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Post by Elizaveta Héderváry on Dec 7, 2010 12:23:27 GMT -5
Elizaveta held her breath as the pair of tweezers held tightly in her hand touched the bullet embedded deeply into the body tissue, other hand holding the incision open as the doctor assisting her kept the fine light above the cut steady, draining blood away at regular intervals. The tool gripped the offending piece of lead and the doctor pulled slowly, not wanting to disturb the sensitive flesh any more than the bullets already had. Holding the blood-coated bullet up to the light, Elizaveta let the breath she had been holding out. Luckily, it was still fully intact, but she couldn’t say for sure about the second one. The Hungarian could only hope that the operation would continue to go smoothly as she placed the bullet onto the small metal tray next to her, putting down the tweezers as she reached for a small piece of gauze to wipe away the blood and pus oozing from the open cut; something writhed uncomfortably in the pit of her stomach at the sight.
A clean piece of gauze had been put over the cut to halt the bleeding before she and the small team caring for Gilbert could move him to the operating table that had been delivered. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Roderich sitting in a wheel chair a few feet away from where she was working looking at her and the motionless albino grimly; a young nurse quickly treating the wound in his side. Almost exactly how he looked at his ailing mother all those years ago: a worried, helpless look. Elizaveta quickly returned her attention back to Gilbert, swallowing lightly to regain her focus to the matter at hand; she could fret and worry and reminisce with Roderich as much as she wanted once the silverette was in a more stable condition.
Gilbert’s weight concerned her, Elizaveta noted as she and the doctor assisting her moved Gilbert over to the operating table. Outwardly, he looked fine: paler and a little skinner than most men she had seen in her lifetime, but he was also lean with a decent amount of muscle to him. Given his body structure and height, he should have weighed at least one hundred and forty five pounds; he felt several pounds lighter.
The amount of scars marring his chest alone was something that made the alarm bells go off. Had he sustained all these injuries just from protecting Roderich?
Elizaveta shook her head lightly as she rounded the table, pulling the tray of tools behind her as she walked over to the left side of the body, changing the gauze covering the first laceration with a clean patch soaked lightly in cleaning alcohol to prevent any further infection.
Slowly and just as steadily she made her second laceration, cutting deeper and deeper until she was able to feel the bullet under the blade. Again, she withdrew the piece of lead, cursing lightly to herself in Hungarian when she saw that her fears had been realized: the bullet had broken into two parts. With any luck, the other part wouldn’t be too deeper, ideally less than an inch from the first part.
After what felt like several tense hours, the second part was found, the tip pressed up against the clavicle, about half an inch from the right of where the first had been found. The depth and size that she had to make the laceration was far from what Elizaveta had hoped it to be, and the way the tissue looked underneath the light and blood just screamed “infection” to her, fortunately it didn’t seem like anything disinfectants or antibiotics couldn’t take care of. The second (and hopefully last) piece of led tapped against the metal tray, Elizaveta putting down her blood-soaked tweezers and scalpel with a sigh as she reached for a patch of gauze and the bottle of cleaning alcohol, her assistant draining away the extra blood and pus.
Suturing the cuts would be one of the easier parts of the operation, and the action of doing gave Elizaveta a feeling that was about as close to “calm” she had felt the entire time she had been on the airship. Assuming the third bullet really had gone right through like the other doctor had said, then a small skin graft wound. For the moment, it looked like they were out of the darkest part of the woods.
Time eventually came to mean absolutely nothing as Elizaveta continued her operation, her hands were sweating like mad underneath her gloves, (feeling Roderich’s gaze on her and Gilbert wasn’t helping much) but after what felt like hours, all the external damage had been treated, although a blood transfusion would be needed just a precautionary measure.
“Thank you for all your help,” Elizaveta thanked the other doctor with a light nod of her head as she peeled the blood-covered latex of her hands. The looked back to the small knife that had been forgotten over the coarse of the procedure; it still bothered her. “Is there a way we can have the knife analyzed? Something about it is bothering me…” The Hungarian trailed off looking at the dried-blood caked blade as she took of her medical mask.
“We can try,” the other doctor confirmed, trying to mask his still-trembling hands as him smoothing out the lay of gauze over Gilbert’s shoulder.
“Thank you.” T he sandy-brunette said off-offhandedly, turning her gaze back to Roderich; he hadn’t move from that position at all.
“Judging from all these scars, the co-captain must love the captain a lot, huh?” The other doctor asked, trying to start up a conversation to lower the tension levels. Something hard and cold struck Elizaveta dead in the chest. Love…
Thinking back, Gilbert did seem to be more protective of the aristocrat more than some paid thug had any right to be. The way he supported Roderich when they first got her, the way he ran straight to Roderich when the chaos started, the way he so urgently picked Roderich up in his arms. It suddenly became obvious to Elizaveta that Gilbert was in love with Roderich; but how did Roderich feel?
The sandy-brunette bit the inside of her cheek, now was not the time to be thinking about such things. She put a small smile on her face as she made a move to go to Roderich, stopping dead in her tracks when another, panicked-looked man ran up to the captain, the Hungarian felt something heavy drop into the pit of her stomach at what the man said. They were being chased by the Austrian army? And the cloaking device for the ship was malfunctioning? This had gotten out of hand. She had imagined how much Roderich had been wanted when she read his letters; but this was completely insane!
Elizaveta tried to calm herself down by smoothing out the front of her dress and walked over to the aristocrat once the other crew member all but sprinted out of the room. She slowly knelt down; sitting on her knees and gave the brunette the best smile she could manage given the situation.
“How are you feeling? Did someone treat your wound well enough?” Elizaveta asked gently, spring green eyes trailing to Roderich’s side before tossing a short glance over her shoulder towards Gilbert, knowing that the body guard had been Roderich's first priority until the terrifying news.
Love…
“He should be fine now, although his shoulder will probably become infected, luckily we were able to get to him before it got too bad and he lost too much blood. Still, he will probably need a transfusion, do you know what blood type he is?” The Hungarian questioned, hands that had somehow come to rest on the arms of the wheelchair gripping tighter.
----- I decided not to make my post any more of a wall of text than I could have. Also: way to put the pressure on Luddy and Eliza, Roddy B<
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Post by Gilbert Weillschmidt on Dec 7, 2010 13:40:59 GMT -5
Cold. It was the only word Gilbert's tired brain could come up with to describe the situation. His entire body felt cold. Freezing was a better term to describe it, but the longer length of the word made it sound foreign to his fatigued mind. He barely heard his brother's voice shouting (which was saying something, as the blond was quite loud) or felt the change in position as he was picked up, nor did he feel anything different when he was placed upon the operating table. It was like walking through a foggy dream.
The voices around him sounded as if they were calling to him through a pool of water. None of them made sense, and no faces would form in his mind to match the words he couldn't understand. Trying to move, the Prussian felt a rush of frustration as he realised his body felt like lead. Not even a finger would twitch. He tried to open is mouth, move his lips just enough to make his voice work and ask where the captain--where his precious master, his Roderich--was, and if the brunette were alright, but again, his body failed to answer the demands of his brain.
Just as he was about to try again, Gilbert vaguely registered something against his arm and more "voices" before everything went numb. His body felt even more weak and useless than before, and a sudden panic plagued him. What if they'd been captured? What if he was restrained? He was cold, so cold, what if he'd been taken back to Russia? What if the people who had tortured him almost all his young life had found him before the Austrian army had caught up and they were doing terrible things to Roderich? His mind raced with ways he could get himself out of this situation and in a state to find the noble he served, but with a body that didn't want to move, each plan was rendered useless. Not that they could be called plans. He could barely think enough to know he needed a plan, let alone put one together.
What felt like days, weeks even, passed by, and the only assurance that he hadn't yet died were the various pokes and fogged words around him. Eventually, all the pokes and prods stopped and the voices slowed, the hard to make out words sounding less worried than before. Someone was touching his shoulder, talking to him in a gentle tone about... something, then more hands touched various points on his body and turned him over.
A weak cry tumbled from his lips as he felt his back hit something soft, but he didn't dare move. If they had been captured, trying to escape would only result in more pain. He had to do something--anything at all to save himself. But what could be done? It was frustrating. So frustrating... and yet... Someone else spoke to his direct left. A voice he knew. It was one of the nurses from the ship.
Relief finally washed over him as the panic died away. So they hadn't been captured, but by the tense atmosphere around them, they were still on the run. Putting all his concentration into one move, he opened his eyes halfway and turned his head, eying the blurred figure of the nurse blankly. His lips moved slowly, but no sound came out, and he could only pray that the woman understood. "Roderich..."
The woman paused, staring at him silently for several moments and Gilbert felt himself getting frustrated once more. How could she not understand him? His brother was the only other person on the ship he could possibly be asking for! He tried to speak again, but his body didn't have the strength to do so. He could only blink, slowly opening and closing his eyes until they finally opened all the way.
"Oh..." the woman murmured, eyes widening. "Oh! H-Herr Weillschmidt is awake! He's asking for the captain!"
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Post by Roderich Edelstein on Dec 7, 2010 14:58:38 GMT -5
Shortly after the co-pilot left, Elizaveta knelt down in front of him. There were so many questions spinning around in his head that he didn't know where to start. Elizaveta spoke first and he sighed in exasperation; by now, he was tired of people worrying over him, though he kept his irritation hidden as he answered. "Ja, I'm fine. I just ripped my stitches, but I can wait until everyone else is treated to have my side stitched up again." Before he could ask how the silverette was, the Hungarian told him what he wanted to hear and he breathed out in relief.
Signs of infection weren't good, but he had survived with one without the care of a doctor, and now Gilbert had a team of doctors to help him. If that was the worst of it, then certainly he would be alright. However, the image of the knife being pulled from his back never left the Austrian's mind and he knew there was something off about it. ”He's... A-. But I'm O+ so if he needs blood... What about the knife? How much damage did it do? There was something off about it...” The words tumbled out of his lips almost breathlessly, answering the woman's question quickly before immediately diving into his own.
Before Elizaveta really had time to respond, Roderich heard the nurse saying the Gilbert was awake. Immediately, the Austrian was on his feet, stumbling over to the silverette's side. Carefully reaching out to touch the albino's hand, the brunette looked him over quickly before focusing on his face. ”I'm right here, Gilbert. Can you hear me?” There was worry obviously written on the Austrian's face as he studied the Prussian in front of him, his fingers curling around the albino's, thumb absently stroking the back of his hand. ”I'm fine; I just ripped my stitches, but I've been bandaged up. I'm okay.” Given how worried he had been, he could only imagine that the feeling was mutual.
He knew he had to at least check in with Ludwig and the co-pilot in the control room, but given that he would be all but useless when it came to repairing the cloaking device, the Austrian hoped that making sure the Prussian was safe wouldn't affect anything. He would probably only be getting in the way as it was, and if they needed him for something, they would be able to find him easily.
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Abrupt ending? I'm just trying to keep things moving.
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Post by Elizaveta Héderváry on Dec 7, 2010 16:01:43 GMT -5
Elizaveta frowned at Roderich’s answer, he was so close but so far from being a donor for Gilbert, the albino would most likely live without a transfusion, but it would help the recovery process along if he did get one. Someone on the ship had to have either A- or O- blood; she would have happily donated herself if she wasn’t AB+. “The knife?” Elizaveta asked with a blink, “well, the wound was abo--” before a full answer could come from her lips; a nurse tending to Gilbert had spoken up: declaring that the albino had woken up and was asking for Roderich. Before the Hungarian could even blink, Roderich was out of the wheelchair, the sandy-brunette drew her hands back in surprise as the brunette stood and stumbled over to Gilbert’s side. Something cold and sharp pierced Elizaveta’s chest: heartache. She had been so… casually forgotten in favor of Gilbert, that action alone spoke volumes to her: Roderich loved Gilbert, didn’t he? If the situation wasn’t so dire she would have laughed, she didn’t even have a bat’s chance in Hell of winning the aristocrat’s heart. Even if everything that had gone wrong with Roderich's family never happened, Elizaveta couldn't even hold a candle to the man who had been at the brunette’s side these past six years while she gleefully obtained her license to practice medicine. She swallowed the thick lump that had formed in her throat and willed the burning in the corners of her eyes way and stood erect. Dusting off the front of her dress as she turned around and walked to the opposite side of Gilbert’s bed; purposely ignoring how Roderich clutched the pale man’s hand. The sandy-brunette let Roderich finish his inquiry before clearing her throat lightly.
“I’m surprised you’re awake so soon, for all intents and purposes you shouldn’t be.” She studied Gilbert’s face, the color of his eyes sharpened by his paler than normal complexion. (Even for him; and he was pretty pale on a good day, or so she guessed) “How do you feel? Just so you know: numbness is normal, you probably won’t have any real feeling in your shoulder for the next hour or so. That in mind, is anything bothering you?”
---- Yay, I managed to not write a Great Wall of Text for this post : D Instead, I gave the heartbreak/ache I seem to have an obsession for >.>'
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Post by Ludwig Weillschmidt on Dec 8, 2010 7:45:19 GMT -5
Once he had the equipment he needed in hand (the other crew member had been more than expedient getting it to him) Ludwig got straight to work on the pipe. Lighting the gas torch, he began fusing a spare piece of metal snug over the tiny hole in the pipe, sealing off all possible leaks. It was a quick and patchy repair, but it would hold until he could fix the pipe properly. Pausing just before he finished the final welds, he turned to the other crewman, "Get upstairs and let me know if the device is working again." The man nodded and trotted off, and Ludwig flipped his visor back down, welding the last edge of the metal seal into place. Sitting back to inspect his work, he only had to wait a few minutes before the crewman returned.
"It looks like everything is back up," he reported, and Ludwig's shoulders slumped visibly in relief. "It's not quite running at maximum, but at night like this, they'll be hard-pressed to keep their eyes on us," the man continued. "I'll go inform the captain of this."
"Danke," Ludwig replied gratefully, gathering the equipment up. "I'll be up there as soon as I can." After getting directions, he gathered up the equipment and returned it to the indicated storeroom, a closet nearest to the engines that held all sorts of important tools. Unconcerned with the sweat, splinters, and welding ash still clinging to him, Ludwig then made a beeline straight for the infirmary, his heart rising back into his throat. He didn't know how much time had passed since he'd been ordered away...
Slipping quietly in through the door, Ludwig made his way over towards the figures of the captain and the new doctor. They appeared to be talking to Gilbert, and it didn't take Ludwig long to spy that the albino man's eyes were open and blinking. A warm wave of relief swept through his veins, and the faintest hint of a smile passed across his eyes like a spark. Waiting until he caught a break in the conversation, the blond cleared his throat quietly so as not to startle anyone.
"Pardon my interruption," Ludwig spoke at first, still tense about how polite he should be towards Roderich. "Is he going to be alright?"
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Post by Gilbert Weillschmidt on Dec 8, 2010 15:53:31 GMT -5
Opening his mouth, Gilbert's lips moved silently, but again, no sound came out. His voice had yet to return to a working state, which was frustrating to say the least. All he could do was blink slowly, locking his gaze with Roderich's until Elizaveta began to speak, breaking his concentration.
It hurt, but he managed to turn his head to look at the sandy-haired female with a blank look. He could hear what was being said, but understanding it was another matter. The words made no sense to him, and he could only deduce the meaning of a few. Still, it did nothing for his current state, and he only offered the Hungarian a few blinks before shifting his gaze back to Roderich. It wasn't like there was anything else he could do at the moment, he might as well look at the person he cared for most.
For how long he was simply staring, Gilbert didn't know, but it wasn't until he heard his brother's voice that he looked away from Roderich once more. The corners of his mouth twitched upward, and his lips formed silent words once more. All the people he cared for were currently in the room and, for the most part, they were safe and healthy. That was a relief after the attack they'd all just gone through, and it the thought relaxed him.
With a sigh, the Prussian felt his body slowly begin to go limp against the bed. He was exhausted, and sleep sounded wonderful. Seconds later, his eyes were closed and he'd fallen back asleep. A light flush was starting to form on his cheeks, standing out brilliantly against his abnormally pale skin. As the blush grew darker, his body grew warmer, which could only mean one thing.
The poison was starting to take it's effect. ------------------------ Ffff... Only so much I can do right now. =3= I'm out for a bit~ : D *sits down to enjoy watching you three*
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Post by Roderich Edelstein on Dec 18, 2010 20:16:11 GMT -5
Even though the Austrian knew very little about medicine, he was able to tell something was off about Gilbert. Perhaps he was just worrying too much as he was apt to do when people were sick after his mother had died, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. Obviously certain things were to be expected when people were recovering from such injuries; Gilbert had just woken up, after all. Roderich tried not to panic when the silverette went limp against the cot he'd been resting on, telling himself the other was, understandably, just in need of much-deserved rest. But with the addition of a dark blush on the albino's cheeks and the way his hand felt suddenly far too warm in Roderich's own had alarm bells ringing in his mind.
"Eliza, maybe I am just... presuming too much, but fevers after an operation are not usually a good thing, are they?" His voice shook as he spoke, lifting his violet eyes to meet the gaze of the emerald ones across from him. He didn't even try to keep his expression neutral; he was far too worried for that. Infection was always a threat when it came to certain injuries (Roderich knew that far too well), but Gilbert had been treated so shortly after his injury, the Austrian would have thought they could have avoided it. Unless the fever stemmed from something else...
"The knife... does anyone know what it was coated in?" Turning slightly to glance at the medical staff, Roderich tried to remember which one had a background in chemistry and would be able to identify whatever it was. The obvious answer was poison, the brunette knew that, even though he wanted to believe otherwise. But there were so many kinds of poisons that to remedy it, they would have to know where it came from. "Have the chemist look at it, quickly," he instructed one of the nurses before turning back to Elizaveta. "It is not uncommon for the military to poison arrows or throwing daggers; assuming that's what it is, is there anything we can do for him while we wait for the antidote?" His voice was steadier, now, as though he was calmed by his determination to help, even though it was not hard to detect hints of fear that laced through his words.
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Post by Elizaveta Héderváry on Dec 19, 2010 17:18:19 GMT -5
Elizaveta sighed lightly as Gilbert slipped back into the abyss of unconsciousness, something as simple as moving his head probably tired him out considerably. The Hungarian frowned lightly at the sight of red blooming over the pale man's face, there was something wrong, Elizaveta could feel it.
The sandy-brunette jumped slightly when Roderich addressed her, she pursed her lips together lightly and reached out a slender hand to touch Gilbert's forehead, frowning at how hot the skin felt.
“Not necessarily...” Elizaveta began, drawing her hand away, “a fever isn't uncommon, it's only bad if the temperature reaches one-hundred-and-one degrees or more; that's a sign of possible infection. But... postoperative fevers usually happen at least one week after the fact.” She finished, tension re-rising up in her chest and bubbling uncomfortably. Why couldn't this have just been a simple operation? Elizaveta didn't want to see Roderich so frightened about what would happen; scared if whether or not the person he loved would live through the night (she had already seen too much of that, both from the noble and other patients).
The Hungarian frowned and shook her head lightly at the brunette's inquiry, “until we can know what type of poison it is, it's up to his immune system,” emerald eyes looked at the feverish man in bed, “it could be anything; poison from a plant, from an animal. Until we know for sure...” The Hungarian trailed off, feeling that she didn't need to finish her sentence for the nobleman to understand what she meant.
Elizaveta's fingers itched to touch the rosery around her neck, hidden under her dress. Had this been any other situation, Elizaveta would have said that all they could do was wait and pray, but she had been taught to keep work and religion separated from each other. And given the circumstances of his life it wouldn't surprise her if Roderich said he didn't even believe in God. “I'm sorry I can't do more.” Elizaveta said, looking deeply at the other man before quickly rushing off with the excuse that she had to check up on the others.
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Post by Ludwig Weillschmidt on Dec 23, 2010 11:17:25 GMT -5
Not entirely perturbed when nobody answered his question - obviously Roderich and the doctor were as concerned for Gilbert as he was, and focused only on him - Ludwig drifted over silently to where Gilbert lay, his face anxious. To his surprise, the pale-haired man attempted to speak to him where the more able members of the room had not; seeing his brother's lips moving, Ludwig quickly shook his head, indicating he should stay quiet and rest. A moment later, Gilbert's eyes slid closed, and Ludwig decided to take a small risk, leaving his brother's side briefly, just long enough to grab a stool from under a nearby supply desk and drag it closer to the bed. It didn't take the engineer long to notice the dark blush creeping across Gilbert's cheeks. He knew precious little about medicine, but he knew Gilbert much better, enough to know that any blush on the other's face was probably a bad sign.
The dialogue between the captain and the doctor did little to help, and anger flickered to life in Ludwig's chest. Just standing around talking about how badly Gilbert had been poisoned wasn't going to help anyone: these people needed to take some action! Why wasn't there more the doctor could do, besides following the captain's commands about sending the knife to some inexpert chemist? Great, perfect! At least they would know what kind of poison killed Gilbert by the time the results surely got back!
Ludwig forced himself to take a deep breath, and shut his eyes tightly, a worried crease appearing between his brows. He was getting ahead of himself again, and even though he knew it would be next to impossible to stop completely, losing his head right now wasn't going to help anyone. He'd been as useful as he could be for now, and Gilbert was among friends - or, in the case of the doctor, who didn't seem too fond of him, capable people.
As the woman in question hurried away to check on the other casualties, Ludwig's eyes slid to Roderich for just a second. He knew the other man cared deeply about his brother, but he would be damned if he was going to leave Gilbert and the captain here alone. If the brunette ordered him to leave, well... he'd probably have to disobey. The hand that rested on the edge of Gilbert's bed clung a little more tightly than before to the metal surface.
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[ooc:: a bit on the short side, sorry, but I couldn't think of too much for him to do at the moment, aside from be overprotective]
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Post by Gilbert Weillschmidt on Dec 23, 2010 17:39:58 GMT -5
Everything hurt. Unlike before, when it was all simply numb, it felt as if his body had suddenly been set on fire. He would have screamed if he had the strength, but the fatigue and pain itself was far too much for his body to properly respond. It scared him, Gilbert had no idea what was going on. He didn't see the dagger that had embedded itself into his body, and even if he had, the rush of people and panic during the attack would have made it impossible for him to notice the liquid that covered the blade.
A violent shiver started in the Prussian's hands, spreading quickly to the rest of his body as it fought to keep itself warm. He was freezing, but at the same time, burning hot. He tried to communicate the bizarre and unwanted sensation, but once more his body failed to answer. He was left with little to do but wait. The voices around him were becoming harder and harder to understand and the only thing his brain could really process was pain.
His body longed for sleep, but the pain prevented him from falling into it completely. All he could do now... was wait. Wait, and pray that the others knew what they were doing.
------------------- A/N: A-awwwrrr... *flails* Brotherly fluff! Brotherly fluff! Brotherly fluff! *squeals in delight*
Ah, but with that, I am officially out until Gilbo gets a cure. :3 By all means, take your time.
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