epidemiology | EVENT ★ GILLIGAN'S ISLAND

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EVENT ★ GILLIGAN'S ISLAND

MAROONED

Three days after the eruptions wrecked their havoc, a storm begins. It's not so different from the storm the recruits first encountered upon arrival, but this storm seems oddly and peculiarly driven. In some places of the islands it's nothing but pattering rain, but in other places it's strong enough to lift a fully grown human off his or her feet. And that's just what it does. It sweeps up recruits here and there -- not all of them, and there is no apparent method to who it takes and who it leaves. Some stay on the Nalawi islands, some are simply swept up into the sky. Here and there the storm grabs a Nalawi as well, but these victims are always dropped again. Sometimes out over the water, sometimes crashing down into land. They do not generally survive this.

The recruits stolen by the storm aren't aloft for long. They emerge eventually from the tumbling, buffeting, blinding winds, spewed out onto the beach of a strange new island. This island, to anyone paying any attention to their surroundings, is a recent addition to the surface of the ocean. In fact, flying in the face of physics and statistical likelihood (much in the way the storm had), it seems to have recently been on the seafloor.

This island was clearly once inhabited, although it's been a long, long time since then. Uniform structures can be found arranged in streets and avenues, now all thoroughly caked in barnacles, coral, seaweed, and other assorted debris of the sea. Here and there can even be found dead fish, suffocated when the water began to drain away and turn to open air. Most of them are horrifying, the things that tend to keep to the dark depths of the water. Toward the center of this empty, silent, sea-claimed city a giant sea serpent threads around and through several buildings. It's just as dead as the rest of them, its huge, pale eyes staring at nothing.

There are a few things here that aren't quite dead, though. Sometimes something armored, dull red, and hungry crawls out of some dark place. These creatures can't really be compared to anything on the surface, but they are each about the length of a human, with three sets of sharpened limbs held up off the ground, used for stabbing forward to pierce its prey, and one set of pinchers below that. The pinchers might anchor prey in place for easier stabbing, but they also create a tiny sonic boom when clacked. Standing too close to this can leave you dazed and momentarily helpless. These creatures aren't fazed by the lack of water around them, they're just hungry and ready to feed on anything nearby -- even each other. The danger they present to recruits is at least slightly mitigated by an unknown force, though. If a recruit finds themselves unable to handle one of the creatures or overwhelmed by it, the storm itself will lash out at the thing. This isn't a very precise defense, but it is generally enough to pick up one or both of the contestants and separate them.

Nothing here looks anything like what can be found on the Nalawi islands, except perhaps the flora. It's difficult to tell. What trees have been left are waterlogged, petrified mockeries, it's unclear what they may have looked like while this island still lived. The buildings are all very inorganic, made of processed material and with the obvious aid of machinery. Whoever lived here was actually very proficient with machinery, it seems. Within the buildings, some residential and some commercial, can be found the rusted, now-useless remains of a technologically advanced society. Personal belongings can also be found, waterlogged and largely ruined, and all in an upset as if they had gone through frequent and destructive earthquakes. Still, they can tell the story of mundane, day-to-day lives here for anyone who cares to look.

Food is going to be a little tricky to come by unless you're a fan of seafood; fishing will be possible for anyone who opts to brave the edge of the storm, and of course there are the bizarre delicacies so thoughtfully raised up from the seafloor, dead among the streets and buildings. Recruits would do well to be careful with those, though. There is a particular kind of seaweed that, while it looks perfectly innocuous, will cause vivid hallucinations an hour after ingesting, for 10 minutes to three hours, depending on how much was ingested.

Above all else, though, is the eerie silence. The storm rages on, but although it completely surrounds the island, it keeps to the perimeter. Even the rain stays off of the island, though the sun is obscured by the heavy, ominous clouds. Thunder rumbles now and then, punctuated by lightning flashes, but there isn't a single sound on this gray, dreary, dead island that wasn't made by an ALASTAIR recruit.

OOC INFO

Recruits will ICly be here for one week, and OOCly the log will last for two. The storm will prevent any travel off of the island. Should anyone feel brave enough to try risking a trip into it, they will find it still possesses that ability to literally sweep recruits off their feet. It might also be due to this mysterious storm that no one on the island can seem to reach out to anyone on the Nalawi islands via jewelry network, nor to any of the NPC recruits they'd met at Oska.

Players who signed up for plot slots will be receiving additional information, which we ask they share with the rest of the characters. You may sign up here for information that can be found while exploring the island, as well. Please direct any questions to the OOC write up.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

⚝ 01; SERPENT ANATOMIZATION

[When confronted with a giant sea serpent corpse, most young girls would let out an "eew" and probably scamper in the other direction... but Sieglinde isn't most young girls. But even for an abnormal girl this might be a bit much- considering she's used one of the slices someone else was kind enough to make when harvesting meat to... actually... step in to the creature. Half in. Actually, she's about knee deep in spilt serpent guts, her skirts hiked up and wading towards... a large organ she suspects is the stomach.

If you're nearby you might want to watch out- whatever she just stepped on squirts something awful. But if you're nearby and don't seem disgusted... you might just get roped into helping.]

I want to examine the stomach contents- have you a longer knife?

[The one she has is only about six inches.]

⚝ 02; BUILDING EXPLORATION

[Lives interrupted. Sieglinde knew what that looked like now that she'd joined ALASTAIR. Examining what was left would give clues as to who had lived there and how they had lived... but there was something lonely about it. Something unsettling.

She'd found what she was looking for, waterlogged and barely held together clothing, picking it up with gloved hands to examine it, when suddenly she froze. Was that noise someone approaching or just her imagination?]

Who is there- ? Announce yourself at once!

⚝ 03; SNELL'S WINDOW

[When she isn't working towards efforts to understand their location or how to get off the island... Sieglinde has a pet project. And that pet project is the giant dead sea serpent in the middle of town. She'd already dissected parts of it to understand its diet and death, but then came harvesting.

Spells often called for rather strange ingredients, after all, it was better to take things when you had them.

The young witch can be found sitting on the ground with her back against the wall near the corpse, a makeshift mask over her face and gloves on, gently scrubbing residual viscous and slime off... a large, semi-transparent orb that almost fills her entire lap. Maybe- Maybe it's not what you think it is. But the corpse is missing an eye.]

⚝ 04; GROWING PAINS

[Where people gather is where Sieglinde stays, preferring the comfort and safety of numbers. She was hardly in any condition to go up against the strange sea mantids that roamed the dark parts of the street, and beyond her healing magic... the majority of her skills and knowledge weren't of much use in strict survival situations. But she's a growing girl with a large appetite... and though she's trying not to be too obvious...]

What are you cooking... ?

[Her stomach is grumbling something fierce even as she tries to ignore it and work on some diagrams she was sketching in the dirt with a broken piece of coral. Something smells good- and she wants it. The art of trying not to look too desperate was a difficult one, however.]

⚝ 05; ABOARD THE AWS HEIMKEHR

[Since discovering the warship in its dry dock with Graham, Sieglinde has tried to explore every bit of the vessel that she can, sketching out a layout of the ship as she went. Well- as Graham went, and she rode alternatively in his arms or on his shoulders. It resulted in a pretty detailed schematics map, as she was used to this sort of fine line work in her own magic circles- and though Sieglinde cannot cut and lift metal to patch the hull or rewire machines she has never seen the likes of... she can work on removing some of the rust.

Well- on making an acid that will remove the rust. Near the ship she's got a fire going, and she's sat upon an old drum stirring a plate of what looks to be... salt? above the fire, minding it as her gaze moved between the ship itself and her schematics laid out on a nearby box. There are a few other "seats" around the flame for those who want to take a break from ship work, ("Tired?"), and if anyone comes by looking aimless she's likely to call out to them and try to assign them a duty ("You there, what skills have you?"). As it was,]

I am going to need a lot more salt...

[Mabel might indeed be root-a-toot-tooting on by, humming a little ditty under her breath as she hauls the most normal looking deep sea fish she could find over her shoulder. It's like an eel, if an eel had been re-imagined as a medieval mace. Surely there's good meat muscle in on this one. Her baby lion child, D.G., trots along in front of her.

Just before skittering and hissing as he dodges a squirt of something stinky from above.]

UWAH! It's alive!

[Mabel chucks the eel beast at the sea serpent's corpse. Which is, she realizes belatedly, still just as much a corpse as it was the first time she passed it. There's even someone inside of it, popping out into view from above.]

Sieglinde? [She tilts her head with a frown. Examine...the stomach contents. So that's where the squirt came from.

Ew.]

Uh.....[She looks around. The place is rather bereft of handy floor items. In spite of looking like a video game locale, this island is pretty sparse of good loot. With nothing else to offer, she draws out her grappling hook and holds it aloft.

She looks from its hook ends to the girl high above her.]

I feel like this is the opposite of what you're looking for.

[Wh- What's alive, now? Sieglinde hadn't expected to need to dodge any flying eels, and she starts when it slaps against the side of the sea serpent's rubbery flesh. Who threw that?]

Mabel?

[The other girl's name comically comes out at the same time as her own, standing there somewhat flabbergasted with her small dagger in hand until she shakes it out, long hair whipping about her face until she refocused.]

Ah... I'll stick to this.

[Maybe a short knife was better than a grappling hook for this job... She looked between her work and Mabel, torn, but- well. The sea serpent is going anywhere.]

Where are you off to?

Probably for the best.

[Although performing the world's first grapple-hook assisted autopsy would be pretty rad. A testament to their skill at examining corpses!

Mabel looks down to her fallen eel, gathering it off the ground. Urgh. It's picked up more mud down there.]

Just getting ready for supper. Nothing major. Found this little guy up a tree over that way. [She rights the dead eel beast and puppets its tail into giving a little wave.] Hey there little lady, I haven't rotted yet. Eat me up before this miracle is wasted!

[She lets the tail fall, tilting her head up to her diminuitive friend.]

And you're dissecting the giant sea serpent, I see. [Pause.] Did you find anything good for your lab?

[A testament to... well, it seems a bit like an unnecessary handicap to the whole procedure, but. Sometimes one had to be a bit more creative. Still, her arm would definitely be sore on the morrow from having to put her entire weight into cleaving through serpent muscle and organs with such a small blade. Sacrifices.]

- Supper sounds tempting.

[Her stomach had been rumbling almost constantly since they'd arrived on this island. She was still growing, it was only right to have a large appetite! If not strange she could think of dinner with a straight face while half inside something's spilt innards.]

I would like to determine it's diet and cause of death before harvesting, but... there will be quite a treasure trove, I imagine! Perhaps even something that could be used for scrying, if this thing's sight was decent enough...

[Merlin's grimoire had quite a few spells she'd been wanting to try, but they all involved crystal balls. She didn't have crystal, but. Perhaps a biological one wouldn't be so inferior.]

[Evan had been combing the ruins himself, poking about in corners for things of interest and mostly just managing to slice bits of himself open on sharp-edged barnacles due to his newly-reduced depth perception. His forays have been mainly tentative things, as getting snatched by the storm on top of everything else that's happened has left the young man feeling shaken and uncertain. The bandages that cover half his face are not helping his confidence, either.

Coming upon the gory mess that is the sea serpent, Evan definitely spots it rather than the young witch. Thinking himself alone, he exclaims in disgust and interest, carefully mincing his way through innards and ichor and other unspeakables to get a solid look at the dissected corpse. That's a hell of a smell; he holds his nose.

It's not until he turns, following the trail of more recently spilled mess, that he spots Sieglinde against her wall.

The cognitive dissonance of seeing a kid younger than even Mabel apparently tenderly wiping sea serpment mush off of... something Evan with his own newly-missing eye really doesn't want to think about... that stops him in his tracks and leaves him staring.]

Um. What is... what is that?

[Sieglinde had never really done much scrying- at least, not the crystal ball or sacred water pool sort. She'd had her share of dreams to be interpreted... But dreams were a shaky method at best, and in the end, they'd been as false as most of her magic. But a grimoire she'd borrowed from a certain wizard in their number had an abundance of spells used for far sight and glimpses of the uncertain future... But they all called for a tool she didn't have. Something to pass for a crystal ball.

The lens of an eye from a giant sea serpent might do the trick, right?

At the sound of someone speaking, though, the young witch looked up from her task, adjusting the hard lens on the scrap of leather thrown over her lap to protect her dress, light refracting and bouncing off the semi-transparent orb. - Who was this? A new face-]

This? It is the lens of the serpent's eye! I think it will do nicely for my spells, don't you?

[She answered somewhat glibly, voice just slightly muffled by the mask she wore over her nose and mouth against the corpse's smell, which thankfully wasn't as bad as it could be, seeing as someone had thought to use frost magic to preserve part of the meat.]

- are you new to ALASTAIR?

[It was sometimes difficult to guess for her. With her particular setbacks, (the unnaturally tiny feet sticking out from beneath her skirt hem, maybe three inches), she did not often have chances to roam or meet newcomers at her own discretion rather than the availability of those willing to carry her.]

[To the young man who's so recently had his own precious eye popped out, confirmation of what exactly that orb finishes the job of setting his stomach to roiling. He looks positively green, a remarkable contrast against the orange of his hair.

Her question goes unanswered as he brings his hand up to the bandage over his own eye, a half-conscious move that's become a tic in the days since his ill-fated imp fight.]

What -- what kind of spells are you planning to do with something's eye??

[Was he... Going to vomit? Sieglinde looked at his expression in consternation, following his hand to his bandaged face and the hidden eye. Was he injured, as well? Still? There were others in their ranks who knew healing magic- surely that wasn't it...]

... Scrying? Perhaps you know it as far sight?

[So instead she answered cautiously, gaze shamelessly locked on his face, expression curious. ... No, she couldn't help herself.]

Are you injured?

Oh. Because of course. What else would you be doing with an eye.

[Rather than sharp, he sounds a little faint. He swallows, trying his best to pull himself back out of the depths of his remembered unpleasantness. He does not wholly succeed, but at least focuses on the odd child in front of him again, and parses her question a moment after she asks it.

He snorts, still a little faintly, and drops his hand from his bandage. It would be his first instinct to play the injury down around someone so young, but she's sitting here among serpent innards polishing an eye lens and if that doesn't scream 'I don't need coddling' he isn't sure what does.]

You could say that. [He speaks flatly, although it's more tired-sounding than annoyed.] I lost an eye to -- to one of those imps.

Edited (Styling snafu) 2016-05-11 05:43 (UTC)

[A lot. There were so many things you could do with an eyeball, stranger, and Sieglinde's facial expression blatantly says "so many things", because really... An odd amount of spells called for eyeballs. She hadn't seen many calling for sea serpent eyeballs in particular, but it was always good to have a backups.

But while she was young, she wasn't entirely tactless- and once he identifies his own injury as not a gash or poke but an actual loss of an ocular... She shuts up on that front.]

To an imp?

[She'd had her own unpleasant experience with the creatures... And though she had been injured, they were all side effects of being entranced into crawling up a mountain of lava and volcanic rock, scratches and gashes on her legs and hands, a burn here and there. Not a direct attack.]

You have had it tended to properly, yes?

[There is a certain way she says "properly" that might sound a bit... Elitist, especially coming from a tiny thing like her, but- she's already eyeing those bandages a bit suspiciously. They could be cleaner.]

[They could definitely be cleaner. He's done his best, but dumped on a desert island, there aren't a lot of replacement bandages to be found. He's changed them once since he arrived, but that was mostly to very painfully swap out the pad over his empty eyehole for one less dirty, which has been triage at best when all he can do to sterilize the bandages that hold it in place is to boil them in dubious-quality water for as long as they'll bear.

Evan's knees feel a little weak, and with careful steps he finds his way to a barnacle-encrusted remnant of wall. He sits, with exaggerated care.]

I, I mean, depending on your definition of properly.

[This child is not acting like a child, not with that arch tone and that put-together skepticisim. He eyeballs her right back, with his one remaining.]

It's not bleeding or oozing anymore, but that's the best anyone could do for it. I've been getting a lot of 'well, if I had my powers back'...

[He shrugs, subject to a wave of enervating despair.]

[Though she does him the service of waiting until he finished talking to move, (part of the manners she has been learning, you are most welcome), Sieglinde's expression likely betrays about halfway through that she does not view that as particularly "proper" at all. Once he shrugs, however, she is quick to set aside her newest prize, nestling the lens of the serpent's eye in the scrap leather before she begins hauling herself up to her knees, pulling her bag from her side and opening it, gesturing to the relatively clear space on the courtyard floor beside her.]

Well, it is lucky for you that I have far more experience healing in the ways of "science" than I do "magic"- do have a seat.

[ALASTAIR had made a real witch of her in the months since her recruitment, but all those years in her own world doing what she thought were spells- well, they weren't. Chemistry, biology, physics, astronomy... She could only speak about them in the terms she had been taught, "potions" and "spells" and "magic circles", but they were, in the end, only advanced science disguised as the mystical.]

A few of my potions did not survive the journey here, but I've enough left to at least make sure infection won't take the rest of your face- how is the pain, now?

[Without waiting to see if he would accept her offer, she's already pulling out vials, some cracked, some... Definitely looking like hip flasks. (What? When your vials cracked you took whatever people around you had to save the contents.)]

You can... ah.

[The injured young man, who has never been much of a proponent of 'magic' himself despite his odd heritage, goes through a complicated set of reactions at the revelation that this serious-faced ten-year-old who's been talking about scrying is apparently of the same bent. There's surprise in there, and relief, and a painful hope that she can in fact help, because he has been deeply worried about infection...

...but she's also ten. He stares at the vials and flasks she begins to produce.]

You... you're very. Um. Young to be a doctor.

[He sounds a little pained. The hope she's elicited is warring strongly with his deep-set worry, and he's about eighty percent sure that he's just said something she'll take as terribly rude.]

I am twelve since the snow moon.

[This is announced, mind, with the same gravity and assurance one would announce that the were thirty five and an expert in their field. Age had never been something that people pointed out to her in her own village- after all, it was women decades her senior who had been relying on her since she was born... And according to the culture she was raised in, she was near enough to marriageable. It was only since coming to ALASTAIR that she had encountered the idea that age might have to do with trust or competence. But she had grown used to, if not weary of, that question.]

- and I inherited the title of Green Witch many moons ago, you have little to worry for.

[But she knew what to say now, what was really in doubt when people made comments like that, (at least, she thought she did), so once she spoke to her credentials she just sat there on her knees, tiny feet hidden by her gown, holding a potion vial she's selected and gesturing again to the space beside her.]

[Witch? Twelve?

Evan remembers being twelve and he remembers it well enough to recall with clarity the sense of total, ignorant, prepubescent confidence. It does not occur to him that other worlds might mean this girl had to grow up more quickly than he might have, and it certainly seems odd to refer to a witch as someone who pursues the sciences.]

Where I'm from, it takes a lot longer than twelve years to earn any sort of doctorate, and I don't imagine you began studying at birth.

[But he's eyeballing that spot next to her with a kind of desperation. Skittish, wanting so badly to believe that someone can fix him, he follows up with,] What's in the vial?

I believe I was around four.

[So he still doubted? Sieglinde's nose wrinkled up slightly in frustration, but she didn't let the emotion get the better of her. He was injured, and looked almost like one of the deer in her forest, shy and a moment from bounding away. Instead, she kept her hand open, continued to gesture to the space beside her on offer.]

This potion purifies wo-

[Having learned everything she had as if it were magic, that sort of answer was what came out first- but he didn't want to hear that, did he? What had Doctor Wells called this potion...]

It is a tincture with an iodine base.

[She had to admit, science was interesting, but a far more boring sounding thing compared to magic.]

...oh.

[He is surprised when she labels something that he not only recognizes but recognizes as medically useful, but even his surprise is overshadowed by his relief. He is still not certain he would be willing to call her doctor, but... iodine. He rises from where he'd been sitting on the ruined wall and comes, slowly, to take the spot she's indicating. He does not take his eyes off of her and that tincture.]

...what's your name?

I'm Evan.

[How good he was seeing sense! Sieglinde placed the vial on the courtyard floor once he sat down, rifling through her bag for another vial, this one containing what seemed to be a balm of gel, nodding go herself and placing that one down as well.]

I am Sieglinde. Sieglinde Sullivan.

[Lord of Wolfsclucht and the Green Witch, but this one didn't seem particularly impressed with titles, perhaps didn't even have a clan name, so she kept it simple.]

Evan, I will need examine your eye first- may I remove the bandages?

[For all that she was twelve, she had a decent bedside manner when she had the mind for it.]

[There's something as unsettling as there is comforting about the poise with which this child holds herself, adn those two impressions war in Evan. Still, he's desperate, and at the very least, iodine. He nods, having watched warily as she pulled out additional vials, and at her question he nods. He could do it himself, but -- well, honest to god, he doesn't want to touch it.]

Of course.

It's, um. It's a bit grim.

[His voice dips quiet at that last, warning her and apologizing all at once. There is a boon in the fact that he has little access to mirrors, here: the few glimpses he's had of the ruin of his face have been miserable things. He bows his head, indicating the knot that holds the bandages in place.] Here, um, they start here.

I have little need for warnings, you need not concern yourself.

[She hadn't yet let her sense of horror at the sight of terrible wounds, surges of sympathy and concern, but she'd long left behind the reaction, the rattling nerves and recoil in instinctive disgust. Patients needed their doctor to be calm as possible, to seem confident and capable...

Even if they were twelve.

Lips set in a firm line, Sieglinde moved to begin untying the makeshift bandage knot, steadily and carefully unwrapping the fabric to reveal his face, mindful of any hint that the healing wound had tried to fuse fabric and skin together.]

Is this the worst wound you have ever had?

[It was a weird sounding question, probably, but she just wanted him talking, distracted from what she was actually doing.]

By a long shot.

[That's an easy answer to give, even if he's all but quivering with attention to the unwrapping bandages. It's not that it hurts, but he's never had a wound even close to this severe, and a part of him goes on high alert whenever anyone so much as breathes at his injury. It scares him, it continually scares him.

The bandages come off easily until they reveal a pad of wadded-up bandage pressed against his eye socket. That, however, has begun to stick: though he's not openly oozing, there are parts where the massive scab occasionally cracks and bleeds where he hasn't known how to keep it properly dressed. Every nerve in his body is at attention as he anticipates her removal of that pad.

Valiantly, he tries to carry on the conversation.]

I broke my toe once when I was -- was probably about your age. I thought it was rather unpleasant. [he gives a weak little 'hah' at that.] At the time.

A toe is not so bad...

[And she was grateful for a moment, that with his cringing and loss of an eye, he likely wouldn't catch the somewhat darker expression that flickered across her face, or the way her own feet, broken by the hands of a servant when she was but a child, (because in her mind, she wasn't one any longer), curled in as far as the bindings would allow.]

You are quite the lucky man.

[Or pampered, she supposed- she did not know his world well, and could not speak to what would be one's normal likelihood of injury. Her mouth turned down in a slight frown at the sight of the healing wound integrating the bandages. That would sting when removed, for sure. Adjusting how she leaned over him, Sieglinde carefully placed her fingers on the pad, while he other fingers drifted down to his thigh.]

Now, I will remove this, and it will hurt slightly.

[Just before she peeled the pad from his eye, she gave his thigh a hearty pinch- distract the brain, and it's pain receptors, from the somewhat nerve wracking peel of bandage and threads from the healing wound. At least, she tried to do it as cleanly as possible, but.]

[She succeeds with her distraction -- when he yelps it's a noise of surprise rather than strictly one of pain, and though his heart rate spikes he's briefly too muddled by the mixed sensations to properly have panicked.

The sticking, small mercy, was fairly superficial. The bandage comes off without a fight: it seems like most of the bleeding that stuck the bandage to the eye socket was from a series of small claw-wounds around his eye, and a long scrape that leads in from his nose to disappear into the socket itself.

But he'd been telling the truth when he'd told her someone had taken care of covering over the worst of the wound: his eyelid is closed and hollow-looking, not oozing blood or pus from underneath, although the lid and the surrounding tissue looks red and his whole socket is darkened with a greenish fading bruise. There is one place where the lid has been torn, near the outer edge of his eye, and that's the goriest part: it's a gnarled, ugly-looking scab that pulls at the surrounding flesh, but unlike the scabs around his socket it's intact. If there is infection it is mild.

All told it's less horrific than he has been parsing it to be. Most of the damage is behind that eyelid, and healing in the safety of a sealed environment. Still, he's pale as she examines, his tension high and fluttering in his chest.]

That -- wasn't so bad.

Um. The iodine... that's going to hurt worse, isn't it.

Good.

[She wasn't the strongest thing, as tiny as she was and lower limbs half atrophied from disuse, but she could manage a decent pinch to distract a patient. But she herself was momentarily distracted when she could finally get a good look at his eye, humming a bit under her breath as she confirmed a few things.

The trajectory of the claws, the depth of the marks, the viscous sort of seal keeping his eyelid closed, the indent behind it. No one in her village had ever lost an eye, but she'd read of the procedure and treatment in her books, and there had been that one dog who'd lost one... Well, there was little time like the present.]

It will sting, yes- was the eyeball snatched out in its entirety? Did you clean the socket well?

[As much as she'd prefer to distract him with other talk, considering his complexion, she had to ask, reaching back to her bag to pull on a soft leather glove, popping open the potion vial to pour a bit into her own hands, rubbing the mixture into her skin and on the flesh of the glove before she moved to place a hand on his temple, gently prompting moving his head this way and that to check from different angles.]

EVENT ★ GILLIGAN'S ISLAND

Sieglinde Sullivan | Open

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