tiedtongues (tiedtongues) wrote in plagued_logs, @ 2016-01-30 21:53:00 |
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Entry tags: | 1999 january, renwick gray, rhamnus travers |
Who: Professor Travers and Renwick Gray
What: Their arranged therapy!
When: Pro-dated to the afternoon of the 31st
Where: The Hospital Wing
Rating/Progress: Low/In-Progress
He was a stubborn man. He had been told many times, though each time Rhamnus had chosen to remind his accuser that persistence was not at all a terrible trait. He knew pain. He had watched his mother wilt in a room full of people who would willingly offer any avenue of relief from that which she suffered. She had been stubborn as well. At least he had come by it honestly.
It felt very familiar, the chill of the Hospital Wing. The starkness of the clean sheets on the beds and the sterile smell of every surface. He pushed his palms against his pants leg and sighed. He'd removed his formal robes and draped them over the chair by the bed by the time Renwick appeared from behind the curtain, and he offered a casual smile in greeting of the familiar face. "Good afternoon, Mr. Gray. Thank you for meeting me."
He plucked the buttons of his shirt open out of habit. It was a thoughtless process born of years of similar treatment. He'd waited days to make the trip back to the castle after the announcement of the resumation of classes. Afterall, it was only a matter of days. But even days brought the agitation to the surface where the potions normally pushed it deep beneath the surface. It was obvious in the more severe restriction of motion in his left arm as he slipped his shirt from the shoulder, grimacing faintly as muscle and nerves protested. "It's been three days." Rhamnus conjured the answer before it could be asked. How many days had it been since last he'd had a potion for the pain? But then, the Healer very well knew how long the last appointed dosage would have lasted. "I thought it silly to come sooner, but I don't imagine moving back to the castle made a positive difference."
Renwick Gray had been monitoring the containment of the curse. The physiotherapy had done wonders for the weakness in his hand. He'd gone from nearly no strength to a considerable grip since they'd begun, and the tingling had subsided. But today...today was no victory. It was fire in every vein and painfully obvious that his right hand was now doing all the work. "How does your work go as of late? How are the students?"