#patient had no history and the only other specimens on file were drawn at the same time

[tiktaaliker]

ITS BEEN A FUCKING WEEK. PASS THE DETRITUS

[asheewrites]

Doctors Visit #2 - pt 1

It was Thursday. And it was 14:20. Just like last time. So.

It was still a bit surreal to stand in front of Raphael’s clinic again. An angels clinic. Because Raphael said he should come back for treatment. Not what kind of treatment, but for treatment.

No African bird this time, only rushing water, swooshing trees and a blue songbird that constantly changes names. Pleasant sounds, in general.

After a breath he walked into the house he was thrown out of not too long ago.  

„Hel-lo Amurel” Asmodeus grinned at the angel in charge of the counter, leaned on it while she sorted the papers in front of her.

Then she looked up and smiled pleasantly: “Hello. hottest divine embodiment of the darker kind in existence. I suppose you wish to have an appointment with Raphael?”

“Oh, so what a greeting. And that from such a lovely specimen as yourself. I see you changed your hair?”

They put a hand to their head, flattening the second stand with more ‘character than the others.

Their perfect smile twitched, just a second, and they answered: “… maybe. Maybe they react a bit more to my mood than anticipated”

“Well, it certainly suits you,” because it did. Angels were in need of some character.

They glanced sideways at Asmodeus, then at the file in front of them, shook their head and smirked. Smirking angels. What a sight.

“Thank you. But if you’d please follow me to the doctor’s office? He’ll see you momentarily,” they were already on the way, indicating the right way with their hand, clutching his file with the other. … he wondered what was written on there. Maybe also the ‘diagnostic findings’. Admittedly, he was a bit curious.

Maybe next time. For now, he said: “I’d follow you wherever you want me to” and did exactly that, resuming the position he had last time, kicking his legs over the armrest and grabbing the nearest pillow.

At least he was certain that the slight air current definitely was Raphael’s doing. If consciously or subconsciously was up for debate, but the currents were different in each room. It was not natural.

Click.

The door closed behind the angel and he padded – still barefoot – over to the armchair Asmodeus was lounging in.

“Welcome again to the clinic, thanks for showing up,” he said, seating himself and flipping open Asmodeus’ file. He didn’t read in it, but clicked a pen to be ready.

“Well, after the little show from last week, I just had to – fantastic wings, by the way,” he smiled at the ‘doctor’

And said doctor tilted his head and scribbled down a few words in the file. He still answered in an amused voice: “Thank you. They are rather new”

“Their status is still marvellous, if this is what you do when you are stressed. I understand the stress to work with that many people. And being responsible for them. But I have my own way of dealing with that. Maybe you could need some company next time you need to… blow off some steam?” Asmodeus raised both his brows.

Raphael pecked the notepad with his pen, slight frown in place,then finally said: “I think sparring with you would seriously break rules. And I can not argue that as neglible, at all. Wouldn’t you say so as well?“

Asmodeus laughed. It breaks out of him, not much he could do. Then said: “Aww, sweetheart... You think I mean sparring...”

Another scribbling on the pad, while he saidapparently genuinely curious: “Are you suggesting something else towards your doctor?“

“Well, I would hope so. Which do you think would be more controversial? Inviting you to bed or to fight?”

Raphael tapped the pen to his lip and seemed to give it serios thought, staring at the ceiling, then concluded: “Bed. Due to the stipulation of the fight being nonlethal and Rage not being your sin. Inviting me to bed – with assumptions - would directly correspond and it would count as... well, a temptation,” he nodded, apparently happy, then added: “Also: I can fix us both after a fight. No consequences“

“Ahh, see, a temptation. That might be a spot of fun for me... but no good for you, is it? Then I suppose a fight’s all we’ve got. Unless, of course, you wanted to invite me to bed?” There was always a chance.

But Raphael didn’t even flinch: „A doctor never invites a patient to bed if they have any respect for their own craft. Or accepts such an offer, naturally. 'Misplaced trust' is what you call it, I believe?“

Asmodeus shrugged: “Naturally. But my trust would be quite securely placed if you were to, say, whoop my ass in the desert platonically, yes?” Sometimes, angels were absurd.

'Yes. Since rules can be implemented quite easily. As an angel, I would definitely adhere to them. And nothing should influ-,' Raphael stopped talking. And his eyes went wide. He scribbled on the notepad, striking out several things, apparently, and then said: „And here I forgot that I do know some of your history. And I apologise. No desert fights – no fights, actually - with the archangel Raphael. I will not bring it up again“

“Aw, Raphael. You’re too good for your own... good. For what it’s worth, you’re welcome to fight me in the desert whenever you like, or anywhere else, for that matter. But I don’t think you would really hurt me, even if I got down on my knees and begged you to.”

His eyes snapped up when he said that, brows slightly drawn: "Naturally, I would not try to harm you. My way of incapacitating someone does not include harm. It's against my very being, but you obviously figured that already” The angel took a breath, then continued: “But… as for your… request? There is a distinction between harm and hurt. I think I hurt a lot more people than most. So, ah, do you want me to hurt you? I certainly can. But would you actually want me to?"

Still amused, he stared at Raphael, only a moment of thought here, then said: “Can you, now? And how do you think you would do that? Pop a rib head back in for me? Reset an old broken bone?”

"Oh. Everyone has slight imperfections. No exceptions. And healing those will hurt, if it needs to be done fast or on a schedule even more so. I would need to figure out if -and how much - harmed you were. And you would need to tell me how much you want to be hurt… if this is… what you want.” He didn’t look particularly happy. But confident in this. Body language sure. Huh.

If he grabbed his pillow a little tighter, it certainly could not be seen. Asmodeus said:“Come now, Raphael, is it really hurting if you’re helping? I’m not so sure it would have the same effect.”

Now Raphael tilted his head again and made another note. It ended with: "It would have the effect of fixing a few problems your body has. Plus pain. How much... is still up to you. It won't feel like I help at the moment I treat you. So… maybe that would produce the desired effect? I can only assume what that effect actually is. If you wish to explore the possibility, you know where to find me“

The angel sat up straight and smiled: „Until then... How are you?"

[thattahoeecojournalist]

Saint Augustine (Sister School)

Title: Saint Augustine Word Count: 3,266 Project/Pairing: Bellamarre RP? Amanda Lascelles Genres: Some Mystery, Some Adventure Warnings: Some swearing I think? Canon: Yes! Notes: This resulted from me pondering the question "When it comes to sports, Does Bellamare go against other schools. And are they like Bellamare" but also while wondering what Sebastian's older sister Amanda would be doing while he was off doing Bellamarre things. This eight page short story only took a matter of hours to write shockingly.

  I leaned against the bow of the boat and watched as we approached our final destination. We’d been at sea for almost a week and my legs were starting to ache for the feel of solid ground under my feet.     I could’ve come by plane to Saint Augustine which would’ve taken a mere fraction of the time a boat would take. But the landing strip was a good few miles from the campus which meant a Jeep ride through mud and marsh.    What resulted after the boat ride wouldn’t be much better; a hike through a half mile of dangerous vegetation. I smiled wickedly as I recalled what spurred me to take the boat. My father had insisted upon taking the plane.    We were quickly bearing down on the coast of Brazil, the emerald gargantuan trees overshadowing the sandy beaches. It looked like every postcard I’ve ever seen of the place. The trade winds hit us like a wall, reminding me of the lack of hair I currently had.    In an act of rebellion worthy of even surprising my mother and my brother, I’d cut almost all of it off. It was the final act before any of them would see me until Christmas break at the very least. My father didn’t even see me off, claiming he had important papers to write up. “More important things to do than say goodbye to his daughter” I said bitterly.

   A mighty bellow from the ship announced to all the jungle we had arrived. I took it as my cue to gather up my belongings for the long trek.    Two large rolling suitcases lay open on my floor and I collected everything that’d spread across the room over the week I spent here. I packed a few foils and swords from home along with all the clothes I suspected I would need here.    I might not be the best sword fighter in my family but it’s more for lack of trying than anything. Mother and Father insisted upon studying the art. Even my little brother has me bested in that category. Only because the little loser spends hours a day practicing. In terms of natural talent I’ve got him beat.    “Amanda, you ready to go or what” I jumped at the noise and slammed my last suitcase shut, ready to go. I whirled around and glared at the intruder. It was Rita. She had made her acquaintance to me during the welcoming banquet a few days ago and we’d become fast friends.    “Do you bother knocking?” I snapped, picking up both my suitcases and walking past her into the filling hallway.    “You were decent” she retorted, rolling her bags behind her. I rolled my eyes and nudged her as we filed toward the boats that would lead us ashore. “I’m always decent” I said, adjusting my grip on the suitcases. It’s possible that I brought too much stuff. We fell silent as the other students began musing what houses they’d be sorted into.

   This stuff was predetermined. All of us were hand selected to come here and no doubt we’d been observed and studied for what sort of people we’d be. I can’t think of any other way it could possibly work.    I had a sneaking suspicion that Rita would be in House Matutinus, The House of Dawn. Not only because she was a frustratingly early morning person but also because she had that look. But it wasn’t her bright eyes contrast to a tanned skin that clued me into what kind of person she was. It was like she radiated a soft glow of light that put people at ease in her presence. In that respect she was somewhat like Mother. It might be why I was drawn to her.    I was first out of the boat when the sand scraped along the underside and jolted us to a halt. I rubbed a hand through my hair and let the collection of coils wave about wildly in the tropical breeze.    The path was clearly marked through the trees much to my surprise and relief. A raised wooden platform of rich jungle wood weaved in and out of the trees and I hustled quickly to reach the campus. Rita had made her way to my side, huffing and puffing under the weight of her luggage.    Several birds made their voices known in the tall trees over our heads and practically drowned out the noise of frogs and, I grimaced, insects. I’ve never had to deal with those damn creatures back home and I hoped to the gods that we wouldn’t have to here.    There were four houses here in the same respect as Saint Bellamare. That was the one I was being persuaded to go to. Clearly it didn’t work. I wondered if my insistence on not going to my mother’s alma mater was taken into account when being sorted into what House I’d be in.        “Any idea what House we’ll get in?” she asked, clearly wondering the same thing I was. I sighed and was about to answer her until we rounded the bend and came upon the school.    It was nestled on the bank of a lake, huge limestone buildings rising off the banks decorated in statues and various overgrown gardens. Several piers crisscrossed around the shallows of the lake, connecting each building to each other. No doubt there were more buildings beyond what we could see.    It was like the architects didn’t even bother clearing out trees or land. They just built around the natural hazards and gave it a sort of ancient ruins look while still having to feel of being a fully intact thriving society.    We had stopped long enough for the rest of the group to catch up and brush past us toward a large circular building just across the lake. A bell tower rang out a low earthy tone signaling that it had just turned two o clock.    “I bet we’re about to find out” I said smiling excitedly, bumping into Rita on purpose. She returned the favor and we caught up with the group just as they entered.    Clearly we had been the last group to arrive because as soon as we sat down, the Headmistress took the stone stage. She was a black woman with her dreadlocked hair twisted up into a fine updo and she wore a pantsuit. A large dark birthmark graced the side of her face, reaching from her temple down to her sharp jaw line. This was a woman who meant business and only business.    “Welcome to Saint Augustine” she said pleasantly to all of us, her words tinged with an accent I couldn’t quite place. “I am Headmistress Metzli and as of now you are the specially selected class of 2018” she said. On cue we clapped and applauded. “Before we sort you all into your selected houses, let me give you a brief history lesson on the pedigree of this school” she continued after we’d quieted down.    It was as though a sigh of boredom had rushed over the room. I zoned out after that, the history of the place was of no interest to me. I plucked at a stray coil and looked around the room. One thing struck me as odd. There was a distinct minority of white people here. There was a hell of a lot of mixed race and other people of color but not that many white people were in attendance.    “-protect us from the dangers of the jungle” I managed to pick up. I’m sorry what? Everyone around me simply nodded in agreement. “Are you all ready to be sorted into your Houses?” Metzli said before four professors joined her side, each armed with what I assume are lists of students names.    Four Houses. House Matutinus, House Solis, House Opacare, and House Noctis. Dawn, Sun, Dusk, and Night respectively. I fidgeted in my seat. Dangers of the jungle? Like what? Jaguars? Anacondas? Bugs that eat your eyes out while you’re asleep? I frowned in furious thought as the first Professors introduced herself as the Head of House Matutinus.    Like I suspected, Rita was fully accepted into that house. She was positively ecstatic when she shook the Professor’s hand, accepted her coral colored sash, and walked off in the direction that the others had gone.    I sat patiently, hoping to be in either the Solis or Opacare Houses. Solis came and went much to my disappointment with a flurry of blindingly bright yellow white sashes. I had fantasized about being in the House of the Sun for the entire boat ride. I was willing to be in the Dusk House but the idea of being in House Noctis did not interest me in the least.    Opacare had finally gotten to the L portion. Lanelle. Lapoia. Lasoto. My heart sank and I let out an internal groan as the process of elimination crashed around me. Well bugger me then. I sat up proudly,head tilted at the students wearing burnt sunset orange sashes walking to their specified dorms. Sulking about something I couldn’t help was not befitting of a marchioness.    The room was significantly emptier by the time House Noctis had begun reading off it’s roster. By the time we had reached the roster evening was starting to take a firm hold on the grounds, the air humid and cooling fast, the bugs louder, and the hues of the day beginning to saturate into more orange varieties.    The Head Professor I’d be stuck with was a muscular specimen of a man who could’ve lept off the pages of a Middle Eastern athletic fitness magazine. He was dressed cleanly in a black tunic, his deep navy blue sash tied nonchalantly around his middle.  “Amanda Lascelles” he finally called out, not looking up from his scroll. I stood up and brushed the wrinkles out of my shirt. I kept my hands at my sides and kept my eyes on him, feeling as though I was being carefully watched.    He looked up at me when I reached his side, his deep brown eyes softening in recognition of my discomfort. “Welcome to House Noctis” he said gently, handing me my sash and a few papers. Upon closer inspection, it was indeed deep navy blue but small flecks of silver were inlaid within the material. It was a nice detail. I tied it around my waist and tied it in a knot similar to his. I nodded at him and walked offstage to the pile of luggage.    I kept an eye on the Noctis person in front of me and grabbed my bags swiftly to make sure they didn’t leave my sight. They didn’t walk quickly so I had time to get all my things and hustle their way. Whoever they were, they kept their sash tightly gripped in their hand. I kept a respectful distance and kept careful note of where we were going. I did not want to get lost out here.    The lamps were lighting up on either side of the wooden path within a few minutes, each light more like a flickering lightning bug than lamplight. The sky began to darken by the time we reached the building they were going to. It looked Victorian-esque and made of limestone, covered in growth and vines. But all this overgrowth looked purposeful. Like it was sculpted to sit upon the buildings in such a way that was pleasing to the eye.    Once inside the building, I saw that it was lavishly decorated. Sittings areas, dens, study rooms, all the luxuries of home away from home. My lips parted as I saw all the paintings of various nightskies on the walls. It was breathtaking. Milky Ways, distant galaxies, vivid cosmos renditions. Everything that became clear as nighttime falls was right here.    “Beautiful, am i right?” I heard. I looked over at the owner of the voice. It belonged to a Filipino boy. He was watching me from the sitting room opposite the beginning of the wall of art. He sauntered up to me, his swagger deeply distracting. “House Noctis has a fair amount of renowned artists” he said motioning at the seemingly endless wall of art.    “Did you paint any of these?” I asked shifting my grip on a bag. He rubbed his clean face and held out a hand, still looking.    “I’ll show you if you’d permit me to walk you to your room” he said, a glint in his eye. I smiled sweetly. It was very kind of him. I gave him the heavier of the two bags and showed him the paper with my room number on it. He nodded and seemed to barely notice the weight he’d acquired.    We walked along the hallway of sitting rooms and luxury rooms on our way to the end of the hall where the staircase was. He stopped near the end at a long landscape and pointed at the bottom right corner. Diosa Torres. “That one’s me” he said.    It was a beautiful night cityscape. Of what city I wasn’t certain. Geography wasn’t my strong suit. “What city is it” I asked, getting closer and hoping to divine some sort of information from it.    “My home. Manila” He explained pointing at a tall building as though the landmark would explain what city it was. It was lost on me. “You interested in painting, Amanda?” he asked. I raised an eyebrow, a question on my lips.    We started up the stairs and I shook my head. “Never really put much effort into it,” I told him plainly. That was somewhat of a lie. I loved to paint in my spare time but I was almost certain I didn’t tell him my name. “My mother was always the painter in our family” I probed.    He took the bait easily, a smile on his face. “Geneva Lascelles is one in a million of artists like us” he said. I clenched my teeth and didn’t meet his gaze. I didn’t know if I was comfortable about her name being known all the way out here. If her name had reached here then the rest of it had as well.    “So you’ve done your research, Mr Torres” I stated as we stopped on the third floor and walked down the wide hallway, lined with dorms.    “The rumor of a Valdez-Lascelles Heiress travels fast around the jungle” he retorted darkly.  He looked at the paper again and pointed at the furthest door on the left. “That’s the one” he said.    “There has to be other families here that have a darker history than the Lascelles” I pointed out. It only made sense. My family may have had a dark history but comparatively speaking it was tame compared to the various evils of the world.    “Lascelles isn’t the issue in Augustine,” he started, lowering his voice. “It’s the Valdez line” he said, handing me my bag back. That couldn’t possibly be right. He opened the door for me and practically shoved me into the living room of my dorm.    “I beg your pardon?” I asked, hoping that he’d misspoken or misunderstood. A pleasant facade returned to his face upon seeing someone behind me.    “Perhaps we’ll talk tomorrow? Lunch?” I couldn’t even open my mouth to retort for he had already shut the door. I groaned and turned around having a thousand questions whirl through my head.    My roommate looked shocked when I did, her eyebrow quirked with her facial tattoos crinkling when she furrowed her brow. She seemed to be a full blooded Egyptian. “Are you Amanda?” she asked, dropping her quill on the paper she was writing on.    I stood up straighter, shaking off the feeling of dread that seemed to just grow after Diosa left. I extended my hand for her respectfully. “Yes. Marchioness Amanda Lascelles” I said, the nobility training almost second nature to me at this point. “Might I assume that I have the honor of rooming with you?” I said smiling pleasantly.    She took firm hold of it and shook it, her strength dwarfing mine and nearly crushing my hand bones. “I’m Aaliyah Abubakar,” she inclined her head toward the door. “What was that about?” she asked. I drew a short breath and stiffened. If my name was about to be an issue here I’d rather contain it to the least amount of people possible.    “He saw me observing the art downstairs and offered to walk me here after I complimented his painting,” I lied easily, the words slipping off my tongue like honey. I didn’t want to start the year off with dirty persuasion tricks but it couldn’t be helped. Her gaze relaxed, losing that inquisitive edge. “You already writing a letter home?” I finished, feeling particularly drained after this bout of persuasion. It was one thing to demand someone to do something. It was another entirely to turn someone off of one subject and think about another.    She picked up her quill and tapped the paper, blinking a few times. “I wanted them to know I got here safe and sound, inform them of the House I’m in,” she waved her hand about as though finding the next words to say, “Things like that” she said returning to her chore, quill scratching on the surface of the papers. “You can borrow this desk after I’m done. The one in our room isn’t nearly as bright” she said.    I was starting to feel awful about manipulating her. She seemed genuinely kind. I flipped the light on in our room.    “I have to get unpacked regardless,” I excused myself and dropped the bags onto my bed, rubbing my face in an exhausted way. This was going to be difficult. I glanced toward the desk. It’s true that it wouldn’t nearly be as bright and my own shadow would fall across the page. I grimaced and looked around.    A dusty lantern lay on the floor in the corner. Hm. This might work. I put it on the desk and turned it on. It glowed brightly and only flickered once or twice before turning on. A peacock quill was jutting out of an ink vial on the desk already and there was paper in the drawer. I took them out and put pen to paper a few times wondering what I’d possibly tell my family.    I looked out the window our desk overlooked. The faint sound of bugs and monkeys below created a lively ambience. The canopy of the trees was just barely below us and I could see out to the shining moonlit ocean beyond. Maybe I’d start there? Tell them what it’s like here.    As far as I knew, the Lascelles had no alma mater here. “The Valdez though?” I pondered. Father didn’t tell us much about his side of the family aside from our grandfather.    I shoved fears aside and began to describe the area and the grounds. As soon as I got the basics of our surroundings written down, it all came out. The boat ride. Rita. The Headmistress. My new House. Everything. Everything except what pertained to the Valdez issue. It was well past midnight by the time I got to the end and I chewed on the feather strands at the ends, pondering how to end it.                                    Best Wishes to Us All,                                                    Amanda    P.S. Tell Sebastian to make up his mind about coming here or Bellamarre (And that I’ll terrorize him if he comes here. No pressure)