The Great Escape -RIOTE exclusive-

[Emmelin]

It had been a terrible, messed up week. The more Emmelin wanted to look at this disease, the more she found she didn't have the time!  Her eyes moved to the clock.  It was afternoon and she hadn't eaten in two days.  A sandwich was set in front of her, but they had cut it in wedges, which was daunting to her. It could have been in  a perfect 4 pieces, but they'd just made three triangles.  Well- those could be cut in two, but the probability of them all being completely even was ridiculous- not to mention inedible.  How could she eat something that tiny?  Well- there WAS smaller, but still.  

She stared as her stomach growled.  She WAS hungry, but these sandwiches.  She gave and stacked them to see if the pieces were even (of course they weren't).  Her brow furrowed, while she fumbled over her knife and skimmed the pieces until they were perfect.  Surgery was a success.  Thank God!  She happily took a bite, making sure to eat all three in the same amount of bites.  It was actually unintentional honestly.  It had all become routine to her.  The good thing was, routine presented patterns- which were easy to sort through.  

Her tea was bittersweet and cold on her lips.  How long had it been sitting there? After she swallowed it down, she shrugged and set the cup away from her.  She could focus a bit more now.  Words once again made sentences instead off blurs.  It was as if someone wiped the looking glass of her head.  As she scribbled some notes, she barely noticed that her nurse had return and stared at her.  "No- this won't work at all."  Her voice murmured to no one before she crumpled the paper and pushed the chair back.  What was she to do?  

"Doctor Kassanov.  There's a call for you."  Sweat seemed to bead down the man with the panicked look.  

"Mm?"  Her response was something of a moan and a question without words.  Responsive as ever, her body got up and moved to the phone.  "Hello?  Yes.  This is her."

...

"What?"

....

Her voice suddenly became more intense. "Where are you?"

"Hold on.  I'll be right there."  Before she even hung up the phone, she was at the door.  "Handre.  I need you to prepare a room now.  I will be here in ten minutes."  As she walked out the door, she missed the doorknob and ran straight into it.  Handre just stared a moment before opening it and running down the hall.  

"I really don't trust her driving."

"Pffttt.. I drive like a pro," she whispered to herself and then was out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well she made it there like she had said.  "Come on.  Here.  Let me get him in the car."  Surgery gloves and mask on- she was ready.  Well- she tries to at least.  Not even a second of trying to move the man, her hand slipped.  Not meant for manual labor.. right.  Her brain buzzed and she hauled the man into the back seat.  There she helped Nyx get in and seat belted.  "Ready?"

TEN MINUTES LATER... the horror of Emmelin's driving was done.  She'd gotten them there alive, at least.  To keep her young patient calm, she gave Nyx a lollipop and whispered a promise (If you never tell a soul I will give you lollipops for two weeks straight).  There was a reason that Emmelin rarely drove.  The nerve damage in her hands made it hard to grip the wheel at times (she'd never tell anyone that, though.  ANYWAYS.

Emmelin radioed for a stretcher for the unconscious man.  There they were toted up to the room prepared.  "Okay.  now that we're here, Nyx.  What was it that you were saying?  What exactly happened?"  She was into her work, now.  Turned and facing the sink, she pulled off her gloves.  After she washed her hands, she put new gloves on and grabbed her stethoscope.  It was time to check vitals.  "HANDRE!  I NEED YOU TO TAKE NOTES."

The man grumbled, but nodded. Ready as ever, he held up his pen and stared at Nyx rather intently.

[Nyx]

Blackberry.

That was probably the only thing Nyx had time to think as the car [DATA EXPUNGED] through the streets of Moscow. EVERYTHING WAS SUCH A TERRIFYING BLUR THAT ALL MEMORY OF IT HAS BEEN REPRESSED FOR THE PROTECTION AND SANITY OF THE ONE CALLED NYX. But she had a lollipop, and it was indeed blackberry flavored. Emmelin had promised her two weeks of lollipops, however many she wanted, presumably, but Nyx probably needed brain bleach a lot more.  To put it in retrospect, Nyx had seen more graceful head-on helicopter collisions than the doctor's driving... But she had a lollipop, and it was indeed blackberry flavored. 

They soon reached the small haven in the large city plagued by... Well, a plague, duh. Men with a stretcher came and took Aurel away, off to the room Nyx and Emmelin were headed for. Removing the candy treat from her mouth, Nyx looked up at Emmelin. "Soooo... What other kinds of lollipops do you have?" Of all the things to ask, Nyx chose this. Which was somewhat peculiar, given circumstances. WELL. It made sense to Nyx! If she was to be given a lifetime's fortnight's supply of lollipops, she had the right to know what flavors were available!

Plus, Nyx liked Emmelin; the lady was her personal doctor, as it was, and she tended Nyx's injuries and various sicknesses over the past few years that Nyx had been a member of RIOTE. From the times her wings had been hit by bullets, that time her bowstring snapped and cut her arm, and even the time Cora shot her in the hand; Emmelin had been the one to make that all better. So perhaps she could make Aurel all better? Perhaps. If nothing else, she could probably make him laugh by forcing him to wear sunglasses or a blindfold or something, because his eyes were so... SPESHUL. 8D And Nyx wouldn't put it past Emmelin to do something silly like that to avoid looking at his mismatched eyes,

Which they may well be seeing soon; the pair had arrived at the room about the same time the stretcher had, and Emmelin turned to Nyx and spoke, as they moved into the room. "Well, I was ma-" Nyx blinked as Emmelin delegated the task of note-taking to another person, an assistant of sorts, as she tended to Aurel. Well, made sense. Not knowing if this person spoke Amestrian, or if he did, whether he could understand Nyx's particular dialect or not, which those she KNEW became accustomed to, but others... Not so much. "Well, as I was saying, I was making chicken noodle soup for my sister, Tatyana, but she died while I was cooking, from the disease..." She trailed off slightly, thinking of Tatyana. She shook her head lightly to clear her mind and continued.

"And anyways, Aurel found her and stumbled into the kitchen, kinda in shock, and he seemed really upset, but I mean, you would too if YOUR daughter had just died, and well, I think Aurel has the disease, but can you fix him?" And that, my friends, is how a long story is left long, then ended abruptly. A compromise between those who would have their long stories cut short, and those who deign not.

[Aurelius Schwartz]

In the darkness, there was nothing. A silent void. The cold bliss. It was like dying, but only for a short while. Even whilst dying—dying always—there was that quiet break with which to sink into and lose oneself. There, there was nothing to behold, nothing to gather, nothing to determine, only that sweet nothing. All it could be was emptiness, but in emptiness there is form: breath, small movements, dreams.

What he dreamed was of a time of his own creation. There was a desert stretching out for miles. Cars made out of so much technology he could hardly even determine it was a car. Shiny and painted fresh, they kicked up the sand roadlessly. Three young children accompanied his invisible form. One a girl with blond hair, then two boys. The boys had fled from somewhere—another time of sorts. The villagers knew of their existence and were after them for the items they collected through their time travels, including the ones they were going to take from this time. Immediately, the boy’s gave up their stolen items, however, the girl did not. The girl, as Aurel learned, was not associated with the boys directly. It was her first time running into them. Even so, the boys protected her, hiding her in an abandoned warehouse surrounded by sand and crumbling from time. In the shadows and waning light she hid away. But the boys were captured. While they were being forced to reveal where the girl was, she bent in the corner with her one and only item: a gold-covered notebook with fuzzy green velvet. She was writing. Aurel tried to see what she was writing, but what he saw was growing fuzzy. Formulas were all over the page: a way to get out. A way to get out.

Suddenly, blackberries were planted in a field. He didn’t know how he knew they were blackberries, but there were rows and rows and rows. The girl was skipping through it, letting the pages fall from her small fingertips. Running after her were the two boys, grabbing at them as if they were important. A world of knowledge—the entire face of a clock ticking. A boy stumbled, fell, collapsed into one of the sticks holding up the stalk. The other caught up to her and grabbed her wrist. He couldn’t hear what they were saying anymore. How did they get there? What happened to the sand? What happened to their gold items? Everything was lost aside from her book and those pages taken now by the wind. He tried to stoop and lift one of the pages to read, but he couldn’t move; he didn’t have a body. And yet he moved, closer and closer to the boy that fell, the smell of broken blackberries growing more and more prominent and—

“dnj jdkhjk Aurel has the disease, jhssf can you fix him?" Nyx’s breath. It smelled like blackberries. Why was that, he wondered. Plagued suddenly by confusion, all at once, it came back. He began to recognize that she was speaking Drachman. He was able to piece together the words, and gather their meaning. He realized with shock that she was talking about him having the disease to someone else who potentially was going to make this problem go away.

He opened his eyes then—a shock of mismatched red and blue. Focusing, refocusing, light. He hissed in pain, rearing backwards straight into the examination table. Slamming his head back into the metal left a roaring vibration, penetrating harshly into his head where the plate remained from his counterpart’s attempted suicide. This felt suddenly like suicide. His reaction to jerk backwards left him entirely dazed. At first, everything went dark. The room dropped out, everything was floating. He felt heavy. His breath caught in his lungs. And then…pain. His eyebrows scrunched together, sweat beading on his forehead. From his lips, came only a faint whimper. This happened simultaneously.

It took just a few moments to recover sight. When he did, he gathered the scattered bits of RIOTE’s King from inside, improvised with glue, and managed to coherently stare blankly at Nyx. “Where is Tatyana?”

[Emmelin]

"What would you do if YOUR daughter had died?" Ouch. Wait-  How old was this girl?  How old was HE?!  She brushed the thought aside.  Obviously she had to be adopted too.  Surely there was no other reason that Emmelin wouldn't have met this Tatyana girl.

She gathered her stuff and nodded to Nyx. "Of course, honey.  I can fix him.  It IS my job after all."  In honesty, she didn't know as much as she acted.  She wasn't positive at all, because there was no cure.  Emmelin could only cross her fingers and hope that she wasn't made t be a liar.  Nyx was depending on her.

The man whimpered and stirred.  Well that wasn't good.  Was he in pain.  "Are the straps too tight-?"  

She was silent.  Her eyes were locked upon him, for multiple reasons.  Where to start?  First of all, he looked almost adorable stirring like that.  Yes, leader of Riote looking adorable.  Actually what DID he look like normally?  She'd never really seen him much.  Well, aside from the pictures people edited into newspapers and such. Of course those glamorized him or shamed him.  Paparazzi were ridiculous when it came to that.  This was him, in the flesh.. in her room.

Second.. She needed to check his heartbeat, so that meant she'd have to slide her hand up his shirt now.  Normally she'd have been okay with that, but with him waking up, it was a bit more difficult.  She didn't want to scare him, but she WAS a professional and it was her job.  He was distractedly attractive, which she wasn't exactly sure how to respond to.  

After her brain was kicked back into check, she came to point three.  His eyes.  They didn't match.  Oh God.  Staring that hard was probably not going to help him.  He was speaking about his daughter named Tatyana.  Strange how most people would never have seen this man as family-oriented as he was.  First thing to come to his mind, was to ask about this child? Not even some people twice his age would do something like that.  

Sunglasses...?  Blindfold..?  She let out something akin to a groan of displeasure.  Neither of those would really help right now.  Her issues would have to sit until later.  She didn't have to look at his face right now, so that helped.  She had no personal issues with it other than the mismatch.  

Without much of a word, she slid her stethoscope into place upon his chest.  "Breathe in."  She spoke.  OF course, Nyx had already explained he likely caught it from this Tatyana girl.  She wasn't going to get too involved in it.  This wasn't her business.  Her job was to make him better, but she needed to run her tests first to make sure that she was right.

Emmelin didn't doubt Nyx, but in her line of work, she HAD to make sure.  "I'm going to need you to sit up.  Can you do that?"  Well of course he could, that was a dumb thing to ask.  Her hand moved a bit clumsily to help him up, so she could check his lungs through his back.

"Now. What were those symptoms again?"  Her voice was a bit of a hum, while she spun on her heels and gathered her files.  Her fingers moved with numbers, while she let the two talk if they wanted to.  "Aaa yes.  Handre, get me my paint."

Right, her patient was still here.  "Aa.. forgive me.  Hello there.  I am Doctor Emmelin Kassanov.  I work the make-shift clinic here. Of course you've heard of me, as I tend to Nyx.  A pleasure to finally meet you."  She didn't expect him to remember or really care.  Her words were a filler until Handre had returned.  She tapped her foot and hummed an oddly cheerful tune.  Yes.  The graveness of the situation seemed to fly right over her head.

In walked Handre, bucket in tow with a displeased look in his face.  "I don't see why you don't just keep it in here.."

"And completely throw off my work space?  I think not!  What if someone knocks it over?!"  She shook her head.  "Honestly.  It's those small details that matter."  

Once her and Handre had finished bickering, Emmelin turned to face Aurel with a wide smile.  "Alright.  I'll need you to take your shirt off."

[Nyx]

Nyx nodded in response to Emmelin' words of comfort and hope, though as Emmelin herself knew it, so too did Nyx, that there may simply not be a cure for the disease, even for Aurel. All Nyx knew was that she didn't want Aurel to die. Losing her big sister was bad enough, even though she'd only known her for a short while.

But Aurel... She didn't want to think about what she'd do without him. She couldn't think about it, in fact; a world without Aurel was a world without sunshine, without rain, without life, and without meaning. He was the closest thing to a father she'd ever had, and was, beyond even that, he best friend, and her entire purpose for living. He was her heart, in a way; if he stopped working, she'd die.

Speaking of the unconscious man, he seemed a little less... Well, just that: unconscious. With a whimper, he stirred slightly, and Nyx's eyes widened, alarmed by such surprising and sudden movement, and especially by that whimper. It wasn't often she heard Aurel make weird noises like that, and she didn't like it, no matter how adorable it was. Allegedly.

Though her mind didn't get much more time to think of how much more adorable Aurel would look if he were wearing a bunny costume. As he finally awakened, his first words were asking where Tatyana was. Nyx felt a cold shiver wash over her body, as it dawned on her; he was so out of it, he probably had no idea what had gone on just prior to his collapsing in the kitchen.

She didn't want to be the one to tell him... "She's... Not here now." It wasn't exactly the full truth, but it wasn't a lie; she wasn't there. She was dead... But Nyx didn't have the heart to tell him that. Not yet...

Nyx stood back, as Emmelin did things of a doctoral sort, such as asking about his symptoms and getting him to do various little tests and such. She didn't really have much to say, so she just stood there, quietly watching and waiting.

It only really then occurred to her that RIOTE really needed its own personal medical staff. Why they didn't already have one was beyond her comprehension. Hmm... Perhaps...? Maybe...

[Aurelius Schwartz]

"She's... Not here now." What…did that mean? He often found himself asking when the dialogue pertained to Nyx. Obscure and usually colorful, he struggled to maintain a sense of sanity on a serious level when concerning her. A confused look crept into his unguarded expression. There was something missing. He felt disconnected from the— Wait. He took two steps back from himself and swallowed. Softly.

“No…she’s gone,” Quietly, painfully, the words came from his lips, leaving the air dry and heavy—white, and pristine. The countless days that fell away, fluttered off the calendar that would never meet the last page into the busy void. There he lay now just as she had laid, Nyx over him as he had been over his daughter. He had watched her go—seen her disappear forever—as if she never was. Who would remember her? Her name was already lost, nowhere within the traces of history, gone holding no trace. Who she was—what she had become in this time was something that would never be again. That Tatyana would only ever be the one that died. Then there was nothing.

His eyes grew dark, sated by all the voices—the whispers of shadows lurking beyond them. His own thoughts. “Don’t pamper me.” A demand. Cold, emotionless. He had fallen away from any and all shreds of humanity just struggling to the surface. He was that man—that man capable of virtually anything. But was all of that—everything he had done… devoid of feeling? Had he always been that meticulous, calculating monster that everyone thought he was? No, there was bitterness in his voice, choking him like a vice, squeezing out what so much light created in its wake.

He wasn’t a child. Why be treated as such? Why hide from the truth? Was Nyx echoing his past actions towards her, or just making them up as she went along? No, was she even thinking about what she was saying? She didn’t want to tell him. The truth? He must have told her. In that room—in that bed now…was just a body. A lifeless body. That body he poured over, night, day, doctors, alkahestrists, false gods, and nothing.

That busy void.

Stole her away. He let it. He watched it. And not only that, but subjected himself to the same fate without a second thought. What value did he hold for himself anymore? Had he ever wanted to live? Even as he ran baked in experiments, did he ever truly want to live? To be free, was that really living? Or was that just a dream. Borne from a transmutation circle, he never once thought about life as it was. To create…life. Was that how Tatyana came to be? Was that…was that how it was supposed to be?  

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, reaching up a hand to grasp Nyx’s arm, and pull her closer so he didn’t have to speak as loudly. “What was I thinking?” Misery dragged him away, hooves digging viciously into the earth, pounding in his chest, against his ribcage. “Leaving you alone…” What if he died? “I guess it just…wasn’t part of any plan. I had no idea.” No idea it was coming. No idea that it would take RIOTE away from them. No idea that Tatyana would die. And now… Now he had it? He had to watch Nyx watch him fade away as well? Was there no hope? Now, suddenly, tentatively, did he…want to live?  

What he allowed this desire? Was he allowed to want anything at all? After all his work, what was left of him? Who was that man beneath the curtain? He looked down at himself, hand cascading limply from where it tethered against his only remaining daughter. This body. Hah, it wasn’t even his and he was losing it.

"Are the straps too tight-?" rocked into his ears, blurred and hardly coherent. He realized blankly that there were indeed straps procuring him to the table he had hit his head on. Confused and far more delirious than he’d admit, Aurel feigned reply. Having nothing more to say, he was completely ready to hear the words of his own passing.

What then would he find there? In the nothingness—in the dark—the dreamless abyss, would he finally find that peace—that balance he had been trying so hard to create? Hild, that innocent soul sacrificed for himself. Vanity, that snobbish girl who still managed to care. So many before him, would they be waiting there? Waiting—laughable. Who would wait for a man that had leveled entire cities, crumbled world orders, and laughed at the body counts? He would hardly wait for himself—hardly look himself in the mirror. Still, even if it wasn’t him, it was still him. He had come to terms with it, accepted it.

But he wasn’t done yet.

"Breathe in." Because that’s all it took to survive another second. He felt the pressure of the instrument and let his eyes slide closed, taking a slow breath. He felt calmer—more conscious. " I'm going to need you to sit up.  Can you do that?" He nodded, looking the doctor in the eye and allowing her to help him up. By then, however, the world was swimming. Everything rippled around him, churning in all directions. He bit his lip, looking rather frazzled while trying to solidly maintain his balance enough for her to work. What was her name?  "Hhdkj. What were those symptoms again?" He watched her reach for her files, barely holding himself upright. He knew all the symptoms—could recite them just as they came—just as he had seen them take someone away.

His eyes were so bitter. Red and blue locked dead on the doctor as she muttered something to her assistant whom Aurel hadn’t even noticed before. Handre was their name. But he was still struggling to get a handle on Drachman; Amestrian even was hard to discern. ”I am Doctor Emmelin Kassanov.  I work the make-shift clinic here. Of course you've heard of me, as I tend to Nyx.  A pleasure to finally meet you." Ah, right. Her. He had heard Nyx speak of her before. Actually, he was certain he had set her up with Doctor Kassanov some time passed. No matter, he had indeed heard of her regardless.

“Aurel,” he said bluntly, dropping really all formalities. He was tired. There really was no need; she knew who he was. Even still, he found himself wondering what exactly it was that she was humming to fill the gap of silence between her assistance’s exit and return. Avidly, he stared after her, getting dizzy on the foot tapping, and nearly drifting off before Handre came back in the room.

"Alright.  I'll need you to take your shirt off." He jolted back to attention, confused momentarily before grasping what she had asked of him. Almost forlornly, he slipped the shirt off, and threw it at Nyx with a curl of the lips. She’d catch it.

[Emmelin]

Emmelin blink, half surprised that he would so easily strip.  She WAS a doctor though. DOCTOR!  It took her brain a moment to remember that, because he was- quite honestly a very handsome man.  Her brain instantly chided her that she was a professional an as such, she couldn't stand and ogle her patients.  She shook her head and laughed softly.   She had so many thoughts racing through her mind, but she couldn't exactly process them.

About three times, she opened her mouth, about to say something, then closed it and tried to think of better words.  How could she say anything that wasn't flirtatious, but was at the same time?  WHY WAS SHE TRYING TO HIT ON A SICKLY PATIENT.  "Good.  We can move on now."  Yep.  That sure as hell sounded normal and not like she was unsure how to speak anymore.  

Quite frankly the man without the shirt had her brain a bit frazzled.  Static filled her mind and fuzzed her mind a moment, but she was sure it would pass- or at least.. she hoped so?  

Handre cleared his throat and Emmelin gave an obviously nervous laugh.  She rubbed the back of her head and turned around.  Handre's look was not one that helped Emmelin feel any better. That arched brow that scolded her silently...  

With a bit of ice of her own, she scooped up the pail and walked over to him.  "Okay.  Just as procedure, I'm letting you know now, I will be putting this paint on you.  No worries, it washes off easily and doesn't stain clothes!"  She grinned again and her finger was up; pointed to the ceiling but not for any point other than the fact she was speaking.  

Slowly, Emmelin took a breath and walked over.  Carefully, she inched, before the pain struck her and suddenly she grimaced and dropped the paint... EVERYWHERE.

Handre laughed at her.  In fact, he was nearly on the ground laughing.  

Her face was bright red, but she cleared her throat and dusted herself off (which naturally only spread the lovely blue paint all over her once-white coat).  "Right.  Anyways, as I was saying.  You might feel a slight tickle. Tell me if anything hurts, because it's not supposed to."  Acting like she HADN'T made a complete mess of the floor and wasn't humiliated, she knew her patient came first.  She could beat herself up later.

She bent down and picked up what was left of the paint and managed to place it beside him.  Upon examining the contents, she realized there was enough for the procedure.  It only took a single scoop for her to have enough paint.  "Front or back?"  She asked him in a gentle voice.

[Aurelius Schwartz]

She was stuck in stasis, and beginning very much so to resemble a fish. Aurel had fish once in an aquarium back when he lived with Hild and his adopted father. They all died. Not from neglect, mind you, but just because fish died. That was what happened. That was potentially what was happening to him now. But his doctor just couldn’t get the words out. What was she going to say? That he looked like he hadn’t eaten in a week? (It was true). Still, she continued to clamp shut her mouth and keep the words inside, looking at him not so much like she were looking at a specimen, but more like she was looking at an actual person. It made him uncomfortable. Not because he didn’t want to be viewed as a person, but… He wasn’t really sure. "Good.  We can move on now."

“By all means,” he haphazardly added. Something about her. Offset him more than the damn virus. He leaned heavily on an arm used to prop himself up, watching her as if a dog awaiting a bone. However, this bone would be among his own, rotting in the ground if she did not acquire a solution to this suffering. How close was he…how close was he to death, he wondered? The clock on the wall alerted him to how much ticking had past, and he turned again to look at the doctor with mismatched eyes filled with curiosity. Why was she silent? Was she always like this? He could hardly trust her authority if she continued to look as dumbfounded as she— He glanced down at himself and felt a devious smirk grow on his lips. “Would you prefer if I put the shirt back on?” She was female after all.

"Okay.  Just as procedure, I'm letting you know now, I will be putting this paint on you.” Or not. What? It was his turn to be the fish. Except he did not mimic one. Keeping his mouth firmly shut, he let himself be entirely at a loss, quite comfortable with it actually. Paint? He could be accepting of this. Even if it made no sense to him at all. Was it going to fix anything? Perhaps. It could potentially allude to a cure of some sort? ”No worries, it washes off easily and doesn't stain clothes!" As if he cared about his clothing right now. He gave her a trained look. However, she had already turned away to retrieve the paint from off one of the many counters. She went to wheel back around, but stopped, wincing in obvious pain. While normally he would be rather perturbed to receive an already invalid doctor, he found himself rather amused. The paint was all over the floor, the loud clack of the can, sending a hand up to faintly touch his head. Just that made it feel as though his scalp was on fire.

He chuckled, eyes on the spilt paint like it was milk. He glanced over at Nyx to note her reaction, while trying to stifle his laughter so that he not fall so far from himself so as to be unrecognizable. It was almost as if he were already dead. Except he wasn’t. He was more Aurel than he ever allowed himself to be.

Why was it blue? He choked back the mild amusement while witnessing the feeble attempt to remove the paint via wiping. It wasn’t dirt! His eyebrows furrowed, but the movement pulled at his temples, causing a sharp intake of breath indicating that the agony was taking over again. He was dazed. She said something. He hardly heard it. She said something else; he forced his attention on discerning the words.  "Front or back?"

“What?" He sounded just as confused as he was.

[Emmelin]

Laughter. She had never expected her patient to laugh at her- or did she? Really in her frantic movements to look like she knew what she was doing, she couldn't think.. or maybe it was his lack of shirt. ..Maybe it was a bit of both? She blinked away her confusion and took a small breath to try and tame the wild waters in her head. She could do this. She did this all the time- didn't she? What made him so different?

What made anything.. anything? Now was not the time for philosophy. Her patient was sick and she needed to focus and make sure he made it out of her office. However his response, "What?" was less than helpful. With a shake of her head, she sighed and just leaned forward.

"Don't move," she demanded. Her brow furrowed and in a moment she was a professional again. Like a child doodles on paper, she began to draw upon him. Her finger looped the circles upon her symbol. It was perfect, as it should be. Just enough paint allowed it to retain its shape without dripping and bleeding out of form.

Once that was done, she moved her hand. Directly in the center of his chest, she placed the palm of her hand and splayed her digits over the flesh. As she concentrated, the rest of the world didn't exist. Sound was muted and the world flooded only into a blur of colors. Gently her energies worked its magic and she was able to manipulate and mutate what she could grasp at.. not his body, but the very roots of the virus. It was a moment longer, before she pulled away and swayed a little bit.

Once her balance had returned once more to her, she eyed him carefully. "This isn't a cure, in the literal term. It should, however, prevent it from passing from you or progressing any worse." She bit her lip and could only hope it actually work. Was her work for nothing? Research was an essential and she had spent a lot of it to get even this much. Her own edge on it, should have been able to even ease the ailments, but she couldn't be sure until she asked him.

"How do you feel?" Her hand was away and the doctor was back to examining her patient. Concern and interest were both on him.

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