Django
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Post by Django on Jul 4, 2017 20:45:01 GMT -5
Under cover of darkening skies, a green cloak slipped into the recesses of the old barn. It stank of hay and mildew, but it was better than the crackling energy that raised the fur and aggravated the itching scars of Smiley the fox. She liked heavy rain, it helped get the dreaded feeling out, but it hadn't started to rain yet. Dry lightning spit itself across the clouds, and the humidity had risen dramatically.
No sooner had Smiley set her bag down inside than a thunderous BOOM rattled the old building, making the big fox's brush puff out in fright. She turned just as bloated drops of rain began smacking the outdoors. She slid her hood down and sat on the floor, leaning against an old box-shaped thing she assumed had once been some kind of feeding trough or possibly a bench. Didn't matter.
Her feet were killing her. She started rubbing her calloused toes with calloused fingers, trying to alleviate the ache of travel. Not much pain got to her, so it was usually after several miles that she noticed her feet weren't really up to walking anymore. She had to make herself stop to rest, which got more difficult the further away from water she went. At least a running current was a good excuse to help the feeling of her scars, but on dry ground she just had walking to keep her occupied.
At least now there was some rain. She could go stand in it later. She took off her cloak, too warm in the humid air, and settled back once more, enjoying the view outside the long-broken doors. Her sensitive ears picked up a noise. Footsteps. She slipped on her cloak again to conceal her broken glass collection (it was more fun watching them guess where that noise was coming from), but still left the hood down. Her face was enough of a threat to a potential attacker. She looked around, one paw on her surgical knives.
"Who's there?" she demanded in a voice like an avalanche of gravel.
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markab
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Post by markab on Jul 4, 2017 21:21:27 GMT -5
It was late evening, the sky thick with dark grey clouds, and Keta was just about as pleased as he ever got.
And why not -- his day had been quite successful. The bird he'd run across earlier in the day was something he'd never seen, and Keta was nothing if not interested in anything new to pick apart. Some huge, long-necked thing with brilliant white feathers and an odd flat beak, brought down by an arrow; the rat who'd shot it was already lying with a broken neck, but that was hardly a rare injury in Mossflower. He'd seen it before; not interesting, especially in comparison to the other thing he had to kill.
It had been tough to actually take down while staying out of range of its wings -- he'd dealt with birds before, and they could deal blows of the kind he assumed was responsible for the rat's death -- but not impossible. After about half an hour he'd managed it, and spent the next several hours picking the thing apart, finding every familiar structure from every other bird and beast alike he'd hunted and killed. Sketched a few things down, stored a few pieces of the bird in the assorted jars he kept in his backpack, and weaved a few white feathers into his fur to join the crow ones down his back.
It was quite a while later, walking down some path through Mossflower, that he actually realized it must have gotten him somehow, because he seemed to be dripping blood. He'd brushed the liquid away, found a jagged cut in the meat of his arm next to his elbow.
Keta would have left it, except for the whole tail thing. That had taught him a bit about being careful. So instead he pulled his scattered medical kit out, came up with needle and thread, and whistled his way down the rest of the path while sticking the thing awkwardly through his arm.
And paying very little attention to anything around him, because when the air shook with a boom of thunder he jumped and promptly stabbed it straight into his arm.
More blood running down his arm now, Keta looked up and frowned at the sky, just in time for a veritable downpour to hit him directly in the face.
He snapped his head back down and wiped water from his eyes. The steadily-oozing blood was no longer visible under the rainwater, and Keta plucked the needle out of the...muscle he'd just jammed it into. Oops. He brushed ineffectually at the wound, but it would probably be fine. The water might help, anyways, but he wasn't particularly interested in stitching himself up mid-downpour.
And as luck would have it, a glance around revealed a barn right nearby.
Keta made his way over, the needle and thread dangling from his slightly-mangled arm, and ducked inside. Under the broken boards, at least it was dry; didn't seem particularly pleasant, all rotted wood and old hay as far as he could see, but it would do. He blew some water off the tip of his nose and hummed as he took a few steps forward, looking for a good place to sit --
"Who's there?"
Keta blinked, looked up, completely unhurried. It was easy to pinpoint the voice, look back to exactly who it was coming from -- a fox, it looked like. He peered at her curiously through the half-dark, noting the impressive amount of teeth, and then flopped down onto the ground, drawing a leg up to his chest to prop his arm on.
"I didn't expect to see anyone else here," he chirped, wiping water off the needle with one finger and poking it rather roughly through his skin. New blood welled, bright and red, around it. "No need to fight. I just need to stitch this up."
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Django
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Post by Django on Jul 4, 2017 21:38:34 GMT -5
"I didn't expect to see anyone else here. No need to fight. I just need to stitch this up."
Smiley's murder mode was deactivated at the scent of fresh blood. Her face went from threatened animal to curious child in a second. She stood, hunched over, almost on all fours, watching the sable suture himself up. He didn't seem to be feeling the pain. Even Smiley had to grit her teeth if a wound ever got that bad, but he wasn't even bothered.
Against better judgement, she sidled closer to the stranger, eyes never leaving the bright red drops slipping down his dark fur. She reached for her bag, pulling out her black gloves and slipping them on. She hadn't touched a living body in awhile. This one was also bleeding. How serendipitous!
"Would you like some help?" she inquired in a tone that sounded like an angel being choked with limestone. "I'm a surgeon myself. If that's giving you trouble, doing it one-pawed, I'd be only too glad to take care of it."
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markab
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Post by markab on Jul 4, 2017 22:05:02 GMT -5
Keta frowned thoughtfully as he pulled the string taut through another flap of skin, tugged the edges together. The whole process was, after so many repeats, incredibly tedious. And he was sure after this he'd have to utilize his vague herb knowledge to find something to keep it from getting infected. Losing his tail was one thing; losing an entire arm would be quite another.
He looked up, curious as to whether the fox was going to try and turn this into a fight the way too many other vermin did, but instead she was staring at him, hunched over, watching him loop the thread and start the next stitch.
Hm. He blinked, intrigued. Normally anyone who saw him pulling this kind of stunt looked disgusted at best, or asked, in what was usually a high pitched tone, something along the lines of doesn't that hurt? And then Keta would shrug and just keep going and they'd usually turn a little green and excuse themselves.
Not this one, who crept closer with an accompanying, vaguely bizarre rattling noise that made Keta's ears twitch. He wasn't too bothered, though; one fox, and Keta'd fought more than that before and come out handily on top because he didn't double over when someone gave him a cut to the ribs. Particularly not when she snapped a pair of gloves on, because that hardly seemed like something that would herald an impending fight.
Admittedly, he liked the whole concept of fighting, especially when he got cut, but he also was a little occupied and that would just be rude.
"Would you like some help? I'm a surgeon myself. If that's giving you trouble, doing it one-pawed, I'd be only too glad to take care of it."
Keta hummed cheerfully, tugging another stitch into place, and wiped the blood off on his fur. Perfectly aware she would probably end up doing something to him, with that grin and the gloves and the weird sort of air she gave off with that combined, but that was half the fun.
"Oh, I'm used to it," he said brightly, but offered her the needle anyways. Thought briefly about mentioning that whatever she did wouldn't actually hurt, but hey. That would probably be more fun later.
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Django
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Post by Django on Jul 4, 2017 22:17:37 GMT -5
"Oh, I'm used to it."
Join the club, Smiley thought, taking the needle from the sable's paw. She sat next to him, and with deft paws and quick movements, she soon had tidy stitches stacking on top of one another down the wound. It wasn't often the creature she was "operating" on was still alive. This could make for an interesting chat. He'd already proven himself worthy of her interest by not passing out from this much blood loss.
"Got a name, Feathers?" she asked as she worked, not having missed that little detail, despite the dampness of the plumage threaded into the sable's fur. His cheery disposition was a little infectious, and she couldn't help her grin getting just a bit wider. She wasn't against happy feelings. She just didn't experience them often outside of dissection and maiming.
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markab
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Post by markab on Jul 4, 2017 22:47:58 GMT -5
Keta was -- well, not surprised that the fox hadn't been lying as she threaded a row of neat stitches into his arm that were, admittedly, tidier than his ever ended up looking. More surprised that she was actually stitching it up instead of...jabbing him with it, or something along those lines. Or...maybe she was doing something and he just couldn't tell. Whichever. Looked normal to him, though, as he watched her work. Maybe he should practice more. Though he hardly cared if the work he did looked anything close to good; just needed to be serviceable.
"Got a name, Feathers?"
He wiggled his fingers, watching curiously as her grin widened. It had...well. He hadn't seen a fox with quite that many teeth in a grin before, or a smile that was...that big. Unfortunate he didn't have one quite as impressive, it certainly had the potential to be intimidating. He just had to work with the cheer and his smile with an average amount of teeth and the ability to stick things in his skin without being dramatic, which seemed to function well enough when it came to most beasts. Especially woodlanders.
Ah well. He nodded, smoothed down one of the new feathers at his shoulder with his free hand at the reminder. "Keta," he said. "How about you, Smiley?"
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Django
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Post by Django on Jul 4, 2017 23:14:54 GMT -5
"Keta. How about you, Smiley?"
The fox giggled like a disintegrating crate full of rocks. Fondly, she recalled the first time somebeast ever called her that. Their tone had been filled with terror as they had spread those early rumors. Keta's tone was casual, jovial, probably the first beast to ever call her Smiley with that tone. She tied off the end of the suture and cut the excess thread with her teeth. Handing the needle back to Keta, she laced her gloved fingers together, showing lots of teeth.
"You've got it," Smiley said. "Smiley the fox surgeon. That's what... my patients call me."
She threw her head back and emitted her infamous laugh. Her gravelly, halting laugh that pierced the darkness of the barn and the rain-soaked air. She looked down at Keta again, absently scratching at her chest as she wondered if the noise was at all familiar to him, or if he'd heard the stories about her. If not, well, best to get it from the source. Her foggy pupils flicked over his fur, sniffing him for more blood.
"You're a tough one," she remarked. "Anything else you may need... assistance with?"
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markab
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Post by markab on Jul 4, 2017 23:32:47 GMT -5
All his question seemed to do was get the fox to giggle. Keta's ears pricked at the sound, head tilting to the side. Oh, if he had any sort of sense of self-preservation at all it would probably have at least unnerved him. But then, that went for a lot of stuff. When nothing could really hurt you -- well, that seemed to be the big fear, right? Among most he came across, anyways. It was...hard to be afraid of things when it was so easy to outlast them.
The fox tied off the end of the suture, snapped it neatly with her teeth. Keta peered at his newly-stitched wound. There was a pretty stark contrast in quality between his and the fox's sutures; his were crooked, hers were neat and even, but in fairness walking while stitching was not the easiest thing to do, especially when it was your arm. And he'd been planning to sit down.
"You've got it. Smiley the fox surgeon. That's what... my patients call me."
The laugh that followed was impressive; rough and strangled, like someone dying. Keta barked his own, though it was...substantially less creepy. "I can see where it came from," he said. patting at the stitches. Wondered how long they'd even stay in, with his tendency to pick at things. He'd have to force himself to leave them alone at least a little while.
"You're a tough one. Anything else you may need... assistance with?"
Keta huffed, running a hand down his uninjured arm. Well. The one that seemed uninjured, anyways. Not that he would be able to tell. Monitoring his body, as he had to at least every night, took about half an hour and was a bit of an irritating mess that he hated being unable to avoid. Sometimes made him wonder if the maintenance was worth the benefit.
"No idea," he said cheerfully, with a shrug. "I don't normally check until later."
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Django
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Post by Django on Jul 5, 2017 23:58:02 GMT -5
"No idea. I don't normally check until later."
What a specimen! Immune to pain to such a degree. And completely nonchalant about it. There were only a few ways to deal with something like that, she supposed. Questions flared in her mind. Questions that good woodlanders would consider unspeakable, but Smiley considered them purely scientific and valid given the situation.
"Have you always been this way?" Smiley inquired, finally pulling off her gloves and stowing them. "Had such a high tolerance, I mean. I'm a tough egg, myself, but nothing like you."
She wasn't going to let this sable out of her sight easily. This beast afforded her quite a unique opportunity, and since it was still foul weather outdoors, she suspected they'd be in this barn awhile. How lucky for her!
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markab
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Post by markab on Jul 6, 2017 11:24:52 GMT -5
Most wounds -- the surface-level ones, anyways -- had at least the advantage of being pretty easy to notice, with the way they dripped blood; he'd gotten used to checking behind him every so often, making sure he wasn't leaving a trail from some injury he'd not yet noticed. He was...fairly certain he'd never broken a bone. That would be a huge hassle to even notice, much less fix. He kind of wondered what walking on it would do. Would he completely miss it, or...hm.
"Have you always been this way? Had such a high tolerance, I mean. I'm a tough egg, myself, but nothing like you."
Distracted from his earlier thought, Keta frowned, considering, as the fox pulled off her gloves. Tolerance...didn't seem like the word for it, when one didn't feel any of it at all. But, regardless.
"I guess!" he said, as brightly as ever, resting both arms atop his bent knees and blinking up at the fox. "Maybe. I don't feel it. Does that count?"
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Django
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Post by Django on Jul 6, 2017 19:58:20 GMT -5
"I guess! Maybe. I don't feel it. Does that count?"
The fox smiled so wide, all her teeth were clearly visible. They glinted in the flash of lightning from outside the barn. She giggled with the thunder that rolled overhead.
"Oh, that counts," Smiley said. She stood then, and moved back to her small pile of belongings she'd left on the floor, her glass collection clinking as she went. She knelt and picked up her green bag of surgical equipment, and sauntered back to Keta.
"I wonder," she purred, although it sounded more like a rattle, "if I might perform a pawful of... tests, on your person?" This was the first time she'd asked for consent, but it was also the first time she'd actually wanted one of her victims patients to remain alive during the procedure. "I'd like to see just how much you can't feel. Interested?" She certainly was.
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markab
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Post by markab on Jul 6, 2017 20:35:55 GMT -5
Outside, the rain seemed to be intensifying, if anything. The barn seemed to hold up well under the downpour; at least where Keta was sitting, none of the water was falling through on him. Might change if the wind did, though; the walls were falling apart, and as a flash of lightning illuminated the darkening evening sky the light poured in through every crack in the walls, more than enough to see the grin on the fox's face -- this one somehow impossibly wider than the last, which he'd already thought contained far too many teeth to be normal.
But Keta was an adrenaline addict with no self-preservation to speak of, so he just nodded back, curious to see what she planned to do with that expression. Nothing good, certainly? He tapped his footpaws on the dirt, thinking. If she was a surgeon, maybe she knew more than he did; maybe she could make him feel something, besides the faint shift in temperature when the difference was dramatic enough or pressure that never bothered to sharpen itself into what everyone else insisted should be pain.
"Oh, that counts."
He kept tapping, watching Smiley move back to the belongings she'd left on the floor. Like the first time, she rattled when she moved -- something hidden under the cloak, he could tell now, glass or bone most likely, sounding close to the sound his pack made when its jars clattered against each other. Not unlike the clatter of his knives with the tap of his feet, drowned out every so often with the deafening roar of thunder. He didn't much mind the weather, as long as he wasn't in it.
She came back with a green bag, which Keta peered at through the gloom. Who knew what that was.
"I wonder, if I might perform a pawful of... tests, on your person? I'd like to see just how much you can't feel. Interested?"
Tests. How promisingly vague. The curious, prickly excitement he always got when something new was going to happen spiked, along with the adrenaline that was really the only sensation he hunted out anymore. Perhaps the sudden rain was more fortunate than he'd thought.
He laughed, uncurled himself from his scrunched-up position. "Of course," he said. Wonder what that would entail?
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Django
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Post by Django on Jul 7, 2017 22:58:26 GMT -5
"Of course."
"Excellent!" Smiley bustled around, using her thick brush to clear the dust off a dry spot on the barn floor. She dragged the old trough thing over to the spot, flipped it so the V-shaped legs were up in the air, and proceeded to brush it off as well. Taking off her cloak, she rolled it up and placed it beneath one end of the trough. She patted the end that was tilted to the floor, making a hollow thumping sound with her paw. "Lie on your back with your head here, please."
She snapped her gloves back on and untied her ropes of broken glass, setting them all aside, and then picked up her green bag once more. Dragging another small crate over to the trough, she set her bag down and opened it, revealing all manner of surgical knives and implements. Her tail was swinging with glee, her smile never wavering. Her makeshift operating table was crude, but she would work with what she had.
"Ah, nearly forgot," she growled sweetly. Casting her gaze about, she noticed an old metal bucket beneath a particularly heavy leak. She removed it, dumped out the water, and set the bucket beneath the "head" of her operating table. "There. Perfect. Please undress for the doctor. Don't be shy, now."
In only her ragged gray tunic, black gloves, scarred body, and scalpel in her paw, she looked every inch the mad doctor. More lightning flashed and more thunder rolled, completing the image.
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markab
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Post by markab on Jul 9, 2017 19:09:37 GMT -5
"Excellent!"
Keta had more or less expected her to take a knife to him right there on the floor, because that was how he would do it. Though he hadn't operated on anyone when the word implied leaving his...patient...alive. As he hoped she was aiming to do. Why bother asking, though -- the suspense was the exciting part, and he'd never been accused of being careful. Or particularly sane.
Instead he kept quiet, watching the fox bustle around the old barn in between flashes of lightning, jingling whatever she had slung under the cloak as she dusted some of the hay and loose, dry dirt off the floor, overturned a trough so its four legs stuck into the air. The last caught Keta's attention more than anything, as he hefted himself to his feet and slunk over to what appeared to be the operating location of choice, patting one of the legs with a clawed paw. Seemed sturdy enough, he supposed; he'd used similar before to tie arms and legs down, or hook cut edges of skin away from the body for better access to everything lying beneath. He grinned, sharply. Good.
"Lie on your back with your head here, please."
She patted one end of the trough, tilted to the floor. To drain blood? Smart. "Sure," Keta chirped, slithering himself into position around the wooden legs like a snake. Took a bit of work, and a bit of squirming, but eventually he got himself into position. He tilted his head back to watch Smiley and hummed cheerfully as she set herself up, opening the green bag she'd held -- Keta could barely see what was in it, besides a gleam of metal in the dim light, but that was enough to guess. Knives? Actual scalpels? He needed to get some of those, his method wasn't exactly elegant.
"Ah, nearly forgot. There. Perfect. Please undress for the doctor. Don't be shy, now."
He just managed to avoid getting the water she poured from the bucket directly in his face, but it certainly confirmed why he was in his current position. Just about vibrating from the anticipation -- he'd never been the subject of the operation, how novel -- he unhooked his belt and wiggled out of his breeches, depositing them on the dirt with the sharp sound of several knives smacking against each other.
"No worries," he said, cackling as he picked gently at the stitches in his arm. Careful not to do them any damage, because there was already going to be some fun blood loss happening here. Maybe enough to give him that weird, dizzy light-headed feeling -- that was always fun. "I'm ready."
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Django
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Post by Django on Jul 9, 2017 23:30:36 GMT -5
"I'm ready."
No, you're not. Smiley took out her largest scalpel, and approached Keta's chest. What lovely fur if kept in the right condition. Was that caked blood? How delightful! Smiley's toothy snout hovered inches above Keta's torso, inhaling the scent of rain and recent blood. She chuckled quietly, but just sounded like she was gargling pebbles.
"I'm going to make a Y-shaped incision," she said, "on your chest and down the length of your abdomen. Do let me know if anything hurts." With that, she began. The scalpel opened his skin at the right shoulder, crossing his chest to his sternum. Another cut opened the same place at his left shoulder, meeting where the right cut ended. She extended the incision past his waist and ended just above his pelvis. Blood was leaking already, but they hadn't even gotten to the fun part.
"I'm now going to lift the flaps I've created," she said, " and observe your organs in setu through your ribcage. Unless you'd like me to remove a rib or two." Now the delicate part, peeling the skin back. Keta's body was not match for Smiley's gloved paws, and within moments, his inner workings were revealed. Blood poured from the orifice, and Smiley was suddenly transfixed by his beating heart.
Nestled with his lungs, the little muscle pulsed, loudly now that it was exposed. What a powerful yet fragile sound. Smiley placed a bloodied gloved paw on his ribs, right above the beating. She smiled her horrible smile, wondering if her own heart had beaten so forcefully, so delicately, when they'd opened her up. She surveyed the quivering, bloody mass of her patient. So red. So squishy.
"Now, which organ should I handle first?" she inquired.
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