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Liar Closed

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Aamon Athanatos arrived at 5:32 am in the Hospital wing in
Hogwarts with an injury to his hand, wearing nightclothes.
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e·mer·gen·cy Pronounced /əˈmərjənsē/. Noun. Defined as a serious, unexpected, and often dangerous situation requiring immediate action.
According to the definition of an emergency, was it really an emergency if time wasn’t the deciding factor? If saving life or limb did not hinge on immediate, decisive action? If that was how one must define an emergency, then by that very definition this was not quite an emergency—but it certainly felt urgent to the blood-soaked boy who stumbled into the medical wing early Sunday morning, clutching his severed hand in the other. His face was pale, beads of sweat glistened on his brow, though his clothes were oddly clean less the blood still wet across the front of his nightclothes. His only visible injury was the hand he gripped with desperate force, pushing it against his bloodied, ragged stump.

His voice cracking both from stress and the tremors of adolescence. "I need a nurse!" he yelled, panic woven into every syllable. His voice broke again as he pleaded, "Please, I need a nurse!" His grasp on his damaged hand tightened, a futile attempt to stop the impossible and to will the hand back in place.

He took a few shaky steps deeper into the ward, a long hall lined with neat beds. Each bed was separated by a small table with drawers, sterile and orderly. Some of the beds were occupied—students either resting, healing from various accidents, or faking illness to dodge classes and assignments. It was a common sight. The nurse, along with her many trainees, had seen every imaginable injury that could afflict children who had access to flying brooms, magical fire, and the power to alter the fabric of reality.

Yet, despite the constant expectation of the unexpected, nothing could have prepared them for the strange and unsettling truth that this boy would allege.

WC: 289
I have only 3 expectations. If this is not something you are capable of, please leave me alone in this thread and in future threads. If nobody is capable of meeting the following, I am fine to roleplay with myself.
- Do not metagame.
- If you join, please be active (able to post once weekly)
- You are following the site rules in terms of posting and interactions.
Last edited by Atlas Anderson on 22 Sep 2024, 20:53, edited 2 times in total.
iNPC: Taylor Athanatos
Liar Closed
Iris rarely had reason to visit the hospital wing and yet today, necessity had drawn her in. A particularly complex potions assignment had been charged onto her plate, and rumor had it the mediwitch kept stock of all kinds of ingredients. It was early, possibly too much so to warrant the poor woman's time. Luckily she'd been prepared to haggle if it came down to it, an attempt of sparing herself the effort of a greenhouse search. Nasty place, she thought.

She'd been halfway down the corridor when a desperate cry jolted her from previously occupied thoughts. The sound of panic; sharp and unmistakable echoing off the stone walls. Iris paused, her gaze narrowing as she turned toward the source of a boy stumbling into the hospital wing, hand clutched onto something. Was that really..?

Something out of a nightmare.

She followed him in, though her steps were slower, stepping inside just as he cried out again. It was louder this time. Careful not to approach, Iris stayed at a deliberate distance, her eyes flickering over the severed hand and back to his face. Finally, she offered acknowledgment of her presence. "The nurse will be here soon. You’d do better to focus on not passing out before she arrives."

Admittedly, the words wouldn't provide much use to him. Slowly she traced the area for bandages, something at least worthy of buying him time. Bleeding out like this was dangerous, the least he could do now is apply some pressure to that grotesque wound.

Silently she moved towards a nearby cart, retrieving the roll of the fabric with a gentle grasp. Her fingers brushed against the rough texture, and for a moment, she hesitated. “You need to apply pressure.” There was no softness in her voice, only practicality. “Unless you’re aiming to bleed out before she arrives.”
Interacting | @Aamon Athanatos
sta : 7 ⸝ eva : 7 ⸝ str : 0
wis : 9 ⸝ arc : 9 ⸝ acc : 8
Iris E. Athanasiuo
·𖥸·
 ━━━━━━
Wings of silver,
talons of gold.
Liar Closed
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Aamon Athanatos arrived at 5:32 am in the Hospital wing in
Hogwarts with an injury to his hand, wearing nightclothes.

He was met by a female who is attempting to render aid.
He hands her his severed hand.
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He felt woozy, nauseated from blood loss. His panic did little to stymie the constant flow of blood from his stump. The students housed here were safe and comfortable in their beds, mostly sleeping but a few tried to sit up and view the source of the commotion. Children in hogwarts were often dramatic, so the panicked cries of a one Aamon sounded like any other. Wizards have a saying about the boy who cried werewolf, a cautionary tale about sounding the alarm needlessly for help leads to apathy and failures to respond.

"The nurse will be here soon. You’d do better to focus on not passing out before she arrives."

A voice seemingly out of nowhere would announce. His blinders were focused solely on the stump where his hand should have been attached. he same stump he was uselessly pushing his severed hand into as if this would somehow reattach what was crudely cut off. "I don't think I have much say in that," Aamon replied nervously, a shake to his voice.

The girl had moved on, looking for bandages. he seconds seemed much longer from Aamon's vantage point, he could feel his weakening pulse in his temples. “You need to apply pressure.” Aamon's hand, as it could not be plural at this moment, was occupied. He was temporarily dumbfounded - how was he supposed to... “Unless you’re aiming to bleed out before she arrives.” She added, sending a jolt of panic through the young heir.

"Yeah," he replied, a real wizard with words. "Here, take this," he handed her his severed hand and tried to take the roll of bandages from her. He was no medic, his best efforts would be sloppy at best.

WC: 326
iNPC: Taylor Athanatos
Liar Closed
Avis couldn't sleep. She could take this big cold castle, there was something about it that was off. No, she realized, it wasn't something. It was the lack of something, her sister. She had shared a room with her sister her entire life, and now they were miles away. Avis crawled out of bed and pulled on a cloak. Those were weird too, why did people wear these?
She wandered through the castle until she hit the third floor. She heard voices in the medical ward. As she looked inside, the was that girl, the same girl from before. Avis turned to leave but say another kid, a boy, who by the looks of it had cut off his own hand.
Avis ran into the room. ""You need a touniquet. Pressure won't help much. You might lose the arm but, would you rather die?" She ripped off a stretch of her cloak and turned to the girl next to her. Find a pencil, or just any straight hard thing." She turned to the boy. "Lie down and try to keep your arm above your heart, it'll help slow bleeding, even if only a little. How much blood have you lost?" He looked pale. Much too pale.
Avis Marlong | ”She won't cry or beg for help...she'll isolate from the world and fight her own demons so that nobody can throw it in her face later.”
"The odds of hitting your target increase dramatically when you aim at it." Benji Marecos
Liar Closed
To her horror, the severed limb was offered. What was she to do? Hold it and watch him struggle?

Iris blinked, realizing what was now to be a joint effort. A price for her curiosity. With a quick step forward she reached out, dismissing what was previously extended to her. If not for all the pointless reading she'd done, perhaps she wouldn't have even known where to start at all. Almost pointless, that is, considering the situation she'd found herself placed in.

"Give me your hand." That is, what was left of it. It wasn't a question, though given the circumstance she didn't expect much of a fight.

As focus drew intently on preparing the bandages, the sudden appearance of a younger girl startled her. She listened half mindedly, lips pursed to suggest she'd regret this altogether. "And what would you suggest a tourniquet does, exactly?" She replied coolly, as if to indicate how redundant the statement had been. Dark eyes then rolled at the fear mongering the first year attempted to instill, gaze still fixed on the boy in front of her. "No one is losing an arm." You would've thought a magical boarding school would teach one that, knowing full well the magic in place would restore whatever.. mishap he'd gotten into. Iris could only imagine how, and despite being far from her business, it wasn't enough to keep her from asking.

"How did this happen, anyway?"
Interacting | @Aamon Athanatos @Avis Marlong
sta : 7 ⸝ eva : 7 ⸝ str : 0
wis : 9 ⸝ arc : 9 ⸝ acc : 8
Iris E. Athanasiuo
·𖥸·
 ━━━━━━
Wings of silver,
talons of gold.
Liar Closed
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Aamon Athanatos arrived at 5:32 am in the Hospital wing in
Hogwarts with an injury to his hand, wearing nightclothes.

He was met by a female who is attempting to render aid.
He hands her his severed hand.

A second girl arrives and sates he needs a tourniquet. This
may be a subject of debate between his saviors.
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He would hand the girl his severed hand, not knowing what else to do with it. He was to a level in shock as one might be when they realize they have been shorted a limb. "Give me your hand," she ordered.

"B-but I just did," he reminded her, referring to the severed hand he had just handed her as one might a bag of groceries. He would extend what was left of his arm, from the forearm down, the bloodied stump exposed and still oozing blood. The bleeding had slowed but there was an appreciable trail of blood in his wake and pooling about him.

Another girl claimed he needed a a tourniquet. "You need a tourniquet. Pressure won't help much. You might lose the arm but, would you rather die?"

"Die," he was feeling weak and could not exclaim his distress and panic.

"Find a pencil, or just any straight hard thing." She added, not giving her name but he had no idea who either of them were and at the moment he was too scared to care. "Lie down and try to keep your arm above your heart, it'll help slow bleeding, even if only a little. How much blood have you lost?"

"All of it," he was exaggerating of course because he would be dead but it sure felt like he had lost that much. He was feeling light-headed, his vision was darkening. He was staggering into the wing, attempting to find one of the beds as requested, the concept of laying on the floor eluding him.

"And what would you suggest a tourniquet does, exactly?" The other, or rather the first girl he had encountered inquired. He was not sure if this was the start of a debate and if it was how it would benefit anyone, especially him. "No one is losing an arm." She added.

"I want my arm," he added. He also wanted his hand. Should he sit, lay down. Wrap his arm, find a pencil. He was not sure but he was feeling overwhelmed.

"How did this happen?"

"They came and took it while I slept," he claimed. He lacked defensive wounds, just a severe injury to his forearm that resulted in a severed hand. No sign of a burn, no strange scent beyond the metallic scent of blood. The wound's edge was jagged, his bone appeared sawed through.

WC: 398
iNPC: Taylor Athanatos
Liar Closed
"You'd rather die?" Avis stared at the boy. He was hiding something. "Well guess what, I don't care. You are welcome to please sit yourself down on a bed why are you still standing?" She grabbed his (healthy) arm and tried to guide him to a bed and would have forced him but I'm not sure if that's godmodding. She then turned to the girl "What do you mean what does a tourniquet do? It stops the blood when pressure doessn't or when you really need to stop blood. I guess magic could do the same thing, but I keep forgetting that it exists so you'll have to forgive me for trying my best. Look, I get you don't like me but this is really not the time."Then Avis turned back to the boy. "You no longer have any say in the matter if you would choose death, but for some reason your bleeding is stopping...that is completely illogical in every regard but okay. Do you have any other injuries? What happened?" She started pacing back and forth across the medical ward floor. This was not how Avis had planned to spend her morning. Less than a week ago she was at home and now she was in a medical castle with a kid with a severed arm, and he didn't seem to care. Where was the nurse for this kid? Her and the older girl were definitely not qualified for this.
Avis Marlong | ”She won't cry or beg for help...she'll isolate from the world and fight her own demons so that nobody can throw it in her face later.”
"The odds of hitting your target increase dramatically when you aim at it." Benji Marecos
Liar Closed
He was scared.

Of course he was, just about anyone in their right mind would've been. The stammer that followed his words registered, and Iris found herself softening, if just slightly. Most days called for reservation; today was not one of them. She nodded, "Yes, I meant your arm.". Reattaching what had been lost was far from her skill set, leaving her to place the bloodied mess on a table nearby. Beds lined the open room, her arm gesturing to an open one. If he stood any longer, Iris feared he'd collapse right then and there.

Naturally, the action could not be followed without the input of the other. She could admit where her sharp tongue got the best, and yet it wasn't the time, nor place, to be picking arguments. Instead she glanced finally to the Ravenclaw, a layer of stoicism coating her voice. "I imagine he's overwhelmed." Dial it back hovered atop her tongue, translated through one piercing glare.

The boy's vague, albeit haunting response led Iris to drop the subject. Clearly he was in shock, possibly even a bit deluded by the sound of it. Attackers in the night, well it definitely seemed a little absurd. She blamed the blood loss.
Last edited by Iris Athanasiuo on 23 Sep 2024, 00:06, edited 2 times in total.
sta : 7 ⸝ eva : 7 ⸝ str : 0
wis : 9 ⸝ arc : 9 ⸝ acc : 8
Iris E. Athanasiuo
·𖥸·
 ━━━━━━
Wings of silver,
talons of gold.
Liar Closed
Atlas could feel his skull being constantly pounded by the searing pain of his migraine. He'd probably overexerted himself because it had been building up since the moment he woke up and started his preparations of studying. Stress was getting to him after studying through the night and other caused strains from his Prefect responsibilities. The dull aching became more with each step he took toward the hospital wing, until at last he was standing at the door. All he had to do was locate Nurse Dusana and request a potion to ease his discomforting headache.

When Atlas entered the Hospital
Wing, the scenery caught his eye as soon as he stepped inside. There were three students inside that he didn't know. The other student's face was twisted in agony as he gripped his hand, blood dripping between his fingers. At that moment, he sight numbed his excruciating headache as he became concerned.

Without thinking twice he moved forward and instinctively took charge. With a tone that conveyed both authority and empathy, he introduced himself to the three students "My name is Atlas Anderson, I am a Slytherin Prefect. While on my way here I could hear you guys talking, only to walk in on this."

Atlas scowled as he moved in closer to examine Aamon's hand, he had a worried facial expression as he assessed the circumstances. It was his duty to make sure that the students were safe and healthy and Aamon's wound didn't seem to be something that could be ignored.

He could feel his headache pulsing stronger with every second, but he forced himself to push it aside. Right now, his priority was making sure Aamon was okay.

"Here's what we gonna do, someone get me surgical gloves, please!" He commanded.
"You gonna have to calm down, Mr. What's your name?," he asked.
@Avis Marlong @Aamon Athanatos @Iris Athanasiuo
Reducio
Edit: I know a lot was actioned but please take this as a panicking Prefect almost seeing a student bleeding to death, making him act without thinking thrice and just charging in
Liar Closed
Avis breathed, a thousand comebacks flashing through her head as she dismissed them all. She was right. The kid probably was overwhelmed. Heck, he was probably tramatized. Here was neither the time nor the place for Avis' nonexistent social skills. And yet her stubbornness pulled at her. Maybe she could talk to the girl later, try to explain this. No one had ever felt so hostile to her before. Avis breathed a sigh of relief as a Slytherin Prefect entered the room glad for someone with actual authority in the matter. The prefect walk in obviously frustrated with the two girls, scowling. Avis didn't understand what she was supposed too have done, but she figured he knew much more than her. Especially if he knew magic. Avis had been going of human medicine, but she presumed that wizards and witches had much better, magical, uses of medicine. She looked down in shame. She was ruining everything she touched. "Here's what we gonna do, someone get me surgical gloves, please!" Avis scrambled to find gloves on a nearby cart and handed them to him. This was not the time for her social skill, but she could listen fine. She waited incase for more instructions.

Reducio
A 12 yr old "agent of chaos" doesn't seem that great of a nurse, especially with a headache
Avis Marlong | ”She won't cry or beg for help...she'll isolate from the world and fight her own demons so that nobody can throw it in her face later.”
"The odds of hitting your target increase dramatically when you aim at it." Benji Marecos
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