Triage [CLOSED]

[gained_a_level]

Date & Time: 8/27
Location: Anders' Clinic
Characters: Castiel, Anders
Summary: An angel takes a break with a mage.
Warnings: Potential feelings jam, Anders being Anders... will update.

[ The one good thing about brutal slayings was that if the victim was still able to call for aid, and aid arrived in a timely manner... whomever did the healing felt a certain sense of accomplishment after. Besides, you know, the obvious -- the remarkable turn of fortune in the injured party's favor, whose life was saved.

The bad thing? Trying to get the bloodstains off your fingers with whatever was at hand, in this case only a crumpled bit of paper that was about as absorbent as newsprint -- which is to say, not at all.

The distant sound of feathers and the low whump of air suddenly shoved out of place to accommodate the angel's form signals his arrival, Castiel's deepening frown as he all but shredded the overused paper towel over hands sticky with red up to the wrist, announcing: ]

He'll live. [ He sighs, giving up on the task of scrubbing out the stains on his hands and tossing the bit of paper into a bin. This isn't his first time witnessing someone impossibly defying the odds despite gruesome injuries, one of his many qualifications for this job... and, incidentally, this served as a convenient excuse to spend time with a rare friend at the clinic. ]

Although I suspect there may be psychological damage that will need attending to by more qualified individuals.

[ In other words, not him. ]

Comments

[birdhousesoul]

[[mods have approved the idea that some non-transports use the transport clinic's services for Things They'd Rather Not Have the Initiative Know About, or whatever other reasons they may have.]]

Psychological ...? [Psychology is still something of a new concept to Anders.] If you hadn't been there to save him, he wouldn't have psychological anything to worry about.

[He turns a concerned eye toward Castiel. Physician, heal thyself are words that won't be heard in this clinic.] What about your, er, psychology? And the rest of you. [Anders doesn't know any cleaning spells; Thedas doesn't use magic for that. He does, however, know where the hot water comes from, and where a basin is kept. Three cheers for indoor plumbing. Those, and a thin linen towel, he brings over to Cas.]

[gained_a_level]

[ Castiel should spend more time actually in the clinic -- he barely knows his way around. But soon enough, Anders might find unusual jars of bone, herbs and powders, tools of his trade -- some unrecognizable, others easily identified -- as Castiel's own signature on this place. Time may yet prove if this becomes an irritating point of contention between them, or perhaps a gesture of solidarity.

Blue eyes drop down to the basin and towel, lingering a moment before he grasps both in his bloody-tacky hands and offers a grateful: ] Thank you.

I am a soldier of Heaven. [ He sets it to the side, dipping his hands into the warm water to scrub them clean, the water soon swirling with rusty tendrils where flecks wash off and dissolve. ] And I have laid siege to Hell...

[ Which, one might be surprised to know, that heaven contains the very agents of fate that are often arguably more cruel and ruthless than demons, indifferent and self-righteous. S. ]

[ The angel pauses, brows lifting as he seems to try to first search for the proper phrase to use and recite it internally before turning to the mage and actually saying it. ]

I've... seen worse.

[birdhousesoul]

[All that was easier to believe at Woodstock, and having accepted it there, Anders can't resort to skepticism here. So he's come to accept Castiel's ... nature ... by half-measures and analogy where possible: views him as an embodied Fade spirit, much as Justice was when Justice occupied Kristoff's body, without a host personality to efface.]

When spirits -- angels -- do battle against one another, do they bleed?

[As he speaks, he's finding a bottle of something not quite medicinal and pouring for both. Justice doesn't mind if he drinks, per se, so long as he doesn't drink enough for intoxication to set in.]

[gained_a_level]

[ In a way, Anders and Jimmy would have had a little in common. Jimmy Novak, Castiel's vessel, had given himself willingly for the greater good over to this angel, sacrificing the rest of his life. He was in there, somewhere... and Anders was fortunate enough (or perhaps unfortunate) to be able to still move and live on his own, with only the occasional interruption from the Fade spirit riding around in his skin.

Jimmy hadn't sat in the driver's seat in years... hadn't even toyed with the steering wheel. ]

Yes, our vessels do bleed when we sustain damage. It's generally minimal and easily healed.

[ Castiel looks vaguely uncomfortable, but continues carrying on the conversation. Anders is a healer, and there might come a day when even he is beyond help and must rely on another for aid. ]

However... the deeper wounds bleed Grace. It looks like light -- a bright, bluish light -- and if the wound is grave enough... we perish as the last of our Grace ignites.

[ The angel shakes his hands delicately over the bowl, then begins to dry his hands off on the towel. ]