letsplaysurgeon | Case 001 [Action/Written] (Backdated before the event)

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Case 001 [Action/Written] (Backdated before the event)

[This wasn’t happening.

This wasn’t happening because it wasn’t what he planned. He was only supposed to be “dead” for a short period of time, hibernating while the pieces clicked into place for Tsuzuki and the boy. Not long enough for the Queen Camellia to dock and allow someone to throw his body out. And no one had the audacity. Perhaps the shinigami, but he couldn’t have been unconscious long enough for the Queen Camellia to dock.

…It also didn’t begin to explain why he was standing barefoot and freezing in a foot of snow in early July. Or the wings. Yes, he found the wings.

The only thing that leveled his disapproving gaze from his new back ornaments was the flicker of something unfamiliar in his peripheral vision. A short distance from where he woke up, half-buried in the snow was a book. He blinks a couple times in sequence, as though double-checking his vision. Someone redressed him, dumped his body in the woods with a pair of tacky wings, but was kind enough to leave him with some reading material. All right then.

He doesn’t know what possesses him to approach the book, let alone pick it up and open it, other than the grim humor that clung to him like a viscous tree sap. And he has a message for the one responsible for this, should they return to the scene of the crime.]

To whom it may concern:

Thank you so much for the relocation: it was a bit stuffy in my room. How considerate of you to give me a breath of fresh air.

I can only assume that this is a joke, or an attempt to stop me, either way it’s pathetic. I will be leaving now. [Never mind how he was going to make it back to the ship from wherever he was.] And you had better hope that your diversion hasn’t wasted my time.

In the meantime, I strongly recommend that you invest in finer clothing. It’s offensive to be thrown about in these cheap pants.

[And he drops the book like a hallucinating surgeon drops the pancreas that they believe is a purple tentacle monster with the ability to spit corrosive acid. The book lands on its spine and flutters open at his feet, but he’s forgotten all about it. He lifts his arm to reach around his abdomen and tug at the first feather he could reach, and the resulting pain makes his head rush, like it was wrapped in nerves. But his brain cannot—no, he refuses to process that the stupid thing was a part of him. He clenches his teeth, and the more he tries to ignore it, the more his vision stabs and his grip trembles, and he has to make a choice between his bad mood and his threshold for pain.

Finally he lets go: undeterred, just twice as agitated. He still hadn’t recovered completely from the strychnine. He was just going to have to try again after he regained his strength—and acquired the proper medical tools.]

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[His right eyebrow quirks beneath his bangs, and he pivots around to see the one who addressed him. He wants to match the blunt command with a face, after all.

There were several things that that he expected to see in a forest: squirrels, birds, perhaps a raccoon or a deer. Certainly not a man dressed in black. He glances behind him, as though trying to pinpoint what direction he came from, and perhaps why he was there in the first place. It seemed too convenient. After an extended moment, he considers what he said about the wings, so it might seem like he didn’t hear him at first, taking his time to react.]

Then I should thank you for the fair warning…if you would enlighten me on how you know this.

[It was ridiculous, and he wouldn’t have believed him if he didn’t experience the pain of trying to pull a feather out. And he doesn’t need to jeopardize the strength he still has at the moment.]

[Still watchful. The instinct hasn't faded in the slightest. And he can't help but remember the murder this cycle. Supposedly came about in a situation very similar to this. His eyes never leave the man's.

He however shrugs out of his coat, one arm at a time so he can keep a hold on his sword. His wings spread - glossy black with yellow tips - as in example.]

How do I know this? I am as much a prisoner here as you now are. The wings and the consequences of maiming them are one of the first lessons a 'New Feather' here is taught. This is Luceti, and you've been brought here by the Malnosso. They are scientists and we are their test subjects and soldiers.

[A dry chuckle as he echoes the words given to him when he first arrived.]

But, if you wish, you can call this place Hell. It's very apt.

[He offers the coat. You... make him wary, but Law can be a gentleman about this.]

Welcome aboard.

[As he watches him shuck his coat off, he finally notices the sword, and Oriya flashes to mind, which causes a slight lump of undeterminable emotion to settle in his stomach to remember his friend. Not sadness or regret, but perhaps frustration.

It’s definitely frustration that he feels throughout his explanation of the Malnosso and the wings, but that vanishes after he calls it “Hell.” A surprising sensation of nothingness washes over him.]

Hell?

[He snorts at first, and then the short burst of air through his nostrils turns into a laugh. He runs his hand through his bangs and covers his fake eye with his palm. That is a little more intentional than it seems.]

If I’m in a place that adds another blatant weakness to the human form, then I will have to agree with you.

[He drops his hand and accepts the coat with the other, smiling at him.] I appreciate it.

[Law himself, however, doesn't quite think this hell. He was just echoing Nami's words to him on his arrival. Hell is hopeless. Hell is joyless. There is no love in Hell and there is no kindness. This place is crueler, because the good things here make the ill stand out so much sharper.

He prefers the term purgatory... because there is hope of an escape, always, no matter how futile. Others, most others, would not agree, so Hell it is when explaining Luceti.]

They are inconvienent, yes. [He has his theories about the wings, and while a pain in the ass, they are necessary considering the nature of this place. Despite first apperances, the Malnosso rarely do things for shits and giggles.] Sometimes, very much so. However... do you practice medicine? From the way you speak...

[Weakness...

Slight head tilt. Intriguing (disturbing) that you have that kind of mindset, sir. He's come across doctors with it, and as a surgeon himself... it does make him wonder.]

[Dipping his head slightly with a faint smile of his own.] You're welcome.

Edited 2011-01-28 00:48 (UTC)

[Normally Muraki doesn't believe in hell. At least for himself, despite how many people would say he belongs there, but he was above such stupid things as sin and eternal damnation. And he knew he wasn't dead.

If there was a hell though, it would mock his disgust over the weakness of human beings. He assumes the universe has that kind of sick sense of humor.

But then his expression slackens into one of surprise. It wasn't a particularly bizarre question, but it was uncanny. It's been a while since he's interacted with someone so astute.] Ah yes, I'm a doctor. I work at a hospital in Tokyo.

And you are?

[Mmm... and here we hit some major philosophical differences, Muraki. Sin. Eternal damnation. No one is above them.

But... aa... that is something you'll eventually find out on your own.]

A doctor as well. A surgeon to be precise, but I've handled near everything in my time. [Oh the things pirates get into.] My name is Trafalgar Law. You?

[We will have to agree to disagree...if/when we come to that bridge of conversation.]

Such is the education of being a doctor: you go through all rotations of medicine...surgery has always fascinated me, though. [He smiles, and stretches out a hand.] Muraki Kazutaka.

Edited 2011-01-29 01:38 (UTC)

Oh? How so?

[One gloved hand grips yours firmly, but not crushingly. He's careful, for most peoples bones feel about as substantial and strong as a sparrow's in his hand. He's careful in other ways: those eyes, those careful ice blue eyes never leave yours, and the inherent power he carries is waiting, lurking at the edges of thought and burning star bright beneath his skin.

Like a supernova waiting to be unleashed.

Fitting, perhaps, for the man named one.]

[Muraki notices your expression, and he's amused by whatever is lurking behind your eyes, though his face doesn't shift. He's still wearing that friendly smile.]

I performed heart surgery, once. It is a precise art, don't you think? Matching the right organ to the right patient, you have to be meticulous. [He slides his palm out of the handshake, glancing to the side at nothing in particular.] Though even the most careful doctor cannot escape death.

Exceptionally precise. Not only in that, but handling all the other complications that can arise. It is a very tricky thing at times. [But he's pulled it off. And more.]

[The air has changed, and Law considers. Law is a man of smiles and he reads them well, for he is also a pirate captain and a hunted man, and he can just taste there's more going on beneath the surface.

He smiles. The further this conversation, the more he is sure of it.

So he takes stock, both external and internal. If you have stolen something, Muraki... he will know.]

No, no one can. It's one of the first lessons you learn on the job.

[Death is a natural part of life. Natural nemesis of a doctor, but one you have to accept. A doctor can only do so much - there comes a time when the patient must save themself. Sometimes they don't. Sometimes it is even the better thing in the end...

Curious you should word it that way, though. Should he be even more wary?]

Edited 2011-01-29 05:26 (UTC)

[Oh, but he wouldn't steal anything from you, Law. You're not prey. And he's starting to respect you just a little. Does that freak you out?]

Indeed it is.

[One corner of his mouth snags higher than the other, giving him a brief, crooked appearance as he considers his own lessons as a young doctor. Ironic the blood on his hands that he can't stand is accidental.

But he does not--and cannot--accept death. Just ask the severed head of his half-brother being preserved in Kyoto.

He turns to face you again, polite disposition in full effect.]

Are there any more doctors in this rat maze?

[No. It doesn't. Few things can.

As for the matter of your respect... there is mutual respect between him and Eustass Kidd - and Eustass is a serial killing psychopath. Respect is not the same as 'like' after all - he does not like Kidd (nor he him). He can loathe someone to the core and yet respect their capabilities and intelligence. He can deal with your respect. In a strange way, you are being treated with respect now. You are dangerous and you are being treated with due consideration. Though you are disorientated and weakened, you are not being dismissed. He may even grow to respect you in other ways.

But. Should he ever discover certain things...

Well...]

A few. They're found mostly at the clinic in town. [The Medical Center in the Battle Dome is new and the Clinic is still where most of the medical community congregates.] Speaking of which, we should head in and collect your things before you develop hypothermia. [And yet, Law has yet to shiver. It's like he's in his element in all this ice and snow.] Your clothing will be in the clothing shop, and any weapons you may have had will be in the smithy.

It's fortunate you weren't tossed any farther out, like the mountains. We aren't far from what passes as civilization.

[But sadly he wouldn't get decent conversation from your departed brother. Not even with his powers. Though, the fact you even keep him...

It's not just accepting death you have a problem with, is it? It's letting go altogether. Of desires, of grudges, of dreams. Can you? It's why that blood, the blood you actually didn't shed, is so maddening.

You can't move on.

And that's something every doctor needs to do eventually.]

Edited 2011-01-30 07:35 (UTC)

[He doesn’t know anything about you or what you’re capable of. What kind of threat that you pose to him. All he sees is a sense of wariness that he’s normally not met with, even by other doctors. He doesn’t lie to people; he indulges their idea of him as a benign caregiver, because it often suits his interests. And normally it’s effortless, but with you, there’s a sense of struggle. And he’s tickled by the novelty. But he’s going to be careful, draw back a little and feel this situation out.

He’s certainly not going to bring you on a field trip to his closet for a mass skeleton exhumation. Some mystery is in order.]

Is that so? [His expression becomes almost sardonic.] I take it back, then. I don’t believe that Hell would require a hospital. [This was another sphere entirely: one with useless wings and young doctors with cold blue eyes.

He makes a noise inside his throat at the medical jargon, finally sliding one arm into the coat and then the other, pulling it on. It wasn’t his ideal scenario: accepting another man’s coat and being in a position of dependence, but it couldn’t be helped.] I don’t have any weapons, Mr. Law. [His eyes flick briefly to the sword you carry.] I would just like to get my clothes back.

[Oh? Such a shame. Archaeology is a fascinating field, though he thinks anthropology would be more up his alley. But those skeletons, oh they get up and walk out on their own sometimes.

You might see a literal example around town in fact.

But a little mystery is fine. Law likes that cloak as well.]

I see. [He lowers his lashes so that ice glitters through and the smile turns utterly unreadable.] I'll have to check with you in a month or so about that. Perhaps you'll have changed your opinion by then.

[That sword is shifted slightly as it rests against his shoulder with the movement of turning. None? Hnnn... there is a part of him that doesn't believe that. Weapons can take so many different forms. Swords, Devil Fruits, will. More. And even if not, you can make do, right?] Well. That makes things simpler, doesn't it? Follow me then. I'll take you to where you need to go. [And he will lead the way to the clothing shop, ghosting through the snow like a spirit, instead of the usual slip and slide most people suffer as they waddle through the drifts.

The wariness doesn't wane the entire time. But once they arrive, he'll wait by the door and examine a men's kimono in midnight blue, with black hakama and haori, a subtle silver wave pattern embroidered on the haori's sleeves. Not his thing, really, but he'll wait till you find and retrieve your clothes.

He wants his coat back, after all.]

[He knows a little something about the dead coming back to life and walking around, both figuratively and literally. But in his world, the skeleton that came out of his closet was not just a naked bone structure, or even a rotting corpse. It...he, rather, has soft flesh and bedroom eyes. And for all Muraki knew, he was still on board the ship, and not a part of this spectacle.

He tilts his head to one side so that his bangs shift, observing him at an angle.] It would be a shame to wait so long. Perhaps I will have reason to see you much sooner than that. [The disarming flattery doesn't give him as much satisfaction as he hoped. It isn’t you as much as the entire situation leaving a bad taste in his mouth. He was still half-naked and someone made a fool out of him. That wasn't going to exit his mind so quickly.

But he follows you into town, his eyes darting over the various landmarks he had to become familiar with, but doesn’t appear interested in them. The village only inspires a dull sense of hapless irritation inside him, like a boring lecture he couldn’t escape. He was starting to comprehend what you said earlier about Hell.

Then there’s the clothing store. Interestingly enough, his things are there, waiting for him. It takes about eight to ten minutes, but he emerges from the changing room, wearing a white suit and trench coat. He also retrieved his glasses. And he’s a much happier Muraki to be in his own layers again. Covered and decent.

He finds you by the door and looks a little surprised to see you, though he smiles as he remembers the coat he draped and folded over his forearm.] It’s embarrassing to waste your time like this when you’ve already been so kind. Do excuse me for taking so long, Mr. Law. [He extends the aforementioned coat with a sunny smile.] I believe this is yours?

Edited 2011-02-14 04:34 (UTC)

[The eyes shift as the lashes lower further, gleam just a little bluer.] Perhaps, indeed. Luceti does have a habit of bringing people together. [Flattery, sir? Isn't that an interesting shift.]

[Law looks up from the black haori, expression mild, as he takes in what you're wearing. White. Pearl and silver. Moonbeam and bone. White is the color of death in some parts of his world, purity in others. He has a guess where on the spectrum you fall.

It hangs on you like armor. Mm. Ready to face the world, then?]

Aa, it's no trouble. There is nothing but time here. [Such a smile too. And perhaps even he'd be fooled if he hadn't run into you at the start. That is one good thing about the arrival process; it lays bare the true nature of the beast, if only briefly.] Thank you. [Law's smile is more moonlight than sunshine. Gentler, subtler, yet with a certain quality of radiance.]

Edited 2011-02-14 06:45 (UTC)

[His own gaze flicks from your face to the kimono. He's always had an appreciation for the aesthetic, and there's something pleasantly fitting about your black clothes and blue eyes set against the colors of the silk garment and haori. How nice.

Though he tries to ignore the hat.

And black is often considered an evil color by the West. It's the color of rebellion in youth, bad luck, or simply the depths of unknown space. Is it safe to say one or all of those suits you?

Another man in his life wears all black, so he doesn't think much of it as he adjusts his glasses.]

Being here certainly freed up my schedule. [A carefully laid-out plan. Ruined.] Thank you for assisting me. Words cannot express my gratitude. [He makes a short sound in his throat, almost like a laugh.] Though I suppose this is where I leave you to collect my bearings.

[You like the kimono? Law's head tilts very slightly as his fingers run over fabric. ... no... something else. Something he hasn't encountered in some time.

The fingers run a little farther down. Now where has he encountered that look?]

You're very welcome. [Shrugging on the coat as easily as he shrugged it off, wings flattening against his back, sword switching from one hand to the other easily.] It is. You can find the Welcome Center a little further down the plaza. [He pads over to the door and points to the building in question, graceful and soundless on his feet.] The clinic is on the opposite side. [He points to the other building.] They'll house and feed you until you can find a place to live.

Good luck, Mister Muraki. [You're going to need it.]

[Yes, they suit him to a degree. Black is his color. As is blue, yellow, and red.]

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Case 001 [Action/Written] (Backdated before the event)

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