Room for One More? (E 1.5, L 1.6)

"Alright, then." I respond. "Shrike will take you to breakfast, assuming you haven't eaten yet. Then you can see your patient." I give out the itinerary, then dismiss them, before continuing down the corridor leading to Mynah's workshop.

I wince when I enter the workspace, even though I had half expected it to reek. I stride over to the bench to strap a painter's mask to my face, the filters blocking out the malodor. I watch Mynah at work for a few minutes. I feel like I should interrupt and ask her how I can help. That's what I would do for Kestrel. But this is Mynah. I don't think help is what she needs or wants. Instead, I leave her to her task and pick up a nearby broom, dustpan, and cleaning rag and begin to clean up her shop. If she notices me and wishes to converse, I will. But if not, I will continue to love her in this way.

I'm crouching down to sweep debris into the metal dustpan when she speaks. I look up to her, listen, then continue to work for a few more moments while I collect my thoughts. "You didn't throw away your time with him. Every time we went to the bar, you spoke with him first. And he reserved his biggest smiles for you."

I toss the dirt and dust into a metal bin. It's nearly full and the trash barge isn't due for another four days. If it comes on time. I set the cleaning tools down and turn back to her. "You did the right thing, Mynah, keeping him out of the life. Gave him more time. Gave him the freedom to choose his own path." I'm not sure why anyone would choose total independence and hunger over the community and purpose the Talons offer, but I don't coerce any to join or to stay. It has to be a choice.

Adrift. A soul without anchor, yet still weighed down. No final resting place. In my darkest moments, it's what I fear most. That my faith is something that gives meaning only in life, but is ultimately meaningless in death. Through my visions, I've glimpsed the hope that those who die with purpose are truly granted an afterlife of everlasting meaning and freedom. Working in Poseidon's Belly meant that Kiwi never had much chance to die with purpose, but Harpy gunning him robbed him of the slim hope he had.

Not for the first time, the image of Helix swims to the surface of my thoughts. I don't want one with so much promise and potential to share the same fate as Mynah's boy. But I won't force her to leave her life in the midden of the city.

"I will ask the Gray Wing to save his soul, to make an exception. But it may come with a cost, Mynah." There's always a price.

"If you don't mind, Miss Shrike, I'd rather see to your dear one before eating. You said her name is Aloe?" I feel that my fate is oddly tied to this girl. I wouldn't be surprised that in the event of her passing, I wouldn't be far behind. "I seem to have a way with restorative arts, something... instinctual about how to bring the body back into balance."

Shrike doesn't seem to be in a hurry, as her pace is clearly matching mine. Not to mention they fully intended to have me eat prior to visiting Aloe. Still, I have wandered a little outside of my normal routine to say the least, and my appetite seems to have not yet found me.

As we continue down the archaic halls, I try to see what I can learn about the girl. "Miss Shrike, would you mind telling me a little more about Miss Aloe? Anything about her history - when or where her illness began? Has anything particularly unusual happened that would give me any insight as to how to help her?"

Edmund,

This is Aloe:


She's covered in a sheen of sweat as she tries to sit up in the makeshift bed in the corner by the window. The sunlight is bright this morning and she squints against it as she peers at you curiously while Shrike makes introductions in a gentle voice.

What do you do?

The brightness of the sun streaming in through the window illuminates a room that is pleasantly, and surprisingly, well kept. It seems Shrike makes a relatively significant effort at keeping the space suitable for Aloe. Aloe seems to be about Paisley's age, but it is hard to tell since she is not in good health.

"Chained to the ship!?" I speak softly to Shrike. I'm shocked by the barbaric treatment of the young girl. "Did she appear ill when you found her? How long ago was that?"

I move close to Aloe to inspect her. As I slowly approach the makeshift bed, I kneel down and slide in closer. I want her to feel that I'm as harmless as possible.

"Hi Miss Aloe, my name is..." I'm about to say Edmund when I think of what Litch called me earlier. "...Mundo!" My tone is still rather quiet, but I'm doing my best to be a bit silly with her. Again, memories of my times with Paisley spring to mind. "I hope you don't mind but I'm here to help! Is it okay if I feel your forehead and throat?"

I meet Mynah's gaze with stoic appraisal. I breathe deeply and nod. "Alright. Come with upstairs with me. We'll pray together." I turn toward the large double-doors that lead back inside, holding one open and turning back to her to wait for her response.

Litch,
Mynah finishes up her work, putting away the paste and her goggles so she can join you. She looks resolute, ready to make good on your offer.

"It sounds funny, doesn't it? 'Mundo'. I'm finally starting to feel like it may actually suit me." I say with a big smile and hushed tones. It certainly seems like a lung disease, simply based on how she's breathing. I see speckles of blood staining the sleeves of her shirt - spattered from coughing. Her fever is evident the moment I make contact with her forehead.

My heart sinks as a particular illness jumps to my mind. I tenderly cup my hands over her eyes, one at a time, to provide a dark, makeshift tube I can peer through. A faint shimmer is visible - confirming my suspicion, and my worry. Pulmocor - a rather uncommon disease that impacts both the lungs and heart. She was likely exposed to some airborne toxin for a prolonged period of time. As those toxins are breathed in, they hijack the blood cells so as the body circulates the contaminated cells the blood vessels are violently broken down beginning with the capillaries. One of the earliest signs is an iridescent shimmer in the eyes caused as the contaminated blood gets to work shredding the blood vessels near the surface of the eye.

I sit back on my heels and take her hand. "I know what you are fighting, and I know how to help. I'm going to do absolutely everything in my power to make sure you'll be able to spread your wings again soon! If you have any questions about it let me know. I'm going to go talk to Miss Shrike to see how quickly we can get the materials I need to help you."

I stand and walk back to Shrike taking up a position near the door at the opposite side of the room from Aloe.

"Miss Shrike, as I said this is a disease known as Pulmocor. It is definitely more likely to be terminal for children and adolescents than it is for adults. Still, it is possible for it to be transmitted to those around her - even though she is no longer around the source of the toxic air." I look admirably around the room, "I believe that may be a low risk though since you seem to have been doing a great job at keeping her space well ventilated, and clean."

If we are still early enough in the progression of this disease I may be able to treat her, but if it is established... well, we can cross that bridge if needed. "I'll need some supplies. A sterile transfusion kit is most critical. Her infected blood cells will continue to be forced through her body. Normally, those infected cells would be broken down through phagocytosis and replaced by fresh cells, but think of this disease as giving the cells a barbed armor. Her blood effectively has a bunch of tiny shrapnel coursing through it that won't break down on its own. I'll need to perform an exchange transfusion - replacing her blood with healthy blood."

I look back to Aloe as she uncontrollably coughs into her sleeves, but continue speaking quietly with Shrike, "I hope the damage to her body is still mild enough to get her back on her feet."

I reach out my hand to take hold of hers and lead her back inside toward the stairs. Nobody calls out to us as we walk silently side-by-side, though there are several of our people nearby. All seem to recognize and respect the somber mood with which we carry ourselves. When we reach our bedchambers, I begin to sanctify the area and prepare again for the ritual. When everything is ready, I finally break the silence, motioning for her to kneel at my side. "We will mix our blood together and I will make first contact. Is there anything you would like to give to the Gray Wing as tribute before we begin?"

I give Shrike what I hope to be a reassuring smile. "Best case scenario, I was hoping you already had a kit." I chew on my lip as I consider what other resources we would have for collecting the materials. "We could try to barter for these, though I have little to offer."

I think quietly for a while before an alternative jumps to mind. "We could try subsurface scavenging. I typically think subsurface scavenging to be a fool's errand - but for this, we could at least focus our efforts on specific locations. If we can locate a derelict medical facility - we might have a real shot. They used to vacuum seal many of the supplies that I would find useful, so they may have aged phenomenally." I'm surprised at how excited I am at the thought of venturing out, and potentially exploring a forgotten space.

"A Librarian may be able to connect us to a resource too." I don't know how much I can trust any connection I've had in the past right now though, so this may be a more reliable place to start. "What do you think?"