Fantasy Beasts & Burdens

[Pith]

"Study them, mostly--it's not a perfect method, but it should stop the rate of decomposition enough to take my time getting a better look, seeing what happened."

On very rare occasions he did part with a specimen, but usually only in trade. Working off a full body might allow him a few extras that might interest others, however, so perhaps it might be possible to reap more than his own observations out of the investment.

When Elijah turned his face twisted with mild annoyance, though only briefly--he generally didn't like people messing with his bodies without his leave. However, the indicated specimen overtook his mood with curiosity, and he picked up his long tweezers with one hand and a scalpel in the other. Reaching up to the spotlight, he adjusted the angle so he could lean in close to look at the white tube under better visuals, and pulled at it gently with the interment, finding it didn't budge.

"Not in the slightest," he mused, and reached in to make a shallow incision atone of the points it entered meat, looking to cut just enough to try and dislodge it.


Towards the back, Thom was considering all the ways in which he would express his disgust to the doctor regarding his acquisition, and his absolute insistence they invest in cheaper, disposable, very burnable carts. He never wanted to one off again if it was going to smell that way. Every time he thought it was over, and that he'd rid himself of every bit, a quick sniff would thoroughly prove otherwise. Only once he doused it in the strongest cleaning solution and powder he could find did there seem to be any effect, and eventually he was able to move on to the ally. Quick application of the same cleaning materials to the ground made slightly faster work of the stuff on the cobblestones, but the refuse cart the two had brought it in....

"You lot taking the cart? Or can I pitch it?" he asked, leaning into the operating room where Robert stood smoking. If the answer got complex he'd find the man some paper--Doc had to have some in an operating room, surely.

 

[sspky]

Robert frowned at Thom's question, wishing the man had chosen his words with a little more care,.As it stood, he couldn’t simply answer ‘yes’ or ‘no’ when the two questions conflicted as they did.

Robert didn’t want the damn cart, that was for sure. Fredrick had knicked it on the way over to the graveyard, and by now Robert was certain it must smell beyond belief. As far as he was concerned, the ruined wagon was fit to be burnt to ash.

He tried to indicate, through a gesture out the door and a shake of the head, that Thom could do as he pleased with the cart, although he wasn’t certain if had successfully gotten his point across.

Meanwhile, in the laboratory, whatever it was that was clinging to the dead woman's corpse, it held fast to the fleshy cavity. Fredrick pulled back, allowing the doctor room to work, and watched with clear curiosity. When the doctor finally dd take the knife to it, the split in the tube let loose a squirt of some vile liquid, yellow and distressingly corrosive.

The tube began to thrash, spraying the putrid ooze about as it flailed. From within the crevice, a part of the flesh-worm did finally dislodged from its host, revealing an eyeless, screw-shaped head, the length of which was coated in spiralling rows of tiny, hook-like teeth.

Fredrick drew back with a loud curse. He could feel the sensation of the liquid, hot and stinging, across the backs of his exposed hands. It was quite fortunate that he’d decided to keep his coat on.

In it’s blind and frantic rage, the worm arched up, it’s thin head knocking against the adjustable light overhead. The creature, dripping in acidic ooze, stuck to the heated lamp, and soon enough that disgusting scent of unnatural rot was replaced by the far worse scent of burning, natural rot.

As the thing trashed, the corpse it was still burrowed into lurched and sloshed beneath it, until the combined weight and kinetic stress caused the overhanging light to crash down onto the metal table below.

The sound echoed out past the laboratory, and in a heartbeat, Robert was on his feet and sprinting out of the operating room, his pistol already in hand.

 

[Pith]

Thom realized his mistake when Robert had to gesture rather than a simple nod or shake of the head, thinking to himself how inconvenient it must be to have to rely on pen and paper, or another person, for simple answers. It was a good thing he didn't look altogether too friendly, otherwise people would probably try talking to him more often, and he wondered if he'd given off the same air before whatever injury had stolen his voice.

"Sorry--okay if I burn that th--"

Before he could finish the crash rang through the hall, and Thom was on Robert's heels, cursing silently, his knife drawn as they dashed back to the lab.

Elijah was grateful for his glasses--some of the initial spray may have blinded him, given his proximity to the worm when he made the incision. Instead, the noxious yellow liquid splattered almost miraculously across the lense, just narrowing saving his eyes. He was not entirely unscathed, however, as the thrashing of the worm managed to spray some of the acidic substance across his shirt, with a fair bit hitting the side of his neck and jaw. The pain and sudden movement started him into dropping the tweezers and taking a step back, eyes wide, though he instinctively placed himself between the body and the car of tools and specimens.

The doctor stared in wide-eyed wonder as the creature hit the light and stuck to the burning surface, its spasms so strong it managed to even move its host, despite the massive different in size and weight. He despaired as he watched it roast on the metal, knowing it was beyond saving or even adequately preserving the instant the smell filled the room. And when the lamp was brought down with the force of monster and gravity combined, the lightbulb shattered.

Robert made it to the room before Thom, but the servant stopped just inside the door, gazing into the dark. "Doc, what the fuck?" he called, hand with the knife ready for anything that might come out while he felt along the wall for the backup light switch, throwing it on the instant he found it, casting the room into a flickering, sickly grey light.

 

[sspky]

As the worm died, it’s body coil in on itself, causing the limbs of its corpse-host to tighten and pull together in a series of wet, jerking pops. This was only visible when Thom arrived and turned on the ceiling light, and the sight of it sent a thrill down Fredrick's spine.

Despite his interest, his expression had changed to one of cold professionalism. He’d screwed up, and he knew Robert would be on his case about this for months to come. They’d encountered something obviously otherworldly, and Fredrick had let his guard down.

Scowling, he stripped off his damaged coat and began to clench and unclench his aching hands. The flesh where the acid had touched had already boiled into angry blisters.

The universe ran on concepts of equals and opposites. Dark magic had it’s light counterparts, curses had blessings, and every spell or incantation could be reversed if one knew how to correctly voice its counter.

Although Frederick knew little of science, he did know that acids had their bases. Or was it basics? He didn't really care.

Robert kept various vials of chemicals about their apartment for his safecracking, and Fredrick had utilized his share in disposing of more persistent corpses. Through years and ill experiences, he had grown familiar with how to treat these sorts of ugly burns.

“Doctor Walker,” his voice was steady and authoritative, “I'd rather not let this acid run its course on my skin -- or yours. Do something about that,”

And then, to Robert, he said, “Get on then, Bobby. Be useful.”

Robert nodded and crossed the room, careful to sidestep any of the puddles on the floor, towards one of Dr. Walker's large cabinets of chemicals, scanning the labels for familiar names. He hadn’t the faintest idea what the pH of this rancid stuff was, but he did know that some mixture of Hydroxide and Ammonia or Sodium would be a safe place to start.

 

[Pith]

Elijah stood transfixed when the lights popped on, taking in the insect-like form form of the curled-up remains, eyes following each unnatural bend of the form. It was astonishing that the parasitic worm would have had the strength necessary to move its host's entire body, though he had little experience with such creatures. Perhaps it wasn't unusual at all in its veracity, and he had a great deal to learn.

Fredrick's comment, however, shook him from his reverie. "Hm? Oh... yes, of course."

Much like with the body, he normally would have raised some objections to strangers rifling through his supplies and equipment, but he had to admit he was less versed in the care of monster-related injuries, and the gentlemen present seemed to have have the benefit of first-hand experience. Whatever Mr. Middle concocted he would have to be certain to take note of, as it might come in handy in the near future.

The cabinet was meticulously organized, each of the reagents clearly labeled with names and dates, and alphabetized, save for the set at the bottom marked only in a distinctly messier short-hand. What wasn't already clean and available on the counters was in the next large cabinet, equally tidy and neatly presented.

He sighed and removed his glasses, wanting to clean them off before the noxious ooze had a chance to drip onto his face, and he winced at the pain that blossomed over his neck where he'd been hit. To say it stung was an understatement, but as he wiped off the spectacles with the hem of his apron his gaze wandered to the subject again. He could barely see it at present, of course, but he wanted desperately to continue cutting in to extract to the less damaged portion. If he could make incisions into the walls of the girl's insides he could possibly see how deeply the thing was lodged, and what it had attached onto.He almost didn't notice his assistant draw closer, looking him up and down with a knowing frown before commenting, "Can you maybe wait until you deal with the unnatural burns?"

The doctor frowned. "I suppose. Though you could get a new bulb in the meantime."

"I could," Thom replied, unmoving. If he replaced the bulb before Robert finished whipping up whatever he was making the doctor would probably continue his work while injured. One look at the charred remains of the worm had been enough to determine he would no longer be leaving the doctor alone with strange bodies, much as he didn't want to be around them.

 

[sspky]

Robert handled Dr. Walkers' equipment with care. While he knew very little about chemical compositions and mathematical equations, he was familiar enough with what ratios would produce the results he wanted. What he ended up with was a moderate sodium-hydroxide solution.

The compound seemed to work on a splatter of acid that was still bubbling away on a nearby floor tile, which Robert thought was satisfactory enough. Supposing it would be in poor form to use their employer as a test subject, the mute turned instead to his partner. Fredrick sighed and approached with mostly concealed trepidation, and laid his hands flat on the counter.

“Yep. Go right to hell, Bobby,” the man grimaced as Robert applied the coarse, chalky mixture to the burns on the back of his hands. But the solution seemed to do what it was supposed to, and while his hands still stung, they were no longer searing with that terrible heat, so Fredrick bit back any further snide remarks.

Instead, he said, “Should I wash this off, or?”

Robert shrugged in response, then gestured towards Elijah Walker. There, after all, was a real doctor. Robert assumed he’d know how to treat the wounds themselves.

“Your turn, Doctor.” Fredrick nodded to their unfortunate employer, then moved aside to make room for him at Roberts makeshift little workstation. “Robert isn’t much for bedside manner, I’m afraid, but he knows how to clean any sort of mess.”

 

[Pith]

Elijah watched as Robert applied the mix to his partner's skin, and the change was notable even visually. While the skin still blistered and was an angry red, the color lessened somewhat in intensity. Assuming the stuff didn't actually have any poisonous after-effects--though he would be monitoring himself for signs--it was probably a fair assumption that there was little otherwordly about the damage itself.

"I suppose at this point it's best to treat it like regular burn care," the doctor shrugged, moving up as indicated, and undoing the first couple buttons of his shirt so there would be full access to however much had managed to seep beneath the fabric. "Rise with cool water, cool compresses, and gauze. I can fix us up in the washroom in a moment."

He smiled when the chalky solution hit his skin, clearly pleased with how efficient it was. It wasn't a mixture he would have normally applied to a chemical burn, but it certainly did the trick to start off with. There was still a good chance they would both end up with a set of scars for the trouble, but he could safely assume it would hardly be Fredrick's first, and anyone who knew him would buy that he'd been working with dangerous chemicals.

The doctor smiled at Robert. "Useful stuff, that--thank you. Would you mind terribly mixing up another batch so Thom can get the floor?"

He could still hear the sizzling behind him on the floor, he could only imagine what havoc it was wrecking on the body.

 

[sspky]

True to Fredrick's word, Robert hardly had a gentle touch, though he clearly wasn’t being intentionally rough or unpleasant. He saw what needed to be done, and he did it with a familiar efficiency that saw the acid neutralized. He was pleased to hear that the doctor would be caring for the burns soon.

When the doctor asked for another batch, Robert simply shrugged and a writing gesture with his hand, looking from Dr. Walker to Thom, and back again. It was simple enough to mix together, and Robert had never been one to hoard secrets.

Meanwhile, Fredrick was crouched over the body, which had been half-knocked from the table by the light fixture and was currently seeping onto the floor into a viscous puddle. A network of rivers seemed to run beneath the corpse's pale skin, in many spots bulging up disgustingly. Fredrick quickly realized what he was looking at -- the body of the worm, choaking its way around the limbs of the corpse.

Whistling, Fredrick said, “Bloody long one, that. Know what this is, Rob?”

Still treating the doctor, Robert only afforded the corpse a quick glance and a noncommittal shrug. He’d jot down any ideas he had on the same note pad when he was able to -- and he had a few.

(( quick post. Probably gotta run soon. Might get one more down before I leave, might not. >> ))

 

[Pith]

The doctor's expression was genuinely puzzled when Robert made the gesture without a sound, looking to his assistant, and only then did his eyes fall to the exposed throat and intense scarring. Thom, however, saw the motion and went immediately for a drawer he knew to contain a clipboard and scratch parchment before the doctor could start questioning Robert, tossing it to the counter along with a pen. He hadn't mentioned Robert's manner of communication from when he'd delivered he work order, in part because he didn't necessarily feel it was his business to mention.

Fredrick's comment brought his attention back, to the body, though he strained to see exactly what the man was referring to from that distance. His glasses weren't exactly pristine, despite wiping them off, and the greyish light did little to help. If many of the things he kept in the lab didn't respond so poorly to bright light he would have had the room fixed with the highest intensity bulbs he could find, but generally had to settle for his little spotlight.

It was interesting to him that Fredrick had asked his silent partner what exactly they might be dealing with. He'd previously thought the man was just exceedingly reserved, but between the impromtu care, the horrendous scar, and the apparent monster-familiarity, Mr. Middle was gradually becoming more interesting.

He practically fidgeting in place until the man finished the application, and once freed, Elijah went over to see what Fredrick at been indicating, and whistled softly. "Next time I really will have to do a more thorough external examination..." he mused, though he wasn't overly distraught at the miscalculation, and loss of intact specimens. If he treated the wounds fast enough he'd likely have enough time to collect a bit more, before putrefaction ruined his samples, and assuming the men were interested in more work, there would be others.

( No worries either way. Have a good time! )

 

[sspky]

(( annd I'm back. ))

In truth, the worm would have been difficult to notice while it had still been soft and pliable. The creature was thin, but distressingly long, weaving its way through the muscles of its host until it had found a home in just about every inch of her. It was only death, with his body becoming tight and rigid, that it seemed to present any obvious external abnormalities on its host.

Apart from the disgusting liquefaction and the fly vomiting, of course.

Fredrick made a vague mental note of some of these details, but for the most part, he was happy to let Robert handle the grim specifics. What he was greatly concerned with, however, was how to spot it and how to kill it. He refused to be caught off guard again in the future.

Meanwhile, Robert was hastily taking notes on the pad of paper, which he had thanked Thom for with a quick nod. The first page he filled with the simple radio of chemicals required to counteract the acid. This he tore away neatly and held out for Thom to take.

If the man needed help mixing the chemicals, Robert would certainly oblige. It was clear, however, that like the others he was far more interested in the crumpled corpse and its horrid passenger, currently crushed beneath the heated remains of the light fixture.

He crouched beside the two men, his weight on the balls of his feet and his fingers drumming on his knees. He remained like this for a long moment, his brow furrowed and his dark-eyed gaze drawn into firm focus. At last, he stood, his knees popping, and crossed back to the nearest clean surface, where he spent a moment writing.

When he returned, he nudged Fredrick with his boot and held a new note out to him.

Fredrick straightened, and took the paper, and held it out in such a way that the doctor could see its contents, should he chose to look.

‘NOT Ver Marionnette -- flies.’ The word flies was underlined heavily. He seemed to be implying this was the reason the apparently obvious suspect had been ruled out.

‘Mother Zlovony???’ this second bit, with it’s tailing bolded question marks, puzzled Fredrick, and he read the word out loud to his companion with a raised brow: “Zo lov on ee?”

If the doctor's Russian was any good, he might recognize the phrase as Romanised misspelling the word ‘zlovonnyy’, or ‘зловонный’ in proper Cyrillic, which translated roughly into the word ‘fetid’.

Finally, at the bottom of the page, written with confidence and circled thrice, was a single word: 'Witches.

 

[Pith]

Thom accepted the sheet of paper and moved to the jars and containers that had already been used, immediately setting upon making a mix. He wasn't overly familiar with the medical application when it came to the doctor's supplies, but had been instructed more than once to mix up simple, common concoctions on Dr. Walker's behalf. Combined with the fact that he was the one keeping track of the inventory and ordering stock, he felt capable of at least handing that much.

Of all present in the room, Thom had the least interest in the body and its various additional guests and in his mind the least business poking around inside it. No doubt the doctor would be talking of nothing else for days, so whatever there was to be gained in examining would be thoroughly explored via exposition to a captive audience. Besides, he'd been raised with a healthy dose of good old fashioned being told not to stick his nose in where it didn't belong, lest he call more trouble his way.

It didn't really work overall, he found, since he worked for a trouble-finder, but still.

While waiting for Robert to finish jotting down his thoughts, Elijah had carefully circled the table, following the line of the worm as best he could, trying to estimate its entire length. Although he'd been initially interested in the flies, the star of the show had somewhat shifted, and more than anything else he wanted to try and extract as much of it as he could.

Had it spread that far after death? he wondered. How could she not have felt it, if not? What was its purpose? Where was its point of entry?

When the paper was proffered he read it twice before frowning. The two names given meant absolutely nothing to him, and as for the last part...

Witches were real, obviously, but... well, they were terribly old-fashioned. Every day brought another cog to the literal machine that was becoming the modern era, and between scientific and medical communities that made up the majority of Elijah's life, there was little in the way of actual information. His interest in the more unusual and macabre possibilities of mixing science and the Unknown had been, until this point, largely theory, as he had no one to consult with.

Now he seemed to have found the closest thing he knew to an expert, and he couldn't just. Talk. Marvelous.

"I...don't suppose you have some sort of reference you could recommend on witches?" he asked mildly. Most libraries were likely to laugh him out of the building if he attempted to start there.

 

[sspky]

Robert responded to Dr. Walker's question with a frown and a clear beat of hesitation. He had some books back at the apartment and stacks of his personal notes, but he was entirely unwilling to part with either. There were all sorts of curios and private libraries scattered around London if you knew just how to find them, but Robert faced a bit of dilemma: if he wrote down any names for the doctor, who then went out and got himself killed, he and his partner would once again be unemployed.

So he shrugged and looked pointedly towards Fredrick.

His partner returned the shrug in a gesture dripping with silent sarcasm and answered the doctor's question instead, “It’s complicated. There’s a lot of references out there. The trick is finding the truth beneath the folk-stores and propaganda.”

He said that last word with obvious distaste but didn’t pause to offer any explanation. Instead, he continued, “I’m sure Robert can get back to you in a few days with some proper notes.”

This earned him a sharp look from his friend, so he quickly amended, “We’ll have to negotiate a price for the time and effort it takes to make suitable copies, of course.”

 

[Pith]

"Of course," Elijah agreed immediately, fully expecting to have to pay for information, whatever the form it came in. But copies were better than loaners, and if he could amass a small private library of his own over time that would be ideal. "And, if possible, identifying some of the more common propaganda would be appreciated."

Lord knew, whatever it was, he'd probably heard it and assumed it to be true. Far as he knew, he'd never met a witch, and the only reading on the subject during his courses at medical school had been excerpts from Malleus Maleficarum and Daemonologie, which his professors had insisted most vigorously were still considered to be the foremost credible published authorities on the supernatural. He'd very much doubted it at the time, but he read his passages, and even done a bit of extended reading when he happened upon a copy in the army reverend's little collection. It had passed the time and gave a lot of examples that matched rumors of things he'd heard about, but never seen personally.

"Now, I really want to get back to Ms. Cokkrin before everything liquefies--Fredrick, if you'll follow me to operating room," Elijah said, already taking off at a brisk pace. There was a hose in the lab, but there was a chance it might aggravate the injury with the pressure, plus his gauze and spare shirts were back towards the wash area, as nothing had ever injured him in the lab before. He would have to make some changes, considering the potentially volatile nature of his new specimens.

Behind him, Thom shook his head as he finished the mixture, taking it over to the various parts of the room and table that had been splattered. "You might want to go with him if you wanna haggle that price," he recommended to Robert. He was sure Fredrick was capable of a price, but Robert had given the initial estimate, and it sounded as though he would be the one doing the copying. "He tends to get pissy when he had to deal with things unrelated to whatever project is in front of him."

 

[sspky]

Fredrick followed the doctor out of the lab, his hands still opening and closely absentmindedly at his side. Robert had lingered a moment longer, his attention still on the thoroughly desecrated body lying before him. He realized with ill-humour that he seemed to have grown used to the smell.

Thoms comment earned him a dry huff of an exhale that was about as close to a laugh as the mute could muster. Robert had noticed an unusual familiarity between the two men, that made Thom seem like less of a run-of-the-mill man-servant and more a genuine friend.

As he turned to follow the other two out of the room, Robert idly adjusted the necklace he wore - a gesture that made him suddenly very aware of just how underdressed he currently was. With a private scowl, he hurried on after the two.

It was Fredrick's turn to lean up against the operating table, his arms folded loosely at his chest. He watched with cool amusement as Robert shuffled awkwardly in behind them and immediately collected his drying shirt and still-damp neckerchief.

“I’m thankful for the medical assistance, Doctor.” Fredrick said easily, “You’ll save Rob and I the hassle of visiting a chemist.”

 

[Pith]

If he had been asked, Thom would have denied friendship with the doctor, though he would admit to the unusual familiarity. It didn't come out often, at least not when there were others around. On an average day in the office he was much like Robert, silent and uncommunicative unless absolutely necessary, as most of the patients and callers wouldn't have taken him terribly seriously, given his background and lack proper niceties. Obviously, conduct did not need to be particularly reserved in front of men who had just delivered a rotting corpse. Others would have obviously hired someone more qualified to be a doctor's assistant, or at least set out expectations of conduct, but the doctor didn't ask him to play at being something he wasn't in order to work with him, only to do his job. They weren't friends, but he had proven himself to be useful.

Far as he was concerned, 'useful' was probably the best place one could be when it came to Dr. Walker.

Elijah had practically stripped from his apron and gloves in the hall, tossing them on a table as he carefully undid his vest and shirt before disposing of them into the same waste receptacle housing Robert's old coat. Wearing only his undershirt would afford him better access to his own injuries, and he gathered his kit and rags before turning on all three sink taps.

"Of course," he laughed, gesturing for Fredrick to use the far tap. "I'd be a sorry excuse for a physician if I didn't, especially considering the circumstances. Just rinse the stuff off, then just keep flushing it out for a few minutes." He was wetting the wash clothes and starting to clean off the substance. It would be a little more difficult for him, considering how far up they were, but he refused to waste time on a shower. "Do keep me in mind if either of you find yourself in need--I'm sure we can come to a service arrangement."

He had every confidence the men were capable of discretion if the timing was during normal hours, and if he could arrange a small discount in exchange for proper, quality medical service, so much the better.

 

[sspky]

Fredrick thought that if Dr. Walker knew exactly how often these two wound up beaten, stabbed, cut, burned, or otherwise pulverized, he might not be so forthcoming with his medical services. Still, such an arrangement would certainly be beneficial, and he wasn’t about to look the gift horse in the mouth, so to speak.

“Good of you to offer,” the black-haired man said as he ran his hands beneath the cool tap water. With the white, crusty remains of Roberts concoction finally off his skin, Fredrick had a decent look at the burns he’d earned himself tonight.

Overall, the damage didn’t seem too bad. There was going to be a scar on the back of his right hand, but given the state his flesh was already in, the mark would find itself in fairly good company.

“Tell me, doctor,” Fredrick said after a long, quiet moment. He turned his attention from his wounded hands to the man at the sink next to him, his gray-eyed gaze once again fixed with an edge of sharp intensity, “You don’t know much about the dark arts, apparently, yet you're asking us to bring you samples its influences. Are you prepared, in the least, to receive such specimens?”

Behind them, Robert listened carefully. He had redressed quickly and was collecting the assortment of tools he’d left on the operating table.

 

[Pith]

Elijah laughed and didn't even spare Fredrick a look, he was concentrating on the small mirror in front of time, bright blue studying his own injuries. "Apparently, in the practical sense, not so well as I'd thought!"

Unlike Fredrick or Robert, Elijah could not boast of a set of scars to call his own. Oh, here and there were neat little lines that spoke of precision cuts and stitches, but there was nothing visible anyone had ever thought to comment on, at least anywhere obvious. But looking at his reflection, he felt that was very much about to change. Assuming he didn't have any complications it would heal, but the angry red skin was likely to draw questions about his at-home experiments for some time to come.

"You know," he continued conversationally, having discarded one rag so full of sediment for another and placing it over the sores as a sort of cold compress. "It's really quite astonishing what they don't prepare you for in medical school. And of course, nurses at down at intake wouldn't bother me with patients like Ms. Cokkrin, what with the flies and all. What do you do about flies?"

Finally turning to meet Robert's cool gaze with his own, he still looked every bit as excited as he had in the restaurant, despite nursing fresh wounds.

"This is the first time I've had the leave and means to indulge in... certain interests, you see. Originally I was going to ask you to retrieve a book for me, but how could I pass up an opportunity I had personally witnessed as almost certainly supernatural?" He shrugged, as though this were the clearest thing in the entire world to understand. "Obviously, I've a few changes to make, some things to read up on, but my risks are my business, after all."

 

[sspky]

“Your risks extend to us, Dr. Walker,” Fredrick reminded his employer.

He wasn’t simply referring to their current business arrangement, although that was certainly at the forefront of Fredrick's mind. They were the ones who would be macabre trophies and while Fredrick hardly cared what chaos might befall the streets on London should some careless sorcerer or nieve professor accidentally unleash the writhing tentacles of cosmic terror, he would rest easier knowing that the things he collected were being properly contained.

After all, wonton chaos wasn’t necessarily good for business, especially if their new arrangement caught the attention of the Church or of Her Majesty's Secret Service.

Robert, meanwhile, genuinely thought the doctor was strolling casually towards his own grave.

“We can certainly provide you with relevant educational material,” Fredrick added, his eyes drifting down the doctor's throat, to those angry new wounds that marked his apparently otherwise undamaged skin. “I’m sure you can appreciate the sort of trouble that accompanies ignorance.”

 

[Pith]

"You asked after my receptive capacities. If I should ask the unreasonable of you, in your professional estimations, by all means, I'll defer to your judgement."

He might not be happy about the loss of a prospective specimen, but being something of an expert in his own field allowed him enough insight to know where his knowledge and experience ended. Regarding the injury Fredrick sustained in his lab, he would bare none of the responsibility. The man had asked to overlook the autopsy of his own accord. Had he and his partner simply taken their money and gone he expected he would be in a great deal more pain and with fewer options to consider going forward, but he wouldn't blame the outcome of the delivery on the people he'd engaged for it.

"Though I'd be appropriately grateful for the educational material," he added quickly. Truly, he simply hadn't known where to start beyond rumors of a simple book, and when a body had instead presented itself... well, he'd always been more of a hands-on learner.

While it was unlikely education would make him pass on a risky opportunity, at least he could be better prepared for it. He might have been walking towards his own grave, but at least it was on a more interesting path than simple time would allow.

He replaced his wash cloth, noting while it still stung, the sensation was markedly less bothersome. After a final rinse he went in for the gauze, turning to Fredrick with every intention of tending to his hand first. "And if you have any suggestions for precautions or installations I should undertake then I will endeavor to install them as soon as possible."

 

[sspky]

“Invest in iron,” Fredrick replied with a wolfish smile, “And salt -- of all verities and origins.”

He held his wounded hands out for the doctor, his grin lingering and his gaze once again fixed on his employer's bespectacled face. In no way did he blame anyone but himself for tonight's injuries. It was a sentiment he was certain Robert shared -- if the sharp looks his partner kept throwing his way were anything to go by.

As the doctor saw to his wounds, he continued, “Consider brushing up on your sacred geometry, as well. I’ll have Robert write you down a few sigils.”

Once you started looking into the paranormal, the paranormal had a nasty habit of looking back. It was wise to keep your property and valued possessions properly warded. Fredrick and Robert both had their share of tattoos and intentional branding, and their apartment contained all manner of secret charms and etchings designed to keep unwanted forces out of their home.

“Speaking of Robert and his fine penmanship,” Fredrick said, “There’s still the matter of our compensation -- both for services rendered tonight and for the aforementioned educational texts.”

 

[Pith]

( "prospective prospect" WOW I cannot write apparently. /edits I only ever catch awful snags when I'm a full response behind.)

Elijah snickered as he wrapped soft, clean gauze securely around Robert's hand. "Iron and salt. Really."

It was hard to say if he was surprised or not. Those were the things he had heard so often he assumed it was just folkloric nonsense, superstition taken to its highest form, but if his current hired labor was telling him to heed it, true to his word, he would do so first thing in... well, perhaps not the morning, given the early hour, but as soon as he was able to tear his attention from the body in his lab. And as far as the sacred geometry went, he had learned some in school, but with little explanation or application save for the notion of it being important to some people and to be on the look out for it.

It was a miracle as many doctors were alive as there were, he thought, if they were all so woefully underprepared to deal in the supernatural. In the back of his mind he wondered if Thom took any precautions he was unaware of, growing up far from institutional education as he was.

But business beckoned, even as he secured the gauze and dug through the wash cabinets. "Yes, of course--before that: if the wound gets hot, apply this," he instructed, handing over a vial of lotion, then one of pills. "And take one of those every six hours until it stops. If it gets cold, or numb... return here." A skin graft may be necessary at that point, but at least it would likely happen to him as well, so he would be prepared to deal with it. "Now. Your fees?"

 

[sspky]

(( lolol, I didn’t even notice. Also, Robert's nicked cigarettes from Thom this time. ))

Fredricks grin tightened a little at Dr. Walker's skepticism, but he made no further comment. Instead, he took the two bottles from the man and pocketed both. Soon enough both of those items would wind up in Robert's pocket, alongside a small case of cigarettes pilfered from Thom sometime during the attraction in the laboratory.

Robert knew his friend well enough to know that if he didn’t mind the medication, Fredrick would surely consume the lot of it in one go, and then likely vomit it up hours later. Or die. Either was a possibility, and neither Robert cared to deal with.

“You owe £25 for tonight,” Fredrick was saying, “We’ll consider the medical attention fair trade for Roberts little concoction, and the information I’ve passed on to you. For the papers Rob will write for you, we’ll give you a single page per pound, and I've no guarantees how useful you’ll find any given page. Robert's work is good, though, so I doubt you’ll be disappointed.”

 

[Pith]

(( aint that just the way~~
jsyk I adore the fact that Fredrick is such an Utter Disaster that he seems to get sick from the slightest overindulgence. I don't know why but I find it personally very endearing. ))

Elijah nodded at the verbal itinerary, moving to tie off a length of gauze around his neck with less than half the care he had taken on Fredrick's wounds, the moving on to tape the thin fabric over his jawline with hardly a care. Visually, it didn't really make a different to him if it healed cleanly, but if he started to feel unless he would surely notice in short order. Half of bedside manner, to his mind, was projecting enough confidence in what he did for the other so they would feel comfort just in the gesture itself. He didn't have to extend such care to himself.

"That seems fair," he agreed, nodding. If, after a couple instances of recieving information, he was unsatisfied with the content, he could always stop paying. That was the beauty of an arrangement based on currency, in his mind. Now that he had an office space of his own and regular customers, funds were something he didn't have to worry over quite so often. And surely his assistant, who, among other things, balanced his books, would let him know if he was grossly over spending. "Thom has the rest of tonight's payment in cash, so just speak to him about it. I'll let him know about the information arrangement going forward."

Once his neck was bandaged, Elijah pulled a fresh, crisp white shirt from a drawer stuffed with at least half a dozen, forgoing his vest and reassuming his apron and gloves.

 

[sspky]

(( Bastards got a pickled liver and an opium habit. He’s basically a walking dumpster fire. ))

Fredrick nodded. It seemed their business had just about concluded, and he could tell by his companion's relentless fidgeting and pointed glances, that Rober was just about at the end of his tether.

“Well, all the best to you then, doctor.” Fredrick said, “I do hope you enjoy your new worm-maggot-,” he made a vague gesture that seemed to say ‘or whatever’, “-specimen. Robert, let’s leave the man to his work.”

His partner seemed visibly relieved at this. Popping a cigarette in between his lips, Robert followed Fredrick out of the operating room, and back towards the laboratory.

“Tom,” Fredrick greeted the man. It was unclear if he was intentionally misnaming him, or if he genuinely didn't notice, “I understand you’re the man to speak to regarding tonight's payment. Do hurry with it, we’d like to be off.”

 

[Pith]

(( My brand. ))

"And you gentlemen," Elijah responded cheerily, though he made no move to wave them off or see them out, preoccupied with getting a new shirt on and re-suiting up in his gloves, apron, and toolkits.

After covering every bit of surface he could find that had been splashed by the acid spray, Thom had dumped a fair amount of the concoction on and around the the drain in the floor, to mitigate what damage he could to the pipes. With the others out of the room he finally took a brief look at the young lady's remains, wincing at the long form of the contracted parasite beneath her skin. It wasn't his first time seeing something similar, though he had not admit he'd never seen one that long before.

The body he left untouched. The doctor wouldn't want him messing with it, and he didn't feel compelled to tidy something that was going to be broken down.

Thom met the pair back in the loading dock, where he had intended to take a beat before dealing with the cart, and halfway though a swig from his flask. He didn't react to the slight error to his name, as it certainly wasn't the first time, but he did finish his drink and put the cap back on before nodding. "Right. Wait here." He wasn't gone long--it was a quick jaunt up the stairs and through the small waiting room to the doctor's office, and even with daylight only barely beginning to spill in through the windows he could navigate his furniture and ring of keys without the aid of laps.

When he returned he tossed a sack heavy with gold crowns to Fredrick, passing them both to throw a switch and open the back door for them. Gears whirred once again, the various gates unlocking.