Dr. Mina Barrett, or Mary Read (
primogen_vampirate) wrote in
kore_logs2012-11-24 02:33 pm
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A toast to that invincible bunch, the dinosaurs surviving the crunch [OPEN]
WHO Mina and OPEN
WHAT Dealing with massive amounts of owwie
WHERE The pharmacy/clinic
WHEN Evening, Day 13
NOTES Multiple threads and threadjacking welcome and encouraged
WARNINGS Blood and medical stuff, most likely
Mina rarely indulged in sloth. Despite all appearances, it was her least favorite of the Seven Deadly. But after the whole disaster with the box, she gave herself an entire day and night just to stay in bed. She didn't rest. Not much. For the most part, she lay there stewing in her own juices. But at least her body had a chance to recover.
Slightly.
The problem with a limited blood supply was that she had to ration how much blood she used to heal her wounds. And so it was practicality, not the Masquerade, that left her to wake up still lacerated and bruised the next night.
Feeling sulky and bitter, she dragged herself out of bed. She didn't bother pulling on her suit, as she had absolutely no intention of speaking with anyone. Instead, she pulled on an oversized, button-down shirt she'd found in the closet of the master bedroom. Slipping into a pair of boots, she made her way out the door, crossing the sleepy, little village. She didn't particularly care about the wolves. At this point, she was just as likely to eat them as ignore them. But none gave her much bother as she made her way into the clinic.
It was beneath her dignity. Far beneath her dignity. But once inside, she peeled off her shirt. Dressed only in her unmentionables and her boots, she sat down on a cot that she had set up against the far wall, taking out a suture set. Gritting her teeth, she started to stitch up the slashes along her arm.
WHAT Dealing with massive amounts of owwie
WHERE The pharmacy/clinic
WHEN Evening, Day 13
NOTES Multiple threads and threadjacking welcome and encouraged
WARNINGS Blood and medical stuff, most likely
Mina rarely indulged in sloth. Despite all appearances, it was her least favorite of the Seven Deadly. But after the whole disaster with the box, she gave herself an entire day and night just to stay in bed. She didn't rest. Not much. For the most part, she lay there stewing in her own juices. But at least her body had a chance to recover.
Slightly.
The problem with a limited blood supply was that she had to ration how much blood she used to heal her wounds. And so it was practicality, not the Masquerade, that left her to wake up still lacerated and bruised the next night.
Feeling sulky and bitter, she dragged herself out of bed. She didn't bother pulling on her suit, as she had absolutely no intention of speaking with anyone. Instead, she pulled on an oversized, button-down shirt she'd found in the closet of the master bedroom. Slipping into a pair of boots, she made her way out the door, crossing the sleepy, little village. She didn't particularly care about the wolves. At this point, she was just as likely to eat them as ignore them. But none gave her much bother as she made her way into the clinic.
It was beneath her dignity. Far beneath her dignity. But once inside, she peeled off her shirt. Dressed only in her unmentionables and her boots, she sat down on a cot that she had set up against the far wall, taking out a suture set. Gritting her teeth, she started to stitch up the slashes along her arm.
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He heads over to the clinic to see if there's something there he can do, some way he can feel useful. Maybe check the supplies, maybe he'll put out a call, asking if anyone needs any medical help or advice. He's following Kurt's advice, a can of hairspray in one hand and a lighter in the other, but he reaches the clinic relatively safely, just in time to see what he thinks is -- huh?
Hurrying in after him, he enters the clinic to run into Castiel, which attracts enough of his attention before he notices Mina, and -- okay, then. He can handle barely clothed. It helps that this is like a double-punch to all the guilt he's been feeling lately.
"Hi." He's glad to turn his eyes firmly to Castiel while he gets his bearings. "You look really good for someone who had his head smashed in."
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"I'm more concerned about Mina." His attention was largely staying on her. He was pretty sure that he couldn't heal her the way he could humans, but there had to be something he could do to help. "Do you need a hand?"
He was unconcerned with her scars or that brand. He'd seen all of Dean's scars and they were just as unimportant. Human modesty was something he only somewhat understood. It seemed silly when the two of them both knew what the other was. Neither of them were human, anyway.
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Well, she supposed, she ought to put on some clothes.
With her good hand, she leaned over, picking up the button-down. She pulled it back on, over her shoulder to cover her tattoo. For all of her bluster and eccentricity, Mina didn't like feeling quite so exposed. She often found herself thanking God that she didn't need a doctor. She would make a bloody terrible patient.
"Nothing to be concerned about, darling," she said, feeling at least somewhat more defended. "I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself."
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"Is that all you walked away with? Or are you especially resilient too?"
He smiles at her, pleasant and calm, but it's clearly covering up his worry and concern for her health. And the guilt; that too.
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"I don't doubt that you can take care of yourself, but there's nothing wrong with taking help when it's offered." It's a lesson he'd had to learn himself. Her stubbornness on the topic reminds him of Dean almost immediately. They are very similar, aren't they? It's fascinating how two creatures can come from such different circumstances and still be so similar. He wonders if she was like this when she was still human.
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Bruce was a bit more surprising, really. After all, he had been a witness to her little light show. She respected his intelligence too much to deny what she'd done. But she certainly wasn't going to bring it up unless he did.
It wasn't something that she was particularly happy about.
She turned her attention back to Bruce. "Is Lydia all right?"
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"She's fine. We ducked into the library and kept ourselves safe." He jerks his head at Cas and takes a step closer. "He doesn't have a medical degree, but I do. Want me to help you get patched up? Unless..." And here he turns to Castiel. "You need a halo for that."
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He's a little uneasy about the mention of halos, though. He hasn't exactly been open about what he is to any of the humans here.
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Occasionally even strangers.
"Any help either of you wish to offer would be appreciated," she admitted. "I was beginning to think that gentlemen were a dying breed in your time. They're certainly a rare species in mine."
She brushed her hair back with one hand, then offered Bruce the suture set. Considering that Castiel had been chasing squirrels, she didn't trust him as much with sharp objects.
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Maybe he's out of the loop here. Just maybe. Of course, they aren't the only ones sitting on a secret identity here. There's a thought. Would he divulge about the other guy, if it seemed... normal... to them? He could always lie about what brings him out, but... No. No, he couldn't do that.
"I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that neither one of you is very human." He looks between them, eyebrows raised, but nothing but curiosity in his gaze. "Or if you are, you really need to tell me what you're drinking, because I want some."
Lie. He doesn't get sick, and if he ever got seriously injured to the point of death... He doesn't think it'd be very permanent. Still.
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"I don't know that you can call me a gentleman, though." He had no gender, even if it was becoming easier and easier to forget that this form wasn't his. The more time he spent with humans, the easier it became to see himself the way they saw him. He wondered how much of that was common perception and how much of that was Dean's perception, but he wasn't sure that it mattered now that it was becoming his own perception, as well. Maybe he was better off.
He stood behind Bruce, ready to help, but happy to let him do what he clearly knew needed to be done.
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They belonged to someone far more clever than any human she'd known in a very long time.
And so, she did exactly what she wasn't supposed to do. She reached out, taking one of his hands and pulling it closer to her, pressing his fingers against the pulse point on her neck.
Or rather, the lack of pulse point.
totally lost this notif!
Once Mina puts his hand against her "pulse point", the contact isn't the only surprise he has to deal with. His expression evens out from one of mild discomfort to curiosity, and then concentration as his gaze slips away from his hand and he palpates, looking for the pulse he knows isn't there.
"So what does this mean?" he murmurs finally, taking his hand away. He glances back at Castiel briefly, in case he's in on this too, before he turns back to Mina. "Other than that you should be dead."
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He was relieved at the subdued reaction Bruce seemed to have. "No one here should be dead, save perhaps myself." He'd known too many bad angels and at least a few good creatures who shouldn't have been. He might even consider himself among the bad angels, if he thought about it too much. He tried not to.
And then, because he had a feeling what Bruce might be thinking, "Mina and I are not cut from the same cloth, though. I do have a pulse."
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Admirable, even.
"I am dead, Doctor Banner," she said, her eyes unwavering as she watched him. "I have been for a very long time. I'm just too stubborn to sit still. I think I blame that on my mother. She was stubborn too."
A joke, really. Although there was a kernel of truth to it.
"In my world, we're called Kindred," she said. "You, however, might be more familiar with another term?"
And she smiled a very beastly smile.
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He stares at her teeth, eyes going wide for a minute before he takes the whole thing in stride, and then he nods. He holds his hands together in front of him, fingers tapping on his wrist, before he turns to Castiel.
"So... Are you the wolfman?"
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"You mean a werewolf? Am I a werewolf?" His surprised look was replaced by a smile. "Something like that."
He'd learned not to lie to the people who mattered. Dean. Others couldn't always be trusted. Until he knew more, this was as fine as anything else.
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Thank the gods for that.
She held out her bad arm, nodding to the sutures again. "If you would, dear? I'm feeling quite exposed at the moment."
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"This will probably still hurt, I'm assuming," he warns her before he gets started. He's lost in concentration as he works, and he glances up at Castiel when he gets a second.
"So do you guys have a clubhouse you hang out in and complain about humans?"
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"Actually, I prefer humans to my own kind most of the time." He smiled. Humans and sometimes vampires and demons, apparently.
Not only did he prefer humans to other angels, but he was unsure if there was an angel left he could face without shame. Even Gabriel left him with a feeling of guilt and he hadn't directly caused him any harm. Humans, at least, could look at him and have no idea what he'd done. Gabriel knew at least some of it and could likely figure out a good deal more.
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"Why would I complain about humans?" she asked, gritting her teeth. "I used to be one. And I'm responsible for keeping them alive. I am a doctor, you know."
In case it wasn't clear for the sheer number of times she referred to her own title.
Abruptly, she reached out to grab Bruce's shoulder, squeezing it slightly as she braced herself. "Damn it," she hissed. "I'd use a local if it worked on me."
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"Does anything work on you? How can I help?"
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Still, in his experience, most humans met them with disbelief, fear or morbid curiosity.
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Mina paused, glancing up to meet Bruce's eyes a moment. "Contrary to popular fiction," she said, "Kindred don't run around chewing off of everyone they see. It's not practical and it's not very nice."
And she threw a bemused look to Castiel. "And unlike your friend Dean, I don't fancy shooting and stabbing people either." She felt morally superior, in that particular moment, to the idiot hunter boat boy. Even if she did admire the way he'd swooped in to rescue his friend.
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That makes Bruce more nervous than Mina, and he tries not to show it; thankfully, he stitches require his attention, and that uncomfortable twitch of his shoulders could just be that he's getting a little stiff from bending over.
"Yeah, I mean, if she was going to eat me, I think she would've done it before she introduced herself. I just came from a place where there were aliens riding tanks that looked like space whales attacking New York. This Kindred thing seems like small potatoes in comparison."
Though if there is someone who can drink blood, maybe he should start putting out the Keep Out sign now. It's a risk, he knows, but he already told that annoying French girl this, so he might as well keep it up.
"Anyway, if she tried to snack on me, she'd be in worse shape than me." He glances up at her. "I have a blood disease. Sort of a long story involving bad decision science. So if you feel some hunger pains coming on now, go for our friend the wolfman over here."
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Oh, shit, I didn't know it was my turn. Sorry!
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