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Post by Gordon Placid on Oct 25, 2009 23:11:30 GMT
December 18th
Thirteenth Hour
Year LVIt was a pleasant day when Doctor Placid had taken to doing the monthly checkup on Mercy Bell. Sunny, a few clouds in the sky, but still pretty chilly. Gordon didn't mind the temperature, he preferred it to be a little on the colder side, and the leaves were all starting to change color and fall. Autumn was in full swing, and he loved this time for all the sights, sounds, and smells. Even if it was so close to that desolate time that is winter, he could enjoy the last of the weather of Autumn that he could.
His bag was held tight in his right hand, a short walking stick in the other. It wasn't that he needed it, but more because he just felt like using one. A couple sparrows were chirping, a stray goose flew over, no doubt trying to find its flock. He did find the world around him interesting, at least the part of the world that was safe, even with the ever-present Gewin. He hadn't seen many of the Guardians for a while either, even so, it didn't affect him much.
When he finally came to the path that would take him to the Bell Farmhouse, he tucked his walking stick under one arm and checked his bag to make sure that everything was in order. He saw nothing out of turn with a slight sigh of relief before continuing down the path. When he reached the large house, he just knocked on the door and waited for an answer.
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Post by Mercy Bell on Oct 26, 2009 3:12:11 GMT
Miss Mary Bell was arguing with Miss Elizabeth Bell. Or, more accurately, Miss Mary was arguing at her older sister; Elizabeth seemed much more interested in her book, and was continually peeking down at it as if the ranting of her younger sibling was of no great importance. It wasn't, really... merely a criticism of her sister for ruining her fun at the festival. Elizabeth had apparently made quite a few comments to some gossiping mamas about Mary's behaviour with the men that night... and the tension over the issue had been simmering for days. Finally, it had burst.
Mercy Bell was in her bed on the upper story, and Erick sat in the corner, poking at the coals in the stove that was kept in her room -- they always figured that if anyone needed warmth, it was Mercy, for it was a greater risk to her to catch an ague. Mercy was pale and wan, her forehead beaded with sweat and her hair a curling mess around her face. The colour of her skin nearly matched that of her pillow, a yellow-white. Her eyes, white with cataracts, were directed at the ceiling. She looked half-dead.
Knock, knock. Olivia rushed from the kitchen, past her squabbling daughters, and ignored Beatrice as she rushed up to show her a particularly neat stitch she had just done. She opened the door, smiling and waving the doctor in. He was always a welcome sight. It was perhaps due to him that Mercy was still breathing in the upstairs bedroom.
"Dr. Placid," She greeted, dropping a small curtsy and moving to allow him through. "My youngest is upstairs in the room. Thank you dearly for making the journey. She had a sojourn in the river -- quite against our will -- and has had a crackle in her chest and a terrible cough ever since. It has gotten quite bad, now." |
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Post by Gordon Placid on Oct 26, 2009 3:41:16 GMT
The good doctor had heard the argument and was a little tentative to walk in, but, when Mrs. Bell opened the door he smiled and nodded when she gave the news. "Ah, wish I came sooner, but, I would venture to guess that everything happens for a reason...I take she is upstairs in her bed, at least, I would hope she is resting..." Not waiting for an answer, he would find a table to place his bag before opening it and rummaging through its contents, muttering to himself. "Crackle and a cough...Hm...That won't do...Not that either..." He knew that Mercy was in for one of the nastier-tasting medicines he had at his disposal, but, his father had always told him that the worse tasting the medicine, the more effective it was.
He took a particularly foul-looking green liquid out of his bag which was in a small bottle before uncorking it and taking a short sniff at its contents to make sure it was the right one. He was confirmed by the sickening strength of it as a tear formed in an eye. He brushed it away before turning and moving to the stairs, choosing not to take part in the slight chaos erupting in the Bell Home. He took to the stairs, still with no answer from Olivia Bell, and went to Mercy's room.
He knocked twice before poking his head in with a smile to Mercy. "Ah, Miss Bell, heard that you had taken to the river and now you're just cooped up in this little room..." He stepped in and gave a polite bow of his head to Erick before moving straight to Mercy's bedside and placing a gentle hand to her forehead. "Mind telling me how you are feeling, if you can, Miss Mercy Bell?" In truth, he knew she didn't look all that well off, and he also knew that he may have come just in the nick of time. He also hoped that his medicine would cure her, as it usually did, even if it sometimes tasted like fermented apple cider or bitter berries along with other things of the sort. "Ah, I am sorry to say that you may not be in for my mint-tasting medicine today, Mercy..." |
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Post by Mercy Bell on Oct 26, 2009 6:16:51 GMT
Olivia Bell watched the doctor ascend the creaking stairs and sighed, wiping at her brow. She sent a cool, hard stare at her daughter Mary and the girl hushed, her jaw clenched. She turned and stormed outside, slamming the door behind her. Olivia nearly growled, one fist coming to rest on her hip. "That girl!" She ground out, all exasperation. A few feet away, Bess murmured, "Yes. I know." And there was finally silence in the house.
The youngest Bell girl smiled slightly as the doctor entered the room she shared with Mary and Beatrice, although she did not bother turning her eyes to him. Along with Bess, Erick and her father, Dr. Placid was one of the few people to whom she did not feel the need to turn her eyes when spoken to. He understood her blindness. He understood to speak up, so that she could hear. Still, many required the nod of the head or the stare of unseeing eyes to feel that they were being paid attention.
"Doctor Placid," She said, her voice a thin croak, watching his unfocused form as he leaned over her. His cool hand touched her forehead, and she sighed, for it was cold and felt nice on her too-hot skin. She chose not to explain the river incident. She knew that it hadn't been wise. She had known when she did it. "I find it difficult to breathe. As if I have been running; but I have not moved. I promise. I have rested," She said, and then coughed -- there was a distinct crunching sound, indicating the presence of mucus.
Erick moved back, standing with his hands held neatly in front of him and his chin lifted. He stared down at his sister as if appraising her state like an infected crop, but deep in his eyes there was a distinct impression of concern. |
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Post by Gordon Placid on Oct 27, 2009 2:12:28 GMT
"My, my, my, good thing, also, I don't think you'd be able to run, as for that cough, well..." Gordon did have his voice raised just a slight bit, but, he moved to uncork the bottle again and then pull a clean spoon from one of his pockets. He always made sure to keep his supplies clean, since he didn't want to infect his patients even more than they were already, especially the fragile ones, like Mercy.
Gordon had always taken special care when caring for the youngest Bell daughter, since he heard of how sickness-prone she was, on top of being mostly blind and partly deaf. It was mostly out of the natural need to care for the patient as it was partly because he had a slight soft spot for return patients, since sometimes they became his good friends. Though, this recent downturn in Mercy's health worried him, especially her temperature. "Ah well...Guess before I gum up your mouth with medicine, I should ask if the swim was worth it, so, was it?" His voice wasn't scolding, rather, it was gentle with a slight tone of disbelief.
As he waited for her answer, he took to filling the spoon with the thick and sickly-sweet smelling medicine. He felt sorry for whoever had to ingest the mixture of herbs and liquids, but, it had worked before to clear up mucus, and it was his father's own recipe, so, he believed he had nothing to worry about in terms of effectiveness. The color was not unlike that of pea soup, a diluted light green. He also wouldn't be surprised if Mercy, or even Erick could smell it. Gordon really wished that more pleasant tasting medicines would be found in his lifetime, though, he also wondered if those same medicines would still retain their effectiveness.
He looked at Mercy, a slight smile on his face. "Well? I'm sure that your current state was worth that cool dip in the river, hm?" |
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Post by Mercy Bell on Oct 27, 2009 8:24:30 GMT
She chuckled in response. No, she probably couldn't run. Running wasn't something that Mercy did much, anyway. But oh, she wanted to! If she could hold someone's arm and run with them, they could keep her from falling and she wouldn't be slowed by using a stick to navigate.
The pungent smell of the medicine made her wrinkle her nose. No matter how often she had the stuff, there was no getting used to it. There was no liking it. But it made her feel better, with a little time and rest, where otherwise she might eventually fall below that line of measurement that said whether she survived or not. It was worth the foul taste, which only stuck in the mouth for a few hours. "I think so," She said, her nose still crinkled against the foul smell, but then she opened her mouth, lips trembling as if they wanted to snap shut and refuse the treatment. At first wiff of the stuff, Erick had turned and strode from the room. (Sorry for the sucky post and being all on and off today. Rough day. -sigh-) |
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Post by Gordon Placid on Oct 29, 2009 3:30:20 GMT
Gordon grinned at her answer before sighing. "I apologize for this, as I always do, but, swallow it quickly and it may not be so bad..." He would then take his chance and place the spoon into her mouth and deposit the medicine to her, pulling his spoon out quickly. "Ah, should not be too bad...Well, hopefully you won't develop a taste for it later on in life. Some of the ingredients in this stuff, when alone, are lethal. Though, do not worry, they are perfectly safe now.
He smiled at her while leaning back against the wall to observe her a bit, making sure that she swallowed the medicine, even though her body must have gotten used to it by now, there was always the chance of her vomiting it up against her own will, or other such outcomes. Plus, she was good conversation, when she was up for it. Also...He didn't exactly want to join in the chaos that had been the first floor of the Bell home. It seemed to have quieted down quite a bit, no doubt because of the Missus.
It wasn't like he disliked these trips, sometimes they were his only social interactions in weeks, but, he always fancied himself someone who would rather enjoy quiet peace over obnoxious bickering. That was also part of the reason why he didn't volunteer to watch from the guard towers night after night, even though they were mostly calm, they could also be a target of attack from the vicious Gewin. So, every night he went to sleep, he prayed that the Guardians would not fail in their duty to protect the village. He also valued his life, which was always nagging at the back of his head, which was what would happen if he died? |
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Post by Mercy Bell on Nov 1, 2009 7:35:59 GMT
Swallow it quickly, yes. A good idea. She finally moved her milky eyes in his direction, closing her mouth around the bowl of the spoon as it was placed in there. Her tongue retreated toward her throat, for she was anxious to avoid the taste as much as possible. As such, she held her breath, swallowing as quickly as she possible could and then continuing to swallow as the syrupy stuff clung to her throat, coating her mouth with its awful poignancy.
Afterward she coughed, turned her head away to make sure that it was not directed toward him. The stuff burned its way down to her stomach, apparently determined to do its job at whatever cost to her spirits. "I thank you," She croaked, her nose still wrinkled. She was gasping for breath a bit, for she had held her breath against the stench (and there never seemed enough air for her, besides). "It will run its course, as always. What in the world is it made of, by the way? There is no herb that I have encountered with that... particular smell."
She hesitated, and then continued: "I wondered, also, whether you might have seen Mister Griffin, the cat; I would so like to see him. He was witness to my, uh... romp," Well, kind of an instigator. "Should you see him, might you direct him here?" |
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