thegalley_tlv | [002.b. - spam/network]

Entry tags:

cho gonou

[002.b. - spam/network]

cw: eye & hand injury, likely some self-destructive thought processes in tags

[open/spam, the infirmary]

Gonou does not fight back when his punishment is given, nor when it is carried out. The Infirmary is busy, the cries of pain from the beds around him disorienting; he gets up, after a few minutes of rest have cleared his head enough that he doesn't think he'll fall, and tries to find his way to a seat away from the beds. He's slow and clumsy, his one good hand held out in front of him to avoid running into anything important. Eventually, he finds a wall, and turns to plant his back against it and sit down there.

He hopes he's out of the way. He'll just -- take a little time to rest, here, and hope that at some point someone will arrive who's able and willing to take him back to his room.

[open/spam, afterwards]

He's been assigned to hard labor at the oars, but even though he heals a little faster in this body than he had in a human one, the stump of a hand takes more than a few days to heal over enough for a prosthetic to be fitted on it. He's spending a fair amount of time in his room, practicing mapping the space, practicing listening. He's trying to keep his fresher socket cleaned and bandaged; he knows the routine, even if it's harder one-handed, and harder still blind.

He goes to meals. His ears flick with paranoid speed when he's in a crowded room, trying to track the multiplicity of sounds around him, trying to feel out the echoes of the space; sometimes he walks into something, and sometimes this means he drops the tray he has to balance in one hand. When he does, grimly determined, he'll drop to his knees and do his best to clean it up.

Once or twice, he's allowed into the yard, but he finds that space even more overwhelming than the mess hall, and lingers very close to the door, keeping his head down.

After the first week, he adds rotations on the oars. Wherever he's seated, quietly, he'll ask the name of the person beside him.

Network, audio, a few days after the mutiny

[Gonou's voice is soft, a little hoarse. He just has one thing to ask:]

Who's still alive?

... Please don't reply in text.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Nothing is beyond my job," Hilbert retorts. Once he reaches a particularly stuck patch, he reaches into his medical kit and pulls out an alcohol wipe. Multiple uses: moisture might help loosen up the mess of dried blood and if any alcohol gets on the wound itself, it could serve as disinfectant.

"The way I see it, Judge has not provided even smallest standard of basic care. Someone else here has to."

"Ah -- well, there are a few people in the infirmary who do reasonable work..."

As immensely weird as it was talking to Dawn Shrike, Gonou had -- rather liked him. He hopes he's still alive.

"But there isn't much arguing with a punishment. It seems."

"If the punishment is such that it prevents you from doing job or is in danger of going worse, then it is not punishment, it is cruelty. Would not surprise me if wounds had gone septic before."

Hilbert thinks that he's gotten this corner of the bandage loose enough? So in a manner of 'rip the bandaid off all at once,' he gives it one quick, sharp yank. Sorry Gonou.

The bandage comes free, taking a layer of dried blood and damaged tissue ruthlessly with it; Gonou inhales on a sharply repressed scream, the muscles in his back and shoulders locking to prevent him from curling around the stump of his wrist. Fresh blood springs to the surface in several abraded points across the injury.

Hilbert is getting the last word on the topic of punishment and cruelty, both because Gonou does not disagree and because he's currently in a little too much pain to manage any coherent response.

Bedside manner isn't Hilbert's strongest suit. When he spots the bleeding, he swears under his breath before quickly grabbing some gauze. This patch isn't going to be for actually dressing the wound, he can tell that much. Nope, this is just mopping up some of the blood as he looks over the wound itself.

"Not as bad as I thought." A pause before, "Still absolutely horrific, of course. But no need to worry about gangrene—nor sepsis, based on reaction."

There is certainly enough blood here to not worry about a loss in blood pressure.

"No," Gonou manages, his voice thin. "I might not be able to see infection, but I think I would smell gangrene."

He's wincing at the application of gauze to the wound, but it's much less painful than tearing the bandage away had been. Maybe he'll be able to work out some way not to put weight on that hand, while still making the movements of rowing to avoid a shock....

"True. The scent is...unmistakable."

Rotting flesh sure does have a smell. When the bleeding seems to have staunched a little bit, Hilbert takes a second alcohol wipe and tries to tidy up the bleeding area a little bit more. He knows he can't get this to an ideal state, but maybe he can get Gonou's wounds to 'good enough.'

Hopefully.

"Have you had any other symptoms that were not pain from physical wounds healing?"

"No." Gonou hesitates briefly, then admits, "I, ah... think I heal more quickly like this." Or, at least, he's more resistant to infection. He'd been disemboweled when he first transformed; the man who found him bleeding in the road had sewed up the filthy wound by himself, half-drunk, in his own bed, and Gonou should have died of blood poisoning for five different reasons. Instead, he'd healed.

It is very good that Gonou can't see the eyebrow raise and intense focus that Hilbert is now giving him. Any mention of superhumanly fast healing absolutely sets off his 'I want to pay attention to this' alarm.

"Well. Glad to hear that. Puts my mind at ease with regards to any pathogens."

Having no superpowers himself and not really knowing many Prisoners with powers, Hilbert is just assuming that Gonou's ability to heal quickly is still here, still going, just a little slower probably due to it being overtaxed—and the whole eyeball thing.

"I am going to start bandaging your stump now," he explains. "Antibiotic ointment on the smaller wounds, gauze on as many wounds and as much of the raw skin as I can manage, bandages over everything else."

"Thank you." Gonou shifts a little, bracing his wrist more securely on his right hand, to allow him to hold it steady for Hilbert's bandaging.

After a moment, with a hint of curiosity in his tone, he inquires, "Where did you get all the supplies?"

He'd been given some bandages to help keep his own wound cleaned and treated, but antibiotc ointment? Gauze? Alcohol swabs?

"Friends in high places," Hilbert answers, with a wry little smile. There's a pause before he admits, "Friends who died during riot. I will need to find new way to obtain supplies when I run out—which will be soon."

There's a pause before he admits, "I do not know when I can find more bandages."

"Try Jedao Dawn Shrike in the infirmary," Gonou says softly. "I can't say for certain that he'll help you, but I think he'd understand it only makes sense to allow trained doctors to take a little of the strain away from the infirmary."

"I will do so," he nods. There's a pause before, "Thank you for the name. Wouldn't have thought to ask the man specifically myself."

"And thank you for your help." Gonou offers a faint smile to a point slightly over Hilbert's left shoulder.

"I am doctor," Hilbert shrugs. "It is my job. Now please, hold still."

Time to finish up the bandaging.

"Of course." He's holding his stump perfectly still, head tilted slightly to make it easier for his ears to pick up the faint rustles of Dr. Hilbert's movements. He's not used to navigating by sound, but in this form, at least, it's easier than it is with human ears.

And Hilbert's quiet as he works. Gonou can hear the rustling of bandages, the small 'hmm' of Hilbert as he looks down at his halfway done work, the tear of paper as he opens a packet of gauze, and eventually, the feeling of gauze on his wounds before the slight compression of the bandages.

"There. It is complete."

Gonou makes a soft sound of acknowledgement, pulling his stump back to cradle it against his chest, and takes a deep, fortifying breath.

"Thank you," he murmurs. "I'm sorry, but I -- may need to ask you to show me to my room from here."

He's still badly disoriented when he tries to navigate the Galley's halls blindly. He knows the way from his room to the mess hall, or to the oar deck, but he doesn't know the location of Hilbert's room so well as that.

"Of course," Hilbert nods. He gets to his feet before gently taking Gonou's hand. He suspects the man would still want to look like he knows what he's doing. Would still want to seem capable. So when he moves the two of them to the hallway, Hilbert is only barely leading. He's only barely touching Gonou's arm, he's giving him the lightest touch as they move back towards Gonou's room.

Hilbert is not wrong about Gonou's aversion to looking helpless; then, too, Gonou hates being touched by strangers almost as much as he hates helplessness. He appreciates the delicacy that the doctor is employing.

He's also bending most of his attention towards memorizing the route, forcing his pace to remain even and fairly normal rather than retreating into the exhausted shuffle he's tempted to adopt. If he keeps his steps regular, he can count them, and know that it's thirty steps to the first turn, twenty-five to the next. It's pathetically minimal, but it lets him feel as though he's maintaining some kind of control.

"How have you been doing, Doctor?" he asks, at last, just after the second turn. "You -- weren't one of the ones punished for the mutiny, I believe?"

He'd been in the courtroom; his sentence had come just after Flint's, and he'd been in no position to observe most of the proceedings after that. With any sense.

Hilbert shakes his head, realizes what he did, then quietly answers instead, "I was not. Did not participate in the mutiny the way that some others did."

There's a pause before he continues the conversation. "Friend back home called me a cockroach once. Impossible to kill. Took that as a compliment." A pause before, "I do not like sitting by and watching people get mutilated for no reason. But I also will focus on my own survival first and foremost. It can be a challenge sometimes to decide which to prioritize."

"...Some of us have to live," Gonou says lightly, inclining his head. "It's -- not a bad thing to want to.

"And you're a doctor, not a fighter-- I assume?"

They're not incompatible roles, but Hilbert isn't speaking as though he's the sort who can pick up a sword and wade into battle.

"Most certainly not," he says, with a little laugh. "If I need to incapacitate someone, I prefer more subtle methods than being big action hero with big shiny knife."

Just drug 'em! Problem solved!

"Well, that is the best way to avoid ending up like me," Gonou says, perfectly light and cheerful.

"The problem, of course, is that 'subtle methods' and 'prison ship' do not go hand in hand very well." He lets out a low chuckle as he points out, "Granted, 'big shiny knife' and 'prison ship' also do not go hand in hand, but I suspect knife is more obtainable."

[002.b. - spam/network]

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