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Post by vladimir on Jan 2, 2013 22:04:08 GMT -5
He could reach Henry's eyes from here. Reinhardt was vaguely distressed by the thought, but it did occur to him. He could do a lot of damage if Henry got to close, providing he could move fast enough. He could kick Henry's knee out from under him too, could reach for one of the cups on the bedside table. Despite the fact that these realizations implied Rey might be able to fight back if Henry made a go for him, they scared him a lot worse than the other man did; doing others harm was far worse than having harm done to himself. But other options did he have if Henry was so hellbent on getting to his friend?
His friend. Henry had left in the time it took him to think of a way to prepare for an attack, and a high pitched whine had started up somewhere below. It faded away quickly to a quiet choking, far worse than the initial keening. Some part of him twisted painfully at the sound. "Pru? Are you...?" he leaned over to try and see what was happening, verify that his ears were lying to him. "You're not crying, are you?" it had been such a long time since he'd remained somewhat lucid for such an extended period of time, and he had long since forgotten things like balance and coordination. Leaning too far forwards, he fell onto his knees in short order, grabbing blindly for the bedside table. He missed it, something coming away in his hand and something wet seeping into his sleeve. Somewhere far away, a glass broke. When he tried to stand again, he remembered in a flash of dull pain that his ankle was in no state to be supporting his full weight. Without saying a word of complaint, the young man settled back down onto hands and knees, scooting back into a sitting position.
Hindrick had shown up at some point, Reinhardt couldn't remember when or why, but he noticed out of the corner of his eye that the man was furious-- it was not fully expressed no, but he knew the signs. The drawn expression, the creased brow, the way he held his shoulders; Reinhardt knew the look of an angry man well. As soon as he spotted that fury, however, it was supplanted by the doctor's usual measured expression. But that didn't matter, Rey had seen the anger and he knew he was in trouble. "Ah'm sorry," he muttered at first to the doctors, to Hindrick, to Perry. Then he turned, leaned down slightly and felt himself go strange and small and stale on the inside when he saw the state that Pru was in. "Ah'm sorry," he insisted. "Ah didn't mean to, please don't cry Prudence," it was his fault, wasn't it? He should have forced Henry away sooner, made more of an effort to pay attention and keep him out of the room. At some point, he realized his arm was burning with pain.
When he looked down, something glimmered in his skin, and oh- there was that blood again. It always looked worse than it really was on the white of his clothes. It had never frightened him before, and it didn't frighten him now; the only reason he spared any thought to his bleeding arm was the pair of slightly rumpled flowers gripped between his dripping fingers. Oh. Oh no, no, he repeated in his thoughts over and over as he glanced up with a dead on hang-dog expression on his face. She'd put forth so much effort into setting these little flowers out to brighten up the infirmary, and here he'd gone and wrecked one of them. There was no way this could get worse... but then... that meant he had a shot to make things better, maybe.
Leaning down a little further, he tried to breach contact again. "Prudence? Prudence, please stop crying, please," he asked desperately, reaching forwards slowly with the flowers grasped gingerly. This scared him, all of it, her sobbing and everyone pinned to the corners of the room and oh god, the fact that he probably terrified her being this close. "Prudence here, please, please don't be afraid," he was begging at this point, and when he felt his arm shaking and forced it still, his knees started instead. He could only really reach her hand, and leaving the flowers there without touching her was a procedure beyond procedures. He was not dexterous and in such a state, he knew himself to be liable of jumping at any sudden touch or sound. Even when he saw that the flowers had finally settled in her palm safely, escape was not easy; she had such small hands, and she was so obviously terrified, he wanted badly to settle his own hand over hers and try to reassure her but he knew that would be the worst idea, the worst. He was already in trouble. Pulling away from the bed with a look of puzzlement on his face and his insides wrought with anxiety, he caught sight of the staff again; he could see all of them without turning his head this time. "Ah... Ah... help, please,"
"Tight ship you're running here, doctah'." as scornful as the jape was, it was uttered with extreme care and as quietly as possible, as if the speaker was aware of the actual delicacy of the situation. Ambrose had taken up a critical stance behind Hindrick and Perry for some time now, having skirted Henry to get in; he'd tangled with the brute before, by no means was he eager to do so again. It wasn't the first time he'd walked in on chaos, nearly every time he found a spare hour or two to see his brother between patients, one thing or another went wrong in Gwangi. It was one of the worst Asylums he'd seen, and over the last six years he had seen plenty. This though.. this was a special sort of 'shamefully unprofessional' even for Gwangi. "Ah see that several patients are running free, at least one is going into shock under that there bed and my very favorite is up to th' elbows in broken glass." he stopped midway through his observation to tap his chin as if thinking deeply. "Why, ah don't suppose you need help, do 'ya?"
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Post by vampirechicken on Jan 2, 2013 22:44:39 GMT -5
Henry entirely ignored the people passing by him to reach the infirmary, he was distracted in the mean time by staring at his hands and trying to decide who he was, Henry the tradesman from Melbourne.... or Henry Barlow the fearsome outlaw. The question by Aira snapped him out of his thoughts.
"Vul...Volcano?" He asked the small redhead, squinting at her and trying to decide what she meant "Aira sweetheart, there's no volcanoes here... we're in a mental asylum, we're crazy people, we don't belong in society! We have no place in the world!" He gritted his teeth and punched the wall behind him with a painful crack. "Ow FUCK" he nursed his hand.
His view of the world shifted again, the desert town replaced the white hallways and clean floors.
"You lost little dinosaur?" He asked Aira, reaching out and stroking her fluffy head. Once again his accent was that of a cowboy, the pain had snapped him from his sanity again. "Here sit on my shoulder, I'll help you find yer nest." he crouched down next to her offering to carry the tiny feathered dinosaur.
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Post by spiritandsand on Jan 3, 2013 7:32:05 GMT -5
Aira sat in a legged position on the ground with her arms folded up against her sides like wings. She curiously looked up at Henry, and tilted her head so much that she was about to fall to the side; obviously not convinced about the other's word of truth, having an unaware smile on her lips.
"I have a place!" she exclaimed and half unfolded her arms as if she was the only person with a pen in a group in desperate need of one, "I'm looking for it right now!"
She used her legs to awkwardly bump over to Henry, and made a tiny funny noise when he cuddled her messy hair, seemingly thrilled that he played along supporting her - of course erroneous - beliefs about her species.
Eagerly, and rather clumsy as well she crawled onto Henry's back. He was larger than her, still it was quite a task for her to sit comfortably, especially because of her reduced motor skills and stubborn attepts to cling to just one of his shoulders with both legs - which could not possibly be done since she lacked proper claws, and not to mention that she was after all too big for that.
Eventually her legs slipped down from each of Henry's shoulders, and she decided that this was a fine place to sit. With both arms she grapped him around the forehead and looked heroic down the corridor.
"Follow the cinnamonbuns!" she pointed forwards with a hand whose indexfinger apparently was not able to point due to Aira's illness - for there is no Anurognathus that can point.
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Post by alexharvey on Jan 3, 2013 18:21:27 GMT -5
Every noise was a hundred times louder, made her flinch a thousand times harder. When the glass came to break, the Ginger practically tried to jump through the bed over her head. She was very much in the middle of a Panic attack and hardly realized what was happening, between all her sobbing and her desperate gasps for air.
She could not decipher what was going on around her anymore, only that there were more people standing in front of her hiding spot, suffocating her even more. Pressing on her with their sheer presence. Only when she suddenly felt something in her hands was she able to tear out of the Panic by being simply dumbstruck. A few yellow, thin flowers were placed in her palm and she realized early enough to see Reinhardt's hand retreating carefully, staring at her like a kicked puppy and telling her not to cry.
She clasped the flowers tightly, only now noticing the curly pigeon nudging her face and Maximus crawling out of her pocket, sniffing and nudging her strands of hair. She felt the pressure ease, looking back at Reinhardt. He was still looking at her so scared and guiltily and Pru wished she could take his hand or something if only she wasn't so scared about it. If only she wasn't so scared about everything. If only she could be back in gwangi where she had been different. Someone else.
She could feel the Panic ease and drop of her like the water the tsunami had left behind. It was replaced by the usually following emptiness. But this time something was different. She couldn't remember how to breathe. She was still suffocating. Her brain was incapable of telling her lungs to work. She couldn't breathe! Panic rose again, a legit one this time, if she couldn't press some oxygen into her lungs soon she was going to die. She could already feel her head swimming, her vision blurring with painful stars piercing her head.
She wanted to shout, ask for help, but she couldn't even inhale. She tried to reach out from her hiding space, supposedly with the hand holding the flowers. She couldn't even tell whether she succeeded, all her body was still numb from the panic attack and her body's spastic cramping on the floor and her vision was gradually darkening.
And she still couldn't breathe.
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Post by GingerMetuchenPI on Jan 4, 2013 1:18:49 GMT -5
Hindrick frowned terribly as everything, yet again, went to hell. But Rey was actually talking, moving and reacting. That was one huge step in the right direction. Too bad the boy was covered in blood. Prudence seemed to be relaxing, which was good. Too bad it was ruined by Ambrose walking in. When the blonde came by Hindrick was always sure to get some nasty comment from him, hidden beneath a compliment. But then again, the man was a surgeon.
Hindrick's eyes widened as Pru went from panicked breaths to none at all. Without thinking, or caring he reached around and grabbed the girl. The motion was swift and accidentally knocked Max towards him. The little rat squeaked and bolted towards the door. He was too busy to care about the rat though. "Pru, Prudence, you need to breathe. Nurse Thatcher get me the pump!" he held his hand out as a large plastic object was given to him. The nurse then went to Reinhardt and picked the poor boy up, while moving him towards a clean bed.
Hindrick placed the rescue breather on the girl's face, trying to force her to breathe again. If she passed out, she would start breathing on her own anyway, but he didn't want that to happen. After a few moments of squeezing oxygen into Pru's seized lungs, the girl should have been breathing again. The man could hopefully relax and deal with the mess that had been created because Pennyfeather REFUSED to help him. Oh and there was Ambrose.
By this time Alaois had taken off from the Infirmary and flew directly at Ambrose's person. The bird wasn't too fond of him.
Rospev snorted and looked up from the girl, who hopefully was too panicked to react to his touch or being too close to him. "I have this handled. Perry can you help me clean up," he called for the orderly as he picked up Pru and put her in the closest and cleanest bed. He looked back to the mess of broken glass and plaster. Then he looked to Rey and Thacher. Yet another day with Reinhardt in the infirmary.
But the reaction he got from rey was not one he wanted. The Russian walked over to Rey's bed and eyed the nasty cut. "Rey, hey. You know I'm not angry at you? You didn't do anything wrong," He tried to get the boy to look him in the eyes and then glanced back to Ambrose. He made a motion as if to say, 'hey, he's lucid, actually talk to him instead of standing there.' If the boy could read his motions, he would know that he was telling the truth.
((AAHHHH sorry for the long post and the jumpiness. Hopefully I didn't ruin any plans. D: ))
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elgie
Bandit
Perrick "Perry" Calborne
Posts: 47
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Post by elgie on Jan 4, 2013 17:46:00 GMT -5
Perry couldn't be happier for the fact that Hindrick was actually here to help, especially when everything fell apart again in seconds flat. Broken glass, a bleeding patient, another who couldn't breathe. The chaos was unreal, it was just lucky for them that they were already in the infirmary.
He was relieved to finally get an order, something he could actually help with, and doesn't hesitate to grab the dustpan and brush that was in the room (things like this happened so often that it was a necessity to have it in almost every room by now). He quickly gets to work on collecting the glass into the dustpan and hoping he wasn't missing any stray pieces. The floor was so white and clean that it was a little hard to tell.
He would of course need to get better cleaning supplies for the rest of the mess in the room, but the glass was essential at the moment. There didn't need to be anymore injuries today.
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Post by vladimir on Jan 4, 2013 18:25:56 GMT -5
At some point he ended up on the bed again; he didn't object to that, Reinhardt understood to some degree that he was an obstacle and that being in the room, much less being on the floor, interfered with the ability for help to reach Pru. He also understood that she was choking slowly, deeper still was the knowledge that she could die, and all the while he suspected this had something to do with him- whether he was the cause or a compound to the problem, he wasn't sure. So, he did what he could what with his limited mobility and his tenuous grip on sanity: stayed quiet, pulled his legs up onto the bed and tried to go unnoticed.
Ambrose was about to step forwards to help when that goddamn, lousy, disgusting bird of Hindrick's flew into his face. For a moment, his glasses (and therefore vision) was restricted to a partially shadowed swirl of slightly curled feathers and flapping wings. He opened his mouth to shout and found it suddenly full with feathers and augh it was like having your mouth stuffed with dust bunnies. Spitting and clawing at his face, Ambrose finally managed to shrug off his coat , fold it blindly and net the bird in it. Panting and disheveled, he glared down at the wide-eyed pigeon, presently papoosed in his (formerly) sterile work-coat. "Ah hate you," he said slowly to the bird, which was content to blink back at him innocently. "Yeah, well, don't look so proud. You taste like old coat." as he spoke, he skirted one of the nurses and caught her by the sleeve, nodding to Reinhardt. "Ah can take care of this one if y'give me tweezers, some rubbin' alochol n' a stitchin' needle. The other one needs 'ya more."
Sitting down heavily beside his brother, Ambrose took a moment to simply consider him. He'd changed a lot since they were kids, most of the silent willfulness that'd defined the young man was gone. The aura of subversive independence, the constant look of analysis in his eyes had been supplanted by some uncertainty, and that dumb, distant mask of an expression was what kept Ambrose from visiting more often. "C'mon 'ya dumbass," he muttered quietly. "Hold this for a second, you can't hurt yourself if yer hands are full," he handed Alaois over to Reinhardt, who took the bird and stared down at it without processing. It seemed luck that the pigeon was content to remain still in his grasp, as it was gentle and far too loose to restrain the bird should it have taken a fancy to the idea of flight. Having meanwhile procured the equipment asked of the passing nurse, Ambrose leaned over and began to swab at the cuts on Reinhardt's arm, glancing up occasionally to check on his brother. "You know, ah wish you'd just give me some other look, maybe glower at me, gimme onna them 'stop bein' a brat' glares o' yers. Ah'm gettin' mighty tired of th' stupid-face." when he got no response, Ambrose snorted and went for the tweezers, leaning in and squinting at the cuts while he went about drawing shards of glass from them. From time to time he squeezed the wounds, coaxing out blood and antiseptic as he did, combing over the lacerations with the stitching needle to make sure nothing was still in the cut. This time he didn't look up; whatever lucidity had been in his brother was clearly gone. That was a disappointment, to be sure. It had looked, for a moment, as if the young man might have been in some sort of right mind... evidently that was wrong. He nearly bit his tongue when he was interrupted mid-thought by a calm, quiet, "But ah ain't mad at'cha," from above. "Rey?" he asked tentatively, looking up mid-stitch. "Did dad come with you this time?" "No, Rey. It's just me." "Oh." "Ah'm sorry ah called you a dumbass." "It's a'wright, ah'da done the same fer you."
Of course, when Hindrick approached the conversation was cut short immediately. Reinhardt's brow furrowed and his jaw set, and it was clear that he was preparing to get a good yelling at. Knotting the final stitch and sitting back, Ambrose made room for Hindrick, knowing full well that the psychologist had no intent of punishing his brother and seeing no reason to interfere. It was fortunate that in his partial clarity, Reinhardt still possessed enough pride to look Hindrick in the eye when he was spoken to. How much he really understood was difficult to gauge however, because he responded with a question rather than an answer. "Will Prudence be okay?" Reinhardt asked, squinting slightly after a moment and tightening his grip on Alaois unintentionally. "Will Henry be okay?" then there was a moment of silence.
"Hindrick, will you be okay?"
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Post by vampirechicken on Jan 4, 2013 19:04:02 GMT -5
Henry waited patiently, as Aira scrambled awkwardly onto his back. She was heavier than he expected for something designed to fly. Despite this, he stood up easily, holding onto her ankles to steady her.
"Watch the hat, little bird." he commented vaguely as she clung to his head.
He looked around for cinammonbuns, not the least bit concerned that the dinosaur could speak. Seeing none, he instead headed for the stairwell at a brisk pace.
He knew where cinammonbuns might likely be found and that would be the cafeteria.
He made his way downstairs with Aira in tow.
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Post by spiritandsand on Jan 5, 2013 5:17:16 GMT -5
"Okay", Aira obeyed Henry, literally watching the hat - which wasn't really there - with great concentration as if she thought it would run away if she didn't.
Aira was, however, extremely easy to distract, either because she was impatient and rash, or because she forgot really fast - or both.
The thing that had caught her attention - making her abandon her job as Henry's hat's guardian - was the paintings they passed on their way down.
"Did it just breathe?", Aira had lowered her head so that it was almost on the same level as Henry's, not removing her skeptical gaze from the paintings, "I think I saw it breathe, did you see it breathe? I'm sure it did."
She tentatively squawked at a night-painting of a harbor as a don't-come-near,-I'm-dangerous warning.
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Post by alexharvey on Jan 5, 2013 10:51:35 GMT -5
Pru didn't realize where she was until the Doctor pumped her lungs with air and with some tries her body seemed to remember how breathing worked. She was staring at the ceiling, her limbs tingling and reviving and she fearfully noted she was lying in the Doctors lap. She didn't want that, but she wasn't yet responsive enough to protest. Reinhardt, where was he? She didn't want to be in touch with the Doctor and her insides made a loop when he picked her up and carried her to a bed, she was on the verge of crying again and simply hoped he'd let her go sometime soon. She was placed on a nearby bed staring at the ceiling, trembling again but this time it was because she was freezing. She tried to clasp her tingling arms around her body when she noticed she was still holding on to the flowers. She stared at them, noting there was some blood on them. She bit her lip, moving her head sideways. Reinhardt was on the bed next to her, getting his arm stitched up by his brother. She knew Ambrose from observing the older of the brothers. Reinhardt seemed somewhat lucid, at least he was talking, Alaois chirped in his lap.
Somehow she managed to turn onto her side, pulling her knees up to her chest and placing the hand holding the flowers next to her head on the pillow. She kept watching Reinhardt on the other bed. As long as he was there, she figured she could deal with the Panic. He could protect her. She breathed easier now, certain she was going to fall asleep shortly. Either that or pass out. The stress of the day was taking it's toll. She just hoped she hadn't troubled the Doctor too much, what with falling from the ceiling, making a turmoil in the infirmary with henry and almost suffocating.
No one was paying attention to her anymore though, that was at least something. Somewhat relaxing.
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Post by GingerMetuchenPI on Jan 5, 2013 15:07:48 GMT -5
Hindrick was rather thankful that Prudence didn't react badly to him handling her. He could feel her tense up and the look of fear in her eyes, but there was no outburst. He had to thank someone for that. Today had been far too stressful and she still had to herd everyone back to their rooms, clean up and write reports. Ah, the perks of being the only Psychologist in this huge asylum.
Perry at this point was being rather helpful. Once the man was done making sure Reinhardt was okay, he'd help the orderly clean up. They needed to get this place as clean as possible in as much time as possible.
With Pru on a bed, one of the nurses scuttled over to tend the girl. Making she she had no wounds or was still breathing alright. Ambrose was thankfully being helpful and tending to Reinhardt's arm. The conversation between the two was rather normal to hear. Though Hindrick had to admit, Rey was very lucid today. Maybe the chaos was breaking down his mental barriers? He'd have to observe this for awhile before he made any decisions.
The psychologist kept eye contact with he boy and gave a curt nod. "Everyone is going to be okay Rey. Prudence, Henry, me, Ambrose and you," Hindrick laid his hand on Rey's shoulder and gave a small grasp, like one would do to a younger brother or good friend. Alaois on the other hand was cooing at Rey for the slight increase in his grip. The bird was fine though, just grumpy he was being restricted.
After seeing to the boy and making she Ambrose had him calm and slightly lucid, Hindrick scooted over to Perry to help him clean up. "May I please ask, but as this place always been this chaotic?" He asked the orderly who had been there longer than him. Truly he had never seen a asylum this hectic before and he had only been here two months.
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elgie
Bandit
Perrick "Perry" Calborne
Posts: 47
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Post by elgie on Jan 5, 2013 16:34:49 GMT -5
By the time Hindrick had tended to Prudence and Reinhardt, Perry had fetched more cleaning supplies and was wiping up the blood and water that had come from the vase shattering. He glances up every once in a while to see how everyone was faring, glad it was less chaotic again. He wasn't getting his hopes up that it would still like this for long, however.
Perry turns his attention to Hindrick when he suddenly approached and started helping out, then he lets out a short laugh at the man's question.
"Ah, well...Pretty much." He responds, smirking at the psychologist as he begins picking up pieces of the ceiling to toss into a trash bin he had brought over.
"Usually not everyone causes chaos like this all at once though, there's at least some spacing out between the disasters. Most of the doctors give up putting up with it pretty quick though, I wouldn't blame you for high-tailing it out of here. Especially after today's mess." Perry shakes his head with a sigh, hefting another large piece of the ceiling into the trash.
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Post by vladimir on Jan 5, 2013 22:40:47 GMT -5
Reinhardt didn't really believe Hindrick, but he didn't say so. Grunting his understanding and nodding minutely, the best he could do with his limited mobility, he watched the man go and let out a heavy sigh. He was tired and unable to process the things around him, plagued by distant aches and rapidly losing the motivation to stay in touch with the real world. Then something came to him. It was a far away thought of some other person-- too young to be him, it couldn't be him-- with the same red hair and the same patchy skin, in some far away manor that'd never been his, holding a perspiring bottle between those whole-fingered hands which couldn't have been Reinhardt's. 'You're only as old as you feel', had been written in a cheesy, loopy white font on the inside of the cap, which rested precariously on one of his knees. But then... when had he gotten so old?
Letting Ambrose finish stitching his cuts, Reinhardt leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. When next he breathed in the aches were still present, but somewhere along the line the fog had lifted from his mind and he found himself able to move freely. There were crickets, too, and when he opened his eyes again he found that the cold of the needle was actually the feel of a leech being plucked from his forearm. The nasty things... now that he took a closer look, he was wrist-to-elbow in tiny dotted rings. Their presence was explained when he finally recognized the pale fingers gripping the wriggling vermin to be his brother's. Yes, he remembered now. He'd fallen from the roof, hadn't he?
Ambrose could actively observe his brother sinking away again, his ability to move, respond and see limited visibly. Well, at least he'd gotten to say hello. It was more than he'd hoped for today and it was understandable that Reinhardt might be too worn out by the day's dramas to stay in touch with reality. There was only so much he could expect.
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Post by vampirechicken on Jan 5, 2013 23:31:03 GMT -5
Henry slowed down, reaching the short hallway to the cafeteria and he spun around to see what she was talking about, moving his hand to the imaginary shotgun on his imaginary belt just in case of imaginary danger.
"You threatenin' my friend?" Henry gave the painting a warning look.
"Your 'friend' is a filthy vermin" the painting replied in the gruff voice of the hotel owner "You can't take it inside my hotel, I won't allow it."
The painting stepped in front of Henry, blocking his path to the cafeteria.
"She ain't filthy! Fuck you sir!" Henry said, mocking his british accent and scowling.
"In any case, I don't want it in my hotel." The painting scoffed
"Quit calling Aira an 'IT' or I'll blow your fucking head off!" Henry screamed at the object, his voice switching back to Australian again halfway through. He violently grabbed the painting off the wall and smashed the frame and glass over his knee, flinging poor Aira off his back and onto the hard floor.
The sound of shattering glass could be heard from the infirmary although it was down a short flight of stairs.
Henry had left a mess of broken glass and splinters in the hallway and Aira was now sitting in the middle of it as he continued to rip into the painting, tearing it into pieces.
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Post by spiritandsand on Jan 6, 2013 4:21:55 GMT -5
Everything was in slowmotion when Aira fell off Henry's back as if she was gradually swallowed by a dark ocean. She stared incomprehensible at the ceiling as her hair calmy floated before her eyes, unable to understand what happened.
And then a jolt of pain emerged along with a warm gooey feeling from the back of her head when she collided with the floor. Everything was foggy for at least ten seconds, and every noise was dim and far away.
She looked down at her arms, and they were actually arms now. Her legs were legs, her fur was gone, and she had no tail. Where did they go?
Then the noises returned, and she looked up to discover Henry raging over a painting. Henry.
"Henry", she tasted the name, felt how familiar it stroke her lips, and then she rose her voice, "Henry, stop!"
She was unable to stand up, the blow had paralyzed her legs, so she had to crawl over to him instead, slippering in her own blood and rattling with the shards on the floor as she pushed them away. She grapped the white fabric and roughly pulled Henry away from the painting. The yank made him fall into her, and she clung to him.
"Don't do this to me. They are not here", she refused to let him go before she was sure that he was calm. The lights on the walls reflected in her wet eyes, but the saltwater did not want to leave them and turn into tears.
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