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 DEUS MEDICINAE APERTUS SIC
CAMERON KINGSON
 Posted: Aug 21 2012, 06:14 PM


WRITTEN BY
FERRIS

N/A
N/A YEARS OLD
BRITISH-AUSTRIAN
VETERINARIAN & CURATOR
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searching for aesculapius
Do you remember the late morning When we went back to bed, When we found the first position And every muscle rested I do remember that I already knew It was the last time, The last time for first positions The last time you'd be mine Do you remember the scars I showed you The stories I told you How I always said forever When you aksed me to stay true Do you remember when we forgot How to smile at each other To believe that the other Want only what's good for you
Cold air scraped its way past his lips, filling his lungs in panicked gulps as though the intake of oxygen would make up for an outpouring of another kind – this gory mess which a serrated blade had liberated from the flesh over and beneath his ribs, while its owner had simultaneously freed him of his wallet and other valuable belongings. With each weighted pulse of his heart he felt more of his own blood pushed from the wound, now seeping through the fabric of shirt, too large to be contained any longer by the pressure one hand could supply.

Brilliant. The redhead squeezed his eyes shut, allowing himself to catch his breath thus as he leaned against the iron of a nearby fence. Why, oh why, had he ever left his apartment this morning? He somehow still found it in him to huff at that. To say today had been a bad day would have been an understatement, mugging aside. He prised himself from the fence post, its cold metal pressing against him at uncomfortable angles – the sort of mild, niggling ache that only sharpened the true pain erupting from the gash in his side. Some, still histrionic part of him reasoned that this was the physical embodiment of the spiritual trial he had gone through earlier at the museum.

It had started with a man – a doctor of some kind or another – whom he had thought he would like. To be fair, Cameron had never prided himself on good judgement when it came to people in the museum. Everyone seemed more decent than they really were when surrounded by ancient works of art and various artefacts. That was, until they suggested something as asinine as ridding that space of said treasures to make room for...lepers and hospital beds, or some such nonsensical thing. Cameron had promptly proceeded to close his ears against such arguments as 'patient's lives are more important than museums”. What kind of lives could they expect to have when they remained ignorant of the wonders of antiquity? Clearly, the mutterings of 'barbarian' and 'heathen' in Classical Latin were not out of line – deserved even! Heaven knows, even now....well, perhaps now...he would not have visited that witchdoctor for any of his medical needs had he been the last “physician” in London.

He wasn't sure if the purple lights dancing in his line of sight were from loss of blood or his synesthetic response to the throb of pain that came with every movement of his diaphragm. Somewhere, in that confused, shock induced fog he supposed it was for the best that he hadn't insulted the man in a language the barbarian could understand. It was his big mouth that had gotten him in the predicament of walking, bleeding to the only free clinic- hell, the only clinic in staggering distance- he knew to be on the outskirts of the city after all. Apparently, telling off the man assaulting you, simply wasn't good form. He'd have to brush up on his victim etiquette. The snark made his ego feel a bit better, even if he could privately admit to himself that the words 'degenerate' and 'twat' did not lend themselves to his better negotiating phrases. Just as, despite his protests, insulting the other in Latin had certainly helped to pacify himself earlier.

Though, of course, now that he, himself, was beginning to feel lightheaded from his wounds, could – on some very small level – perhaps concede that antiquities were not at the top of his list at the present time. Bloody good making space for all those hospital beds was doing him now however...

Cameron stilled as he reached the gates of the alleged clinic. Grand columns, large windows, perfectly manicured lawn – It certainly didn't look free. Nor did it look much at all like a refuge for the ill, injured, and invalid of London. He pushed himself forward, up the steps to the door – it wasn't as though he had a banquet of choice. Bleed to death on the lawn or on the plush carpet of whoever owned this manor – and preferably a first aid kit, a needle and thread at the very least...surely... - ? Plush carpet won every time. Besides, it had to count for something, he reasoned, that he had managed to remember to ring the bell with his less bloody hand..

TAG: REX WORDS: 730. NOTES: So, changed it to a mugger >> <3
Made by LC @ Caution 2.0
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REX COUPE
 Posted: Aug 25 2012, 12:54 AM


WRITTEN BY
JADE

N/A
N/A YEARS OLD
English
Doctor
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And if you're homesick,
Give me your hand and i'll hold it
Eyes now heavy with tiredness, fatigue had really began to take its toll on the Doctor. His shoulders slumped with the burden of exhaustion that had seeped into his muscles and made them throb painfully. It was a desperate plea for him to take some well deserved rest and he would obey, as soon as he was finished fastening a clean bandage around his half-sleeping patient's shoulder. The man had been doped up on heavy painkillers after suffering nasty head injury and a broken shoulder. The blackout, once again responsible for the injuries of so many citizens. Poor guy had only been trying to get home and had ended up knocking himself out by walking into a lamppost. Hitting the ground had done the most damage. But now, he was in safe hands and with gentle, soothing hushes fluttering from between Rex's lips combined with the drugs, he got him to calm down and settle enough to drift off.

A sweet sensation of relief rippled through his body when finally, he straightened up and pushed himself and onto his feet. Well and truly ready to retire for the night and longing for the comfort and warmth that was promised when he allowed his limbs to become entangled beneath his sheets. And, all of a sudden, right on cue to completely demolish all feelings of relief, the high pitched chime of the door bell rang through the house. In automatic response, a loud groan of frustration was dragged from the back of Rex's throat and huffed out into the open. not now. He just wanted to go to bed. He wasn't in the mood to even read any more of his book. His pillow was crying out for attention upstairs in his room but no, there went the dreaded doorbell. As if Rex's day hadn't been awful enough already.

The rude man in the museum today had really gotten under his skin but the doctor, naturally was rather impressive when it came to keeping calm and smiling. Even if it was a grin through gritted teeth. It hadn't been easy explaining to that silly curator that she space was needed to save peoples lives but Rex adored history with a burning passion and he had completely lost count of how many times he had visited that museum. Yet, there was nothing more valuable than a human life. Nothing more precious and sacred and if that meant temporarily...mind you, sacrificing history, so be it. The man had acted as though he had brought a sledge hammer along with him and cackled manically whilst obliterating all of the precious artefacts into dust. When the request of simply moving them to the basement had been made, Rex had to refrain from laughing at the response. That had been the first time he had been called a barbarian..hopefully the last. But all the same, as ridiculous as it was, it had irritated the doctor who generally the patient of a saint. Even when dealing with idiots.

Moving a hand to his head, he pressed his fingers against his temple in frustration but wasted no time. He was moving toward the door without hesitation, pushing all thoughts of exhaustion to the back of his mind. He was going to have to deal with it and fortunately for whoever was disturbing the busy doctor, Rex was also very good at remaining focused when a medical emergency was handed to him, no matter his condition. Adrenaline was already surging through him and he hoped for the sake of whoever lay outside the door, they were in dire need of his help.

Throwing the door open, he came face to face with the next patient of the day and almost took a step back, thrown completely off by the face his gaze landed upon. Him? Really? and then, before he could stop himself, another audible groan flew from his mouth. But the moment he saw blood, the sound was completely smothered by silence. He felt his eyes growing as he took in the dreadful sight and his lips pressed together, swiftly calculating the amount of damage that this man had endured. Without a word, he reached forward and took hold of the man's shirt, gently tugging against the material to pull him into his home so he could get right to work before Cameron barely had a chance to muster some form of a reaction to who his saviour was. “I am surprised you chose a barbarian's home to get patched up at. You sure it is safe?” He snorted, professionalism entirely out of the window for a moment. He really couldn't help it. For once in a blue moon Rex was grumpy and this guy was the reason behind his foul mood. Funny how the world worked.

word count:803    ||    notes: This is a bit nhjbgvf but.
^
CAMERON KINGSON
 Posted: Aug 25 2012, 01:26 PM


WRITTEN BY
FERRIS

N/A
N/A YEARS OLD
BRITISH-AUSTRIAN
VETERINARIAN & CURATOR
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searching for aesculapius
Alone, such a simple word The sick gone easy in this world For I have longed but never stirred And given up what I could deserve Just to be beside you Just to be beside you This could almost be love This could almost be in love Let's not read all the signs Cos' there's a lot to be said for living a lie Just to be beside you
Cameron's eyes widened a bit in dumbstruck confusion as the door swung open and...Why him? Of all people – of all places – of all the rotten luck- Ire cut through his confusion as he took in the man standing at the threshold of the door. The other, it appeared, was tired and clearly no more pleased to see him, and that cantankerous little voice in the curator's mind silently hoped he had woken the other up. Cameron was not a fan of hospitals, really, truth be told he wasn't much of a fan of doctors either – not when he was the patient, and certainly not when this was the doctor in question. He didn't want to be wounded, or vulnerable, in a strange environment with a man who was the source of his bad day – before the thief, at least. He wanted to curl up next to his rabbit companion and feel well loved and well enough alone. He certainly didn't want to be... manhandled! (albeit gently) into the would-be clinic. Now, shaking with cold, was not perhaps the most appropriate time for cuddles, and he wasn't willing to throw away his life for a relatively trivial argument. At least, until he refocused on the doctor's scoffed commentary.

“I am surprised you chose a barbarian's home to get patched up at. You sure it is safe?” Cameron let out a low huff at the jibe, grimacing as even this small show of displeasure rekindled the sharpness of his pain, and forced him to immediately retract the gesture, shakily drawing in a hissed breath between gritted teeth. What good was being horribly injured if he could not even express his ….his mind readily supplied the word wrath with a pointed unhappiness at the hand still tangled in the front of his sweater. And that swaying! The steadily building rocking the other seemed to be insisting on, in addition to all his other unpleasantries. It was only after he had removed his blood drenched hand from its place clutched against his wound, and used it, perhaps a pettily, to grip at the good doctor's shoulder to steady himself, that he realized he, himself, was the cause of the tipping back and forth. Somewhere at the edge of his dizziness he felt – No. He didn't feel the least bit bad about ruining Dr. Coupe's shirt. Anything to stop that infernal dizziness, it was much easier to focus on his histrionic indignation than his gratitude besides,

”The Library of Alexandria was a bit farther to walk – and Gaius Julius beat me to it before I could wander in to have you bandage my wounds with Sophocles's original manuscripts. So, I suppose I'll have to make do with your...pagan witchery.” The corner of his mouth quirked up a bit at that, 'pagan witchery' – even Cameron has to admit that was a bit ridiculous especially given the house he found himself in. The house he was in...His mind reviewed the other's words with a flicker of guilt. Perhaps it wasn't...the best form to make fun of a man who opened up his own home to bloody messes like himself. Barbarian or otherwise – the pain stopped the giggle that threatened to bubble up at that. It was the shock, surely...or the loss of blood. The same reasons for his persistent shivering, and the chill that had been settling in despite the warmth of the house.

The curator shook his head a bit, trying to clear it of the purple spots that fogged his vision and the stray silly thoughts that were starting to creep in more and more – he was heading into a dangerous territory medically, he knew he needed to focus, and he still had enough panic clouded instinct to begin rambling at the only person qualified to help him at the present moment, ”Um, history aside – I'm feeling dizzy, and I've started seeing spots – I'm not sure whether that's my synesthesia or the loss of blood – the cold is really starting to set in, along with this shaking, and I can't remember what the proper procedure is for animals in shock aside from warmth, restraint, and oxygen – but I'm breathing fine as far as I can tell and um...the knife wound runs from my fifth? To my ninth rib? My blood type is AB+, and I'm not allergic to any medicines - “ He searched his mind for the other, relevant information, heartbeat hammering away in his ears, though he wasn't sure how helpful any of this was. More helpful than Socrates, at the given moment, certainly.

TAG: REX WORDS: 772. NOTES: <3
Made by LC @ Caution 2.0
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REX COUPE
 Posted: Sep 10 2012, 07:54 PM


WRITTEN BY
JADE

N/A
N/A YEARS OLD
English
Doctor
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And if you're homesick,
Give me your hand and i'll hold it
Swaying. So much swaying that Doctor Coupe was almost certain Cameron's eyes were going to roll in their sockets and he would simply drop to the floor in an unconscious heap. He automatically wrapped an arm securely around Cameron's middle. Helping to keep him upright and still so he didn't have to, later on down the line, hoist him off the ground after smacking into it face first. A result of shock, most definitely. He was displaying all the tell tale signs.
“Ah-ah!” He cried out loud all of a sudden, eyes widening when he watched him remove his hand from the wound that was clearly seeping blood and soaking the material of his jumper. Rex moved his free arm around Cameron's middle and pressed his own palm, flat against the spot. Applying pressure to prevent any further unnecessary blood loss.

Keeping his hand pressed firmly against his wound, Rex gently led him forward, allowing Cameron to rest his body weight against him. He guided him into the ward where all five of his patients were sleeping quite peacefully. Tucked up beneath their bedsheets, for one or two it was the most comfortable bed they had experienced in their life time. Yet for the most, they were only out like lights due to the administration of heavy narcotics that had done a wonderful job at creating drowsy numbness from their pain. Then allowed them to be at ease enough to drift off until morning. It was something he intended to do to this particular red head, once he had patched him up. He wasn't prepared to break the Hippocratic oath, not even for this one sorry imbecile that had ruined his day...and his shirt.

Eyes trailing down to find the pretty little smudges of red brushed along the front of his shirt, he failed to hold back a groan. The sound escaped him and he didn't even care about how unprofessional it must seem. Generally, things like blood didn't bother him. It was to be expected. He was a Doctor for goodness sake. Yet, Rex felt like this man had destoryed his brand new shirt just to spite him. It took him a lot of will power not to glare at Cameron who was by this point, clearly delusional and so he stuck with throwing him a blank stare instead. The corner of his mouth twitching irritably. With a deep breath, he removed his arm from its place wrapped around Cameron's middle and gently guided him down, to sit against an empty bed as he began to ramble absolute nonsense.
“Wake my patients and I swear I will sedate you.” He warned, voice firm yet still with the slightest hint of amusement hidden somewhere in there. It wasn't often he met anybody with more enthusiasm for Classics that he did and it was nice to hear...even from this shock suffering, self-assured excuse for a human. It seemed Doctor Coupe really was not a fan of Cameron Kingson.

“Besides, I am out of Sophocles's manuscripts, I was thinking I could perhaps use Cicero's original letters to Atticus to mop up your bleeding wound instead.” He hummed, trying to calm the smile that was desperate to tug at his lips. It didn't hover for long when more continuous babble erupted from Cameron's mouth and he shook his head, releasing gentle soothing sounds. “Hush, hush. Calm down, you just focus on remaining conscious and allow me to do the rest. Keep your hand here for a moment, lie back.” He uttered gently, removing his hand from the wound. Reaching behind him, he lifted the thick blanket that had been folded up on the bed and tugged it over Cameron's shoulders, hoping to trap in a little warmth. He then moved to tug open the bedside tray and removed a pair of fabric cutters. Without warning he took the scissors and quickly began to cut open his precious sweater. Destroying the material to gain clear access to his wound. It was the first time in his career he hadn't bothered to apologise for destroying items of clothing. Maybe he would have if Cameron hadn't ruined his shirt.

word count:697    ||    notes: Rex really doesn't like him, bro..

^
CAMERON KINGSON
 Posted: Sep 22 2012, 05:02 PM


WRITTEN BY
FERRIS

N/A
N/A YEARS OLD
BRITISH-AUSTRIAN
VETERINARIAN & CURATOR
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searching for aesculapius
Alone, such a simple word The sick gone easy in this world For I have longed but never stirred And given up what I could deserve Just to be beside you Just to be beside you This could almost be love This could almost be in love Let's not read all the signs Cos' there's a lot to be said for living a lie Just to be beside you
Salmon. That was the colour that accompanied the moment of stillness and steady support of an arm, that was not his own, wrapped securely about his middle. That certainly hadn't been what he was anticipating – the sudden warmth of another, a hand applying pressure to the cut along his side. His own limbs beginning to feel rather heavy, he allowed himself to lean into Dr. Coupe for support - not because he wanted any contact with the barbarian, surely. He supposed he really ought to be sorry for waking the man up at this hour, not to mention bleeding all over him, at least he should give the appearance of being apologetic...but that groan. The curator bit down on his lower lip to stop the snicker of amusement from escaping him. Served him right, really, making Cameron move all of the antiquities into storage. He had only just finished the third viewing room an hour ago...Was it an hour? He couldn't be sure through the hazy fog of injury and colour shows every sensation produced.

A weak huff escaped him at the mild threat, he doubted that the other “patients” so-called would be awoken by his speaking. The urge to yell out of spite was suppressed, not without some effort on his part, but in the end he found he really couldn't be bothered to cause a scene in the clinic. Not that he couldn't afford it – well, perhaps this was true as well, though certainly not as strong a motivator as the fatigue tugging at his consciousness, or the chill battering his senses. Wake his patients, what a load of bosh – he refrained from saying so in any case. The red-head reminded himself that this was not because he didn't feel like being insulting to the other, as though some part of him – that tired part – had suggested it, simply that it took too much effort to argue. Perhaps, though he was not willing to fully admit, especially when the other was sounding so amused.

He felt himself stilling, but for his shivers, at the gentle voice, nodding slowly as the other pulled a blanket around him. There was something familiar in that voice, not the growing familiarity of a voice one's mind is still becoming accustomed to, but rather that foggy, niggling of a memory long pushed to the corners of the mind. Something known there, in those features which shifted in and out of focus, obscured by the patches of green and black that continued to cloud his vision. Features that had been grown into...Something...Everything snapped sharply back into place at the appearance of a knife . He felt his body go rigid, muscles clenching painfully around his wound at the sight of the blade - no, no – scissors. This information registered on a purely visual level, unable to move beyond that sick, sudden knot of panic twisting his insides. One heartbeat, two. A breath rattled through his lungs as he forced the air past his lips, and then again...and again...until that instinctual fear had dissipated. He hadn't even time to feel affronted over the ruination of his sweater – if he was being honest, he supposed it really wasn't his favourite, and of course, his attacker had ruined it first...

Cameron managed a wan smile at the doctor, ”Apologies, not having the best luck with sharp objects tonight. This jumper and I are just a few wounds away from being Gaius Julius....it is the Ides today isn't it?” His nose crinkled in genuine amusement, trying to hold back the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he let his mind move sluggishly back to their earlier conversation, “Letters to Atticus, pfft. If we're going to give Old Tully a chance to show off, we might as well use the Philippics. “ The veterinarian let himself lay back more fully, shutting his eyes to the spinning world momentarily, and pushing aside the blood soaked fabric that clung, fluids half coagulated, to the gash opening his side. Now fully exposed to the chill in the air, freckled skin began to goosebump anew, and his shivers increased. Why did it have to be so bloody cold in here? He pressed a cold hand against his wound, stopping the warm blood escaping between his fingers. It registered somewhere that he oughtn't obstruct the doctor's view, but he imagined the good doctor really wouldn't appreciate blood seeping into the sheets anymore than he had appreciated it staining his shirt. Shirt be damned, it was an awful looking thing anyways, wasn't even blue. A sigh left him, blue...now...there was something about those blue eyes he couldn't quite place. Or maybe that was just his mind playing tricks on him, letting him see something familiar to trust in. Something he read somewhere, likely.

TAG: REX WORDS: 815 NOTES: UM THINGS. HE'LL COMPLAIN ABOUT THAT SWEATER LATER WHEN HE REMEMBERS <3
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