The Silver Hearts Role Playing Board

Post by The Ace of Spades on White Sun (6 February 2010, 9:58 pm)

Sat, 06 Feb 2010 21:58:25 +0000

((Is it? I have no idea. That would explain a lot, though.))

((Also, I'm gonna go ahead and post even though it's technically not my turn... trying to figure out some way to get all the characters back in one place again. Let's see if I can remember all the different factions we had involved in this? If not, I'll just let Evie's natural vagueness bail me out...))

Evie let out a loud, unladylike snort, pausing in the middle of testing out her legs (raising first one, then the other, and they really did seem strong enough to support her now that the odd numb feeling was beginning to dissipate). "If you wanted to crash my wedding, you're a little late," she said. "Missed all five. Maybe if you're nice, I'll invite you to the next one." She paused. "Whenever that happens to be." Of course she was joking; she fully planned on staying married to the prickly and ever-so-disagreeable Lord Chantaclaire; first, because she liked the title, and second, because he wanted nothing more than to be rid of her, and if staying married to him was the only way to be a thorn in his side, then so be it.

She pushed herself off the bed, wobbled momentarily, then grinned brightly as she regained her balance and stood triumphantly steady.

Her grin faded as she watched him over to the intercom to call Rokky down to the infirmary. "Oh, don't do that," she said, a frown creasing her forehead. Rokky tended to be a little on the jumpy side when Evie was in the infirmary-- when any of his friends were, probably, except that it was usually her-- and besides, he was flying the ship. No sense making him panic. She brushed past Janika and pressed the button again. "Nevermind that, Rokky, we'll come see you. The good doctor is just being his usual overdramatic self. I've been telling him to lay off those soap operas, but you know how he loves his stories. Be up in a second." She turned without bothering to see whether Janika was following. She just assumed that he was; he usually did. When she wanted him to, anyway, but now was not the time to ponder his strange ability to more or less read her mind. She supposed some things were unavoidable when one spent so long looking after another person.

By the time she reached the stairs, she was able to navigate them with nary a wobble. "We're crashing a mob wedding. Big huge ceremony, with the formal gowns and the stuffy people who talk in funny accents." She chanced a scratch at her side, which was by this point itching terribly, hoping that Janika wouldn't notice. "Likely to be lots of pretty girls there, Sunshine, so you'll have plenty to keep yourself entertained while we steal--" she stepped into the cockpit, catching sight of Rokky as she completed her thought-- "the cake."

Post by Digithe on White Sun (31 January 2010, 7:02 pm)

Sun, 31 Jan 2010 19:02:13 +0000

(( Isn't a blender actually another name for a sub sandwich? Or is it something vaguely-not-even-similar sounding, and I just look like an idiot? ))

Janika spent the time waiting for Evie to regain consciousness meticulously cleaning his surgeon's tools and straightening up the infirmary. Though he was not obsessive about cleaning like little Valentin seemed to be, he did like to keep his infirmary in order, his tools each where he could find them immediately and each ready to be used at a moment's notice. He was just putting the finishing touches on a scalpel when Evie began to stir.

"For you, it's always worth the extra effort," he said with a grin, ignoring her jab at his medical skills. He'd learned not to take offense at them a very long time ago. He'd also learned not to put much effort into keeping her from moving around-- trying to stop her did no more good than letting her do what she wanted, and was much more troublesome besides. Instead, he simply walked up to her and took her pulse, measuring against his wristwatch. Sure, the machine above her head reported all the vital information Janika could ever need, but he had always been a big advocate for regularly checking those things yourself.

"Oh, your worshipfulness, it would be an honor to crash your wedding. Now, how about explaining what this job was that you nearly died to procure?" He waited a beat, then looked up into her face and frowned.

"Wait, you're serious?" He hesitated only a second before calling Rokky down from the bridge, not quite keeping a sense of urgency from his voice. Either she'd finally lost it, or he had, but either way Janika wanted some kind of moral support.

(( I... have no idea ))

Post by The Ace of Spades on White Sun (25 January 2010, 6:22 am)

Mon, 25 Jan 2010 06:22:20 +0000

((Seriously. Spell Check is like the God of today�s world. It�s saved me from some awkward emails, that�s for sure. Like I have a tendency to spell �sandwich� as �blender.� As in, �I want a turkey and cheese blender.� And then the next thing you know, someone�s actually giving you a turkey and cheese blender, and you�re like what the crap. How did you even do that?

Except Spell Check doesn�t help with that. Screw you, Spell Check. (I almost spelled it �Speel Check.� Spell Check saved me. Irony, anyone?)

PS. Infirmatory should totally be a word.))

The first time Evie came up from one of Janika�s drug-induced comas, she was a little surprised at the sensation. She�d expected�something. Like coming up from underwater, or like waking from some nightmare. Some sense of urgency, or of relief, maybe. Something like being shaken awake.

By now she had been through this so many times that it was practically routine. Whatever drugs Janika favored, they left her with a peaceful, comfortable feeling upon waking, which no longer surprised her.

Waking up in the infirmary with no recollection of going to the infirmary no longer surprised her, either. �Damn, Sunshine,� she said, her tone far less grumbly than she would have liked�she was still a little too doped-up to grumble properly��if you wanted me in bed, you didn�t have to go to all this trouble.� She tried to sit up, then winced as the pain shot through the haze of drugs like an arrow. �Ow.� She paused, then gingerly pushed herself up the rest of the way. �That hurts. What the hell kind of quack are you?�

There would be nausea, once the euphoria died down a little, but it was never too bad, and it was really nothing compared to the maddening itch that she knew was coming. Healing wounds were nothing if not frustrating. There was pain, yes, but that went away quickly and she could almost always say she�d had worse. On the other hand, that itch� and if she pulled any stitches by accident, Janika would have her hide.

Evie heaved a heavy sigh and slumped back against the wall, swinging her feet over to dangle off the edge of the bed. The first time she�d woken up from a life-saving rescue by Janika-- one that had involved general anesthesia, anyway-- once she�d gotten over the surprise at her own eerie calm, it had taken her nearly an hour to get to a point where she could walk on her own without wobbling like a newborn colt on unsteady legs. These days, it was a matter of minutes. Practice makes perfect, she thought, with a wry grin.

�So, Janika, now that I am risen from the dead, worship me and tell me something. How would you feel about crashing a wedding?�

((PPS. I am tired. :D ))

Post by Digithe on White Sun (25 January 2010, 5:03 am)

Mon, 25 Jan 2010 05:03:22 +0000

(( Dang. Playing a doctor is a pain. I did some brief research (Yay wikipedia) so I think this is not "wrong," but oh well if it is. It's a good thing I like Janika, or I'd hate to RP him ))

Janika silently listened to the banter between the captain and her first mate, if not exactly patiently. He was getting her into the infirmary, which was the main point. In fact, he wouldn't have been against sharing a few carefully chosen words himself-- in addition to those he'd already shared, of course. However, he was already busy planning out his course of action. Evie, being Evie, would manage to get off the bed and out of the infirmary even if Rokky tied her down with steel chains. She wouldn't have been so eager to get off planet without a bunk-mate if there wasn't a particular reason, and she would refuse to sit still until she'd taken care of it. And, unfortunately, she usually did need to take care of whatever it was. So, he would need to be ready with a general anesthetic to help her cooperate as soon as she finished her business, a procoagulant to stop the bleeding and help stabilize, the scanner to check for internal injuries, the forceps to remove the bullet.... It really wasn't as complicated as it might sound, and Janika was not particularly worried. He probably could have managed it blind folded-- well, if Evie wasn't going to be running around-- but he was in the habit of working through any and every procedure thoroughly before beginning it, making sure everything was exactly right.

While Rokky was fussing over Evie at her bedside, the doctor made a show of doing preliminary examination work for a few moments so the boy wouldn't get upset, but then whisked off to prepare everything he would need. He even pretended not to notice when Evie slipped out, calmly grabbing his nice, white jacket from the hook on the wall pocketing the injector he'd prepared with the sedative and the procoagulant, As he'd expected, the captain made her way straight for a screen, and began speaking with some rather shady-looking fellow with a thick accent. Why did all of their jobs seem to come from shady-looking folks? The thought crossed Janika's mind that he was in with the wrong crowd for about the hundredth time that month, but he brushed it aside as he always did.

Sure, he could go back to wherever it was he'd been assigned. He could have a nice apartment and a cute secretary that liked him, but who had so far not discussed problem topics like "marriage" or "Nurse Joy from the third floor." Or "Michelle from the morgue." Or... well any number of things. The point was, he could be living a life that was much "better" than this one. But, it was not real. At that distant outpost, he didn't really have more patients than he did on the Wessel-- a somewhat upsetting statistic, but there it was. Here, though, the patients he was saving meant something. From a professional perspective, that was probably a bad thing. Nevertheless, Janika couldn't help feeling that is work on the Wessel was much more fulfilling than his work on Beaumonde.

Janika heaved a sigh. Fulfilling or not, there were still far too many times like these: standing just out of sight of the screen, waiting for the captain to finish her call or to collapse-- whichever happened to come first. She'd done a fine job of not collapsing in the middle of important waves so far, but Janika was not about to discount the possibility.

When Evie finally finished her call and slid to the floor, Janika swooped in, pressing the injector to her forearm, pocketing it, and scooping the woman into his arms in a practiced maneuver. Valentin looked like he was about to say something-- maybe asking if they were really stealing a wedding cake; the poor boy believed anything he heard! Janika would feel bad for him it it weren't so funny-- but the doctor ignored him, moving swiftly back to the infirmary.

A short time later, Janika had saved his captain's life once again-- it shouldn't have been that dramatic; the wound was barely a scratch compared to some others she'd received, and there was otherwise no internal injury, but Janika swore that he wasn't exaggerating-- and was just waiting for her to come out of the anesthetic.

(( Thank God for spellcheck. I almost wrote "infirmatory." What is that? ))

Post by The Ace of Spades on White Sun (24 January 2010, 6:44 pm)

Sun, 24 Jan 2010 18:44:20 +0000

Evie struggled at first, insisting that she was more than capable of walking on her own two feet; she soon gave up, however. The indignity stung her pride a bit, but her pride had proven to be resilient more than once, and it wasn't like this was the first time she'd had to be carried away from the scene of a gunfight. She waved Janika off as he fussed over her. "But look, this new one's a little more over here," she said, trying to point out the difference in location while being carried like a sack of potatoes (though, in Rokky's defense, he was always more careful with her than he probably would have been with potatoes.) "Don't worry so much, Sunshine. Your old stitches are still pretty."

She was deposited in the infirmary while Janika shouted at the engineer. He really ought to be nicer to poor Valentin, she thought, but to tell Janika that would have been a waste of breath. Besides, Rokky was lecturing her. She should probably pay attention. "I don't like scrawny men with thick glasses," she replied seriously. "I married one of 'em once. Now, he actually kicked babies and ate puppies, but it was still bad. I tell you, breakfast was always a little awkward." She winced as she was set down on the bed, though Rokky really had been as gentle with her as he possibly could have. It was these damn gunshot wounds. Terrible location for one, really. Made absolutely everything painful. "Besides, he was big and he had an accent. You know how much I like big guys with accents." She grinned as he left the infirmary, looking as though he'd rather stay. Poor Rokky, always so worried about his fellow shipmates. Well, it was just as well that he was gone now. He probably would've thrown a fit if she'd done this in front of him...

She stood up, hiding her grimace as well as she could, and brushed past the doctor and out of the infirmary. She had a wave to catch.

She thought for a moment about using the one in her room, but the idea of navigating that ladder in her current position made her wince again. There was a screen in the cockpit, which involved climbing stairs and walking a lot, or just outside the engine room, which involved less walking but just as many stairs. There really ought to have been one in the common area. In fact, she couldn't think of any good reason why there wasn't.* She began her climb up the stairs, aware that Janika would likely try to stop her, but this was important, and he was a worrywart. Besides, she was still a little high on adrenaline, and she supposed she might as well use that rush while it was available to her (and without the use of needles.) "Hey, Valentin," she called, waving cheerily with the hand that was not attempting to stem the flow of blood from her side. "Doc fixed my legs. Man's a gorram genius. We break atmo yet?"

She was answered by the beeping noise on the screen indicating an incoming wave. "Guess that's a yes," she said, tapping the screen to take the call. "Hey there, Boss. Dusty's dead." She glanced over at Valentin, then waved him away, wordlessly telling him to go back to whatever he'd been doing before. She didn't want anyone fussing or asking whether she was okay while this guy was onscreen. The less he knew about her getting shot, the better. If, after all that trouble, he called everything off based on the fact that he felt she was unable to fulfill her end of the bargain, well... she was already upset enough as it was. "You heard that? Dusty got shot by some crazy German."

There was a pause on the other end-- the man was also some sort of foreign, and when he spoke his accent was the same as his dead employee's. Something Eastern European, she thought, but it was hard to identify. "You are having problems with the locals?"

"Something like that," she said, waving off the details. "Listen, if you're about to point me to another higher-up, you can damn well forget it. This deal was supposed to be simple. There was supposed to be not-getting-shot happening. Now Dusty's dead, and I'm pissed."

"I am not sending you to a... higher-up," said the Boss, looking as though he was choosing his words very carefully. "I am sending you to another mob."

"What the hell."

"That is the job. There will be a wedding, and I am sending you and your crew. We have put you on the guest list. We need you to steal a cake."

---

It was a good seven-and-a-half minutes before Evie managed to get all the details she felt she was entitled to, even working as quickly as she could; she was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that all this trouble, all of it, was about a cake. She supposed it could have been about starting a war, if she'd felt inclined to think of it that way, but really it was about stealing a cake. It was kind of hilarious, actually. She tapped the screen to turn it off. She hadn't been paying much attention to Janika, though he seemed to have had the good sense to at least stay off-screen. He was probably going to ambush her with a shot of some sort any moment now. That was funny too. Her legs wobbled beneath her, so she let them buckle and slid down the wall into the bloody mess that had been pooling at her feet, cackling like a loon. I'm going into shock, she thought, taking note of the fact that her hands were shaking, and that was funny too. "Hey, Valentin!" Another giggle. "We're stealing a wedding cake!"

((*Yes, I made these up. Other than the cockpit, I have no idea where there ought to be screens.))