[complete/closed] Characters: Horus (falconhead) & Nephthys (descendwith) Date/Time: March 20th, during the event Location: Hospital Rating: PG-13 Warnings: None. Summary: She was feeling pretty serene. Then enter Horus.
Nephthys was fully aware there was trouble about but she had discovered that she wasn't affected. She'd still not changed anything into something else. Not even a pen into something else.
The former goddess wasn't going to even deny this was a blessing. She had far too much to concern herself with, far too much to do to be distracted with these ridiculous games cast upon them by some arrogant higher power. There was no lost love for Khaos, someone she wished would be taken care of by that other fellow. Leave all the reincarnated alone as it was hard enough to live this way.
Oddly, even those sentiments didn't stir up a passion in her. There were just thoughts, nothing overly strong. This was likely because she had work to do and it was work where she was at, speaking softly with a doctor about one of her patients. When the doctor had moved along, so did she. There was a constant flow of those who needed her and that was enough to keep her in her usual sober state.
Unfortunately, owing to his recent death, Horus was far less composed. Thoughts of Zurvan would come to interrupt his peace at all the wrong times, and, for reasons beyond his comprehension, things he touched turned into all manner of birds. After being transported to another dimension, granted, the affair wasn't too off-kilter. Still, it proved to be troublesome. Especially when a particularly heavy textbook transformed into a falcon.
Though he was more than capable of handling a falcon, without gloves, Horus was wounded by the bird's long, sharp talons. They dug into his right forearm, leaving a long gash from wrist to the crook of his elbow. It wasn't a particularly deep wound, but its length was more than enough to warrant a visit to the ER.
Thanking Ra because he hadn't yet left NYC, Horus waited for his turn to be attended to. Doctors and nurses came and went; it was a particularly busy day. A particular nurse, tagging behind a doctor, looked very familiar to him. He didn't mean to stare, but Horus could not temper the curiosity in his gaze.
Injuries were being assessed, to see who needed to be seen immediately. It was Nephthys, who saw she was being watched, read into it as someone who wanted help then and murmured something to the doctor. The other woman would then pause before Horus, assessing his injury herself briefly. Then she informed 'Nurse Mourad' to go take their patient to collect his history and attend to him. The wound didn't appear to require stitching.
With the doctor departing to tackle others, Nephthys looked down at Horus. She briefly tried to place him but it appeared she couldn't. Maybe it was just the long day. Smiling slightly, she beckoned him to rise and follow her. "We'll have this managed in no time. Did someone take your information yet?"
"Glad for it," Horus said, grinning. Better to see some humor in the situation than to belabor the bout of misfortune that had befallen him. Still, he took care to keep his fingers to himself. If a syringe turned into a kingfisher, he really wouldn't know how to explain. "Not yet, though. Should I go to the front desk for that, or can I refer to you?"
The environment was unfamiliar, to say the least. Horus really wasn't the type to be in a hospital. He was of the sort that insisted an injury could heal on its own, or that first aid could rectify everything. But the would had looked serious, and for all his pride, Horus wasn't stupid. He had a son and wife(-to-be) to take care of. Being careless with his well-being could prove harmful for them all.
"Oh no, I can take it," she assured him, leading him to a small room she could clean the wound without someone jostling her by accident. If it did seem to require stitches in the end, that could be handled without any faint sorts looking on. "I have the papers with me."
The door would be shut for sake of privacy and she indicated from him to sit as she sat and set down her clipboard. "And if you're in the system, we can move a bit more quickly. Have you come here before?"
"Not before, no," he said, shaking his head. He followed into the room, sitting where she'd instructed him to. "What do you need to know?"
"Name, age, address, occupation and insurance. Family, family history, allergies, any previous illnesses, surgeries, social security number and, of course, any concerns you have aside from what you've brought to us today." Forms, keeping everything tidy. She also found the more moody patients calmed down by the time they were done filling them out but not with this one. He seemed nice and calm.
A blessing, really. "So why don't we get through that quickly? Your arm doesn't seem to be gushing, fortunately, and it's best we know enough in case of an emergency."
Horus attempted to curl his wrist, but winced in pain. Being right-handed, he'd have difficulty writing for the mean time. "Would you mind if I just recited?" he asked, more than slightly embarrassed by his state of helplessness. He was Horus, damn it, he was not supposed to be helpless.
But even gods could bleed, it seemed, and really, Horus was just thankful he could speak at all. (He tried not to remember the feeling of a dagger slicing across his throat.)
"Is it that painful?" Nephthys frowned and set down the clipboard. And even as she spoke, she moved to take his arm to examine his injury. "Here, let me see. Just talk to me, beginning with your name. I'll jot what I remember and then ask you again with what I don't."
"Difficult to write with," Horus conceded, refusing to acknowledge he was in pain. He extended his arm out as he began. "Diego Warton, 32 years old." He recited his social security number and address then confirmed his insurance. He moved onto his parents' names and noted an instance of diabetes in his paternal grandfather before adding, "I live with Estelle Martinez and we have a son, Luca. None with any notable medical concerns."
He paused, trying to remember her other requirements. "No previous confinements or surgeries."
Warton. Somehow, that struck as familiar before he mentioned Hathor's true name and Luca. She knew of someone on her mother's side, a lovely Spanish-Egyptian woman, who had married someone by the name of Warton. But there could be many Wartons. Her Egyptian mother did so love to keep tabs on all her family but she'd have to check with the woman about this man before making a fool of herself.
And then as she began to examine his arm, she realized the rest. "You know Ha-- Estelle?" The error was obvious enough.
The slip was grossly evident, and Horus jumped on it immediately. "I know both Hathor and Estelle, yes."
He eyed her without wariness or suspicion but with a steadiness that was characteristic of him. The nurse's face was becoming familiar to him. A tiny picture -- one he'd seen in the forums. Ah, yes. Yes. His expression softened.
"Aunt."
Nephthys, often graceful and dignified, squeaked. And her hand went back from him suddenly to touch her clipboard. Though a squeak was hardly a big emotional reply, her heart racing beneath her breast certain would indicate the woman was well-surprised (and admittedly worried considering whose wife she had once been).
But, returning to her hand and its unfortunate brush against the clipboard, she would find she would lose it entirely. And in its place would be a pink flamingo.
No, not a lawn ornament. The real thing.
Fortunately, Horus was more than experienced with birds. But, owing to the situation, it seemed warm family reunions would have to wait. "It won't cause any harm." He paused, so characteristically assured and confident in taking action. "If you finish patching me up first, I can call the right people to get this done cleanly and discreetly."
And if he couldn't find anyone, the Cornell lab itself would certainly have the necessary connections to release the flamingo back into the wild. Fortunately, though looking slightly tense in such an awkward environment, the bird wasn't behaving hostilely.
To her credit, she didn't shriek or move suddenly but there had been a considerable pause as she assessed the bird. At least it wasn't freaking out either and she placed trust in Horus' hands about the situation based on not his current career (of which she didn't know of regardless) but that he had been a strong leader. And she, the constant follower, wasn't going to pretend she knew what to do anyway.
"I don't know how long we can keep it a secret but very well." With the bird fortunately not in her way, she reached for what she required to clean his wound and then wrap up his arm. She hesitated again, willing herself to find calm, to be sure of her trust. That he was just another patient. They didn't need two flamingos in the room. Once that was accomplished, she took the items from the drawers and then reached for his arm.
"It doesn't look bad enough to require prescription pain killers or stitches. Just take some Tylenol if needed for pain and come in if it doesn't seem to get better."
"Thank you, Aunt." Strangely enough, Horus didn't feel an ounce of discomfort. Nephthys had been his wet nurse -- it wasn't so strange that she would be attending to him in a similar capacity thousands of years later.
He offered her as reassuring a smile as he could manage, using his newly fixed arm to search his pockets for his phone. Dialing the lab, he put the phone to his ear.
"We'll talk later," he insisted. "And it will be as if this never happened."
As she tossed away what had gotten bloodied along with her gloves, she nodded. "I don't think anyone would believe it even if they heard of it. All the better but..." Nephthys eyeballed the bird who seemed content in ignoring them both. "The sooner that is gone, the better."
She just would have to send someone in later to clean up the room until it was sterile, too.
"Of course." This was what Horus had lived for, after all. Pleasing his mother, his father, his aunt -- nothing was as natural to him. There was no question that he would attend to her comfort right away, just as she had attended to his.
When the other line picked up, he turned away with a polite "excuse me". If he was being honest with himself, he didn't only want to finish up quickly for practicality's sake. He was eager to get to know his aunt in this life, just as he had been with his mother.