(no subject)

[spelleton]

A -- freshly peeled post-transformation

[ Depending on where you encounter him, Ekkehardt might be lying unconscious on the floor of his bathroom, grudgingly wringing out his bloodstained clothing, or carting buckets to a patch of abandoned soil, where he's dug a pit.

What he's carrying is best not described in too much detail. ]

B

[ Sometimes you can find Ekkehardt cutting apart clothing he's bartered for and patiently stitching it back into something resembling bandages. Other times, he's debating with the guards. It's usually for more medical supplies - things he can't get or make easily.

He comes away satisfied, sometimes, with an agreement bargained for. Other times, he's empty-handed and frustrated. ]

C

[ He's making his rounds, as usual. Everyone gets checked up on, whether they like it or not, no matter what state they're in (sometimes because of the state they might possibly be in). If you have something that ails you, Ekkehardt will try his best to ease it with the limited amount of medical supplies he has. ]

Comments

A.

[nor_iron_bars]

[As always, Jail views locked doors as more of an amusing puzzle than a serious barrier to entry. Over the course of her career, it's lead her to many interesting things.]

Hey doc, you wanna help me settle an argu- oh shit.

[Today, it's lead her to seeing Ekkehardt passed out on his bathroom floor.]

[Cautiously, she moves closer, hoping this looks worse than it is.]

You awake there, buddy? Can you hear me?

[spelleton]

[ He groans faintly, newly and fully grown wings twitching as they work, on instinct, to rid themselves of the last of the blood and fluid that's coating the semi-translucent feathers (if they can even be called that; they look something between cartilage and ice - delicate, see-through things veined thinly in black). ]

Ugh. [ He picks himself up off the floor in increments, from all fours to sitting back on his knees and finally raising his head. Flesh and blood has completely cleaved from him to reveal nothing but bone.

He examines a newly skeletal hand with the detached fascination of someone who's definitely still not all there yet. ]

Well, I'll have to get these clothes cleaned. I'd say they're ruined, but I can't afford to throw them out... [ He sounds dazed. ]

[nor_iron_bars]

[Jail can feel her shoulders, where her own wings are just beginning to grow, twitch involuntarily at the sight. No one knows where you'll end up, on this ride.]

[Case in point, apparently you can end up completely devoid of skin.]

Well, fuck.

[It's gruesome even by her standards, but at this point she's pretty sure she can't get even more infected, so she crouches down beside Ekkehardt and puts a hand out for him to grab onto if he needs to steady himself.]

Yeah, nope, that is an ex-jacket. The shirt's toast, too. You wanna save cash so bad, I'll sweet-talk a new one outta the guards for you, but you ain't wearing that.

[Seriously, she's worn the same pair of pants for worryingly long periods of time before, she gets it, but it's got fucking organ meat on it. Even with bleach, that's just not going to work.]

Besides, I think you're gonna need a new size anyway- it looks like you've lost some weight.

[When in doubt, resort to gallows humor.]

[spelleton]

At least my body saw fit to rid itself of unnecessary organs a few days ago. [ His voice is shaky, but dry. Humor is the only defense he has for something so horrific and blatantly in defiance of all medical science that he can't believe he's still alive from it. ]

Of course, what it deemed unnecessary was all of my organs, but the mess now could have been worse.

[ He shrugs off his shirt, turning it over. It's a pity he likes to wear white; the cloth has been stained irreversibly black. ]

I can salvage it as cleaning material, I suppose. [ He glances around at the nightmarish biohazard that his bathroom has become. ]

Are you certain you want to be around for this?

[nor_iron_bars]

Fucking appendix should've pulled its' weight when it had the chance.

[She smiles, more gentle and weary than her usual shiteating grin. Sometimes, all you can do is be there for someone. And also help them decontaminate their bathroom.]

[In an incongruously cheery tone, she replies:]

I super do not, but I'm gonna. I promise to only complain about it when I think it'd be funny.

[There is absolutely zero chance that either of them will enjoy doing this, but even less of a chance that she'll just leave him to do it by himself.]

[spelleton]

If you can find anything funny in this mess, you're a stronger person than I.

Could you get me as many buckets as you can find? I only have two.

[ He looks around the horrible gory mess. Then, completely deadpan: ] I'll need a few more, I think.

[nor_iron_bars]

Can do, be right back. [Jail ducks out the door with one last faintly worried look back at Ekkehardt, and is gone for about three minutes. In this time, there are two distant, muffled clattering noises and the sound of what might be a dog barking?]

[In retrospect, the fact that Ekkehardt didn't think to specify how she should get those buckets is probably a sign of how bad he's feeling right now.]

[But in the end, she does return, not visibly injured or being chased by anyone. So it's probably fine.]

Wasn't sure how many we'd need, so I just grabbed a lot. [There's a stack of five buckets in her arms, all of them mismatched.]

B

[accidentallich]

No luck this time?

[Bartering with the guards can be hit or miss. Gershom's lucky that he has something to sell and a guard who consistently buys it from him.]

[spelleton]

Not this time. [ He sounds sour, but he softens quickly around Gershom. ]

I'll just have to try again later. It's frustrating when we always seem to have less supplies than we need, but I suppose it's hard to justify sending medical supplies when the rest of civilisation would rather forget us.

[accidentallich]

We're lost causes. I'm sure plenty of people don't even think we can get more sick than we are.

[The skeletons may not, usually, but other people still do.]

I have a little to spare, if you need it? I've already bought cat food for the month.

[spelleton]

We're plague carriers who don't even die conveniently. How unfortunate for them. [ He can't muster up much sympathy for the outside world, seeing these conditions. His memories of a life before this are beginning to become distant. ]

[ He shakes his head. ]

Save it for something else. I'll manage, even if I have to trade off a few things.

[accidentallich]

If you're certain... But I'd be happy to help if you need.

[It's been long enough that Gershom doesn't remember being outside the quarantine at all. Even so, he can't blame them. What's happened to the infected is terrifying.]