02-21-2018, 08:48 PM
got a ringing in my ears getting ready to burst;
screaming, "hallelujah, motherfucker, take me to church!"
screaming, "hallelujah, motherfucker, take me to church!"
As in yesterday, she calls to the nurse over her shoulder. Zarah’s using a towel to keep everything inside the boy. He’s long since passed out, and his pulse is weak. If she uses her magic while he’s in this state, the boy won’t survive the shock. Him and his sister got into a fight, and this is how they found out she was a shifter. She’s still in her eagle form perched on the wash counter in the back corner, worrying over her brother. At least she’s staying out of the way. Most shifters the healer encounters who’ve just learned to shift let their animal take over when something goes so terribly wrong. And something ALWAYS goes wrong with shifters. Zarah’s about to yell at the incompetent little she-devil of a nurse again when the tool kit is placed on the tray next to her.
She shuts her mouth scrutinizing the set before selecting something that will help her prod around his insides allowing her to find and heal the worst of the injury. There’s only two arteries severed this time, Zarah sighs in relief. She begins the process of sealing it, letting the energy flow from her finger tips to the blood vessel that is squirting red liquid onto her scrubs. When the vessel is no longer a risk she begins carefully placing each organ/intestine back where it belongs using the stitching needle to sew the gash up. Several hours later she looks up from her work stretching her aching back and blinking into the light. The boy will live, that’s what’s important. The bird is still quietly perched, clutching the counter tight enough that her claws leave puncture marks. The healer heads over calmly, not looking into the animal’s eyes, instead just washing the caked blood away and dumping the tray of bloody gauze into the trash. He’ll be okay now, she smiles while methodically cleaning the mess that had been made in saving the boy.
This seems to work as the girl takes a hop to flutter over to the chair, where she transforms back into a beautiful young girl. The child’s chestnut locks are thick and wild, much like how her own black to red ombre ones are currently. She looks like her brother, angelic and pale with eyes that are disturbing. Eagles eyes often are though, as they can see so much detail nothing escapes their notice. I’ll leave you two to catch up, I’m sure you’re going to be the first person he’s going to want to see when he wakes up. The child sniffles looking to the floor with her hands folded between her knees. No he won’t, I almost killed him. He’ll hate me forever! The girl breaks into sobs and Zarah finds herself patting the child, this part always got to her, so many don’t make it, how can you tell a child they are the lucky one when their sibling is laying hooked up to tubes and breathing machines? Naw, he loves you. You don’t have to worry about anything Her voice is quiet, she’s been told it’s a soothing sound that could put the most high-strung creature to sleep if she willed it.
She walks out of the room shutting the door softly behind her. Standing there for a moment she begins rubbing the crick in her neck and circling her fingers on the sore spot on her spine between her hips. A groan escapes when she hears an air bubble pop between her vertebrae. Could she be anymore tired? Taking a glance out to the waiting room her shoulders slump there is so much more she needs to do. Many come begging her to heal their loved ones, including their human acquaintances. While they are all difficult to reject, those humans are the hardest to turn away. Zarah must though as she can’t risk revealing her ability to the world. She’s a full-fledged healer, she can heal anything except fairy magic. They’d look to her with hope, thinking she can solve the worlds problems if they knew the extent of her ability, but they don’t realize the strain it puts on her to use it. So she does what she can without using magic and reserves her ability for the more serious cases, such as that little boy. Pretending that she’s a simple healer, weak in her power to keep the news from spreading.
From the crack in the door she makes out a mother holding an infant, a girl folded up over her arm. There isn’t enough space for her to make out what is wrong with the teens arm, and there is someone making a ruckus at the reception desk, where her assistant is politely but firmly not allowing anyone back to disturb Zarah. She always wants to cry watching these people get turned away, she can’t do it herself, her heart just won’t take it. She always caves in the end. The gratitude she has for the older witch is tremendous. She not only preps the magic based pills, and keeps Zarah from overtaxing herself, but she also finds ways to send as many as possible to other healers, and human doctors.
She doesn’t go out to the waiting room, ever. She stays in the back, working with the patients sent to her. The person is growing louder, more insistent, frustrated with little Rachel. Zarah in her curiosity cracks open the door a bit further the squealing hinge a dead giveaway. Quickly hoping no one spotted her, Zarah shuts it before scurrying back to the boy’s side where she takes his wrist to check his pulse, trembling all the while. The girl cocks her head in that manner birds do when something catches their attention. Zarah refuses to look at her, too worried about what Rachel would have to say later about her sneaking peeks like that, again. She’s dealt with three emergencies, and 12 hours’ worth of her regulars. As soon as this boy wakes, she’s heading home for a good long nap. It’s this thought that keeps her going while she would rather drop right here, right now.
She shuts her mouth scrutinizing the set before selecting something that will help her prod around his insides allowing her to find and heal the worst of the injury. There’s only two arteries severed this time, Zarah sighs in relief. She begins the process of sealing it, letting the energy flow from her finger tips to the blood vessel that is squirting red liquid onto her scrubs. When the vessel is no longer a risk she begins carefully placing each organ/intestine back where it belongs using the stitching needle to sew the gash up. Several hours later she looks up from her work stretching her aching back and blinking into the light. The boy will live, that’s what’s important. The bird is still quietly perched, clutching the counter tight enough that her claws leave puncture marks. The healer heads over calmly, not looking into the animal’s eyes, instead just washing the caked blood away and dumping the tray of bloody gauze into the trash. He’ll be okay now, she smiles while methodically cleaning the mess that had been made in saving the boy.
This seems to work as the girl takes a hop to flutter over to the chair, where she transforms back into a beautiful young girl. The child’s chestnut locks are thick and wild, much like how her own black to red ombre ones are currently. She looks like her brother, angelic and pale with eyes that are disturbing. Eagles eyes often are though, as they can see so much detail nothing escapes their notice. I’ll leave you two to catch up, I’m sure you’re going to be the first person he’s going to want to see when he wakes up. The child sniffles looking to the floor with her hands folded between her knees. No he won’t, I almost killed him. He’ll hate me forever! The girl breaks into sobs and Zarah finds herself patting the child, this part always got to her, so many don’t make it, how can you tell a child they are the lucky one when their sibling is laying hooked up to tubes and breathing machines? Naw, he loves you. You don’t have to worry about anything Her voice is quiet, she’s been told it’s a soothing sound that could put the most high-strung creature to sleep if she willed it.
She walks out of the room shutting the door softly behind her. Standing there for a moment she begins rubbing the crick in her neck and circling her fingers on the sore spot on her spine between her hips. A groan escapes when she hears an air bubble pop between her vertebrae. Could she be anymore tired? Taking a glance out to the waiting room her shoulders slump there is so much more she needs to do. Many come begging her to heal their loved ones, including their human acquaintances. While they are all difficult to reject, those humans are the hardest to turn away. Zarah must though as she can’t risk revealing her ability to the world. She’s a full-fledged healer, she can heal anything except fairy magic. They’d look to her with hope, thinking she can solve the worlds problems if they knew the extent of her ability, but they don’t realize the strain it puts on her to use it. So she does what she can without using magic and reserves her ability for the more serious cases, such as that little boy. Pretending that she’s a simple healer, weak in her power to keep the news from spreading.
From the crack in the door she makes out a mother holding an infant, a girl folded up over her arm. There isn’t enough space for her to make out what is wrong with the teens arm, and there is someone making a ruckus at the reception desk, where her assistant is politely but firmly not allowing anyone back to disturb Zarah. She always wants to cry watching these people get turned away, she can’t do it herself, her heart just won’t take it. She always caves in the end. The gratitude she has for the older witch is tremendous. She not only preps the magic based pills, and keeps Zarah from overtaxing herself, but she also finds ways to send as many as possible to other healers, and human doctors.
She doesn’t go out to the waiting room, ever. She stays in the back, working with the patients sent to her. The person is growing louder, more insistent, frustrated with little Rachel. Zarah in her curiosity cracks open the door a bit further the squealing hinge a dead giveaway. Quickly hoping no one spotted her, Zarah shuts it before scurrying back to the boy’s side where she takes his wrist to check his pulse, trembling all the while. The girl cocks her head in that manner birds do when something catches their attention. Zarah refuses to look at her, too worried about what Rachel would have to say later about her sneaking peeks like that, again. She’s dealt with three emergencies, and 12 hours’ worth of her regulars. As soon as this boy wakes, she’s heading home for a good long nap. It’s this thought that keeps her going while she would rather drop right here, right now.
Zarah
@[Cinzia]