09-07-2019, 12:06 AM
[align=center][div style="width: 51%; text-align: justify; font-size: 10pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: georgia;"]Since Sam and Beck has returned, his schedule has revolved around their care. He checked on them in the morning, at lunch, before dinner, and before bed. To say the least, the medic had spent a lot of time on his feet recently. And while that normally wouldn’t be an issue for him (he loved his job), the weight of his sister’s death had made itself known in nearly every aspect of his life. It was a struggle to gather up the motivation to do what he was meant to. He should probably have asked Kiira or Moth to help out, but it was difficult to relinquish that bit of responsibility. Though motivation was hard to come by, being busy was better than being alone with his thoughts. The scratches at the corners of his mouth and his legs proved that.
It was hard to carry on as if nothing had happened. To most, nothing had. Just another nameless face gone with the wind. Pastel had always seemed to prefer being unknown, but while Selby was glad that his fellow tanglers were not grieving, he couldn’t help but wish that maybe she had been better known.
The cloudy skies had delaying his wake up by several precious hours, and though the extra sleep was appreciated, he had missed his first couple of visits to his patients and was already late to his afternoon visit. Sam was healing up nicely, so his concern wasn’t so much with her as it was with Beck. The poltergeist hadn’t been healing quite as quickly as he had hoped, and was antsy on top of it. He refused to stay in bed or stay still, and Selby often found himself worrying that Beck might tear his stitches overexerting himself. As soon as Selby had woken up and seen the time, he had grabbed his bag and nearly flew out the door in his rush.
When he got to Beck’s door, he immediately noticed that something was off. The door was open, and when Selby peered inside, he could see broken something on the ground. He gave his usual two quick knocks on the door frame. "Beck?" he called, letting himself in. Upon closer inspection, he found the broken things on the ground to be mirror shards, and some of them had black, oily Beck blood on them. He felt his stomach disappear and be replaced with a cold, hard pit of dread. Glancing around the home, he found no trace of the ghost. He rushed out to the porch. "Beck?! BECK!" he called out again, more frantic.
The medic rushed down the steps and looked around for clues as to where Beck had gone. In a few moments, he could see a trail of trampled grass leading towards the crater. Following it, he could see chunks of bandages caught on brambles and droplets of that same unnerving black blood.
Your fault.
Finding no way to dispute that thought and being unwilling to spend the time to do so, Selby rushed down. Eventually there came a point where the trail of Beck bits stopped. He looked around in a panic, trying to figure out where he could have possibly gone. Then, in the corner of his eye, the sawbone saw a bush move and a flash of his apprentice’s spotted fur. Moth had gotten there first? How hadn’t he noticed her? He rushed to her side and dropped his bag, trying to assess the situation. Beck hurt, panicked, and trying to hurt himself more. We’re more alike than I thought, he found himself thinking with a touch of bitterness.
"Keep him still," Selby ordered without thinking. "I’m going to give him some borage; that’ll help calm him down, but it needs time to kick in. I have to examine him too... can you manage that?" Without waiting for a reply, Selby rummaged through his supplies and pulled out some of the precious sedative.
He approached Beck specifically now, trying to appear non threatening. "Beck," he said firmly but gently, not letting his guilt or panic make itself known in his voice. "I need you to focus on me for a moment. Can you do that? I need you to take this for me. I know you’re scared and overwhelmed, and this will help slow everything down." The sawbone presented the herb to Beck, and though his wording made it seem like a request, if the ghost refused to take it Selby would have to make him. It was too dangerous to work on him if he was going to be flailing and such, especially since the feline could see that he had torn his stitches.
It was hard to carry on as if nothing had happened. To most, nothing had. Just another nameless face gone with the wind. Pastel had always seemed to prefer being unknown, but while Selby was glad that his fellow tanglers were not grieving, he couldn’t help but wish that maybe she had been better known.
The cloudy skies had delaying his wake up by several precious hours, and though the extra sleep was appreciated, he had missed his first couple of visits to his patients and was already late to his afternoon visit. Sam was healing up nicely, so his concern wasn’t so much with her as it was with Beck. The poltergeist hadn’t been healing quite as quickly as he had hoped, and was antsy on top of it. He refused to stay in bed or stay still, and Selby often found himself worrying that Beck might tear his stitches overexerting himself. As soon as Selby had woken up and seen the time, he had grabbed his bag and nearly flew out the door in his rush.
When he got to Beck’s door, he immediately noticed that something was off. The door was open, and when Selby peered inside, he could see broken something on the ground. He gave his usual two quick knocks on the door frame. "Beck?" he called, letting himself in. Upon closer inspection, he found the broken things on the ground to be mirror shards, and some of them had black, oily Beck blood on them. He felt his stomach disappear and be replaced with a cold, hard pit of dread. Glancing around the home, he found no trace of the ghost. He rushed out to the porch. "Beck?! BECK!" he called out again, more frantic.
The medic rushed down the steps and looked around for clues as to where Beck had gone. In a few moments, he could see a trail of trampled grass leading towards the crater. Following it, he could see chunks of bandages caught on brambles and droplets of that same unnerving black blood.
Your fault.
Finding no way to dispute that thought and being unwilling to spend the time to do so, Selby rushed down. Eventually there came a point where the trail of Beck bits stopped. He looked around in a panic, trying to figure out where he could have possibly gone. Then, in the corner of his eye, the sawbone saw a bush move and a flash of his apprentice’s spotted fur. Moth had gotten there first? How hadn’t he noticed her? He rushed to her side and dropped his bag, trying to assess the situation. Beck hurt, panicked, and trying to hurt himself more. We’re more alike than I thought, he found himself thinking with a touch of bitterness.
"Keep him still," Selby ordered without thinking. "I’m going to give him some borage; that’ll help calm him down, but it needs time to kick in. I have to examine him too... can you manage that?" Without waiting for a reply, Selby rummaged through his supplies and pulled out some of the precious sedative.
He approached Beck specifically now, trying to appear non threatening. "Beck," he said firmly but gently, not letting his guilt or panic make itself known in his voice. "I need you to focus on me for a moment. Can you do that? I need you to take this for me. I know you’re scared and overwhelmed, and this will help slow everything down." The sawbone presented the herb to Beck, and though his wording made it seem like a request, if the ghost refused to take it Selby would have to make him. It was too dangerous to work on him if he was going to be flailing and such, especially since the feline could see that he had torn his stitches.