tampered | log | on-going

When; january 15th; grab bag curse (souvenirs you never lose)
Rating; PG-13
Characters;

neverplays, and anyone who saw to her here.
Summary; More than your old childhood scraped knee.
Log;

[ To put it most succinctly, Mindy Macready had been a mess. The diagnosis was easy, the treatment ultimately useless, and the whole thing a fiasco with a fixed end date. It was a matter of constant clean-up, with enough bandages changed and refitted to package a mummy, and enough tedious, monotonous work to drive any nurse crazy. But in an instant, at the stroke of twelve, the bruised, scratchmarked skin, patterned with a hundred different crosshatches, is exchanged for a new set of flesh: mostly unblemished, besides the light dusting of scars here and there, wounds deep enough to have left an indelible mark.

Her eyes flutter open, lips parting, closing, expression showcasing uncertainty toward her whereabouts. ]

[ ooc: I posted a passage to start us off, but if you'd prefer see Mindy while she's bandaged up, mid-curse, that's all right with me. Start the log at whichever point in time. ]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

[One minute to midnight, and the squeak of sneakers on polished floor starts at the end of the corridor approaching Mindy's curtained cubicle. Chase rounds the paper curtains in just enough time to catch the flutter of her eyelashes, not taking the time to test her response before he switches off the drip she's hooked up to, porcine factor VIII clotting factor - the last in a long line of attempts to at least slow the bleeding, while it couldn't be stopped.

He goes so far as to remove the line from her arm, leaving the butterfly needle threaded into a vein with an open port, just in case. It's already clear from her face that the skin has closed over with near instant effect.]

Mindy? It's doctor Chase. [He pauses, a beat of memory from talking to her before.] Don't yell at me.

[ Magic trumps science here, if that's the appropriate name for the deities' power, specifics pointless to contest at this very moment when Mindy is awaking. Her first reaction, now fully conscious, is to sit up straight, quick as a cat caught by surprise, with one hand brought to her hip in search for a knife that isn't there. It's all reflex. Unfamiliar places, unfamiliar sights. Likely, the motion's already ripped out the threaded needle.

But Mindy relaxes at the sight of Doctor Chase, knowing, at least, that he means no harm. That he is here, and judging from the hopsital scenery around her, means that the last thing she wanted to happen, happened. ]

I won't. Yet. [ She side eyes Chase. ] I'm gonna leave now. Okay?

[No needles ripped, the very reason Chase ran to unhook the line first - nothing to pull. The port stays in her arm, but he can slide it out easily when it's clear she doesn't need fluids.]

Okay. [He nods.] But I'd like to clean you up and take your vitals first. I could lose my job if I don't have that information to go with the notes taken when you came in. Could you give me five minutes, for that?

[ That side eye turns into a glower. Mindy is generally irritated, and Chase has the unfortunate role of punching bag. Metaphorically. ]

Be quick about it.

log | on-going | closed

when i was a child i caught a fleeting glimpse

when i was a child i caught a fleeting glimpse

when i was a child i caught a fleeting glimpse

when i was a child i caught a fleeting glimpse