Amnesic

Updated the announcements for my current situation; I'll have responses up for the threads tomorrow!

Hey and welcome to the RPC! I mostly just hang around on the forums now, so if you're ever into the idea of Forum RP just message me about it and we'll see what we can get set up! Anyroad, enjoy your time while your here!

Book Reports? Huh, I had to do straight-up essays all the way through high school and only a couple weren't multi-page. I think I was maybe only ever been assigned two book reports in all. Being an education major, I guess I have that to look forward to! *Shrugs*

Catharine immediately went to calmly circling the bandage around the wound, making sure it was snug and covered all the area it needed to while humming a soothing tune. It only wrapped around a total of six times, being one of her shorter bandages, but a wound in the hip was less likely to rupture when compared with a cut in some major muscle area. She had just begun to tie the ends into a bowknot fashion when she heard the commotion from outside because of Talaic. “I’m here, come on in, dear!” she called out behind her as she finished the knot with surprising speed in spite of the prosthetic. Reaching up into her sleeve to unlock it, she smiled warmly at Arulaq. “Feel free to stay a while, sweetheart, I’ll hopefully be cooking a nice dinner after this next patient and you can have as much as you want. Just don’t be scampering around all over the place on that, give it some time to heal correctly first,” she said in her gentle, motherly fashion. As she turned around and started calmly trotting to the door to meet the next arrival, she lightly called out to Dyrsteyn as well. “Dyrstie. child, can you turn those spits real quick? The cooking and flavoring has to be evened out or else it won’t turn out as good as normal.” Despite his name roughly translating to "Thirsty One", the Roegadyn cared as equally as much for food as he did for drink; he didn’t have to be told twice.

At seeing the man start sitting up, Catharine jumped to try and stop him by catching his shoulders and gently pushing him back down onto the cot. “Oh, no no no, hon! Lie back down for Missy, alright? Just because it feels like magic doesn't mean it works like it. I still need to wrap it up,” she tried to explain, smiling at him warmly. She pulled out the bandages from her right pocket and clamped her prosthetic to it with another locking noise, still trying to hide it under the wide sleeves of her coat. “Now, honey, can you bend your knee for me? I need to get this bandage in the right spot.”

“Ah! I’m sorry about that, honey; I figured it would be less dried than that.” Catharine stepped back for a moment to pick up a wet rag with her right hand from the same basin the gloves were in and gently began to clean the blood out from around the large gash. It would have been likely running her cot red if it not for the quick rate it had dried. She had been using her right arm for everything so far, but as she was soon finished gently cleaning out the area around the injury she had to begin using her prosthetic left forearm more. Laying her cleaning implement in the partially limp wooden hand, she took her real one and went up her sleeve to pull the lever to close it, making only a light click as it locked in at full tension around the cloth. Pulling out the greyish salve in her right pocket, she managed to uncap it using her thumb and emptied out a little of the contents onto the rag. She began to hum a joyful and simple tune as she swapped which hands she had the rag in and continued to clean the edges around the gash in his hip. The salve worked simply by initially calming the reacting nerves and overriding them with a cool feeling and then progressing to lightly numb the whole area. She always appreciated the effects of jessamine and clary sage; it was relatively inexpensive and usually worked very well if not perfect. Sometimes it did not work, but it was generally safe to mix with other medicines anyways. “There you go, sweetie. Does your ouchie hurt less now?” It was not even aimed at the Yellowjacket and even he could not resist being embarrassed by that.

Hey there, and welcome to the RPC and Final Fantasy in general! Aside from being a Resident Forum Dweller, I tend to do a lot of Forum RP and the like on here, so feel free to send a message my way if you are ever interested! I just amazed at the fact you can manage a three minimum paragraph style, but I guess it comes from exposure. I've always done roughly a paragraph when it comes to my roleplay size, yet that may be due to the fact I tend to think about my character responses first, (and I'm a perfectionist that frets over miniature slips). I hope you enjoy your time here at the RPC!

“I just cleaned that one yesterday, so I’d hope it would be soft, hon. Dyrstie, sweetie, can you keep watch on the fish for me?” Catharine replied as she shooed the Roegadyn away. Embarrassment and indignation showed on his face at being treated like a child in the presence of someone else, but his hunger overrode any feelings to protest her management. He sat down at the stove and watched the fish hungrily as Catharine calmly trotted over to her patient. She stood over Arulaq’s face and smiled warmly at him before getting started. Without any warning, she immediately lifted up his robe up past his hips so she could get at the wound. “Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart. This is hardly a scratch; I’ll get it fixed up real quick-like.” Dyrsteyn had bled a lot more than she would have wanted and it had left her pair of cotton gloves still soaking in a basin with a sanitizing herbal solution. She had a habit of washing her hands very well and she worked better bare handed, so she figured the Xaela would be fine enough.

The young Hyur girl started at the approach of someone at her table, but almost gave a sigh of relief when she saw it was a female this time. At least now there was the hope she could get through a conversation without either being fawned over or flirted with. A lot of her frustration had been lifted, and she hoped this was not someone simply jealous because she was “more gifted” in “certain areas” than they were. Maybe it was shallow to think that, but she had been through more than one conversation that specifically covered just that. “No, I really don’t mind at all! By the Twelve, you don’t know how much of a relief it is to finally talk with another girl here…” she replied, attempting to be polite and managing to hold back her irritation when the little contest was mentioned. “A contest between you and me? What in the hells for?” Okay, most of it. Regardless, she looked over to where the Duke’s throne was and her irritation transformed into a light laugh. He had sat back down all the way over there, talking to the other Miqo’te woman and paying absolutely no attention to them. She was not very well educated, but she understood what had just happened. She nodded her head in the Duke’s direction. “You figure he’s going to look our way anytime soon?” [align=center]~*~*~[/align] The Duke had seated himself yet again, and signaled A’ih to fetch a less sweet wine for him. As she immediately began her brisk pace across the ballroom, he turned his attention back to his other guest. “Now, Miss Makeo, for what reason have you turned so silent? You might be able to do a fair impression of A’ih if you can maintain it,” he remarked jestingly, giving one of his charming smiles. Perhaps with Muijh temporarily occupied, he could try to indirectly get some information to assist Darius’ search. Blind searches were difficult for anyone, even to a practiced information broker like Mr. Fallstone. It was a long shot, but he was going to need it.

At seeing the Xaela’s progressively declining condition and loss of ability to stand, Catharine immediately jumped to action. “Shh, no need to explain to me right now, sugar. Here, can you walk?” she said as she tried to brace him with her right arm despite her severe lack of lifting ability. She mostly just had to get him out of the doorway, but she called to the Roegadyn for some assistance in moving Arulaq. “Dyrstie, sweetie, can you help me a little here?” By the time she had finished, he had already made it to the Xaela’s side and had an arm under his right shoulder and began to help him to a cot. Catharine, knowing the burly Yellowjacket could handle it, calmly went towards the repurposed glassware cabinet and pulled out some anesthetic salve and a longer roll of hempen bandaging. Magic wounds were always odd to deal with and she presumed it to be at the hip, so she stuffed a clean needle and a small length of thread into her right pocket. “Don’t put the child down too hard, sweetheart!” she called out across the room calmly. She would get his hat in a minute; with how battered it looked, it probably could stand to lie on the ground for a little while.

“Well, well! A fine piece like you, Miss Mewrilah, would be hard to pass on, but…” the Duke trailed off as he scanned the room briefly, pretending to search for someone despite already knowing where they had gone. After a few seconds he let his eyes fall to the young Hyur girl in the left corner, across the room from them and then made a brief gesture in her direction, smirking at Muijh as he prepared to set another little plan into action. “How do you think you compare to her?” He leisurely gazed at each of them a multitude of times, making an exaggerated and obviously feigned sigh when he finished. Shrugging his shoulders, he grinned at her roguishly. “Mayhap…if you sat at the same table together, I could come to a conclusion on which of you is the most charming.” He felt like adding that he was a bachelor, but he knew that might push this little test too far and sabotage it immediately. Where would be the fun in doing it so quickly? It was always more enjoyable to let it go on a little longer, until the participants were assuredly catching on.

A’ih had caught a glance of what the paper had said, being as she was stationed right at the Duke’s shoulder, and she was internally curious of what was going on. Her inquisitiveness had since overridden the strange feeling she had been trying to understand earlier, allowing her to ponder it in peace until his statement stopped her concentration. “Well, Miss Mewrilah, there is no need to be suspicious of me. I simply wrote to him explaining how I have been working on a deal with a prolific client and I need some information on who they are before I make any decisions. He is to meet me after the second dance to discuss the details more specifically,” the Duke replied in a factual manner. “And to tell the truth, I dismissed him as he seemed to discomfort you and the sooner he gets me the intelligence, the better.” This statement was truthful in comparison to what she had managed to read from the note and his explanation was as fluid as common conversation, suggesting to her that this was the truth. But, A’ih knew her long-term master much better than that. He was up to something, regardless of what his countenance told. “Now, what was it you were saying?” he continued, a charming smile on his lips.

Catharine had just set the spits over the fire and a pan under them to catch any savory juices that might drip from them when she heard the weak knock on the door. The breathlessness of the voice alarmed her as usually nobody came to her in a rush unless somebody had been hurt or their general health was severely damaged. The low knock was either out of polite respect or was merely because they could not manage to knock harder. “I’m coming, dear!” she called out, trotting across the room at a brisk pace. As she opened the door, she put her left arm into a large pocket on the side of the coat out of habit. She looked up to the tall Au Ra man and gave him a warm smile in spite of her growing concern. Being in the business for so long never diminished how much you could get worried over others, she swore it may have made her even more fretful over time. “What do you need, hon?” she asked the robed man in her sunny voice, looking somewhere at his face.

As if by miracle, Darius paid little attention to Muijh or Miss Makeo, only giving a short and distracted greeting as his attention was focused entirely upon the Duke. A’ih simply walked around the back of the throne and reclaimed her position beside her master, emotionlessly nodding her head again. “Darius Fallstone; greetings, greetings and all that. You called for me, fair Duke of the Isles?” he asked, an almost frightened tone in his voice but his face only showing inquiry. “Are you still attempting to make sales?” the Duke asked with a frighteningly still expression and calm tone. “Er…now that you mention it, yes I am. I do dearly apologize, however! It just gets-” “Darius, you need not worry so much about your business right now. Now, I have something I need your assistance with and if it goes well, I may need to make a large addition to my next purchase from your supply.” As he calmly spoke, the Duke Rhett drew an elegant, diminutive record book of sorts and began writing on it with a quill stored inside. At hearing the last part, the man’s face quickly gave way into a brief shock of disbelief that was predictably expressed in his last statement. There was also a level of pride and relief mixed in, something that could only be achieved with a man like Darius. “Well, well! I thank you profusely for seeking my succor when you have so many others to choose from. Whatever it is, I shall manage it with such expertise you would think it only a trifle to my skills.” “I would expect no less of thee, Mr. Fallstone. Here you are, and please, do refrain from grieving my guests with your persuasive marketing fashion. They only have so much money after all,” the Duke replied with a chuckle and a striking grin as he silently removed a slip of paper and handed it to the man. Darius quickly read over it and gave a stylish nod of his head, though appearing more silly than anything due to the peculiar mustache. Giving an exaggerated bow, he gave a wolfish grin to both of the Miqo’te ladies and headed off into the crowds again. “Oh, how he runs on. I had begun to believe he would not relent!” remarked the Duke when he had finally vanished, laughing again. [align=center]~*~*~[/align] The young Hyur girl had taken her chance and found her way to another secluded table while Darius was being withheld by the Duke of the Isles. Her attempt at seating herself was very awkward due to the aches she was suffering and though she could resist the urge to whimper, the wincing could not be avoided. Though, to great relief, sitting down alleviated the pain well enough for her to think about other things. The comment about her acting was still stuck in her mind, but she was suddenly too tired to feel hostile about it. She was more inclined to just let it go right now. At least all of her training on how to hold her tongue had prevented her from doing something foolish just then and she had not made an unwarranted enemy of someone; even if it was some moron she figured was trying to act like royalty or something. As she slouched back in her chair slightly she looked down at her dress again. The racy, low cropping of it had been a terrible, terrible idea. Though, looking at herself in the reflection of the glass, she had to admit she made it look appealing at least. Modest still would have been better.

The clinic was a small and quaint place located in the Lower Docks of Limsa Lominsa with wooden floorboards and drab stone walls like most of the other buildings, but a few plants were sitting in the window and a colorful little banner hung from the outside to make it look better. Inside, there were four snow white cots lined up at different parts of the main room with a brick stove in the center where she usually prepared her meals while a few cabinets lined the connection of the wall to the ceiling to the left and right of the entrance. There was a large rug spread out across the middle of the room that likely would have been vibrantly colored if it age would have spared it, but now the dyes were vanishing from the tightly woven cotton threads and they had become only a dusty variation of sky blue, sun-bleached yellow, and a pastel pinkish color. A bookshelf in the back right corner was lined end to end with various books of random varieties and stood next to an open doorway protected only by strings of beads hanging down from its top. A long unopened door was to the left as well as a small staircase that lead to a place the outside suggested was an attic. Catharine had lived here since she was just five winters past, and it for the most part stayed just as it had looked a very long time ago. Some things had been repurposed such as the glassware ware cabinet which had basically turned into her medicine cabinet; the lines of bandages and salves lined the little shelves visible through the little porthole window made this apparent. Her aunt had taken some of the stuff when she left, but she had not carried away too much and what was gone had been useless to Catharine anyhow. Other things, like the books on the shelves for example, were left alone or kept the same way. In fact, she had actually read most of them but she made sure to put them back in the exact same and incongruous manner her aunt had placed them there. Today was not a day different than any other, and the singular nurse of the clinic did not appear any differently than she usually did. Her long, silvered hair was left trailing down to her shoulder-blades and was only kept out of her green-flecked cerulean eyes by a modest, petite headdress that complimented the faded blue longcoat she was currently wearing. Underneath she wore a black, sleeveless tunic hanging down to her middle thigh where she was wearing simple, drab, and equally loose cotton trousers that made it only about to her middle-shin. She was wearing a simple pair of sandals upon her feet that added to her modesty and her overall carefree appearance. As result of her lax dressing manner, a hand made of ash wood could be seen hanging from her left sleeve in a loose and open position. Each section of the finely shaped wooden fingers were separated, held in place by what rarely ocurring glints of light would give off as metal. A closer inspection showed all the various scratches and burns that it had taken from time to time in its extended use as a replacement for a limb. She would have bothered to try and hide it, but she was currently in the company of someone who knew it was there and had seen it in full. He was a hairy, slow Sea Wolf Roegadyn named Dyrsteyn, a fitting name since he spent most of his time posted around the Drowning Wench and had a real penchant for alcohol and a difficulty and getting drunk. She had already finished bandaging his wounds, and he was lying on one of cots now with both of his hands cushioning his head and displacing windswept hair. It had only been two knife cuts, neither really deep or close to any vital area, so he had really just come in to stop bleeding all over his outfit. She was lucky that all of her cots were made to take heavy loads for he would have easily snapped one made of weaker lumber. “I’m sure glad yer still around, Missy. Hel- er, I sometimes don’t know what me and the guys’d do without ya fixin’ up the cuts ‘n bruises the other medics don’t bother with,” Dyrsteyn said, looking straight at the roof from his relaxed position. “Honey, you just about broke my poor little heart not coming back to visit me and now you up and walk in more cut up than a bunch of leather strips. It’s been what, more than a year now?” Catharine replied with her mannerisms, as she sat on her stool nearby stitching the two cuts in the Roegadyn’s bright jacket with thread of the same color supplied by the Maelstrom. “Ah think ye’ve done lost your sense of time- it ain’t been but a month or two since I las’ came in here. I ain’t gonna argue about me battle wounds, though!” This statement set the deep voice and the bright voice laughing simultaneously, causing a partway harmony in their joyous laughter. “Oh hush, you. It felt like a year to me in this little clinic of mine. You ain’t swearing like you used to, are you?” “Naw, Missy, ah used to soun’ like a real scurvy dog, but I’ve cleaned up now. Ah give ye m’ word!” These exaggerations had become common between her and most patients, forming out of her fussy, motherly attitude, and the laughter it caused was some of the best medicine. She knew Dyrsteyn was telling a bald-faced lie given that she had overheard him not a week ago blathering a stream of profanity just “like a real scurvy dog”. She disapproved of it heavily, but she had been spying on him so she was just about as guilty as he was right now. “Good, I know I didn’t teach you to be a fibber and an uncouth man like some of these kids running around the streets now.” “…D’ ya think I can get me one of yer delicious dinners to take with me like las’ time?” “Now, hun, you’re like my child, but last time, you came in here with a bullet in your chest and another in your shoulder; this was nothing but two scratches. Don’t they feed you up there at that bar?” she asked with a smile as she finished the stitching on the jacket. Reaching up into the sleeve, she pulled the lever on her arm and unclamped it from the fabric. “Sure, but I hafta pay fer that and it ain’t nearly as good as yers!” replied the hulking man as he sat up with an indignant expression on his bearded face. “…Aw fine, I know they don’t give enough food up there for a growing man like you. Here, let me get a fire started so I can cook some fish up. Put your shirt back on or else I won’t give you any,” she said, as she lightly tossed the finished yellow-jacket back to Dyrsteyn. He caught it and began to put it back on without protest, being content with the fact he was getting some of her delicious cooking. As soon as it was on, he went back to resting in the cot at staring at the roof. Catharine pushed herself off the stool with her one real hand and went over to the two fish she had wrapped in cloth on the stove. She had cleaned them earlier, so she simply put both of them on spits and went to start up a light cooking fire. She had planned on making them into jerky, but that could easily wait until tomorrow. It was a nice day and she was sure tomorrow would be as well. For now, the pleasant smell of the wood smoke was beginning to enter the room at miniscule levels and soon the aroma of the savory fish would be filling the room.