[Thread] One to the healer who fights the disease.

[apatheticary]

Who: The medicine seller, Yoite.
Where: A blue car somewhere in the Abyss.
When: After this.
Summary: Yoite needs medicine. Guess who has some?
Rating: G?
Other: ...

Comments

[anathemize]

The whole situation, it felt to Yoite, carried some sort of weight to it, more than the fact that he felt like he was dying (even though he wasn't; he knew that much). It was his words, the way he said that he could find out exactly what was needed, that made him almost believe that there was some hope to be found; more time to have his wish granted. And time was something he needed, because he could tell, had started counting down the time he had left. Not much. But it was better than nothing. And if this man could give him more time...that would be more than he would have hoped for

[apatheticary]

When the boy climbed out of the car, the medicine seller stepped back to take in his appearance. He certainly wasn't the most sickly person that the medicine seller had ever seen, however appearances could be deceiving in these situations. The medicine seller would not examine him further, though. In the end, he was merely a medicine seller and not a doctor.

His expression had not changed one bit since his arrival. He appeared neither concerned about his customer nor impatient to be done with business. In fact, he almost seemed ready to go over every one of his medicines until they found one that would work, simply out of boredom. With a painted little smile, he nodded and said slowly, "Please.... describe your symptoms... to me."

[anathemize]

The man before him seemed to be every bit as emotionless as most of the people he worked with; stoically facing death, whether it was their own or another's, uncaring of the world around them. But Yoite doubted that this was the same type of person, or the same type of situation. He closed the door behind him (habitual action, and an entirely useless one if they were to leave; the car wouldn't lock, after all), and leaned against the side of the vehicle, slightly

[apatheticary]

To that response, the medicine seller did not visibly react. Instead, he got to work. He shrugged the box off his shoulders and set it down carefully on the pavement. They could move elsewhere, but what would be the point? It wouldn't be any safer elsewhere. He nudged aside some old shattered glass and knelt down beside the box.

"Yes," the medicine seller responded. "All humans... are dying." He didn't look back at the boy as he opened drawers and shuffled through them. "But... the causes of death... vary greatly." He was already choosing ingredients even with such little information. He set a line of bottles beside him, along with a mortar and pestle.

Then violet eyes returned to the customer. "So... what is it... that you feel?"