hear my prayer

[notpraying]

When; 14 Jan, 2014; evening.
Rating; PG-13
Characters; Kivrin Engle [notpraying] and open to all hospital staff or random curious visitors???

Summary;

Kivrin arrives in the City and lands herself in the hospital.

Log;

This is not how it was supposed to go. The time lag wasn't supposed to hit this hard, this long, and Kivrin will certainly have words with Dr Ahrens when she returns to Oxford because this is horrible. And she'll have to speak with Badri, too, because when she opened her eyes in the forest, she was nowhere near the Oxford-Bath road as expected. No sight of fields, of any form of life save for the animals in the trees, and everything is wrong. And even then, she couldn't explore for very long because the headache she arrived with has gotten worse, her breath is coming in gasps, it's so cold she's shaking.

Mr Dunworthy was right, she thinks, huddled against her shattered chests and wrapped in her dress and cloak in the snow, icy water seeping through every layer. They rushed this. They should have run unmanneds before they sent her through the net, they should have made sure she arrived in the right spot. No one is going to find her when she isn't even by a road as planned and it wouldn't do to be lost in the 1300s. Cutthroats in the woods, ready to prey upon an unsuspecting woman, and a horseless wagon inexplicably stranded in a clearing with no hint as to how it got there.

It's a mess. But she can't move. Once Oxford realises that something has gone wrong, they'll re-open the net and come find her. Of course, Mr Dunworthy will say that this means they can't send her through again, that this was handled so poorly, and it will wreck her chances of trying again. It'll ruin everything and it isn't even her fault, she was eager but she wasn't rash.

***

Hours pass, though, and she's still there. Definitely something wrong. She can't move, she knows she's sick now, she feels so terrible. At some point, Kivrin lapses in and out of consciousness and that's when someone finally happens upon her late at night, someone who picks her up and takes her to the City's hospital when they realise she needs it, when she's whispering and crying out in English and Middle English and Latin and prayers and for the names of people who aren't there.

She's dressed like a noblewoman from centuries past, cut and bruised and bleeding; she fights people off, too, weakly but she tries, things about cutthroats and it is not seemly to handle me thus, sir and this is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong.


[ ooc; info for what all is affecting her here and an npc found her just for ease. tags may also come from whylom. comment notifs are disabled on the post so go forth and have fun! ]

Comments

→ kivrin

[notpraying]

[ open thread for kivrin throughout the course of her stay in the hospital here. ]

[vicodincrutch]

[The party doesn't start until House decides to harass you within his parameters. No hello just yet. Reading your chart there, lady. Flip. Flip.]

Either the nurse can't write or she doesn't understand you.

[whylom]

[ That can't be right. English? That can't be right. It's the interpreter, she thinks through her pounding headache, it's working, translating the contemps because modern English has no place in... Yes, of course, she must not have caught the words beneath the translation. God, it's so hard to think—

What was the speech she had rehearsed? ]

— go back to the drop. [ That's not right. But that's what she should do because something has gone wrong. ]

[vicodincrutch]

[It speaks.]

The bass drop?

[Yes, this is actually his answer.]

Are you on any medication? If you are spell it.

[whylom]

[ Medication. What? That has her cracking open her eyes and once the light hits them, she immediately regrets it, turning her aching neck to bury her face into a... pillow? When did—

Did they come get her? ]

Nay. [ It's so hot, hands moving to the blankets, scrabbling uselessly on stiff cotton. ] Mr Dunworthy, ad adjuvandum me festina.

[vicodincrutch]

[Is that Latin? House's eyes would roll out of his head if he went at it any more then he already was. His Latin is rusty. It is far easier to undertake dirty words. Still. There is a time and a place.]

Mihi crede, sum a medicus. Satis, no?

[whylom]

[ The contemps didn't speak Latin. Unless she's been found by monks. But there were no monastaries on Montoya's map and she must be so far from the dropsite if that's the case; how long was she asleep? God, but sleep would be so good, if it weren't so bright, she could just... ]

Mr Dunworthy— [ Yes, House, she's reaching for your hand. ] Mr Dunworthy.