[ It's late enough in the month that the flower cases aren't as bad as they could be, though it does mean that most of the people in the infirmary are, well, people. Thralls, in other words. Most of them are in for things like allergies though. Or headaches. Or the occasional overzealous meal, but those are so common that it's really not so bad in the long run.
No one's in critical condition, in other words. Bones has his charts and he's wandering from bed to bed, taking down notes, when he notices Astarion just... standing there. He shoots him a look, his eyebrow halfway up his hairline as he stares Astarion down. ]
What's it look like?
[ His tone makes it very clear that he doesn't particularly want to help Astarion if he needs it, but this is Bones in his environment. He is especially bitchy when he's interrupted -- not that Astarion is even interrupting right now.
And yet, if Astarion really did need help, he would give it. He's a professional, despite it all. ]
This ain't a show. You need treatment, or did you come here for somethin' else?
I'm not really sure there's anything to be done for it.
[ He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, his tells obvious now, almost boyish underneath the now-thin veneer of how he normally comports himself. This is vulnerability, and it's vulnerability he doesn't especially want to share with Bones, but it isn't as if he's got an abundance of options here. ]
I just figured it would be better to confirm it.
[ Better to douse the light of hope than carry it around, really. Hope was hollow in his experience and did little. Better to know the extent of the truth and plan accordingly. ]
May I....?
[ He doesn't need an invitation. He's not some vampire in a human's story. And yet, he's standing there, uncertain and waiting all the same. ]
[ That he doesn't immediately deflect gives Bones pause. He knows then -- that Astarion does actually need help with something, and that's enough to get him to drop any judgment and immediately start scrutinizing Astarion as a patient.
Which means he notices the tells quite clearly. Unease. Vulnerability. All behavior that doesn't exactly correlate with the image Astarion likes to project. Whatever was wrong, it wasn't due to some conquest or anything Astarion was proud of. This is likely something personal, whatever it is. ]
'Course.
[ The irritation falls almost fully from his voice. He nods, motioning him towards a seat, or towards some of the curtains that are drawn closer to the back of the large room. He looks every bit the doctor now. ]
Normally I'd offer you an exam room, but since it's just me right now, the best I got is a bed with a privacy curtain. Assumin' you need me to take a look at somethin'...?
[ Which is to say, he doesn't particularly care about their presence. He walks over to the seat Bones had offered him. He's never been particularly modest and he's not going to start now. ]
The ears happened first. [ He gestures at one of them, though he realizes they're rather hard to miss. And Whisperfangs had mentioned it recently, anyway, the elf ear thing. But he's done being self conscious about looking like a LARPer. In fact, he's wearing some lovely jewelry, made for the shape and point of his ears. Hence why he'd been so easy to give up some of his other ear jewelry for Bones's bet. ] I couldn't mask them away, which was strange, of course, but not anything worth worrying about.
[ That's not what this is about, of course. He takes off his vest and then the loose shirt underneath it, so he can reveal the network of scars on his back. They'd bled awfully when he'd gotten them but now they're as healed as they'll ever be. ]
These, however, I want gone. Do you have anything for it?
[ Bones makes a face like he wants to contest the phrase "just thralls," but he knows better than to have a dumb argument with a patient. He keeps his mouth shut and grabs a pad, ready to take notes as Astarion walks him through what he came here to explain.
They start with his ears. It's certainly troubling to have things appear that can't be masked away. There shouldn't be anything like that -- though Bones had seen Karma's horns first-hand. Looking closely, Astarion's pointed ears are different in shape from a Vulcan's, which is both a relief and not at all.
On one hand, it means he can't be Spock, thank the Mother. Chances are Astarion isn't an alien. On the other hand, if he were an alien, Bones might actually know what to do. It means he's flying blind, but what else is new? With a quick scrawl, Bones jots down his observations and takes a step back, giving Astarion some more room.
He's definitely not ready for what he sees. Bones sucks in a breath at the sight. He's seen some gruesome stuff, but he was hardly expecting this. But he's a doctor, he recovers quickly -- he even steps forward to take a closer look, though he knows better than to get too close. ]
That depends. [ He tilts his head. The scars seem to form a perfect circle of marks or burns, deep and brutal -- with no chance of these being an accident, then. ] These appear like the ears, then? All of a sudden?
[ Astarion hears Bones draw in that breath. He's seen them--he has a reflection, after all (for now) so he knows how awful they look, so he's not surprised. ]
[ Not a helpful comment, he knows, but that's Bones for you. He can only imagine the kind of pain it would cause to have something like this appear on you -- open wounds, with so much muscle and blood vessels back there... hell, it would have had to have been deep enough to hit bone in some places.
He keeps taking notes as he observes them. In true doctorly fashion, it doesn't occur to him that these might be words -- more like some kind of cruel scarification, if he had to guess. But could a dread blade be made to carve so intricately like this? If Astarion had sought medical help when they were still bleeding, they might have had an easier time...
But Bones keeps his mouth shut on that particular fact. They can't change the past. ]
You try gettin' rid of 'em in any way? I got some ideas, but I wanna hear what you've done so far.
[ But worse was the fear from the memory he'd gotten before that. Knowing how they were caused; hating thinking that might be real. The fact that it seemed to be proof was almost worse than the scars themselves. ]
I've tried healing them, and when that didn't work I tried to mask them, but it's just like with my ears. My body doesn't want to write it over.
[ He writes that down, of course. A dread blade is about the only thing that could cause this kind of damage, but even those would only scar like this on a human. And if they appeared suddenly... then it might be tied to whatever nonsense is causing weird memories. ]
This might be outta my pay grade, just so you know. I'd love t' say that I can fix 'em for you, but we're all flyin' blind when it comes to the weird stuff happenin' lately. I can't guarantee anythin' I try'll work.
[ A disclaimer more than anything. Bones doesn't say this because he's going to give up. ]
All that said, if your own healin' won't do the trick, we can try mine. But that'd mean openin' them up again. You willin' to try that?
[ Bones chuckles at that, though he shouldn't be too surprised that Astarion remembers that particular threat. ]
I won't. I only do that shit to people who cause problems on purpose.
[ He turns around and starts collecting instruments from various cupboards, his mind already planning ahead on what he needs. He knows how deep to carve to avoid hitting anything important. He knows how to cut into skin without needing to rearrange anything. Still, surgery on vampires... it's a race against the clock. This might be a case where having a dread blade might actually be useful. ]
Follow me, then. I'd rather do this in a surgical suite than cut you open and have to clean up the mess.
[ He motions for Astarion to join him as he explains. ]
Considerin' the size and depth, I won't be able to do the whole thing at once. I figure if I can get at least an eighth or so to react well, then we can try it for the rest. But I'm not some hack -- we'll do this right, and it works, or we try somethin' and I hafta apologize to you for wastin' your time. Either way, it's a win for you.
[ Astarion follows him. He's stiff--there's no joke about knifeplay, or about playing doctor. It's strange, to both care and not care. He's not afraid to let Bones cut into his flesh, he's afraid of the memories it'll bring up unbidden. But Astarion is determined to be more than those memories, is determined to simply decide those memories aren't real, and so he knows he needs to do this, to be more powerful than whatever ghosts are trying to haunt him now. ]
You'd know better than me. I'm good at taking things apart. I don't really put them back together.
[ Bones can't say he expected Astarion to be so quiet, but he knows that everyone responds to these things differently—even as vampires. He doesn't know what kind of feelings might be attached to scars like these, so he's keeping his sarcasm to a minimum out of respect for the man. He's a professional, regardless of their childish fights on the journals. ]
Not many people are. Ain't like we're a medical school, either.
[ They make it into the surgical suite and it's—well, these are the whatever times. It's not 100% sanitary, but it's clearly kept cleaner than the rest of the infirmary. There's hardly any blood stains, and the operating table is set higher to accommodate a surgical team. ]
Hop on up.
[ Bones motions the table with his neck while he unrolls his medical kit on a nearby table. He's got every kind of scalpel you could need, and a few daggers, bone saws, you name it. ]
This'll probably be overkill, but I like to make sure I've got everything within reach.
[ He isn't really sure how Astarion will respond to all of this, but he isn't trying to freak him out. ]
Now, do you want me to try a sedative, or would you rather I talk you through it?
[ Nothing about Bones's display scares him. He gets on the table, seated at first, with his back to Bones. ]
Just talk me through it. Do you want me to lie down, or is this fine?
[ he's been through far worse, he reminds himself, although that's not much of a comfort. His fear earlier was about vulnerability, but this? He knows the limits of his body. He knows that he's strong and that he can take plenty. He's not afraid of whatever Bones is going to do to him. ]
[ Bones nods, efficient in everything once he's in proper 'doctor mode.' He takes this seriously, and he won't bother wasting time now that it's clear Astarion isn't going to pass out from fear or anything (it's happened! You meet all kinds when you work at Courtsheart.) ]
Lay down on your stomach. It'll be the easiest for me.
[ He starts scrubbing up properly, getting what he needs ready so they can start. I won't bore you with specifics but I promise Bones is at least a little better than your average victorian doctor. He washes his hands and even wears a mask and glasses to avoid too much accidental contamination. ]
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no subject
No one's in critical condition, in other words. Bones has his charts and he's wandering from bed to bed, taking down notes, when he notices Astarion just... standing there. He shoots him a look, his eyebrow halfway up his hairline as he stares Astarion down. ]
What's it look like?
[ His tone makes it very clear that he doesn't particularly want to help Astarion if he needs it, but this is Bones in his environment. He is especially bitchy when he's interrupted -- not that Astarion is even interrupting right now.
And yet, if Astarion really did need help, he would give it. He's a professional, despite it all. ]
This ain't a show. You need treatment, or did you come here for somethin' else?
no subject
[ He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, his tells obvious now, almost boyish underneath the now-thin veneer of how he normally comports himself. This is vulnerability, and it's vulnerability he doesn't especially want to share with Bones, but it isn't as if he's got an abundance of options here. ]
I just figured it would be better to confirm it.
[ Better to douse the light of hope than carry it around, really. Hope was hollow in his experience and did little. Better to know the extent of the truth and plan accordingly. ]
May I....?
[ He doesn't need an invitation. He's not some vampire in a human's story. And yet, he's standing there, uncertain and waiting all the same. ]
no subject
Which means he notices the tells quite clearly. Unease. Vulnerability. All behavior that doesn't exactly correlate with the image Astarion likes to project. Whatever was wrong, it wasn't due to some conquest or anything Astarion was proud of. This is likely something personal, whatever it is. ]
'Course.
[ The irritation falls almost fully from his voice. He nods, motioning him towards a seat, or towards some of the curtains that are drawn closer to the back of the large room. He looks every bit the doctor now. ]
Normally I'd offer you an exam room, but since it's just me right now, the best I got is a bed with a privacy curtain. Assumin' you need me to take a look at somethin'...?
no subject
[ Which is to say, he doesn't particularly care about their presence. He walks over to the seat Bones had offered him. He's never been particularly modest and he's not going to start now. ]
The ears happened first. [ He gestures at one of them, though he realizes they're rather hard to miss. And Whisperfangs had mentioned it recently, anyway, the elf ear thing. But he's done being self conscious about looking like a LARPer. In fact, he's wearing some lovely jewelry, made for the shape and point of his ears. Hence why he'd been so easy to give up some of his other ear jewelry for Bones's bet. ] I couldn't mask them away, which was strange, of course, but not anything worth worrying about.
[ That's not what this is about, of course. He takes off his vest and then the loose shirt underneath it, so he can reveal the network of scars on his back. They'd bled awfully when he'd gotten them but now they're as healed as they'll ever be. ]
These, however, I want gone. Do you have anything for it?
no subject
They start with his ears. It's certainly troubling to have things appear that can't be masked away. There shouldn't be anything like that -- though Bones had seen Karma's horns first-hand. Looking closely, Astarion's pointed ears are different in shape from a Vulcan's, which is both a relief and not at all.
On one hand, it means he can't be Spock, thank the Mother. Chances are Astarion isn't an alien. On the other hand, if he were an alien, Bones might actually know what to do. It means he's flying blind, but what else is new? With a quick scrawl, Bones jots down his observations and takes a step back, giving Astarion some more room.
He's definitely not ready for what he sees. Bones sucks in a breath at the sight. He's seen some gruesome stuff, but he was hardly expecting this. But he's a doctor, he recovers quickly -- he even steps forward to take a closer look, though he knows better than to get too close. ]
That depends. [ He tilts his head. The scars seem to form a perfect circle of marks or burns, deep and brutal -- with no chance of these being an accident, then. ] These appear like the ears, then? All of a sudden?
no subject
I woke up one night bleeding.
no subject
[ Not a helpful comment, he knows, but that's Bones for you. He can only imagine the kind of pain it would cause to have something like this appear on you -- open wounds, with so much muscle and blood vessels back there... hell, it would have had to have been deep enough to hit bone in some places.
He keeps taking notes as he observes them. In true doctorly fashion, it doesn't occur to him that these might be words -- more like some kind of cruel scarification, if he had to guess. But could a dread blade be made to carve so intricately like this? If Astarion had sought medical help when they were still bleeding, they might have had an easier time...
But Bones keeps his mouth shut on that particular fact. They can't change the past. ]
You try gettin' rid of 'em in any way? I got some ideas, but I wanna hear what you've done so far.
no subject
[ But worse was the fear from the memory he'd gotten before that. Knowing how they were caused; hating thinking that might be real. The fact that it seemed to be proof was almost worse than the scars themselves. ]
I've tried healing them, and when that didn't work I tried to mask them, but it's just like with my ears. My body doesn't want to write it over.
no subject
This might be outta my pay grade, just so you know. I'd love t' say that I can fix 'em for you, but we're all flyin' blind when it comes to the weird stuff happenin' lately. I can't guarantee anythin' I try'll work.
[ A disclaimer more than anything. Bones doesn't say this because he's going to give up. ]
All that said, if your own healin' won't do the trick, we can try mine. But that'd mean openin' them up again. You willin' to try that?
no subject
Fine. But don't...rearrange my ligaments wrong or whatever it was you threatened the other day.
no subject
I won't. I only do that shit to people who cause problems on purpose.
[ He turns around and starts collecting instruments from various cupboards, his mind already planning ahead on what he needs. He knows how deep to carve to avoid hitting anything important. He knows how to cut into skin without needing to rearrange anything. Still, surgery on vampires... it's a race against the clock. This might be a case where having a dread blade might actually be useful. ]
Follow me, then. I'd rather do this in a surgical suite than cut you open and have to clean up the mess.
[ He motions for Astarion to join him as he explains. ]
Considerin' the size and depth, I won't be able to do the whole thing at once. I figure if I can get at least an eighth or so to react well, then we can try it for the rest. But I'm not some hack -- we'll do this right, and it works, or we try somethin' and I hafta apologize to you for wastin' your time. Either way, it's a win for you.
no subject
You'd know better than me. I'm good at taking things apart. I don't really put them back together.
no subject
Not many people are. Ain't like we're a medical school, either.
[ They make it into the surgical suite and it's—well, these are the whatever times. It's not 100% sanitary, but it's clearly kept cleaner than the rest of the infirmary. There's hardly any blood stains, and the operating table is set higher to accommodate a surgical team. ]
Hop on up.
[ Bones motions the table with his neck while he unrolls his medical kit on a nearby table. He's got every kind of scalpel you could need, and a few daggers, bone saws, you name it. ]
This'll probably be overkill, but I like to make sure I've got everything within reach.
[ He isn't really sure how Astarion will respond to all of this, but he isn't trying to freak him out. ]
Now, do you want me to try a sedative, or would you rather I talk you through it?
no subject
Just talk me through it. Do you want me to lie down, or is this fine?
[ he's been through far worse, he reminds himself, although that's not much of a comfort. His fear earlier was about vulnerability, but this? He knows the limits of his body. He knows that he's strong and that he can take plenty. He's not afraid of whatever Bones is going to do to him. ]
no subject
Lay down on your stomach. It'll be the easiest for me.
[ He starts scrubbing up properly, getting what he needs ready so they can start. I won't bore you with specifics but I promise Bones is at least a little better than your average victorian doctor. He washes his hands and even wears a mask and glasses to avoid too much accidental contamination. ]
I'll start when you're ready.