Fantasy RPG Forum - Standing Trials

Looking around, Faith made sure that the door to her office was closed tight behind her. Then, she leaned against the door and her back pressed against the unmoving wood. Slowly, she slid down until she felt her bottom touch the floor. Knees raised in front of her, Faith lowered her head and wrapped her arms around the back of her neck. Pulling herself into a ball she breathed in and then let out a low sob. It had all been so much - so damn much - and she was relieved in ways she couldn't explain. But now, as things seemed to almost return to normal, Faith found herself dealing with the fallout from her experiences. All the way through the war, she had been composed, holding back her emotions and keeping herself together. But even though they had spent time, the four of them together in Karem's realm after the war had ended, coming home and getting back to their usual life was traumatic in a way that Faith didn't want to spend time thinking about.

But if there was just one thing that she had learned in this war, it was that everyone, everyone had a limit. Padraig would say "even" her, but Faith was of the opinion that it was especially her. So, she allowed herself the time that she needed. Sitting on the floor in her office in the Order of the Adunih, Faith curled up into a ball and allowed herself to feel what she felt, to cry and let that out. After a few moments - not many, she had too much to do - Faith stood, wiping her eyes and straightening her back.

There was a lot to do and she needed to get started. The Institute for Innovation was opening on the 50th, there was a lot to do in the meantime. And before that, there were things to do in the Order itself. There was administration to do and, as she heard the knock on her door, Faith lifted her head, turning to look at the door. "Come in, Alex," she called. The man who walked in was tall - a good foot taller than her- with messy brown hair and a smile on his face. His intense blue eyes gazed at her and Faith's expression was a returned half-smile. She liked her new assistant well enough - he seemed like a nice man. But honestly? Time would tell. Alyssa seemed taken with him, and that gave Faith some slight concern, but she said nothing about it. So long as they were professional, Faith saw it as none of her business.

"We have a lot of paperwork to go through, to-trial. I thought that would be the best way to bring you back up to speed," he said with a smile and Faith suddenly realised what she needed to do. "No," Faith replied with a smile. "I'm not doing any paperwork today. No admin, no plans, nothing like that." Alex looked at her in some surprise and the question was obvious in his gaze, although he did not speak it. He didn't need to, Faith answered the unanswered question.

"To-trial, I need to get myself down to the Dust quarter and work. I need to be doing what I do best. Alex, in the meantime, I want you to go through this pile and split them into three piles. Now, Soon and Later." He didn't need any clarification on how to prioritise, Faith knew. So she didn't give him any. Instead, she got together her things and she smiled at him. "I'm going to go and remind myself who I am. What I do. You know how to contact me, yes?" Once that was confirmed, Faith turned and left him prioritising her work, getting things in order so that she could go and do what she did best.

She was going to go and help people.

The Dust Quarter of Rharne.

It was better - oh so much better than it had been and Faith knew that. She saw it, for a start, and people told her it, too. It made her her happy that there had been some change, but Faith knew that this was just a beginning. It was so frustrating to her that it seemed to be being perceived as an end. Change had begun. It was slow, and it was not enough. It was a beginning and that was all. A small improvement, but people were still suffering, there was still poverty, and so, the work wasn't ended. "What's the situation?" Faith asked the Blue Cloak who she was walking with. Faith had arrived at the satellite clinic here in the Dust Quarter a few breaks ago and she'd gotten herself settled in. She'd mended a few broken limbs, stitched some wounds. It was good - beyond good - to be back in the world she knew even though Faith felt more than a little guilty about that - after all, she should really be hoping to not be needed. And that was, of course, the plan. That eventually, there would be no need for medics. But right now, that was not the reality.

"Patient is five trials post-release, following surgery," the blue-cloak said. Faith nodded, aware of what was likely to come next. "Wound site is infected." Faith glanced at the woman and raised an eyebrow. "How bad?" Faith asked and the woman - Jean - shook her head. "Bad. I think we might lose him. The infection has spread badly." Faith sighed. This happened too much, still, and she knew that she needed to do something about it. It was just what to do that caused her sleepless nights. So often, perfectly healthy people got ill after they'd needed surgery. She wanted to minimise that risk, alleviate it completely if she could, but that was a long way away. She made her way into the room where the patient was.

It was a man, there were two other Order members around him and Faith knew by the smell the moment she entered the place that he was infected. How had it been allowed to get so bad? She moved and made her way over to him. The stitches from the incision (along his side) were visible, but the dark infection which was harming him, probably killing him, travelled down half of his leg and across his stomach like ink under his skin. The man was burning up, his temperature rocketing and Faith knew that they had very limited time to act. "I need his body temperature brought down, now," she said, ignoring the fact that there was another doctor there. "We need to drain that infection, hand me that," The people around started to move and Faith calmly slit open his wound.

"Oh the Immortals! Oh!" One of the green cloaks exclaimed in a high pitched voice, Faith didn't even lift her head. "Get her out. No time for hysteria, I need this cleaned. Get snowcrystals and the temperature of this room as low as we can." One of the things which Faith found difficult was the need to explain this again, and again. But she knew that she worked differently to other people and she did her best to just facilitate them, as best she could. But the patient came first. They had to.

The putrid liquid first flowed, then oozed, and Faith knew that she was fighting a largely losing battle. She had to get this infection out and clean before she could do anything. So, she cut more, taking the wound further than it had been. She didn't want to, but she knew that this man's life was literally hanging in the balance. "He's going to need blood. Get the set now." She was working on getting as much of the pus out of the man as she could, and Faith ignored the way that the warm liquid splashed out over her, slowly dripping down her clothes. It was just all part of the glamour of medicine, she thought. If she'd had time, she'd have smiled.

It took three breaks. She'd worked constantly within that time and, at the end of it, he had an incised wound which was twice the size of the original, they had to clean up the room because Faith hadn't waited for anything, simply done what needed to be done, and there was consequently a lot of mess. Frankly, though, Faith knew that it had taken all of her skill to keep him alive. They'd had to put blood into him, because of how much he'd lost and she had to use her Sevrath-granted abilities a number of times to close up wounds. But only once she was sure, absolutely sure, that she'd cleaned them.

After those three breaks, Faith went into the small changing area off the room the man was in and she peeled off her clothes, washed herself thoroughly and got dressed. "Ew," she said, looking down at the pile of clothes on the floor. "I know waste is bad, and I know that as a slave I would never have considered this," she put them into a bag and took the bag back outside. There, she took it to the incinerator, and threw it in. Frankly, life was too short.

Faith remained in the room with him overnight. She didn't sleep, there was no time for her to, she instead made sure that she kept his observations at 30-bit intervals. He could turn on a copper nel, she knew, and every trill would be important at that point. So, Faith remained in there with him and she had paperwork - as always - to do. Yet, it wasn't really what she was focusing on. She was focusing on the patient. There had to be something, she considered. There had to be. That was the thing, Faith thought. She knew that the Sevrath healing had saved this man's life, but they couldn't rely on that. Moseke was wise, and Faith was incredibly grateful for her blessing, but she knew that it was just that. Moseke's. Faith needed and wanted to be able to deal with this herself, because she wanted people other than her - or other Sevrath-marked - to be able to deal with it.

Sighing, she looked at him and considered that she was asking the impossible of herself. It couldn't be done. She simply ....

Frowning, Faith grabbed some parchment and a pen and started to write. Just like she had so very long ago

Faith looked down at the parchment, and she smiled slightly. It was impossible because she wasn't changing. It was impossible because she was accepting that things were what they were, that they were how they had always been. If she wanted surgery with no wounds, then she didn't need to stop cutting.

She needed to change how she performed surgery. That was it, she thought. That was it. Moseke's ability could heal without having to harm and that was what she needed to do. She needed to change the face of surgery - the way that surgery was performed.

Breathing in, she nodded. "So. That's the goal," she muttered quietly. Then, with an almost-grim smile, she added. "And this was the first step."