardless of what color he was bleeding (and regardless of his attitude. So rude, Psiioniic.)

"Er, right," Nanaki says, focusing on the most important parts first. Blood color shenanigans can be sorted out later. She points in the direction of the hospital, and she adds, "I think Yukio's at the hospital right now? He's usually there. But, uh, I don't know if he's worked on anyone not-human before."

[polariity]

He's exempt from common courtesy, thank you very much. He just got pulled from a ship, he's allowed that at least.

The hands do flop down after that brief greeting, however, and he goes still again. Docterrorist, hospital, whatever, you can do whatever you like to him. He doesn't care. Chop off his limbs if that's what you want. Who even cares? He sure doesn't.

Closed to Aradia; Hospital Room

[disciplewhomsignlessloves]

It was late. Or was it early? The darkness outside the hospital room didn't give her much guess to the time and the time seemed completely irrelevant given how long she had been awake. At least most of a night. Perhaps a whole day and night cycle. She'd thought she'd left Bastion in the dark.

Either way, things were slowing down, he was asleep...or silent and the adrenaline that kept her active was fading. Sleep still seemed impossible right now but common needs like thirst and hunger were slowly reasserting themselves. Digging in her pack, she finds a few somewhat battered apples. She looks them over for a second and tosses one to Aradia.

"If I had anything better, I'd offer it but I didn't expect to spend my night this way. Or the day." She glances at Psii, hand reaching to him but pulling back. She doesn't want to wake him.

"...So did you think up all that about a new Empress on the spot? I'm positive the Condesce wouldn't give a rustblood a ring. No offense, but I doubt she even allows rustbloods to be her servants, let alone trusted advisors."

[emissaries]

It had been a long night, that was for darn sure. Aradia didn't even realize how hungry she was until the Disciple tossed her an apple, which she caught with minimal fumbling. Now that she thought of it, she must not have eaten since...

"That's quite all right, dear. Thank you," she said, before taking a big bite out of it. She chewed with her mouth closed, out of both politeness and old habit. Living with flat teeth in a sharp-toothed world will do that.

She stopped briefly, though, at the next question. That's right. The issue had nearly slipped her mind in all the commotion, but it bore addressing sooner than later. She swallowed and turned her hand over, looking at the signet ring still on her finger.

"I didn't," she said eventually, as she put her hand back on her lap. "What I said was all true. Well, more or less. I may have omitted one or two things." She paused to lean back in her chair, pondering how best to explain. "Disciple - before I go on, how old do you think I am?"

[disciplewhomsignlessloves]

She expects that she didn't, simply because she seemed so sure of herself in that moment. She had a bearing that could be described as regal perhaps, or simply confident. Not for the first time, she thinks it reminds her of Dolorosa. She doesn't expect that question though.

Taking a quick bite of her apple, she has a little time to contemplate her age. She's a rust blood, do they get more than 20, 30 sweeps? Its hard to say. She seems young and old all at once. She was never good with ages. Trolls don't age at the same rate and they often don't survive at the same rate either.

"20 maybe? You look young but you don't act that way more often than not. Though perhaps a little naive if I'm being honest. You're hard to pin down."

[emissaries]

Aradia chuckled at that. "That's more accurate than you know," she said. In more ways than one, too. She took a deep breath and smiled. "To be perfectly honest, I lost exact count a long time ago. But it's more on the order of a thousand."

[disciplewhomsignlessloves]

The Disciple sets her apple in her lap. More than a thousand. Was there a connection between Psiionic's age and the Emissaries? It seemed unlikely. It seemed unlikely she was telling the truth to be completely honest.

"I should be the one who live the longest and yet here I am, apparently surrounded by two trolls who claim thousands of sweeps. Enough to make someone feel like a wiggler."

[emissaries]

"I know it's a bit out there," she said. "But if my guess is right, he and I both owe our longevity to the same cause - if not the same source. My Empress is known as Her Conscientious Majesty, like I said earlier. But she's a kind and caring ruler, and I'd say largely responsible for the longest peace in Beforan history." Her eyes turned to the Psiionic. Poor creature... it would be a long time before she forgot the awful noises she'd heard in that helmsblock. Anger crept into her voice as she went on. "She'd never condone - she would never allow something like this to happen. Certainly not on her personal ship, right under her cartilage nub."