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+---- Thread: hippocratic oath ✨ mdc (/showthread.php?tid=5849)
hippocratic oath ✨ mdc - no more - 09-03-2018
[align=center][div style="width:400px; font-size:8.4pt;line-height:1.1;color:#000;font-family:arial;margin-top:3px;margin-bottom:3px;letter-spacing:0px;margin-left:0px;text-align:justify;"]Primum non nocere.
There had been a time, where memory stretched only faint, grown to little more than fine gossamer threads spanning the space between what was deemed the past and the present, when death was spoken with a tone of reverence. Gentle was the sound of it parting trembling lips, when it danced upon the delicate skin and rose in a short huff of breath, where eyes dance across the landscape, traced with fear. It had been deemed a necessity to speak it as such remark upon the skeletal form as it hung about the shoulders, a dark presence wholly its own, as though giving voice to its name lent it a hand into this world.
Time is a funny thing, however, never stagnant for it proves ever flowing, swirling about each event as it comes to break it, nothing more than a pebble to be moved around, left beneath the waves. With it the reverence and fear once tinging that word had been eroded, left little more than a footnote set upon a chapter here and there in a life spanning time it should never have seen, chance stacking up until it was a minor inconvenience at best.
And so why was it his heart seemed clutched by claws, found pierced as those tips dug in, when presented with another left harmed, given the copper stench of blood as freely the skin weeps.
Little more than a glimmer on the horizon parting the sea and sky from one another is the rise of day, a stretch of gold and rose working between the cracks in the blue, a slow sweep as the stars fade one by one, and yet consciousness finds him. It had grown a hardship in these past weeks to lull himself to sleep, though in recent days the ache of a body grown exhausted had kept him from sleep more than anything his thoughts may conjure. And yet still it brought forth scenarios to play against darkened lids – death, all too much as one by one they all fell – little more than smoke curling across the surface of a shined mirror. Within the depths of exhausted it had grown impossible to part dream from the reality he found himself within, however, to such a point the two seem melded into one.
Shaky are small dark paws, baring so slight a weight why do they shake so when it is of little inconvenience to them, a steady if slow pace, and yet on does the tremble continue, shuddering breath accompanying. Smooth by countless many the cobbles he walks upon hold a chill simply awaiting the rise of the sun to cast a warmth about it, greedy as they drink of the golden heat, but for now they wait and give onto him their chill, invading though contact is made only brief. And then they are gone, replaced by the shifting, course texture of sand, clinging as toes spread to take his weight, sinking some as each hopping step is performed, working into the fine fur between.
There is no number to the time he has walked this path, found himself drawn to the waves, a gentle sound as it laps at the sand, calm in moments when peace is a gentle blanket, yet away does his attention turn. Bright and green is it, set upon the edge, familiar though it seems half a stranger in the pale light slow to engulf it. Shifting steps turn and on does the tiny frame move, a shadow given life its own to detached from that which once surrounded it, melding once more with what stretched across the leaf litter, beckoning with half formed fingers. With each step a crackle arises for the weather may not hold the touch of frost but the world seems to now of it, trees slow to shed their crowns, heavy now as the leaves come to serve their purpose and fall, awaiting the next cycle to begin it all again.
Dark ears are tentative in their movement, swivelling forward only to flick back, faint breath parting his lips. Light had it been but enough to notice, drawn across his ears, digging into it as though it proved a nail embedded in his skull, refusing to be budged no matter how much he may tug. Once more it rises and curls about his mind, a hiss drawn across split tongue, laced with a tone speaking of danger. In the centre of his chest it crests, a sudden wave of fear, for he knows what lays behind him – dream, false, allow the thoughts to pass you fool – his body moving without prompt.
Curled into itself the snake bares an illusion his mind deems that of a mamba, charcoal and smoke, eyes glittering as though they are gems yet it is malice there not the light of some external source, a want to be left alone he can no more abide then it can his presence. One step, shaking paw barely touching the ground before on he moves, approaching with a hopping, shaky step. Hiss parts the jaws and those fangs are shown in a display meant to scare, head poised in preparation to strike though there is to be no venom in this bite.
Muscle screams as it tightens about fragments of bone, shifting within, and down upon his tongue do teeth close, swallowing the scream lingering behind the cage of bone. Easily do claws dig into soft scale, long body wriggling in hopes to permit teeth a chance at purchase but there is to be none. Down into the ground is it slammed, head crackling and splintering, bone so easily shattered. It is nothing and yet it is everything, dark eye blinking at the body before him, not touched with the tone of coal left to die but shades of green, nothing to present a danger to him.
Upon his backside does he fall, a huff of breath, touched with uncertainty, escaping him. Never had he felt the rush when a life is within your own hands, not in an act to help, drawn back from the very brink of death by claws and teeth, but to end, feel bone snap beneath his weight, an act meant to harm. Each attempt he had made within previous encounters had ended before it had begun, clumsy attempts enough to scare anything he sought. This had been his first, the taste of death something within him had longed for and gave a gentle, contented sigh when it was finally given release though the child trembled, set before the snake, unsure now of what to do. He was meant to heal, not end the lives of others, be they simple creatures such as the snake he had mistaken for another, and upon his heart it proved a heavy weight.
First, to do no harm.