Merrion Priddy (merrymage) wrote in emillion, @ 2013-11-22 10:08:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | !narrative, !plot: as i lay dying, merrion priddy |
Who: Merrion Priddy + npc white mage
What: Somewhere in Emillion, a hypochondriac sneezes during plague flu season
Where: A clinic in the Commoners
When: Backdated to Tuesday
Rating: PG
Status: Complete (narrative)
Myf rubbed her temple as the councilor babbled on and on about his symptoms, mentally counting to ten to keep her temper in check. She’d heard the rumor that he had been locked up in his room because of some break-up or another, and she had foolishly hoped that it would have meant that he wouldn’t venture outside to be able to logically believe that he caught the flu, or worse. It was the start of her busiest time of the year, and she had no time to entertain the paranoia of neurotic clients, even if he was Council. Alas, Faram had other plans for her. “Were you around any animals today?” she asked. It seemed to be a big joke Faram played on the white mages of the city that He’d given Merrion some legitimacy in his claims, but at least there was a silver lining, and many of his symptoms could be easily waved off as an allergic reaction the majority of the time. At that, the man cringed. “I… well, I mean, there were the cats just outside the Tower as usual, but—” “Then that’s all it was.” Myf wished she could say that she was desensitized to that pitiful look in his eyes, but knowing that it was genuine and not a play to get what he wanted made it all the more difficult to shove him back out on the streets. “Are you sure?” he asked, hesitantly. “I mean, it could be the start of something much, much worse, and I could die, and… could you double check? Just in case?” Myf shook her head. “I have a lot of other patients, Councilor.” But she knew that he would bother other white mages if she didn’t give him something, and she knew that all of them were just as busy as she was these days. She retreated to the cabinet in the back of the examination room and pulled out a simple potion – nothing more than the equivalent of a Cure spell, but placebo medicine always seemed to do the trick with the councilor. “Here,” she said, handing it to him. “This should help for now. Come back if your symptoms worsen.” Merrion’s face brightened and he hopped to his feet excitedly as he took the bottle. “Thank you so much, Myf! I really appreciate it, truly!” “Of course,” said Myf as he dashed out of the clinic. She let herself have a minute to sit and shake off the nerves from the visit before calling in her next patient. Perhaps a complaint to the Sage would not be amiss. |