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Post by KUN SHUI WEI on Jun 21, 2013 13:49:51 GMT -8
tagged: Lucien Margaux, Mirach time: May 10th. 11PM. speech: kun shui. notes: - - -
He’d found somebody, thank god. It’d taken him a half dozen calls, passing from one person to another before someone pointed him in some tangible direction. From there, he quickly took the reins and found somebody by the name of Asclepius… Odd as hell name, obviously Greek in origin, but he wasn’t going to question it. He was well versed in various Chinese gods and goddesses but if it came to other cultures, he only had a foggy clue. He needed a surgeon for Lucien as fast as possible, and he’d be putting extra security in place just in case. Security up front, security in the elevator, security in his house and in the room while the surgery was taking place… Everything.
And so he waited in the living room, having already told Lucien about the surgery. He was getting his finger fixed, but in the off chance that it couldn’t be done, he better be prepared to wake up with four fingers on one hand. It wouldn’t be too bad, and he would make sure it wouldn’t get infected; any complications and he’d send for a doctor. He still hadn’t spoken to Jun Shi about the whole thing, but his brother had basically cold shouldered him the whole time and he hadn’t seen a tail of him since he left, which was good on his side.
Kun Shui hadn’t spoken about prices yet, but he had enough cash on hand in his office to fuel it for a while. He needed to make sure Lucien’s finger was alright, and then make sure nothing got out. A surgery in his home was sketchy enough as it is and he didn’t need the surgeon going and blabbering about it.
A glance down at his watch, rather anxious but keeping a cool demeanor. It was late, but he was thankful he found anybody at all and that he didn’t need to wait until tomorrow. The longer he let it sit, the worse it’d probably get.
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Post by MIRACH DIA on Jun 21, 2013 20:47:50 GMT -8
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A broken finger. A broken…finger?
Mirach purposely flexed her hand, splayed her palm against the cold steel of the elevator doors in front of her. The guide, bodyguard, behemoth, gorilla, whatever the hell his name was, standing beside her shifted his gaze in her direction; she could feel his eyes trained on her hand as well, a question perched somewhere in his mind, but he never asked what she was doing. What a well trained dog, she thought absently, though it faded quickly. There were more important things to concern herself with. She was reimagining her hand, stripping away the black leather gloves, away the tissue, the layer of muscle, the root-like blood vessels, the ligaments, beyond the joint capsules until there was nothing left but the bones themselves—phalages and metacarpals, she corrected. Her eyes narrowed; she tilted her head to the side, as if trying to get a better view, or say, ingrain the correct image in her mind. The woman could practically feel the discomfort—or the awkward tension—thickening the atmosphere in the elevator, but still he didn’t ask or comment. Mirach released a breath, pulled her hand away from the wall and said nothing else for the remainder of the elevator ride.
When the doors dinged open she smiled, a gesture hidden behind her mask. “Straight ahead,” he instructed, and then proceeded to lead her out into the hall. He knocked first, rapping his knuckles lightly against the ornate door and opening it upon clearance. The soft click filled the corridor. Brief introductions were exchanged. Mirach stood behind him, waiting for her turn to walk in and in the meantime, examined the elaborate lavishing and telling decorations of the crystal palace. Dressed as she was, she seemed out of place, wearing a grotesque bestial mask, a long, sleek overcoat, hood and equally dark pants and boots. The eye black around her eyes accented the cinnamon-like color of her eyes; when she was amused a spark of some feral tint seemed to move through them. She clutched a black satchel strap in one hand and tucked her hand into one of her overcoat pockets…where her trademark tool kit also lay in wait. She stepped quietly, passing like a shadow, under the eye of her guard. She suspected that her appearance struck a chord with the old plague doctors of Europe; she had always liked that eccentric style.
“Someone called for a doctor,” she said, giving the room one quick sweep with her eyes before her gaze snapped to Kun Shui Wei. “Who valued discretion. Kun Shui Wei, I presume. They informed me that you need a broken finger…mended. Or chopped off,” she added suddenly. She could not keep the hint of amusement out of her breath. “One or the other.”
Time Stamp: May 10th, 11:00p.m.
Notes:
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Post by KUN SHUI WEI on Jun 21, 2013 21:19:15 GMT -8
tagged: Lucien Margaux, Mirach time: May 10th. 11PM. speech: kun shui. notes: - - -
A low static came from the earpiece he was wearing, small and discrete and allowing for two way communication. The doctor was here, and Kun Shui validated the visitor, standing up from the couch and brushing off his shirt. White button up, black pants, the usual and nothing short of spotless. Updates continued to stream from various floors and the security room, keeping track of every movement, every corner they turned and every elevator they took. Hell, if Asclepius so much as sneezed, he’d know about it. They had eye trackers in there, too, so they’d know which way anybody was looking at all times. It cost a pretty penny, but they’d definitely know if someone took an elevator up, hoping to catch a few shots at the heir.
One last checkpoint, validation, and he let them in. A woman came alongside the guard, and he watched as her eyes swept the area before landing on him. He smiled, but it was curt and formal and it felt like he was in one of those serious business meetings all over again. He could deal; he’d been dealing with those since he was goddamn ten and he wasn’t about to be intimidated by a woman in a long coat.
”Yes, you’ve heard correctly. Not mine, but a friend’s.” Proper term for the time being. ”I’ll show you to his room. However, I’d like you to know that I do prefer it mended. If you’ve exhausted everything, then cut it off, but I’d prefer to have his hand intact.” Curt and to the point as he turned and motioned for her to follow him up the stairs. The guard would stay behind; there were plenty more at the top and lining the hall.
Kun Shui held out a hand, telling her to wait for a moment while he peeked into the room to see if Lucien was doing alright.
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Post by LUCIEN MARGAUX on Jun 21, 2013 21:41:51 GMT -8
tagged: jun shi, mirach. time: may 10th, 11pm. notes: bone fix time. Lucien was not doing particularly 'alright', but he wasn't doing as terribly as one could expect considering the circumstances. He'd mostly been left in his room, and while he'd slept a tiny bit, the pain and the constant awareness of just how mangled his fingers were kept him up. Plus, there was a constant worry that if he shifted even slightly, he'd make it a thousand times worse--complete unfixable.
The fact that they were being fixed at all was surprising. It should have been amputated, really. That almost went without saying, and yet there he was, waiting for a doctor. The fact that they'd found one was a small miracle, although not as confusing as the fact that they were there at all.
Beyond that they'd found one, Lucien had no other information, so it was a bit of a surprise when the door opened. He sat up, hand resting limply in his lap, and tried to look slightly less miserable. The painkillers had helped, but they could really help so much, and there was only so much distraction that could be made when his hand was throbbing as it was.
With his legs hanging over the edge of the bed, Lucien looked like a mess. Long red hair hung midway down his back, and at one time, he might have been considered genuinely attractive. Certainly not that night. The robe he wore was rumpled, his skin was pale and patchy. It was obvious he'd been crying, although not terribly recently, and his hand was a complete disaster. The pinkie finger was more or less destroyed, the entire finger being a disgusting shade, and while the ring finger was a similar shade, it at least looked intact. Hurt, but not damaged severely.
"Is the doctor coming?" His voice was hoarse and scratchy, and he sounded like he needed a whole jug of water--which wouldn't even help. It didn't occur to him that the doctor was almost there. He had just thought Kun Shui was coming to check on him--perhaps to tell him the doctor would be there in the morning. |
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Post by MIRACH DIA on Jun 22, 2013 1:32:47 GMT -8
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Mirach could only wait patiently for so long; she wasn’t exactly popular for her tact, but then the relative importance of things like social cues shrank in the face of raw skill. The instant she heard the tired voice issue from inside the other room, her curiosity piqued, a familiar gleam entered her eye and she was stepping out from behind Kun Shui Wei, brushing aside whatever clipped, if well mannered responses, escaped him in the process. As far as she was concerned, the man became little more than background noise—her attention went straight to the patient in question. A man who arguably looked so sallow he might as well have one foot already in the grave. To think…it was just a broken finger.
“Coming? No. Already here,” she corrected absently, stepping further into the room. She carried the satchel with her, tenderly set it down on a nearby bed stand as she drew closer. There was another lamp nearby that wasn’t on. Without asking, she removed the shade that shielded the bulb and switched on the light—she would need as much of it as possible. Mirach—or Asclepius—knew from experience that most broken fingers and toes required only a simple closed reduction procedure to fix them. It was a method by which, with her own hands, she coaxed the bone ends back to their appropriate places and splinted it accordingly afterward. This often meant yanking, tugging, twisting, pushing and a great deal of pain for the unfortunate patient involved, but she had mild sedatives and painkillers on her person to mute all that. Even as she thought this over, she explained in much more clinical terms, unzipping the top of the satchel to have another look at some of the materials she brought with her…just in case. “…of course that all changes pending on the fracture. Let me see the…” she turned, her gaze dropping automatically, her voice trailing.
Now that was one fucked up finger.
She breathed an odd noise at first—odd if only because most doctors did not take one look at a broken bone and proceed to snort about it. That same sound would turn into a chuckle, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter. “A…broken finger,” she said between strained breaths, the full blown laughter threatening to break through her words. Her eyes were practically sparking when she glanced at Kun Shui Wei. “Let’s try another word. Like mangled. Or useless,” she continued, “I…” she paused and smiled behind her mask, “I think I don’t even need an explanation on this one—the multiple hematomas speak for themselves but…it might amuse me.” She snorted and glanced back at Lucien’s hand. “Forget closed reduction. It’ll have to be open. That means surgery,” she translated for both of them, in case the medical jargon was lost. “And major antibiotics for the osteomyelitis—bone infection—I suspect has already taken root in some of the fractures. I would hope this hasn’t been sitting too long. Otherwise the granulation tissue will have encouraged new capillaries and begun the process of creating fibro-cartilaginous calluses…which won’t do any good if there are shards of bone still out of place and a bad infection setting in.”
If there was any doubt she wasn’t suited to her profession, it probably died instantly after an explanation like that.
She glanced back at Kun Shui Wei again, amused, but no longer laughing. “In other words, this is one fucked up finger."
Time Stamp: May 10th, 11:00p.m.
Notes: Mom's anatomy books and hours of research ftw.
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Post by KUN SHUI WEI on Jun 22, 2013 9:03:55 GMT -8
tagged: Lucien Margaux, Mirach time: May 10th. 11PM. speech: kun shui. notes: - - -
Lucien still looked as small as ever. He’d need to get him a treat of some sort after this. Now, what was Lucien’s favourite food again? He probably could order a wide range of things in America, or import or whatever he wanted to do. He looked like he’d just watched him kick a puppy to death and worse, but he supposed the pain from the finger was keeping him up. Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long for a doctor, but next time, he was definitely importing from Hong Kong.
Before he could even answer Lucien, the woman pushed past him and into the room. Well then. A sigh, making an unamused breathing sound through his nose, but he let her walk past anyways and glanced up at the guards, telling them it was alright. He’d put up with her for now, just because he had nobody else that could come immediately. Next time, he’d have a personal surgeon on call and ready to fly in from Hong Kong at any time.
Kun Shui strode up to the bed, standing on the other side as the surgeon took a look at the finger. It was bruised worse than he’d remembered earlier. His twin did that. It looked like it had gone through some machine and popped out the other end somehow intact, but a human did that and that person was sitting just a floor below them. Actually punishing his brother, however, was completely out of the question.
”It happened around four this afternoon.” So it had only been sitting there a few hours, thankfully. He remained unphased at the medical jargon, catching up bits and pieces where he’d done his own curiousity studies, but definitely not all of it.
”Yes, I’m aware that is a ‘fucked up finger’, but I’m assuming it’s fixable.” Now wasn’t she a ray of sunshine. Still, another glance down at Lucien, then back up at the surgeon. ”I’ll be in the room while you do what needs to be done.” Because, once again, he wasn’t leaving Lucien in random hands.
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Post by LUCIEN MARGAUX on Jun 22, 2013 11:01:31 GMT -8
tagged: jun shi, mirach. time: may 10th, 11pm. notes: bone fix time. A woman? The mask made it hard to tell, but he was fairly sure she was. There were certain signs here and there, and the voice was certainly more feminine then masculine, even if it was particularly no-nonsense just the same. He had the distinct feeling she wouldn't take any sass from anyone, and he was thankful for that, even if the mask was a bit off-putting. He wasn't sure he'd have allowed a doctor that kind of mask to work on him back in France, but then back in France he'd had access to his own doctors, much in the way that Kun Shui had his own doctors back in Hong Kong. In LA he had few contacts and fewer things already prepared, so he had probably been lucky to find a doctor at all through the contacts he did have. He couldn't exactly be choosy about it.
All things considered, Lucien was feeling fairly good about this doctor right up until she started laughing at his finger. At first he thought it was just a snort--a bit of annoyance that Kun Shui had called it 'broken' when 'utterly destroyed' was a more apt description. Only no, it went a bit beyond that. She was nearly full on laughing, and he felt his shoulders sag down, looking like the air had been let out of him.
If she wanted a proper explanation, she wasn't going to get one, but Lucien did his best to offer a technical one, speaking hoarsely in perfect English. There was only the slightest trace of French left, and what was there would likely never go away.
"The joints were all--they were all snapped back and then twisted. They're not connected." And by god it had been excruciating. He was wincing just thinking about it. And no, he wasn't going to say who had done it, or why, because that wasn't how mob doctors worked. They needed to know how, not why or who. They were paid for that.
The medical jargon was more or less completely lost on Lucien, although he caught some of it. Infection. Surgery. Bone shards. It all sounded particularly alarming, and he did all he could to make it less so.
At the very least he understood that surgery was going to be necessary. He'd guessed as much, although not all the other stuff, all of which sounded... well, quite alarming.
"What do I do?" Because he'd probably have to do something. Drink something or eat something or breath something to knock him out--he didn't have enough medical knowledge to realize that knocking him out wasn't something the woman was going to do. |
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Post by MIRACH DIA on Jun 22, 2013 16:02:54 GMT -8
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Mirach turned to face Lucien. “Fixable? No,” she said to Kun Shui. Her voice had begun to carry that absent note again; she had reached down and tentatively taken the affected hand in her own, careful not to bump or irritate the afflicted finger—at least not yet. She noted that another finger looked dusky as well—but not broken. The inflammation on that one couldn’t even compare really, and after hearing such a ridiculously ambiguous explanation as the one Lucien gave, she resisted the urge to laugh. Her eyes flashed. “Damage like this is not ‘fixable’. It is negotiable and tolerated. Mobility will be compromised and the calluses will be…noticeable. I would also expect occasional aches and pangs in the future as the remodeled bone will still have a vague memory of what happened. Even without the pain to accompany it, permanent weakness is expected.” She paused, tilted her head and told Lucien to keep his hand up while she turned her back on him.
“Twisted or snapped or whatever you want to call it,” she said, still pleasantly entertained with that dubious description, “I need to find out for myself.” Most of the materials she would need for this were in her satchel, but she also dug her tool kit out from her overcoat, rolling the entire collection out on the desktop to unveil a number of capped and sterile medical knives, scissors and scalpels. One orange bottle caught her eye, belted down by a black strap. She pulled it out and examined it in the light. “I’ll have you take one of these pills—rapid release morphine,” she explained. “But complete anesthesia is out of the question. The tools and time for that aren’t available. I have, however, a mild sedative, but it won’t put you to sleep.” She popped the cap on the pills and took one of the tablets out, handing it off to Lucien before grabbing a second bottle and repeating the process. “I suggest you take them now. Until I’m done with the surgery, you won’t be getting any injections intravenously or otherwise. I would rather prevent further trauma to the muscle and bone until I’ve had my fun with it, as in all likelihood this will require pins and wires to help the bones mend. Easy enough…if it were done in a sterile environment.” She glanced at Kun Shui.
“I need another desk moved here. And a gag; preferably an item wrapped in cloth that won’t be too hard on the teeth. Something he can bite down on. Because there is going to be some…screaming, otherwise.” Did she think that saying all this might scare anybody, particularly the patient? Maybe. Did she care? No. Mirach, especially while parading around as Asclepius, had a rather twisted sense of humor. She was fascinated by the medical issue presented to her, but hilariously indifferent as to the outcome of the procedure. Oh, she would make the place as sterile as possible. She would do her best, and as always, treat the patient accordingly…but that did not mean she could not have a little fun at his expense. There was a small thrill for her, a sliver of delight in how dangerous it all was and perhaps her addiction to that feeling made her all the more horrible for it. Most people looked at others in physical pain and winced or grimaced.
She either brushed it aside or grinned to herself.
“He’s going to need some…encouragement to sit still, as well,” she said. “Or at least someone to make him sit still. Can’t be jerking around all over the place while I’m cutting him open.”
Time Stamp: May 10th, 11:00p.m.
Notes:
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Post by KUN SHUI WEI on Jun 22, 2013 20:19:43 GMT -8
tagged: Lucien Margaux, Mirach time: May 10th. 11PM. speech: kun shui. notes: - - - Kun Shui sighed, sounding so obviously frustrated but otherwise not budging from his place. Quiet and pensive was how he preferred to play it, so that was what he’d do. His eyes landed on Lucien, looking past the doctor and using her as a background voice, going through the motions himself. Information passed in and out and he quickly picked what was important and what wasn’t. Sterile environment, proper equipment, one or the other because he wasn’t bringing Lucien to the hospital and that was that.
The rest passed by until he heard desk, then he motioned vaguely with a hand and one of the guards brought one up. Gag… He had to think a little more on that one. Something to keep his hand steady, so another cloth or a scarf or something to keep his hand down. Perhaps a stiff drink would put him down a little better. Yes, several stiff drinks. Another motion to another guard, and he went off to the kitchen to get some stiff liquor.
”Everything will be cared for.” Nice and calm, neutral for the sake of everybody in the room. Lucien was obviously rather frightened, so perhaps portraying calm would help. He kept level headed with it, and when they were done, he’d promise to import a surgeon next time around.
The guard came back in with a bottle and a small glass, and with another motion, a stiff drink was poured and he held it out to Lucien. He felt like he was conducting a goddamn orchestra; with a flick of his wrist, his guards scuttled off to get him whatever they needed. There was nothing to worry about yet; he’d been through worse situations where there were a lot more people who were a lot less organized. A surgery could be done in his home safely enough.
Another gesture, and a hand towel was produced. Gagging him would be fun, now would it? ”Just sit still, Lucien. It’ll be alright.” Or at least he hoped, swiftly securing the cloth around Lucien’s mouth and making sure it was snug. Everything moved so damn quickly, now did it? He didn’t quite care what she did, as long as Lucien’s finger was passable by the end of this. |
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Post by LUCIEN MARGAUX on Jun 22, 2013 20:47:01 GMT -8
tagged: jun shi, mirach. time: may 10th, 11pm. notes: bone fix time. Aches and pangs and limited mobility. Lucien pushed those thoughts away, trying not to think of them for the moment. It would still be there. It would still move to some extent, still be at least partially useable. It would still be obvious and visible and not missing if anyone glanced at his hand. People would notice if he was down a finger. He kept telling himself that, over and over, and tried not to listen about how it wasn't really going to work at all. It would always be mangled.
He was easily distracted from that, but he was not easily distracted from the words 'out of the question'. He was going to be awake? Awake and on a sedative was not comparable to just being unconscious. Not even close. He was liking the woman less and less as the bearer of bad news, and around the time she said 'had her fun with it', he wasn't liking her at all. He didn't want her to have her fun with it. He didn't want anyone to have their fun with it. If it wasn't so urgent that the surgery happen as soon as possible, he'd have begged Kun Shui to find a new doctor.
He didn't like the thought of a gag in his mouth, not at all, but his throat was already hoarse and he didn't like the thought of cracking his teeth either. He would, he knew. He'd bite down so hard his teeth would be damaged, and a gag was vastly preferable, so he reached out, taking the pills and swallowing them both dry. At least he could do that properly.
Kun Shui's calm didn't help or hinder. On one hand, he wasn't panicking. That was nice. On the other, he seemed so cool and detached that Lucien wasn't even sure he was aware of what was happening. At least he seemed to know what to offer, and he could smell the alcohol as it was offered. His first drink and two years, and it was damn well deserved. He reached up, gulping it down without even trying to pause. He wasn't in it for the taste--he was in it to be drunk enough to take the edge off of the panic.
The gag came down and he forced himself not to freak out. It hadn't started yet--he could freak out after, once he was biting down hard on the towel and going under the knife. |
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Post by MIRACH DIA on Jun 22, 2013 21:56:54 GMT -8
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“Well that was fast and efficient,” Mirach said, likely the only compliment anyone in this room would receive from her in a while. In a lot of ways the obedience and loyalty of Kun Shui’s staff reminded her of home; it only served to make her more comfortable and embolden her terrible sense of humor. After the desk was brought in, she unfolded a plastic covering over it, stolen from her own satchel bag. Layers of papery, blue cloth were smoothed over that, until finally she requested a towel. The latter was folded vertically, then horizontally, into what she deemed to be a reasonable cushion. It would support Lucien’s forearm and hand, while finally, the restraints were secured and the scenario was set. Well, almost anyway. Give or take a few drinks and some time for the pills to do their work (albeit insubstantial work), she set up her tools, moved a lamp directly on top of the makeshift operating table and lifted a few knives into the light to reexamine each blade.
“Cutting through skin,” she said distantly, her gaze wandering the reflective, silver edge of one of her tools, “is as easy as slicing through paper…it tears easily, once you start.” And Mirach had some of the best tools in the business. She sighed, lowered the tool and switched it out for another, more suitable one for the initial cut. “Well. Shall we?” She cracked the knuckles of her other hand against the table, the popping noise maybe unsettling to a man that had just had his finger completely demolished. “Now take a deep breath,” she said calmly, leaning closer to his hand, her gaze locked on the offending finger in question. Maybe his heart pounded, but hers was eerily calm. “Maybe count to five. Or imagine you’re not really here. Whatever you do,” she touched the cold metal to his skin, “don’t move. I would hate to chop your finger off.” She briefly tilted her head, grabbing his wrist with her free hand to keep it pinned for good measure. “Hmph. And perhaps pray I remember when to stop cutting before I go too deep.”
She smirked under her mask and breathed a laugh just as the icy metal sank through the surface of his skin.
[Insert unnecessary pain and unhappiness here.]
“Oops.”
Mirach’s brow rose under her mask, a notion that translated through her eyes in the form of a flat, expressionless edge. An aggravated growl pushed up her throat and around her teeth, seemingly matching the permanent snarl of her mask as she leaned back in her seat and rolled her shoulders, reaching for a new tool. “Well. Mea culpa,” she added. “No biggie. We can still remove the finger.” It was only then that her gaze snaked back to meet Lucien’s, a predatory glint in them. A chuckle reverberated from beneath her mask. “That was a joke,” she said lowly. “You’re almost done. I just have to finish the suture and you’ll be fine. For now. So long as you don’t…twist and snap your finger again.” She shook her head. That explanation still didn’t do this kind of damage justice.
Mirach suppressed another grin though. She was having a good time of it, really. What patient in the world ever wanted to hear their doctor say, “Oops” during a procedure? Kun Shui or Lucien might swear she was trying to induce a heart attack in the poor guy. If only they knew. “Did you know that electrical stimulation of a fracture can speed up bone healing by a reasonable amount? You see, electric fields prevent the parathyroid hormone from stimulating the absorbing osteoclasts, allowing more accumulation of bony tissue. Would you like to try it? I have something in my kit over here that can get the job done if you’re interested.” She jerked her head in the direction of her satchel bag. “Just a few shocks,” she said, though really she was joking again.
It was all good fun.
Time Stamp: May 10th, 11:00p.m.
Notes: You poor man. xD
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Post by LUCIEN MARGAUX on Jun 22, 2013 22:20:29 GMT -8
tagged: jun shi, mirach. time: may 10th, 11pm. notes: bone fix time. Lucien didn't want to look at it. He didn't want to look at the makeshift surgery area, or how slapped together it was. He didn't want to look at the tools, which were at least proper. He sure as hell didn't want to look at his safely secured left hand, which looked downright disgusting. At the moment, he was hoping that the woman was kidding, and she really was going to sedate him, but no, no she wasn't. Not about that, anyway.
Above all, he sure as hell didn't want to hear the maniacal woman explaining how easily it would be for her to screw him up even worse. She seemed to be having more fun then Jun Shi had been when he'd broken the damn finger in the first place. The two were practically peas in a pod as far as Lucien was concerned, and the first thing he was going to do when she was out of the room was goddamn beg Kun Shui not to let her ever come back. He'd go down on his knees and put his head to the floor if he had to--he didn't want to ever see her face again.
He wasn't quite drunk, but the alcohol was taking the edge off for the moment. He didn't feel quite as panicked--just a little bit fuzzy around the edges. He even started to feel like he might have been able to manage it, which was absolutely the alcohol talking, because the moment the cutting started he did not have things under control.
It hadn't even been a minute and there were tears on his face, biting down on the towel so hard it was going to end up with rips in it. His hand snaked out, grabbing at the hem of Kun Shui's shirt--at anything that was available. He was in a whole lot of pain and feeling very, very alone, and Kun Shui was the only one in the room who hadn't openly laughed at his pain.
Hours later, Lucien was not feeling good. He'd screamed during particularly bad bits and cried during others. He was a mess to say the least--covered in sweat and blood and in a good deal of pain. He was only halfway lucid for the woman's little joke, but it was still obvious enough what had happened. He let out a pathetic little whine--a cry of pity and terror and if his mouth hadn't been gagged, it would have been a 'no'. As it was it was a sound of utter despair, and it didn't get a whole lot better when she revealed, of all things, that she was joking.
He didn't even respond to the bit about electroshock--he was still in a lot of pain, and still gagged. |
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Post by KUN SHUI WEI on Jun 23, 2013 18:24:38 GMT -8
tagged: Lucien Margaux, Mirach time: May 10th. 11PM. speech: kun shui. notes: - - - Some patience and some kind words were what Lucien would need. That, and some good food and a stiff drink and for the surgeon to never come back again. He was trying to keep an eye on everything at once, taking in all the small details and never neglecting to leave anything up to the imagination. The information coming over the earpiece wasn’t helping, and he swore he was becoming omnipresent just by trying to keep up with everything happening in front of him, as well as throughout the building.
All of a sudden, everything seemed to narrow down when he felt a pressure against the hem of his shirt. His eyes flicked down, just to see Lucien’s pale hand grabbing at him, knuckles white and the rest of him looking almost whiter. The pain was obvious on his face right after the first cut, and his gaze flicked over to see the finger was split open rather neatly. Jun Shi would’ve loved seeing this.
He reached down and took Lucien’s hand; he knew Jun Shi would hate that. Perhaps he was trying to be trite and contrary and do what his brother didn’t want him to do, but why should he have even cared? Kun Shui gave Lucien’s hand a squeeze. Contrary. Definitely contrary.
He didn’t lose track of time. Two and a half hours was what it took, and he relayed every minute in his mind as he watched Lucien and the surgeon and listened to every movement in the building. He didn’t flinch at the sight of blood or Lucien’s cries behind his gag; he’d heard this all before. Just because he didn’t play actively in triad interrogations, didn’t mean he didn’t attend them at all. The important ones he liked to peek in on.
By the time the surgery was wrapping up, Kun Shui was giving the woman a thinly veiled glare that told her she was lucky to be even leaving the building. Clean it up, take the money and get the holy fuck out of his apartment before he sent a sniper, because he was not pleased, even if his face was stoic and cold. |
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Post by MIRACH DIA on Jun 25, 2013 13:55:31 GMT -8
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“Your loss,” Mirach said flatly, disappointment briefly darkening her eyes—it was a rather unfortunate statement, given that she had just tormented the poor man about losing his finger. And as usual, Mirach seemed to mean it; she leaned back in her seat, ignoring the creak of the chair below her, a feigned sigh bleeding out from under her mask. Truth be told, she actually might have enjoyed a trial and error run of electrotherapy one day—even if the suggestion was initially born of an unfair joke. She smiled. Sometimes, Mirach found herself intrigued by her own terrible ideas a little too much. The woman dared to look at Kun Shui from the corner of her eye, her brow furrowing a bit, partially amused by the quiet intensity of the look on his face. Hell, she knew that look a little all too well—she wasn’t coming back here again unless it was in a body bag.
Well. She might as well milk the situation for all it was worth, if that was the case. Twisted humor or not, she had done a damn fine job with this hand; very few doctors would have touched it without at least an x-ray, a full staff for surgery support and anesthesia to keep the patient immobilized. She had managed with much less, with crude equipment and in efficient time. Lucien would regain a reasonable amount of mobility in his finger—barring he didn’t attempt anything asinine as patients sometimes did—but not even the best surgeon could have restored it to 100% functionality. Her gaze simmered with pride; Mirach had outdone herself. She quickly finished her work the suture, situated the last wire and closed the entirely. “Give it a few weeks to recover and you can break it all over again,” she said sarcastically.
The woman twisted in her chair and stood, disregarding any reaction he might have had to that. She pulled one small, glass bottle out from a pouch in her tool kit. There was no label on the surface of the bottle, but the liquid inside was clear and indistinguishable. Mirach knew it to be morphine—her fingers would soon find a capped, unused needle. Her eyes narrowed as she tipped the bottle up into the light, pushed the cap off the needle and jabbed the rubber film keeping the morphine inside. “I’m going to give you some lovely white horse pills called Vicodin,” Mirach said, flicking her finger against the barrel of the syringe, the liquid on the inside glistening in the light. For good measure she pushed on the plunger and released the last of the air trapped inside—and a few drops of the drug. “Enough to take for five days,” she added, “along with some Ibuprofen to keep swelling down and help with pain. Do not exceed the limit I give you—unless you want to die or develop a drug addiction.” She turned back to him, targeted a muscle in his hand and administered the painkiller. It would take a little time to work—and burned on the way in—but the results in the long run would be well worth it.
With that done, she repeated the process, but with a strong antibiotic, and finally began to clean the area around his finger. Mirach then released his restraints and slid a finger splint underneath it. The cushioning would help protect it, but really it was up to Lucien not to do anything stupid. She wrapped it up and snorted. “Oh,” she said. “One more thing. If you have a seizure at some point or promptly start foaming at the mouth or possibly start turning the color of a fucking lemon, stop taking the medicine. Or you’ll die.”
She glanced at Kun Shui. “And don’t give me that look. This is a thing. It happens." She was still entertained, though. "I’ll take my payment in cash, by the way. Though I would ultimately prefer to see the patient for a follow up--but alas, we can't always get what we want, or so some idiot once said.”
Time Stamp: May 10th, 11:00p.m.
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Post by LUCIEN MARGAUX on Jun 25, 2013 15:03:54 GMT -8
tagged: jun shi, mirach. time: may 10th, 11pm. notes: bone fix time. The hand in his hand was a relief in every single sense of the word. It was something--some little sign of support that he hadn't had previously. Some sign that told him everything was going to be okay, and that he wasn't going to be alone.
Because most of the time, Lucien did feel very alone. It wasn't him imagining things--he was very, very isolated. His father had outright betrayed him, cutting off the already particularly weak family ties he'd had. He had few friends, and all of them had certainly vanished when he was turned out by his own family. Realistically, that left two people he'd spoke to at all--Jun Shi and Kun Shui.
Even in his position as Lucien's tormentor, Jun Shi had still been the closest thing he had to a friend. He had been an anchor, had kept him from going completely insane in the solitude and silence, and losing him left him with a strange sort of melancholy feeling. Even if he was a complete ass, he'd still been one of two people Lucien had spoken to in the first year of his captivity. That was lost to him now. He knew there was no way to go back to that. Jun Shi thought he was responsible for... for what even? Taking the fan? He couldn't begin to understand why that had upset him so much, but it had. If Jun Shi caught him alone again, he'd end up dead if he was lucky.
Which only left Kun Shui. In two years he'd spoken maybe twenty words to him, and nothing more in-depth then 'please pass the salt' at a dinner. In the past two weeks, he'd spoken several hundred times that. He'd found he actually enjoyed speaking to Kun Shui. He could hold a conversation. Even if he was still stumbling through it all, trying to understand what he was really like, he was so desperate for the conversation that he'd have said anything.
Even so, he'd expected just that--someone to talk to and little else. Kun Shui had never shown much interest in him at all, and he really didn't think that would change at all. It had though. Kun Shui was there, was asking for his input, was giving his hand a squeeze and telling him it would be alright.
Lucien really didn't know what to make of it, but he squeezed down on his hand so far he'd leave bruises, and he didn't stop until the morphine was injected. It was only then, feeling the slight little burn and tingle as the morphine started to affect it. The pain ebbed, still there but without the same edge it had before.
His fingers finally released Kun Shui's hand as he let it sag back to the bed. He wanted to sleep. It was well past midnight, and he'd been through one hell of a day. He didn't look over as the doctor finished her work, and he was only fairly sure she was done when she started to talk about payment.
At least it was mostly done, and he reached up with his good hand, pulling the gag out. Yep--he'd bitten nearly right through. |
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Post by KUN SHUI WEI on Jun 26, 2013 13:55:21 GMT -8
tagged: Lucien Margaux, Mirach time: May 10th. 11PM. speech: kun shui. notes: - - - A few weeks to recover. That would be fine, and hopefully he’ll be able to regain some mobility in the finger before long. He wouldn’t ask him to do anything though; not like he did in the first place, anyways. Lucien would likely be confined to light work only, but then again, when did he even work? Reading was the hardest work he seemed to ever do. Either way, he wasn’t moving anything until it was healed up to the point where Kun Shui deemed it alright, and that wasn’t for a long time yet.
He still kept a careful watch on the woman as he injected him with what he thought to be antibiotics, but when Lucien’s hand sagged, soon realized it was morphine. Still, he didn’t let that part bother him too much, though he would’ve preferred if she spoke to him about what strange liquids she was pumping into his ward. He was the one who listened to the medical instructions for the pills after, and like hell he’d be giving them to Lucien to dose himself with. Nope; he’d be right there when it was all administered, if not doing it himself because he wouldn’t trust Lucien with a bottle of drugstore painkillers, let alone things like Vicodin.
Kun Shui made a faint ‘hm’ sound when she spoke to him directly, but offered no further commentary on the absolutely venomous glare he was giving her. And no, she was definitely not seeing Lucien for a follow up. She was definitely never seeing him again, if Kun Shui could help it, but he nodded anyways. Cash; he had that on hand, and he gestured to another guard to go into his office and fetch it for him.
He flexed his hand and found a dull, throbbing pain across the knuckles when he did so. A glance down told him that Lucien had probably gripped much too hard, but that was a given. He’d check on it later; for now, his attention went back to the guard who brought back in what looked like a small wooden box.
It was just plain bamboo slates, with a hinged top; nothing out of the ordinary, and something you’d see in almost any shop in Chinatown. It was about the size of a box for a fan, and the guard handed it to the surgeon.
”As you wanted.” |
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Post by MIRACH DIA on Jun 27, 2013 17:15:11 GMT -8
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Mirach bit back the urge to laugh and rose from her seat again as the expression on Kun Shui’s face darkened even more. That glare had upgraded a bit. This was less of a warning that she wouldn’t be coming back for any follow ups anytime soon—or ever. This was the silent, thoroughly pissed, I’m-killing-you-in-my-mind treatment. No, Kun Shui had been quiet and reserved before, but that same dignified calm had transformed; there was a broiling storm beneath that façade. She supposed she should back off a bit for the sake of controlling herself. As a result, Mirach actually focused on clean up while Kun Shui took care of the money.
Occasionally her gaze would flick to Lucien to be sure that he was reasonably breathing and didn’t seem to be suffering from any adverse, early-onset affects of the medications and the surgery. No doubt he’d been in great pain—she could see it stretched across his pale face and dulling his gaze—but Mirach was looking for possible long term aftermath. Well. Long term aftermath that didn’t have to do with his state of his mind. At least he wasn’t huddled in a corner, hugging his knees to his chest and rocking back and forth while babbling nonsense. She glanced at his finger, finally stuffing the last of the hazardous material into black plastic trash bag. Most of her surgery equipment she would replace as well, and some of it went into the bag as a result. Mirach only stopped working to turn and accept her payment.
She chuckled. “That’s cute,” she said, examining the smooth slates. She brought the box over to her satchel bag, addressing Lucien again while she opened it to make sure that there was indeed, cash inside. Her eyes lit up almost instantly; Kun Shui—or his contact—hadn’t lied. The payout for this once was nice, and the money would be able to help her afford some new equipment. However. She half turned, looking neither man in the eye, the silhouette of her mask casting an unsettling shadow. Her voice had softened a bit—in the same way that Kun Shui’s glares, though quiet, were very intense. “As with any business transaction, there’s often some fine print that we must discuss,” she said. Mirach paused for a moment, closing the lid to the box delicately. “My work is very delicate. My reputation even more so. While many don’t agree with my methods, I could care less.” An icy quality had begun to slice its way through her tone. “What matters to the name Asclepius…is results. And here I’ve given you quite the positive outcome here. You might not like the way I’ve done it or what I’ve said, but ultimately your finger will be fine. In all likelihood you will regain a considerable amount of mobility in it. Rejoice in that fact. But in the process I ask only one thing. One thing of you.”
Her shoulders squared; she faced the wall again. “That was my work. My name on the line. If you fuck it up before it has time to recover, rest assured, invited or not, I will return to give you a piece of my mind.” She snorted. “And if you thought my jokes were bad before, you don’t want me to come back again. Now.” Mirach zipped up her satchel bag, the box replacing quite a few items that had formerly been inside but were now lost in the trash bag. She rolled up her tool kit and stowed it away. “Take care. Drink plenty of water. And don’t overexert yourself. Have a nice night—and make sure someone disposes of this trash appropriately.” She slid her gaze over to Kun Shui, then nodded to a nearby bodyguard and was led out.
Part of her expected—no, knew—that she would see Lucien again whether the two of them liked it or not. A doctor, after all, could not help but check on their patient’s progress. Ignoring a patient could have devastating consequences for their health.
She smiled.
“You ever have one of those days where everything just…falls into place?” she said to her escort. She grinned under the mask, but he never answered.
Time Stamp: May 10th, 11:00p.m.
Notes: Lucien might have nightmares but hey. At least she’s not operating on him anymore.
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Post by LUCIEN MARGAUX on Jun 27, 2013 20:24:23 GMT -8
tagged: jun shi, mirach. time: may 10th, 11pm. notes: bone fix time. Lucien wasn't quite sure if the woman's warning was to him or Kun Shui. She almost certainly thought he'd done it. The truth was distinctly unbelievable--his more or less evil twin had done it in revenge for something Lucien hadn't even done. If he had bothered to explain it, she probably would have laughed and not believed him for a moment. That was fine with him. No one had to know what had happened outside the three of them.
All things considered, he didn't really care. Her instructions were falling on deaf ears. He hadn't chosen this, and he doubted he'd have any more say in it happening again. He didn't choose it before, and he wouldn't choose it again. The only one who could really take the warning to heart was Jun Shi, and he wasn't there. He supposed Kun Shui could at least keep it in mind--strengthening the security around Lucien to be sure that Kun Shui. The biggest threat to him was going to be Jun Shi almost certainly.
He did pay attention to the bit about not doing anything with it (not hard), and drinking lots of fluid (also not hard). He could do both of those, but he stayed quiet until she left, and then he let out a sigh of relief.
Even if he was still in a good deal of pain, just having the woman out of the room was a great relief. He forced a little smile up at Kun Shui, looking pale and sick. "Thank you. Thank you for that but lets never have her back again." Because good god he couldn't take it. Half of being a doctor was bedside manner, and she didn't have a bit of it.
He still wasn't looking at his hand.
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Post by KUN SHUI WEI on Jun 28, 2013 9:16:27 GMT -8
tagged: Lucien Margaux, Mirach time: May 10th. 11PM. speech: kun shui. notes: - - - It was all about reputation, huh? Usually, knowing some of the people that Kun Shui knew and had dealt with in the past, it was more about the money, even if they spoke about reputation. He took everything that came with a grain of salt, making a sort of mental checklist and highlighting the fact that no matter what she said, she would not be setting foot back in this house.
He pressed his lips into a tight line. Water, rest, that was it. Lucien did little in the house, and it was rare that he even left his room. ”I’ll keep that in mind.” He said quietly, eyeing the woman as she left with a guard by her side. Escorting her off the premise or even to the front door would’ve been goddamn lovely. As long as she never set foot in the building again, he could be contented with the absolutely horrid bedside manner.
The door shut behind them, and Kun Shui waited until he heard the front door click before he even thought of looking back at Lucien. His face was just as pale as before, and though there wasn’t a whole lot of blood loss, he was well aware that he’d have to burn these sheets and get him new ones. The forced smile didn’t escape him, and he didn’t smile back. His expression didn’t budge an inch as he took a last glance around the room, motioning to one of the guards to go burn that leftover garbage the woman left behind.
”She won’t be.” He said simply. Kun Shui paused for a second before holding out his hand. ”Let me see it.” |
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Post by LUCIEN MARGAUX on Jun 28, 2013 10:46:27 GMT -8
tagged: jun shi, mirach. time: may 10th, 11pm. notes: bone fix time. In a way, Kun Shui seemed almost angry. Most of it was in Lucien's mind. He knew that he would have been angry in Kun Shui's position, and as much as he was now aware that Kun Shui was different, he was struggling to separate the two, pushing them apart in his head. Kun Shui wasn't like Jun Shi. For that matter, Kun Shui wasn't like him. He never had been, and it had only been not knowing him that had led him astray. Now he felt like he knew him a bit better, and while there were still massive gaps in his knowledge, he could at least get a rough idea of what he was like.
He wasn't angry. He told himself that over and over. He was just concerned and perhaps conflicted. It was his own brother--his own twin--who'd done the damage, and Kun Shui certainly knew that the reason Jun Shi had done it was a mistake. That much was obvious to everyone but Jun Shi.
He was relieved to hear she wouldn't be back, and after a moment, he lifted his hand up to show Kun Shui. His hand ached something awful, but the stabbing pain had been buried under plenty of medication. He really didn't think it was going to be any better for any period of time, but at least, by god, it wasn't as painful.
It was particularly well done, but still looked messy. His finger still looked a bruise rainbow, and the ring finger nearly matched it. Bound in the splint as it was, it was only half visible, but the stitches were obvious. Dissolving stitches that would fade in time, but always leave a neat little row of dots along the side.
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