greenghost | second prank ≈ video/voice/whatever.

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second prank ≈ video/voice/whatever.

[John's never really been much of a quitter. He'll abjure the crap out of things he doesn't like, he'll abscond if he can't abjure something, and he'll strife against more odds than he should, sometimes.]

[But that doesn't mean he's not a thirteen year old boy.]

[So when he got Mallynapped, he fought for a lot longer than he probably should have.]

[And he's still fighting! Even after he gets returned.]

[So here you go, Luceti, have a grumpy teenager, cut and bruised and scraped and bleeding, dropping feathers with every step, pulling out his journal as he slowly makes his way back to the community housing block.]

Opinion completely changed! This place no longer has an even distribution of awesome and suck.

[A grunt as he stumbles.]

Nope, it's pretty much all suck now.

[[ooc; well this post is only extremely late. sorry, guys, between trying to take care of my crazy grandmother and the storms kicking the collective ass of the northeast, i had a hell of a time getting this done. but here it is!! better late than never, right? >_>;;]]

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Ahaha, good news for my battered butt, then.

[And John comes along after a while, doing reasonably well for as scuffed up as he is. He's mostly just covered in scrapes and bruises, with a few good cuts bleeding merrily on his person-- one, smallish on his head and another somewhere under the sleeve of his t-shirt. The worst part seems to be his wings, which are still dropping feathers in nearly sentient distress, and their cyan color is speckled with blood. The right lens of his glasses is cracked, but not broken.]

[Oddly enough, he's missing his left shoe, and seems to have given up on keeping the sock properly on his foot.]

[He squints a little as he comes upon the clinic, and then smiles, raising an arm to wave vaguely.]

I can imagine that you get really sick of seeing people bleeding all over the place.

Battered...ah. As in beaten, not covered in batter with the intent to fry. [Translations, English, and idioms. How she adores thee. Not so much, but it has been awhile since there's been any kind of confusion regarding what was said.

Of all the visible injuries, the wings give her the most pause. She hasn't had to treat anything beyond a mild sprain of her own a few months ago. The boy does paint a pitiful picture, and she holds the door open for him as soon as he's close. Petite, blonde, dressed in scrubs for a short shift that this would be the end of, and quietly concerned for this boy's well being.

At the quip, though, she does laugh.]

By now I am quite accustomed to it. It is not my job to clean up the blood, it is my job to make certain people stop bleeding.

Pffft, yeah. Please don't fry my butt, I think I've sustained enough hurt for at least the next six months.

[He's a trooper, Ms. LeBlanc, and over the course of the next year in his canon he'll die twice and still smile about it. So apart from possibly retardation due to his cheerfulness despite his injuries, he's not too much to worry over.]

[He ducks his head a little in thanks and slips into the clinic stiffly, hovering near the doorway to wait for her direction. He knows it's for his own good, but he's never really cared for doctor's visits. And they're always worse when they're necessary.]

Pro'ly makes your job more difficult when dummies like me go getting their butts kicked.

I think you have at that.

[A faint chuff of laughter- a cheerful patient is a welcome change from the usual bitching, wining, or complaining she has to endure whenever she works. It's probably not entirely bravado, or it may very well be. He was scuffed and cut- but nothing seemed broken.

That in and of itself was a boon.

She leads him down the hall to the first examination room on the left and nods for him to sit on the table.]

Fools and the foolhardy make up the bulk of my patients. As do the clumsy. So long as you know well enough to come to the clinic for treatment, my job is easy. It is when people attempt to treat themselves at home out of pride that my job becomes difficult.

[He frowns down at his sock foot, and steps out of his other shoe to make it even, holding onto the sneaker when he hops up onto the exam table.]

[The shoe now sits proudly in his lap, the lone survivor of it's Malnosso-induced sneaker massacre. He grins a little crookedly at her, and tries to adjust his glasses to make it easier to see.]

I'm pretty dumb sometimes, but I'm not quite dumb enough to try patching myself up. I mean, I can apply bandaids and neosporin, but I get the feeling this might warrant a little more finesse than that.

First aid is a little below what you'll be needing, yes. I do not see anything that will require stitches but it is far better to come to a professional if you are uncertain. Honestly it is the molting that worries me most.

[Lose too many feathers and he could become ill- unless it's the usual loss of the lighter down to make way for adult pinions? She hasn't seen that yet in person. It would be better to ask Law about this once she's looked him over.

Adele shakes her head a bit at that train of though and pulls on a pair of latex gloves, all business.]

On a scale of 'a spider bit my pinky toe' to 'someone has injected pepper into my eyeballs', how much pain are you experiencing?

[He looks a little uncomfortable at the mention of stitches-- he's not a needlephobe, but he certainly doesn't like them.]

Yeah I'm not quite sure what's up with the wings. I mean I haven't really figured out much of anything about them since I got here in the first place, and I've been here close to two months at this point. [He makes a face over his shoulder at them.]

[When she puts her gloves on, John squints and removes his glasses-- she was probably gonna need to check out the cut on his head. He glances her way, half-blind without the specs, and laughs at the question.]

Feels more like 'I fell off the roof into the neighbor's rose bushes and then she beat me with a broom for ruining her flowers', actually.

They do not permit us to fly, are oversensitive to contact in most, cause an inordinately large amount of pain when damaged, make one ill when too many feathers or lost or if feathers are pulled free, removal of one makes one deathly ill, removal of both means death. Their connection to the human body is odd, and their connection to the spine is arbitrary at best. There is no physiological reason as to why they behave the way they do that I have been able to find.

But.

I and several other physicians are working on sorting it out. As soon as we know more? So will the rest of the village.

[She smooths his hair out of the way to better examine the cut. Shallow enough, but head wounds always bled and stung like a bitch.]

Bruised, scraped, but otherwise unbroken, yes? Nothing grinding when it shouldn't when you move?

...Well that is a very thorough explanation. And bluh, then I hope they stop dropping feathers everywhere, I don't wanna get sick. [The wings twitch a little, and a few more feathers fall. He's trying to figure out how he's still got feathers, at this point. Damn these things are dense.]

That's cool. Thank you guys for all your science and investigation of medical... stuff. [He closes his eyes, and shakes his head just a little at her question.]

My bones might be made of rubber, I've never actually broken anything. And no to the grinding thing, too.

They seem downy enough...I have heard that molting around puberty is normal. Much like bird wings the young lose the softer, fluffier down and instead grow in the adult pinions. But I have never seen it before so I will ask around to be certain. If this doesn't stop, come back here for treatment.

[There doesn't look to be anything debris in his cut, so she moves to the nex step- cleaning. Gauze dabbed with saline first, and then a soft warning before she moves in with one soaked in alcohol.]

This will sting a bit.

Oh so it's kinda like losing baby teeth. Got it. Man wings are kind of weird. [In all honesty, that's probably what's happening. It might be a bit early, or somewhat stress-induced, but he shows no signs of illness, so he's probably fine. Just a little overdramatic.]

[He flinches at the gauze soaked in alcohol, but is remarkably well-behaved besides. It's pretty obvious that now that he's not heading back to the town on adrenaline, and probably safe to boot, that he's pretty tired.]

With as much as you've lost- were you going to be ill for it most likely you would be feverish by this point. Since you are not I can only assume it's puberty doing it's work. [A beat.] Chin down for a moment?

[This won't require stitches, just cleaning and a small bandage. The bruising would need ice- and she has yet to examine what other scrapes he might have. For the most part it seems fairly superficial, exhaustion aside.]

Where do you live, and is it a long walk from the clinic?

[A slight nod and an equally slight smile, and he tilts his chin downward for her.] That's good. Being sick kind of sucks.

Uhm, one of the community housing blocks. I don't think it's too far.

Mmhm.

[She bandages his cut with sterile gauze and takes a half step back- looking for anything else that was obviously bleeding.]

Good. Better that you are close to one of the clinics if something worse is indeed the problem.

[Apart from his head, there's just a cut on his arm under the sleeve, and then a number of scrapes and bruises that don't necessarily need attention. He grins a little, crookedly.]

Yeah.

...oh, so it's not necessary 'cause you've been really nice, but Lupin had some funny French words he wanted me to show you. He said you might get a laugh out of it.

[He fidgets around to get his journal and open it to a specific page where Lupin had written some stuff for him.]

Because I've been nice- I am usually civil when treating a patient. Unless they have been remarkably stupid in earning their injury...

Wait. What?

[She peers down into his journal. Blinks at the text.]

...

[That. That was. He was.]

I. I am going to murder that idiot.

[John chuckles a little.]

I don't know any French at all, but I sort of figured whatever he was gonna say would be weird. Do I want to know?

All you need to know is that you shouldn't repeat this in polite company, and that I've every intention of repaying Lupin this tenfold. As soon as I can think of something.

[She snorts a laugh.]

it's been years since I've last attempted a prank of any sort though. Hm.

[Blink.]

[Adele, you've just said the magic words. John grins and tilts his head a little.]

Well then I guess it's a good thing you're talking to the pranking master, isn't it?

...Prank Master, you say?

[Curious Adele is Curious.]

Fortunate indeed. What do you recommend?

[He buffs his fingernails against his collarbone with a smile.]

That depends on what level of prankery we're talking, here. Do you just wanna spook him, do you want him to remember this for a week? A month? The rest of his life? Do you want public humiliation, or something that only he will remember? It can be subtle or overblown, there's all kinds of fine details in the art of pranking.

Hmm.

[Adele taps her chin with her nails, mulling the options over.] His appearance is very important to him, so some manner of public humiliation is in order

Heheheh. Temporary, or something that'll leave a reminder?

Temporary. I do not remember much of pranking my siblings, but I do remember that you work up to the events that have lingering effects.

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greenghost - 2012-07-22 03:22 (UTC) - Expand

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fleurdesel - 2012-07-23 01:49 (UTC) - Expand

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second prank ≈ video/voice/whatever.

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[Action] augh and then this was a really late tag.

[Action] s'waright, things happen. ^_^ No worries.

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