Writings
Here it is, at long last. ^^
Equanimity
The sound of heavy footfalls, clank, clank, clank across the metal floors, echoed along the corridors of the Delphinus. Captain Drachma of the Little Jack fumed silently to himself as he made his way down to the medical room. Of all the jumped up little whippersnappers ever to sail the skies in an overgrown Valuan tin can, that boy was the worst! Sending him all this way for one tiny scratch! It was ridiculous. He would have been able to carry on just fine without attention, thank you very much, but since this was not his ship, he was not at liberty to decide. So here he was, going to see the bloody doctor about it. Harrumph.
Drachma hated doctors, interfering little buggers that they were. He had seen far too many of them in his time, and they had all been exactly the same. Constantly asking awkward questions, poking their noses where they weren’t wanted…and always thinking themselves so very high and mighty, just because they knew a bit more about being ill than the average bod. Well, whoever this doctor turned out to be, the Captain was determined to give him hell.
Approaching the door that lead to the medical bay, he heard the sound of someone shouting. Oh, lovely. As if it wasn’t enough that they prodded and poked you, this one shouted as well.
As he came closer, however, it became clear that the voice was that of Khazim, the Nasrean chief gunner - Drachma remembered that he had sustained a leg injury in the last battle. He seemed to be berating whoever else was on the other side of the door.
“…should be out there at my station by now! What the hell’s taking you so long?”
The answering voice was somewhat quieter, and Drachma could not make out the words. But Khazim was soon off again. “I don’t care about your damned crystals! Just get me fixed so I can get back to work! That’s your job, isn’t it, Valua?”
A pause. Then, “Well, get to it! Moons, of all the incompetent…”
So the doctor was Valuan. That might explain Khazim’s impatience - he had always hated Valuans. At least this doctor didn’t seem to be the cross type, though…
Enough procrastinating. It was time to meet him in person. Drachma raised his brass arm and tapped the door with one finger, knowing that this would be quite loud enough to get the attention of anyone in the medical bay.
Sure enough, a moment later, he heard Khazim’s disgusted snarl. “Argh! Now what? Whoever’s out there, get lost! The doctor’s not done with me yet - What? You’re done now? Finally!”
There was a clump of boots hitting the floor. Footsteps approached the door, and a moment later, Khazim appeared in the doorway. Drachma stepped aside to let him pass. Just before he left, the gunner muttered, “Watch out. This one’s a menace.”
Drachma rolled his eye. He had hardly been looking forward to this visit in the first place, without Khazim making things worse. Cautiously, he stepped around the half-open door and looked about the medical bay. It was a light, surprisingly pleasant room, all clean white surfaces and pale green cloth. The space was sparsely furnished with a high couch, a few cabinets, what appeared to be a curtain on wheels and a sideboard with a sink. The doctor, however, was nowhere to be seen.
“Ah, there you are.”
Drachma turned at the unfamiliar voice. Someone had just stepped out of an adjoining room, the door to which he had not noticed on his initial examination of the medical bay. It was a tall man, a couple of inches taller than Drachma himself, with his light brown hair swept back into a neat ponytail. He approached the Captain and smiled warmly, his green eyes twinkling behind round glasses.
“Captain Drachma, I presume,” he said brightly, bowing slightly in a gesture of respect. “Captain Vyse told me you were coming. If you’ll hold on just a moment, I’ll be right with you.”
He walked over to a large ledger on the end of the sideboard, extracted a quill from the inkpot next to it and began scribbling a few notes. Drachma could not help watching him. As doctors went, he was…different, to say the least. He seemed far too young, for a start. And he hadn’t said a word about the arm. They all had, so far - something along the lines of How Did You Lose It, shortly followed by A Doctor Could Have Done Such-And-Such, You Know, was fairly normal - but not this one.
“Almost finished here…”
It was at this point that Drachma noticed something very important - the doctor was not touching the quill. Yet it was still moving back and forth, executing perfect letters in dark ink on the slightly yellowing page.
“…And that’s it.”
The quill replaced itself in the inkwell, and the doctor approached Drachma again. “Right, now - what can I do for you?” he asked.
Drachma suddenly felt very nervous. “Oh, it’s…erm…it’s…it’s just a scratch, really…”
“Any complications?”
“Erm…”
“No poisons or other such undesirable presences?”
Bloody doctors… “Well…used Curia on it, just in case, but “Captain” Vyse seems to think you should…”
“Where is it?”
Drachma stopped mid-diatribe. “Eh?”
The doctor seemed completely unperturbed, which was strangely helpful. “The scratch, where is it?”
The Captain blinked. “Oh…here.”
And he held out his left hand. The ‘scratch’, previously only a shallow cut across the centre of his palm, was now oozing an unpleasant green fluid. He hated to admit it, but perhaps the boy had been right about seeing the doctor.
“Ah…I see.” The doctor crossed the room to the sideboard. “I suspect it didn’t look that bad when you left the bridge, did it? Captain Vyse must have a sixth sense for these things.”
“Erm…I suppose so…”
“Not to worry, it’s nothing serious. This should only take a few moments.”
The doctor returned, holding a shiny, silver object. Drachma instinctively drew his hand away. “What’s that?”
“Oh, this? An enhanced Curia crystal - it deals with some of the less common poisons and other such things, but it’s far too fragile to carry in the field. Hand, please.”
Drachma had not realised until then that he was holding his breath. He did as the doctor asked, fixing his gaze firmly on the opposite wall. After a few seconds, however, curiosity won him over and he turned to see what the doctor was doing.
It turned out that he was passing the crystal over Drachma’s injured hand, about an inch above the cut. On the third pass, the green fluid glowed white and began to dissolve. After a few seconds, the glow faded, and the fluid melted into nothing. The Captain allowed himself to breathe out.
And then the crystal shattered, spraying light in all directions. Drachma gave a shout of surprise and leaped backwards. The doctor started, whipping his hand away from the shower of sparks. “Ah!”
“What the hell was that?” Drachma demanded. “Are you hurt?”
The doctor shook his head, and gave a soft laugh. “Ha. No, no, just a little shaken. I should have been expecting that, really, considering how long it’s lasted. Ah well - I’ll have to ask Captain Vyse if we might stretch to another. I know funds are a bit low after the last set of repairs.” He sighed, and smiled. “A quick Sacri should fix the rest of the damage - I have plenty of crystals, if you want to save your reserves.”
Having recovered from his previous scare, Drachma was astonished to find himself accepting the offer with something bordering on warmth. He had not expected to have any patience whatsoever with the doctor, let alone like him. And he did like him. He was at a loss to explain his sudden fondness for a complete stranger, but there was definitely something about this patient, quiet creature that was…not attractive, as such, but…subtly engaging.
He closed the scratch with a part-used Sacri crystal, taking care not to move it too much so that it would not shatter before it was spent. “Thanks. Um - can I ask you something?”
“You may,” the doctor replied pleasantly, having taken the opportunity to direct some items into boxes out of the way. “I can’t guarantee an answer, of course, but you’re more than welcome to try.”
“Do they…all treat you like that? Roughly, I mean. Like Khazim did.”
He smiled, and shook his head. “No. People are usually a little short with me, but that’s only to be expected. We lash out when we’re injured, usually at the closest person. Human nature. Khazim just…he has no love for Valua, and he sees more of Valua in me than he would like in someone he trusts to take care of his health.”
Drachma scowled. “That shouldn’t make any difference,” he said crossly. “A man is what he makes himself, not what he’s born.”
“And those who learn that the swifter are the happier for it,” the doctor sighed. “Still, I do not believe I have the right to ask for any miracles just yet. We do what we must, do we not, Captain?”
“Aye. That we do.” But at least you can bear the hardships quietly, Doctor. At least you don’t mumble and grumble all the time. The world keeps on going, you say, and you don’t give an inch, no matter how the storms batter you. There’s a good word for the peace in your eyes, but I can’t seem to find it.
Reckon you know it.
Not that I’ll ever ask you.
A commotion outside the door caused them both to look up. Three voices, all female, and all frantic -
“Sounds like the subcannon team,” Drachma remarked. “I expect you’ll be wanting me out from under your feet.”
“I think it’s their feet you should be worrying about,” the doctor said with a smile. “I’d make a run for it, if I were you. Lovely to have met you, Captain.”
Drachma caught himself in the act of smiling, and coughed. “Likewise, Doctor…erm…”
“Ilchymis.”
“Doctor Ilchymis. Thanks for your help - I’ll be going now.”
And he fled, managing to make it out through the door before Belle and Lilly barged their way in, supporting a wailing Nara.
“Owwwwww! My foot! My poor, poor foot! Oh, it’s broken! I’m sure it’s broken! Oh, it hurts!”
“Of course it hurts, stupid! Miss Clever here ran a frickin’ cannon over it!”
“I didn’t mean to! Oh, gosh, Nara, I’m so sorry…I’m just clumsy! I don’t mean to hurt you, honest I don’t - ”
“Now, ladies, ladies, please…can we have a little calm? Help her sit down - that’s it…”
“Oh, just take your frickin’ time, why don’t ’cha? Can’t you see she’s in pain?”
“Owwwwwww!”
“I’m sorry, Nara…”
Drachma winced. Poor Doctor Ilchymis. Did he ever get any peace?
Then he really did smile. Stupid question. The man was an island of peace. He had built his world of tranquillity. He would survive.
He made his way down to the mess hall, eager not to miss supper. No sooner had he entered, however, than he heard something that he did not like.
“…And such a toad! It’s ‘Ladies’ this, and ‘Gentlemen’ that, and in his horrible accent…I’m thinking, just do your job, and stop pussyfooting around! Really, what is he? A doctor, or a bootlicker to some Valuan bigwig? Eugh. Makes me sick.”
Khazim again. Drachma’s eyes narrowed. Yes, Doctor Ilchymis could survive on his own, but all the same, it would not hurt to remind Khazim of his place.
He walked purposefully over to the table where the Nasrean gunner was sitting with his men, and laid a hand firmly on his shoulder. He deliberately chose the brass hand over the flesh and blood one, partly to make a better impact, and partly to avoid further damage to his less robust hand. Khazim froze.
“I think you and I need to have a little chat,” said the Captain, quietly but firmly. “Perhaps, when we’re finished, you’ll remember that it isn’t nice to talk about people behind their backs.”
The sound that passed Khazim’s lips would be best described as ‘meep’. Drachma lifted him off the bench, placed him on his feet and guided him towards the door. Just as they were about to leave, the Captain turned back to the other occupants of the room and grinned his most dangerous grin.
“Play nice, boys,” he said. “I’ll be watchin’.”
And he left, closing the door behind him.
Captain Vyse remarked on the improving standard of etiquette amongst the crew at briefing the next day. Drachma, who had his one eye on Ilchymis as the young Rogue was speaking, did his best to keep his smug expression to himself when the Valuan doctor’s smile grew just a little brighter.
Any good?
~*D*~
Equanimity
The sound of heavy footfalls, clank, clank, clank across the metal floors, echoed along the corridors of the Delphinus. Captain Drachma of the Little Jack fumed silently to himself as he made his way down to the medical room. Of all the jumped up little whippersnappers ever to sail the skies in an overgrown Valuan tin can, that boy was the worst! Sending him all this way for one tiny scratch! It was ridiculous. He would have been able to carry on just fine without attention, thank you very much, but since this was not his ship, he was not at liberty to decide. So here he was, going to see the bloody doctor about it. Harrumph.
Drachma hated doctors, interfering little buggers that they were. He had seen far too many of them in his time, and they had all been exactly the same. Constantly asking awkward questions, poking their noses where they weren’t wanted…and always thinking themselves so very high and mighty, just because they knew a bit more about being ill than the average bod. Well, whoever this doctor turned out to be, the Captain was determined to give him hell.
Approaching the door that lead to the medical bay, he heard the sound of someone shouting. Oh, lovely. As if it wasn’t enough that they prodded and poked you, this one shouted as well.
As he came closer, however, it became clear that the voice was that of Khazim, the Nasrean chief gunner - Drachma remembered that he had sustained a leg injury in the last battle. He seemed to be berating whoever else was on the other side of the door.
“…should be out there at my station by now! What the hell’s taking you so long?”
The answering voice was somewhat quieter, and Drachma could not make out the words. But Khazim was soon off again. “I don’t care about your damned crystals! Just get me fixed so I can get back to work! That’s your job, isn’t it, Valua?”
A pause. Then, “Well, get to it! Moons, of all the incompetent…”
So the doctor was Valuan. That might explain Khazim’s impatience - he had always hated Valuans. At least this doctor didn’t seem to be the cross type, though…
Enough procrastinating. It was time to meet him in person. Drachma raised his brass arm and tapped the door with one finger, knowing that this would be quite loud enough to get the attention of anyone in the medical bay.
Sure enough, a moment later, he heard Khazim’s disgusted snarl. “Argh! Now what? Whoever’s out there, get lost! The doctor’s not done with me yet - What? You’re done now? Finally!”
There was a clump of boots hitting the floor. Footsteps approached the door, and a moment later, Khazim appeared in the doorway. Drachma stepped aside to let him pass. Just before he left, the gunner muttered, “Watch out. This one’s a menace.”
Drachma rolled his eye. He had hardly been looking forward to this visit in the first place, without Khazim making things worse. Cautiously, he stepped around the half-open door and looked about the medical bay. It was a light, surprisingly pleasant room, all clean white surfaces and pale green cloth. The space was sparsely furnished with a high couch, a few cabinets, what appeared to be a curtain on wheels and a sideboard with a sink. The doctor, however, was nowhere to be seen.
“Ah, there you are.”
Drachma turned at the unfamiliar voice. Someone had just stepped out of an adjoining room, the door to which he had not noticed on his initial examination of the medical bay. It was a tall man, a couple of inches taller than Drachma himself, with his light brown hair swept back into a neat ponytail. He approached the Captain and smiled warmly, his green eyes twinkling behind round glasses.
“Captain Drachma, I presume,” he said brightly, bowing slightly in a gesture of respect. “Captain Vyse told me you were coming. If you’ll hold on just a moment, I’ll be right with you.”
He walked over to a large ledger on the end of the sideboard, extracted a quill from the inkpot next to it and began scribbling a few notes. Drachma could not help watching him. As doctors went, he was…different, to say the least. He seemed far too young, for a start. And he hadn’t said a word about the arm. They all had, so far - something along the lines of How Did You Lose It, shortly followed by A Doctor Could Have Done Such-And-Such, You Know, was fairly normal - but not this one.
“Almost finished here…”
It was at this point that Drachma noticed something very important - the doctor was not touching the quill. Yet it was still moving back and forth, executing perfect letters in dark ink on the slightly yellowing page.
“…And that’s it.”
The quill replaced itself in the inkwell, and the doctor approached Drachma again. “Right, now - what can I do for you?” he asked.
Drachma suddenly felt very nervous. “Oh, it’s…erm…it’s…it’s just a scratch, really…”
“Any complications?”
“Erm…”
“No poisons or other such undesirable presences?”
Bloody doctors… “Well…used Curia on it, just in case, but “Captain” Vyse seems to think you should…”
“Where is it?”
Drachma stopped mid-diatribe. “Eh?”
The doctor seemed completely unperturbed, which was strangely helpful. “The scratch, where is it?”
The Captain blinked. “Oh…here.”
And he held out his left hand. The ‘scratch’, previously only a shallow cut across the centre of his palm, was now oozing an unpleasant green fluid. He hated to admit it, but perhaps the boy had been right about seeing the doctor.
“Ah…I see.” The doctor crossed the room to the sideboard. “I suspect it didn’t look that bad when you left the bridge, did it? Captain Vyse must have a sixth sense for these things.”
“Erm…I suppose so…”
“Not to worry, it’s nothing serious. This should only take a few moments.”
The doctor returned, holding a shiny, silver object. Drachma instinctively drew his hand away. “What’s that?”
“Oh, this? An enhanced Curia crystal - it deals with some of the less common poisons and other such things, but it’s far too fragile to carry in the field. Hand, please.”
Drachma had not realised until then that he was holding his breath. He did as the doctor asked, fixing his gaze firmly on the opposite wall. After a few seconds, however, curiosity won him over and he turned to see what the doctor was doing.
It turned out that he was passing the crystal over Drachma’s injured hand, about an inch above the cut. On the third pass, the green fluid glowed white and began to dissolve. After a few seconds, the glow faded, and the fluid melted into nothing. The Captain allowed himself to breathe out.
And then the crystal shattered, spraying light in all directions. Drachma gave a shout of surprise and leaped backwards. The doctor started, whipping his hand away from the shower of sparks. “Ah!”
“What the hell was that?” Drachma demanded. “Are you hurt?”
The doctor shook his head, and gave a soft laugh. “Ha. No, no, just a little shaken. I should have been expecting that, really, considering how long it’s lasted. Ah well - I’ll have to ask Captain Vyse if we might stretch to another. I know funds are a bit low after the last set of repairs.” He sighed, and smiled. “A quick Sacri should fix the rest of the damage - I have plenty of crystals, if you want to save your reserves.”
Having recovered from his previous scare, Drachma was astonished to find himself accepting the offer with something bordering on warmth. He had not expected to have any patience whatsoever with the doctor, let alone like him. And he did like him. He was at a loss to explain his sudden fondness for a complete stranger, but there was definitely something about this patient, quiet creature that was…not attractive, as such, but…subtly engaging.
He closed the scratch with a part-used Sacri crystal, taking care not to move it too much so that it would not shatter before it was spent. “Thanks. Um - can I ask you something?”
“You may,” the doctor replied pleasantly, having taken the opportunity to direct some items into boxes out of the way. “I can’t guarantee an answer, of course, but you’re more than welcome to try.”
“Do they…all treat you like that? Roughly, I mean. Like Khazim did.”
He smiled, and shook his head. “No. People are usually a little short with me, but that’s only to be expected. We lash out when we’re injured, usually at the closest person. Human nature. Khazim just…he has no love for Valua, and he sees more of Valua in me than he would like in someone he trusts to take care of his health.”
Drachma scowled. “That shouldn’t make any difference,” he said crossly. “A man is what he makes himself, not what he’s born.”
“And those who learn that the swifter are the happier for it,” the doctor sighed. “Still, I do not believe I have the right to ask for any miracles just yet. We do what we must, do we not, Captain?”
“Aye. That we do.” But at least you can bear the hardships quietly, Doctor. At least you don’t mumble and grumble all the time. The world keeps on going, you say, and you don’t give an inch, no matter how the storms batter you. There’s a good word for the peace in your eyes, but I can’t seem to find it.
Reckon you know it.
Not that I’ll ever ask you.
A commotion outside the door caused them both to look up. Three voices, all female, and all frantic -
“Sounds like the subcannon team,” Drachma remarked. “I expect you’ll be wanting me out from under your feet.”
“I think it’s their feet you should be worrying about,” the doctor said with a smile. “I’d make a run for it, if I were you. Lovely to have met you, Captain.”
Drachma caught himself in the act of smiling, and coughed. “Likewise, Doctor…erm…”
“Ilchymis.”
“Doctor Ilchymis. Thanks for your help - I’ll be going now.”
And he fled, managing to make it out through the door before Belle and Lilly barged their way in, supporting a wailing Nara.
“Owwwwww! My foot! My poor, poor foot! Oh, it’s broken! I’m sure it’s broken! Oh, it hurts!”
“Of course it hurts, stupid! Miss Clever here ran a frickin’ cannon over it!”
“I didn’t mean to! Oh, gosh, Nara, I’m so sorry…I’m just clumsy! I don’t mean to hurt you, honest I don’t - ”
“Now, ladies, ladies, please…can we have a little calm? Help her sit down - that’s it…”
“Oh, just take your frickin’ time, why don’t ’cha? Can’t you see she’s in pain?”
“Owwwwwww!”
“I’m sorry, Nara…”
Drachma winced. Poor Doctor Ilchymis. Did he ever get any peace?
Then he really did smile. Stupid question. The man was an island of peace. He had built his world of tranquillity. He would survive.
He made his way down to the mess hall, eager not to miss supper. No sooner had he entered, however, than he heard something that he did not like.
“…And such a toad! It’s ‘Ladies’ this, and ‘Gentlemen’ that, and in his horrible accent…I’m thinking, just do your job, and stop pussyfooting around! Really, what is he? A doctor, or a bootlicker to some Valuan bigwig? Eugh. Makes me sick.”
Khazim again. Drachma’s eyes narrowed. Yes, Doctor Ilchymis could survive on his own, but all the same, it would not hurt to remind Khazim of his place.
He walked purposefully over to the table where the Nasrean gunner was sitting with his men, and laid a hand firmly on his shoulder. He deliberately chose the brass hand over the flesh and blood one, partly to make a better impact, and partly to avoid further damage to his less robust hand. Khazim froze.
“I think you and I need to have a little chat,” said the Captain, quietly but firmly. “Perhaps, when we’re finished, you’ll remember that it isn’t nice to talk about people behind their backs.”
The sound that passed Khazim’s lips would be best described as ‘meep’. Drachma lifted him off the bench, placed him on his feet and guided him towards the door. Just as they were about to leave, the Captain turned back to the other occupants of the room and grinned his most dangerous grin.
“Play nice, boys,” he said. “I’ll be watchin’.”
And he left, closing the door behind him.
Captain Vyse remarked on the improving standard of etiquette amongst the crew at briefing the next day. Drachma, who had his one eye on Ilchymis as the young Rogue was speaking, did his best to keep his smug expression to himself when the Valuan doctor’s smile grew just a little brighter.
Any good?
~*D*~