Knockin' On Heavens Door WHO Declan Ward OT Anya Kaminsky WHAT Declan has been dealing with a ghost in his flat and gets injured. WHERE Havenwood General (ER) WHEN Friday, June 16th, 2017 ~3:16 PM
It had started Wednesday when renovations in the store and flat next door began. In hindsight (ha!), Declan should've known things would get progressively worse as the solstice drew closer, but more often than not the more attention you gave a spirit the more power you gave them. At least, that had been his experience. Things were always different here in Havenwood. Perhaps it was the leylines, perhaps it was the fact that the town sat near a faerie portal. Who really knew? What started out as harmless cold spots, wall scratching, and lights flickering had progressed to object displacement and then object throwing as of that afternoon when Declan had jumped into action.
He had been playfully flirting with Ms. Lautari in the shop as they were returning items to the shelves when he sensed a book careening toward them. Declan grabbed Prudence, narrowly avoiding the book but the two had crashed into the nearest bookcase as a result, disturbing it's contents; A small cauldron toppled off the top shelf, using Declan's head to cushion its fall. Suffice it to say, it appeared as if the witch would need stitches after the gifted woman had cleaned the gash on his head so off the two went to Havenwood General.
Of course, as he was sitting in the curtained room, Declan had tried to talk Prudence out of taking him here in the first place. He was not fond of hospitals on principal having woken up in a morgue or two and while he showed up on tests as nothing more than human (knock on wood), he always worried that technology would one day catch up to magic. But, in the end, his employee ended up having her way, so there Declan sat on the edge of the gurney with hands resting on his thighs, palms up, fingers loosely curled, and his eyes closed. His head had started to throb on the way, which he admitted to when asked by the admitting nurse, but he refused any medication for until he'd absolutely needed it. Anything stronger than Tylenol put his senses at risk, but with a little magic and some meditation... he’d be good as new in no time. Well, after he got these stitches.
A small, frustrated sigh was heaved as he shifted uncomfortably on the gurney and tried to filter out the unnecessary noise. He tuned out the occasional page, the constant swirl of antiseptic, chemicals, and the underlying scent of blood; he ignored the conversation going on on either side of him, and the rhythmic pattern of soft footsteps of everyone that wasn’t on the floor of the ER. A strong heartbeat and the scent of shapeshifter, caught his attention, however, because the individual in possession of both was heading straight for him.