We're a small hospital that runs on donations. [Jonathan's tone is just a little bit icier there. He'll stand insults to his person well enough, but not to Haven.] It may be best if you don't speak during the procedure. It will only take longer.
[It takes a few minutes to get the various shots they need, moving the lead blanket and repositioning the machine manually for each shot. Luckily, the technology is such that he's able to see the images as they're generated. They make it up to Anderson's thighs and stop.]
Please come with me to one of the examination rooms, Father Anderson.
[If Anderson is polite enough to comply, Jonathan will lead him out and shut them into a room. He gestures on himself, indicating the upper thigh.]
You have one here. I can have an OR prepped in a few hours or we can schedule you for something tomorrow night to have it extracted.
[He catches that icy edge. He hadn't meant it as an insult. Rather, an observation, but he doesn't try to explain himself. Instead he takes that advice - to remain quiet, and he maintains the silence until it's time to leave.]
Just a moment. I'm putting my shoes back on.
[Which he does while sitting in a chair, and only then does he follow Jonathan into the examination room, sitting down with his folded coat and clergy jacket in his lap. The moment he has the necessary information, he casually retrieves the disposable mat draped over the examination bed, drops it on the seat of the chair, and starts to unbutton his trousers.]
That would just be a waste of both our time.
[No, he's perfectly capable of removing it himself, which he does by retrieving a bayonet from his coat and simply slicing open his thigh right then and there. Not the most pleasant of things to do to oneself, but he has a high pain tolerance, so he merely sets his teeth in a grit.
Jonathan's a surgeon, so he's probably used to such things, fortunately, though it might still be unpleasant to watch someone dig into their own leg. It takes him a few minutes to find the device, which he simply drops onto Jonathan's desk.]
Sorry about the floor; I didn't think there would be quite this much blood. I could use some tissues.
[The wound has already healed over, though, so they won't have to worry about stitches.]
[Jonathan isn't mentally prepared for what happens. He's turning away to grab a nearby chart with the schedule and when the man refuses, he assumes that the priest only means he wants a different surgeon. The scent of blood is sharp and has the doctor whipping his head around. He holds himself back, but he can't keep from staring at the red flowing from the wound, down the priest's leg and dripping onto the floor.
His mouth opens slightly, tasting the air with his tongue as the world tints to crimson. There's no immediate response from Jonathan at the request, and it may be obvious why when Anderson looks over at him. The vampire's pupils have blown wide, and his claws are scoring into the tabletop to physically restrain himself.
He blinks a few times, swallows.]
That... was unnecessary, Father Anderson. Don't cut yourself open in my hospital again. We have surgeons here for a reason.
[He's surprised by the reaction, truth be told. Being a surgeon, he would have thought Jonathan more resistant to his thirst. Perhaps it's the amount of it, or perhaps the surprise; either way, he makes note of the blatant hunger Jonathan displays.]
You would rather I cut myself in a non-sterile environment? The tissues, if you would. I'd rather not completely ruin these trousers.
[He doesn't anticipate a need to cut himself in the hospital again, fortunately.
After a moments pause, he speaks again.]
If blood excites you this much, what are you doing in a medical environment? You seem an accident waiting to happen.
[A box is pulled from the far end of the cabinet and practically flung at the other man.]
I would rather you allow a surgeon to perform such a procedure instead of stabbing yourself anywhere. You're a complete amateur, and it certainly shows.
I do not typically have to deal with such a volume of blood when I did not prepare to be faced with it. As you'll note, I also did nothing to you and have completed a surgery in my own world while dealing with my hunger. It is an inconvenience, not a threat to my patients.
[The box thumps into his chest, which Anderson doesn't particularly mind. Someone certainly does not appreciate being questioned. He carefully peels it open and extracts a handful of tissues, cleaning himself off.]
Aren't you? And what if a patient happens to lose a great volume of blood in your presence? Get it on you, even? It's a hospital. These things happen.
[He folds the sullied tissue and drops them in the wastebasket.]
And why waste hospital time and resources on something I can do myself? Amateur work is all I needed. It created a small mess, but I wouldn't be the first expel bodily fluids onto an examination room floor.
[Jonathan's eyes fix on Anderson, and he can't help shifting his gaze to shades and reaching out with his other senses, brushing against the priest's mind to see if it might be possible to simply mind-control him into being quiet and leaving. The doctor typically can get a decent read on if a target would be completely beyond him, at least.]
If you question my abilities as a physician, Father Anderson, I would advise you seek other assistance in future from those you feel more comfortable with.
[He's definitely too wilful a man to be mind-controlled. He stares back at Jonathan, brow furrowing.]
I have no reason for concern. You're no king of vampires. But few people are quite as adept at dealing with vampires as me.
[Standing out of the chair, he cleans up as much of the blood as he can, then does himself up and attempts to dab away the splatters on the floor to little success. They're going to need a mop, or a cloth.]
Yes, I've been 'warned' about your abilities. It may interest you to know your nail has no effect on me.
[Jonathan gathers himself enough with that quip to turn to the cabinet and pull down disinfectant. It's meant for cleaning wounds, but it should do well enough for getting rid of the blood on the floor. Or at least limiting the danger for any potential contagion from it.]
I am quite adept at dealing with vampires, myself, as I told you. And there are no kinds among the kind that I know. Only a queen.
I'm going to have to tell Alucard to stop being so generous with Vatican secrets.
[He casts Jonathan a frown.]
What did you do? Stab yourself with it? Hold it? It's not meant as a weapon. [In the traditional sense, anyway.] So it's not meant to have an effect on you, though colour me surprised that it didn't at least burn you a little.
[Hopefully Alucard has neglected to mention its actual function. He doesn't need people knowing he has an item with the capacity to turn him into a monster.
He accepts the disinfectant, even if it isn't quite what he was hoping for. He'll just have to make do with the tissues.]
Learning that you're a vampire hasn't suddenly banished our earlier conversations from mind. You're not unlike Alucard, in that regard. He's self-loathing as well.
As it happens, I have a perfectly healthy sense of self and happen to enjoy my person and personality. I do not loathe myself because vampirism is hardly the sum or even majority of who I am, Father. I do not like that I have this condition. I can assure you I like myself perfectly well, otherwise.
[Jonathan only watches attentively as Anderson cleans.]
I held your nail, stabbed myself. Most holy objects have no effect on me. The eldest vampire I've met apart from my Maker thought his condition the will and work of the archangel Michael and was a man devoted to his faith before and after his transformation. Another I knew was called the Sad Saint of the East End. Not a priest, but another man who looked to his faith and considered it god's will that he should be immortal to carry on his mission to help the homeless and the poor for eternity.
Loathing one part of oneself still falls into the category of self-loathing.
[He swipes up a sizeable amount of the blood, then throws further tissue into the wastebasket, then jerks his head around when Jonathan mentions having stabbed himself.]
You actually did stab yourself? That is Helena's nail - oh, I'm going to throttle that heinous little bastard when next I see him.
[After a moment of seething and scrubbing the floor much harder than necessary, he starts speaking again.]
Admirable as those goals are, it sounds as though these people were suffering from some mental degeneration. Being undead and thirsting for blood is an absurd thing to associate with God.
Not to the extent that people here seem to imagine it is. I have been informed I'm clearly miserable and suffering for not embracing my condition. I disagree with that assessment.
And I did stab myself, yes. We cleaned the nail off after.
As for mental denigration... well. You're only looking at certain aspects, aren't you, Father? Immortality and phenomenal power are also granted. And for William Marshal, his was a holy mission given to him by this 'angel' of his, to rid the land of the Red Queen and her filth. Sean Hampton, the Sad Saint, was a Skal, not an Ekon. They feed upon the flesh, as well as the blood, and can consume dead bodies. He will never have need to kill anyone, only see to cleaning up what carrion may be available to him.
[That's not mentioning the business of forcing Sean to drink Jonathan's blood to quench his thirst for the living... but that complicates matters unduly where Anderson is concerned.]
You didn't give that nail due respect. It's a holy relic.
[He won't press for further details. They'll just frustrate him even further.]
And how did they deceive themselves while burning themselves on consecrated objects? The undead nature and need to consume flesh or blood are difficult enough to reason away on their own, but surely the inability to touch symbolism of a God they so love gave them some doubt? Or were they that far gone? If they were, I suspect it would have been kinder to kill them. [A pause.] What did happen to them?
[Jonathan isn't going to bother responding to matter if the nail. He doesn't have a particular opinion on it.]
They didn't burn themselves, Father. That crucifix you wear? I could hold it and wear it myself if I wanted. Sir William and Mr. Hampton both wore such things, and I cannot imagine that they were not consecrated.
If you'd like me to prove it? [He holds out his hand, ready to take Anderson's crucifix in hand for a demonstration.]
Mr. Hampton is currently still residing in his night shelter, overseeing it and helping all who might come to him. I check in on him regularly and have dealt with the matter of his potential hunger by giving him my own blood. Sir William was infected with a vampire disease by the Red Queen some time ago and was locked away and eventually laid to rest by his progeny to stop any potential spread of it.
[Having finished scrubbing the floor, Anderson finally straightens and retrieves the tracking chip, cleaning it and the little puddle it created on Jonathan's desk with the remainder of the tissues.]
You were burned by holy water. Why should my crucifix be any different?
[Needless to say, he doesn't believe Jonathan. It's consecrated silver, on top of everything else, so when he slips his cross over his head to extend it to Jonathan, he isn't anticipating a response favourable to Jonathan.]
So one of them was isolated for everyone's safety and 'laid to rest'- [Which he is interpreting as 'killed'.] -and the other one was only able to control himself through your intervention. Not the most uplifting of endings.
Edited (aurgh html) Date: 2019-05-05 05:46 am (UTC)
[Jonathan takes hold of the cross with absolutely no incident. He holds it up and examines it before slipping it over his own head and letting it rest against his chest to make the point.]
Because intent is important for my world, Father. There is no god or devil, as far as I'm aware, only the Red Queen. Those who become vampires have made no pact with the devil, just a supernatural creature.
[He takes off the cross and hands it back to Anderson.]
I cannot claim to understand the rules I am now subject to completely. I had little time to examine them while I was working to prevent London from falling into disease and chaos. And there are no other vampires from my own world here. I was an Ekon for less than a month when I was brought here.
And both received what they wanted in the end. Mr. Hampton is safe to run his night shelter. Sir William is no longer suffering.
[Anderson stares at the cross as it sits on Jonathan's sternum, slightly offended. It's just instinctive, at this point. As is the urge to express his discontent, but he bites his tongue, extending a hand to accept the cross as it's handed back.]
Regardless of the necessity of intent, it sounds as though this Red Queen is associated with the devil. Hence religious symbols having the capacity to cause harm. [He frowns down at the cross, then back at Jonathan.] If it's only such symbols, then it would make a great deal more sense than simply giving the equivalent of a shrug to why they work with belief and intent.
And is Mr. Hampton not suffering? He is called the Sad Saint.
It is not. Non-believers have their own ways; I recently tested it. A religious symbol did not work for them, but another they had personal faith in did. [Perhaps he shouldn't be detailing this to Anderson, but he wants to make a point. It's not about religion, as far as he can tell. Religious people just have a ready symbol of protection at hand to repel a vampire.]
Mr. Hampton's title is a commentary on the life circumstances of his youth, not his personality, Father. He has had a very hard life. He is called a saint because in spite of trials that would break many men, he has maintained his kindness, generosity, and faith. He and his night shelter are respected even by the gangs of the East End. People do not trouble him or those under his care, at least while they stay with him.
So if one had personal faith in - I don't know - the peace sign, that could be successfully brandished at you? Sounds like your weakness is conviction.
[He's still going to assume God has some hand in religious symbolism having an effect, though. Predictably.]
I wasn't associating the 'sad' with his personality. I was associating it with his status as a vampire who struggles with control, which one would reasonably consider a sad development and regard Mr. Hampton as suffering. But evidently that wasn't the right interpretation either. [He folds his arms.] He sounds a good man, despite his affliction.
[A pause, and then:]
Could the Red Queen not be forced to turn people back, or are they only capable of spreading their disease? Or do you simply not know?
[Jonathan very nearly rolls his eyes at the first comment. It's not as though he has personal control over what works and what doesn't.]
He is. And his struggles have been laid to rest. The blood of an Ekon seems to be enough to sate the hunger of a Skal. It is unfortunate that he needed that, but I am glad to have relieved him of some of the burden of his condition.
I do not know if the Red Queen could do that, I'm afraid. My one meeting with her was a violent confrontation. She had a discussion with my maker while I was ignored after that, then vanished. Myrddin offered no indication that this disease he inflicted on me could be cured. But I expect he would not tell me, even if it were so. He might have a use for me in the future, after all. [There's the barest edge of anger that creeps into his tone, but it's clearly not directed at Anderson.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2019-05-03 04:26 am (UTC)From:[It takes a few minutes to get the various shots they need, moving the lead blanket and repositioning the machine manually for each shot. Luckily, the technology is such that he's able to see the images as they're generated. They make it up to Anderson's thighs and stop.]
Please come with me to one of the examination rooms, Father Anderson.
[If Anderson is polite enough to comply, Jonathan will lead him out and shut them into a room. He gestures on himself, indicating the upper thigh.]
You have one here. I can have an OR prepped in a few hours or we can schedule you for something tomorrow night to have it extracted.
no subject
Date: 2019-05-03 04:54 am (UTC)From:Just a moment. I'm putting my shoes back on.
[Which he does while sitting in a chair, and only then does he follow Jonathan into the examination room, sitting down with his folded coat and clergy jacket in his lap. The moment he has the necessary information, he casually retrieves the disposable mat draped over the examination bed, drops it on the seat of the chair, and starts to unbutton his trousers.]
That would just be a waste of both our time.
[No, he's perfectly capable of removing it himself, which he does by retrieving a bayonet from his coat and simply slicing open his thigh right then and there. Not the most pleasant of things to do to oneself, but he has a high pain tolerance, so he merely sets his teeth in a grit.
Jonathan's a surgeon, so he's probably used to such things, fortunately, though it might still be unpleasant to watch someone dig into their own leg. It takes him a few minutes to find the device, which he simply drops onto Jonathan's desk.]
Sorry about the floor; I didn't think there would be quite this much blood. I could use some tissues.
[The wound has already healed over, though, so they won't have to worry about stitches.]
no subject
Date: 2019-05-03 05:03 am (UTC)From:His mouth opens slightly, tasting the air with his tongue as the world tints to crimson. There's no immediate response from Jonathan at the request, and it may be obvious why when Anderson looks over at him. The vampire's pupils have blown wide, and his claws are scoring into the tabletop to physically restrain himself.
He blinks a few times, swallows.]
That... was unnecessary, Father Anderson. Don't cut yourself open in my hospital again. We have surgeons here for a reason.
no subject
Date: 2019-05-03 05:27 am (UTC)From:You would rather I cut myself in a non-sterile environment? The tissues, if you would. I'd rather not completely ruin these trousers.
[He doesn't anticipate a need to cut himself in the hospital again, fortunately.
After a moments pause, he speaks again.]
If blood excites you this much, what are you doing in a medical environment? You seem an accident waiting to happen.
no subject
Date: 2019-05-03 05:32 am (UTC)From:I would rather you allow a surgeon to perform such a procedure instead of stabbing yourself anywhere. You're a complete amateur, and it certainly shows.
I do not typically have to deal with such a volume of blood when I did not prepare to be faced with it. As you'll note, I also did nothing to you and have completed a surgery in my own world while dealing with my hunger. It is an inconvenience, not a threat to my patients.
no subject
Date: 2019-05-03 06:59 am (UTC)From:Aren't you? And what if a patient happens to lose a great volume of blood in your presence? Get it on you, even? It's a hospital. These things happen.
[He folds the sullied tissue and drops them in the wastebasket.]
And why waste hospital time and resources on something I can do myself? Amateur work is all I needed. It created a small mess, but I wouldn't be the first expel bodily fluids onto an examination room floor.
no subject
Date: 2019-05-03 03:55 pm (UTC)From:If you question my abilities as a physician, Father Anderson, I would advise you seek other assistance in future from those you feel more comfortable with.
no subject
Date: 2019-05-03 10:42 pm (UTC)From:I have no reason for concern. You're no king of vampires. But few people are quite as adept at dealing with vampires as me.
[Standing out of the chair, he cleans up as much of the blood as he can, then does himself up and attempts to dab away the splatters on the floor to little success. They're going to need a mop, or a cloth.]
Are there cleaning supplies in here?
no subject
Date: 2019-05-04 04:39 am (UTC)From:[Jonathan gathers himself enough with that quip to turn to the cabinet and pull down disinfectant. It's meant for cleaning wounds, but it should do well enough for getting rid of the blood on the floor. Or at least limiting the danger for any potential contagion from it.]
I am quite adept at dealing with vampires, myself, as I told you. And there are no kinds among the kind that I know. Only a queen.
no subject
Date: 2019-05-04 05:03 am (UTC)From:[He casts Jonathan a frown.]
What did you do? Stab yourself with it? Hold it? It's not meant as a weapon. [In the traditional sense, anyway.] So it's not meant to have an effect on you, though colour me surprised that it didn't at least burn you a little.
[Hopefully Alucard has neglected to mention its actual function. He doesn't need people knowing he has an item with the capacity to turn him into a monster.
He accepts the disinfectant, even if it isn't quite what he was hoping for. He'll just have to make do with the tissues.]
Learning that you're a vampire hasn't suddenly banished our earlier conversations from mind. You're not unlike Alucard, in that regard. He's self-loathing as well.
no subject
Date: 2019-05-04 05:19 am (UTC)From:[Jonathan only watches attentively as Anderson cleans.]
I held your nail, stabbed myself. Most holy objects have no effect on me. The eldest vampire I've met apart from my Maker thought his condition the will and work of the archangel Michael and was a man devoted to his faith before and after his transformation. Another I knew was called the Sad Saint of the East End. Not a priest, but another man who looked to his faith and considered it god's will that he should be immortal to carry on his mission to help the homeless and the poor for eternity.
no subject
Date: 2019-05-04 05:46 am (UTC)From:[He swipes up a sizeable amount of the blood, then throws further tissue into the wastebasket, then jerks his head around when Jonathan mentions having stabbed himself.]
You actually did stab yourself? That is Helena's nail - oh, I'm going to throttle that heinous little bastard when next I see him.
[After a moment of seething and scrubbing the floor much harder than necessary, he starts speaking again.]
Admirable as those goals are, it sounds as though these people were suffering from some mental degeneration. Being undead and thirsting for blood is an absurd thing to associate with God.
no subject
Date: 2019-05-04 05:57 am (UTC)From:Not to the extent that people here seem to imagine it is. I have been informed I'm clearly miserable and suffering for not embracing my condition. I disagree with that assessment.
And I did stab myself, yes. We cleaned the nail off after.
As for mental denigration... well. You're only looking at certain aspects, aren't you, Father? Immortality and phenomenal power are also granted. And for William Marshal, his was a holy mission given to him by this 'angel' of his, to rid the land of the Red Queen and her filth. Sean Hampton, the Sad Saint, was a Skal, not an Ekon. They feed upon the flesh, as well as the blood, and can consume dead bodies. He will never have need to kill anyone, only see to cleaning up what carrion may be available to him.
[That's not mentioning the business of forcing Sean to drink Jonathan's blood to quench his thirst for the living... but that complicates matters unduly where Anderson is concerned.]
no subject
Date: 2019-05-04 06:48 am (UTC)From:You didn't give that nail due respect. It's a holy relic.
[He won't press for further details. They'll just frustrate him even further.]
And how did they deceive themselves while burning themselves on consecrated objects? The undead nature and need to consume flesh or blood are difficult enough to reason away on their own, but surely the inability to touch symbolism of a God they so love gave them some doubt? Or were they that far gone? If they were, I suspect it would have been kinder to kill them. [A pause.] What did happen to them?
no subject
Date: 2019-05-04 01:01 pm (UTC)From:They didn't burn themselves, Father. That crucifix you wear? I could hold it and wear it myself if I wanted. Sir William and Mr. Hampton both wore such things, and I cannot imagine that they were not consecrated.
If you'd like me to prove it? [He holds out his hand, ready to take Anderson's crucifix in hand for a demonstration.]
Mr. Hampton is currently still residing in his night shelter, overseeing it and helping all who might come to him. I check in on him regularly and have dealt with the matter of his potential hunger by giving him my own blood. Sir William was infected with a vampire disease by the Red Queen some time ago and was locked away and eventually laid to rest by his progeny to stop any potential spread of it.
no subject
Date: 2019-05-05 05:45 am (UTC)From:You were burned by holy water. Why should my crucifix be any different?
[Needless to say, he doesn't believe Jonathan. It's consecrated silver, on top of everything else, so when he slips his cross over his head to extend it to Jonathan, he isn't anticipating a response favourable to Jonathan.]
So one of them was isolated for everyone's safety and 'laid to rest'- [Which he is interpreting as 'killed'.] -and the other one was only able to control himself through your intervention. Not the most uplifting of endings.
no subject
Date: 2019-05-05 05:55 am (UTC)From:Because intent is important for my world, Father. There is no god or devil, as far as I'm aware, only the Red Queen. Those who become vampires have made no pact with the devil, just a supernatural creature.
[He takes off the cross and hands it back to Anderson.]
I cannot claim to understand the rules I am now subject to completely. I had little time to examine them while I was working to prevent London from falling into disease and chaos. And there are no other vampires from my own world here. I was an Ekon for less than a month when I was brought here.
And both received what they wanted in the end. Mr. Hampton is safe to run his night shelter. Sir William is no longer suffering.
no subject
Date: 2019-05-08 04:35 am (UTC)From:Regardless of the necessity of intent, it sounds as though this Red Queen is associated with the devil. Hence religious symbols having the capacity to cause harm. [He frowns down at the cross, then back at Jonathan.] If it's only such symbols, then it would make a great deal more sense than simply giving the equivalent of a shrug to why they work with belief and intent.
And is Mr. Hampton not suffering? He is called the Sad Saint.
no subject
Date: 2019-05-08 06:13 am (UTC)From:Mr. Hampton's title is a commentary on the life circumstances of his youth, not his personality, Father. He has had a very hard life. He is called a saint because in spite of trials that would break many men, he has maintained his kindness, generosity, and faith. He and his night shelter are respected even by the gangs of the East End. People do not trouble him or those under his care, at least while they stay with him.
no subject
Date: 2019-05-10 06:23 am (UTC)From:So if one had personal faith in - I don't know - the peace sign, that could be successfully brandished at you? Sounds like your weakness is conviction.
[He's still going to assume God has some hand in religious symbolism having an effect, though. Predictably.]
I wasn't associating the 'sad' with his personality. I was associating it with his status as a vampire who struggles with control, which one would reasonably consider a sad development and regard Mr. Hampton as suffering. But evidently that wasn't the right interpretation either. [He folds his arms.] He sounds a good man, despite his affliction.
[A pause, and then:]
Could the Red Queen not be forced to turn people back, or are they only capable of spreading their disease? Or do you simply not know?
no subject
Date: 2019-05-10 03:19 pm (UTC)From:He is. And his struggles have been laid to rest. The blood of an Ekon seems to be enough to sate the hunger of a Skal. It is unfortunate that he needed that, but I am glad to have relieved him of some of the burden of his condition.
I do not know if the Red Queen could do that, I'm afraid. My one meeting with her was a violent confrontation. She had a discussion with my maker while I was ignored after that, then vanished. Myrddin offered no indication that this disease he inflicted on me could be cured. But I expect he would not tell me, even if it were so. He might have a use for me in the future, after all. [There's the barest edge of anger that creeps into his tone, but it's clearly not directed at Anderson.]