towerofanimus | 03. whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest

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03. whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest

Characters: Everyone who got injured in the event and accordingly went to the infirmary.
Setting: Infirmary, backdated to just after event.
Format: Either!
Summary: People obviously got hurt in all the chaos during the Tower's re-stabilizing. A lot of people probably went to the infirmary after waking up in their rooms still injured from the fight. Post a new comment thread here with your character and tag other peoples' threads!
Warnings: Mentions of injury, blood, trauma, etc etc. Language, too. Will edit if anything else comes up.

[Hospitals are so boring. Well, at least misery loves company?]

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He wished he had a pound for every curse word that had popped into his mind within the past hour or so.

In all honesty, England had not wanted to go to see the medical staff, considering the Tower's track record. But, while he may be proud, England isn't stupid. When he woke up sore, bleeding, and about ready to slip back into unconsciousness from the pounding in his head, he knew a visit to the infirmary was in order.

Of course, now he can barely use his hands. Perhaps it was adrenaline, or just plain stubbornness, but he hadn't noticed how badly they'd been damaged while he was fighting. It was probably to be expected. He hadn't seen that much melee combat since the golden days of knighthood. They were wrapped up very well in bandages and gauze. The two last fingers of his dominant hand were taped together with a splint, one of them broken.

Naturally, his embroidery hoop and needle laid neglected at his side instead of in his lap being worked on.

England sighed, gingerly brushing his thumb along the cover of his hardbound Shakespeare collection. He'd be able to leave as soon as the wounds on his torso closed up a bit better, but for now he was bedridden.

He really hated hospitals.

Luckily for England it wasn't one of the red collared staff that came to check on him that day, but Shion. Shion didn't officially work in the infirmary but no one had told him to go away so here he was. He hadn't been much use in the battle at all, they had gotten away from the bees but then something had attacked Shion from behind and the next thing he knew he had woken up with not a scratch on him.

He had felt awful when he had learnt other people were injured when he had woke up fine. He remembered getting injured though...

He smiled at the man, "Hello, I'm here to change your dressings," his voice was kind as he put down the box of bandages.

England cast a glance to the unfamiliar pale-haired young man at his bedside, vaguely noting his healthy-looking state and wondering if maybe he'd arrived after the chaos had subsided. "Alright," he said distantly, more as an acknowledgment of the boy's presence than anything else. "Thank you."

The nation straightened a little, pushing himself upright the best that he could without straining his broken digits. Tugging the sheets down off of his torso left only the hospital gown, which he shrugged out of the top of so that the nurse (presumably) could get to the dressings there too.

Shion smiled and began to change the bandages, cleaning them first apologising quietly for any stinging.

"I am Shion by the way, if you need anything."

With a closer look, fresh wounds weren't the only things under the wraps and gauze. There were a number of old scars as well, of varying shape, size, severity, and nature. Some of them seemed to be really old -- almost completely faded -- only to be crossed over by newer ones. England wasn't shy about them, though; in fact, he acted almost as if they weren't there.

The same was true for any minor sting brought about by the disinfectant. But considering how bad some of those scars looked, it probably wasn't a surprise that he shrugged off the minor irritation with a simple "it's fine" every time Shion apologized.

"Arthur Kirkland," returned the island nation politely. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for your assistance."

Shion didn't ask about the scars because he thought it would be rude, but he did wonder what a life this man must have led. He did not seem very old to have all these scars, scars on top of scars and Shion wondered if his world was a brutal one, or if there had been a war that he had fought in.

"It is nice to meet you also Arthur Kirkland," he wasn't sure about how to address people when they had two names still, it wasn't something people had in No. 6. But he thought he should use both names to be safe.

"Don't worry, I wanted to be of some use, I'm afraid I was not useful at all in the fighting." As he bandaged a wound on Arthur Kirkland's back he quickly checked the neck, looking for any sign of a blister. He still was not sure if those bees he had fought had been parasite bees but he had been checking all of his patients just in case.

"Just Arthur is fine," England assured quietly, keeping his tone as benign as possible in his fatigued state. He'd since realized that different people in this tower had different observations on what was considered etiquette, so he was gentle in his correction to Shion.

"So you were in the fight as well?" he questioned after that, shifting a little so Shion could get to his injuries more easily. "I'm surprised. You look to be in a fine state overall."

Perhaps Shion had found a safe place on the skirts of the chaos. It was noble of him to aid the wounded in lieu of physical combat, in any case.

He nodded and continued changing the dressing, even though death troubled him as did the idea of others being hurt he was not squeamish. At least not when it came to injuries like this, that he could do something about. He looked down at the comment, still not understanding.

"I got attacked, by bees at first and then by something... it came at me from behind. I should be awfully injured, there was a lot of pain but the next thing I knew I had woken up in bed unable to move." He shrugged and moved onto the next injury.

"At first I thought it was a dream, until I learnt others had been hurt, I guess someone saved me... though it doesn't explain how I am unhurt, If they did I am grateful to them, whoever they are."

[ Remember their little conversation during the fighting, England?

Well, Link has returned. How the hell they're uninjured is a question unto itself--it seems that whatever Link did is magic, all right. That, or sheer skill. There are obvious cuts and scrapes and whatnot but no bandages, as everything is already healing over. In fact... Link comes into the infirmary with a little bottle.

Why, what is that in it? It appears to be some sort of... liquid. Potion, perhaps? It is certainly not tea, but Link has also brought in a tea set! .... Granted, it's nothing fancy, but it was dug up from somewhere, so. ]

... Hello, Arthur.

[ And Link sets the tray down on a nearby table, pulling up a stolen chair for visitors nearby. ]

I believe I might have something to help with your injuries if you're willing to take it. It should at least expedite the healing process.

[ The blue potion is not the most... appetizing looking drink, in that bottle, but it will heal you for sure if you actually drink it! ]

[Upon seeing Link's state, England almost feels jealous. Vaguely, he wonders when -- or even if -- his nation healing would kick in. The more severe injuries took longer to heal, no doubt, but even something as simple as a broken pinky should be feeling a little better already.

His eyes fall on the teaset, and his jealousy gives way to pleasant surprise.] Fancy seeing you here. [There's certainly much worse company he could ask for.

Her statement elicits an inquisitive look. He peeks at the bottle, surveying the strange liquid inside. It...well, let's just say that with the way he cooks, England doesn't notice anything particularly offputting about whatever is in there, aside from the fact that it's colored like a sugary children's drink.] I'm completely willing, if you are not opposed to parting with it for my sake.

[ Link tends to be far from poor company. At least, so they'd hope. But no, it is not a sugary children's drink, thank goodness (your liver will thank you!), it is merely a blue potion.

Link carries a ton of empty bottles for this reason, precisely. This is why you are now being offered said bottle, England! ]

My visit was somewhat deliberate, I admit. Many were injured in that... situation.

[ There is a small pause here, as Link considers what to say next. ]

... This potion is made from very potent things, from my world. It restores body and spirit. I am not asking you to drink it, if you do not wish to, but even a small amount should greatly help you heal.

[He looks at the bottle for a second, before gingerly reaching out to take it in his less-wounded hand. Once he has it, he tilts it a little -- not enough to spill -- to survey the amount.]

I'm not opposed to the idea, but how much would you recommend that I drink? [He has no problem with drinking it, he just doesn't want to end up like Alice, growing and shrinking rapidly from lack of moderation.

...not that Link would give him a potion that did that, but it's the principle of the thing. Not being a curious little girl probably helps, in this situation.]

[ ... Pffft, England. Link is definitely the more curious girl of the two, but oh well. They're a thoughtful pause here, as they consider that. ]

... I would say at least half a bottle for it to do anything. Believe me, I have had far worse. At the worst, you might feel better. I don't think that would be anything bad, personally.

[ But, again, also not forcing you to make that choice. And it certainly won't make you grow or shrink ~~go talk to the Minish Cap Link for those adventures~~, silly. ]

I think I can handle half a bottle.

[With that, he carefully brings the potion to his lips and tilts back to swallow it, somehow managing to keep his propriety even while he's technically chugging his drink. He doesn't stop -- disregarding the taste entirely -- until half the bottle is gone, at which point he pulls it away and waits for both the taste and the magic to hit him.

Not that his tastebuds are that sensitive anyways. You could probably feed him charcoal and he wouldn't notice.]

[ Link has absolutely no doubt the Potion will work (aside from which, they had money to burn and they were pretty good if you needed them in a pinch), because it's made from rather... potent things.

Nonetheless, there's some anxiousness here. What if Arthur doesn't feel better?

All that can be done now is to wait and hope. ]

America, ever obnoxiously quick to heal and obnoxiously sunny in disposition, was quick to head into the infirmary to check on England--or maybe just to annoy him, as he was wont to do. The old man could use some cheering up on a good day, right?

"Hey!" America's voice was about twice as loud as it really should have been, because he was trying hard to keep quiet.

England would have just feigned sleep if he'd been told who'd be visiting him today. He wasn't sure he could handle a headache (a worse headache) on top of the persistent soreness and fatigue.

He wasn't quick enough on the uptake to relax and close his eyes by the time America came over, though. And besides that, something in him wanted to make sure that the other nation had come out of the fight okay. Accordingly, when America approached, England looked him over for damage. It was a strange mixture of relief and irritation when he noticed just how lively the larger nation seemed to be.

"America," he replied curtly, his voice weary. "You're doing well, I see." It was annoyingly typical for America to be so vivacious while England was stuck in the dredges, but he didn't have the energy to inject the proper amount of bitterness into his observation. He really was glad to see that his former colony was okay.

America grinned and tried not to feel stupidly guilty that he'd gotten off better than England. It wasn't like he was dead. It wasn't even like the injuries wouldn't heal.

"Look, I brought you stuff!"

America proceeded to drop a bag on England's lap. It consisted mostly of various foods from the restaurant--and it had taken him forever to find five stupid rainbow paperclips to get in, but whatever, England didn't have to know that.

England blinked dumbly at the bag that was dumped in his lap, clearly taken off-guard by the gesture. He proceeded with his deer in the headlights staring as he slowly raised his arms to pull the bag nearer to him and peek into it, just to ensure that it wasn't some kind of practical joke.

It took him absorbing that there was actually food -- good-looking food -- in the bag for England to get his mask back into place. Somewhat. He still sounded pleasantly surprised as he tripped over an awkward, "Ah...thank you. That wasn't necessary."

This was weird. He wasn't used to America doing things for him, and it was more obvious from his reaction than he would have really liked for it to have been.

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03. whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest

England

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I am too lazy rn for prose I'm sorry. But. TEA TIME.

it's okay i am always lazy

laziness is the BEST excuse, really.

it's a curse :C

... well yes, it is also that

sob backtagging to infinity

I AM 0KAY WITH THIS.

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