WHO: Sydney Clarke & Rogier WHAT: Food is healing. Donuts, tacos & lay on hands. (and a minor "Sorry Dr. Danvers") WHEN: Today, Saturday afternoon! WHERE: Vallo Clinic (I think!) WARNINGS: Some gruesome curse detailing but otherwise okay. STATUS: Complete!
Syd didn’t try to get away with a lot when it came to hospitals, or clinics, because nurses and doctors typically deserved a measure of respect to not have their wishes trampled on. But the patient in question had a creepy curse, so this called for a variety of foods. She had to do her daily healing treatment to push it back anyway, why not add on tacos and donuts with it?
“I’m upping your bill to four-hundred an hour because I’m making a delivery you didn’t ask for, FYI.” Syd breezed into the room with her arms full, two bags of food and a closed box resting on top. “You’ll get the whole thing when all this was done.” Probably hand-written with some made-up numbers, but only because she had to follow through.
She used her boot to kick over the meal table and set the food down on top and leveled a look on Rogier. “Alright, I’ve got a treat for you. I figure you’ve been stuck in here with what-- meatloaf and jello? Have you ever had a taco? Or a donut?”
“I’ve twenty-three runes in my pocket, so one of us is about to be very disappointed.” Rogier was nothing if not quick, even through the haze of medications, potions, pain, and oppressive feeling of impending doom. He smiled at Sydney, recognizing her from the last time she was here, glad to see a familiar face, even if the thin sheen of magic that trailed her had more than a hint of death about it. Such details didn’t bother him, hadn’t bothered him in years, not when the person it was attached to was helpful, compassionate and snarky. Rogier had a feeling his aura was dismal at best, these days.
“You’re not wrong; the food has not been as impressive as the service,” he admitted, not quite insulting the clinic but not being particularly effusive, either. Rogier picked up a donut, and looked at Sydney through the hole. “What in the Lands Between have you brought me?”
“Better than whatever else is in your pocket,” Syd snarked right back, glad he was still able to keep up with the jokes. She knew anyone at the clinic would’ve put out the word if it’d gotten worse, but there was still always that worry settled in the back of her mind. “The food thing is a pretty normal trend, something something don’t overextend your stomach blah eat bland foods.”
She held up her own donut and wagged eyebrows. “This is a donut. Lovely fried pastry with sweet frosting and toppings, I might get in trouble so I’m risking a lot for you here.” She was full of shit, but wasted no time scarfing her own donut down, half to prove it wasn’t poisoned or something ridiculous that seemed likely in worlds like his.
Rogier wasn’t worried about poisoning so much as donut etiquette; he figured if someone wanted him to kick off well, all they had to do was wait. Apparently donuts were best eaten by stuffing them directly into your mouth, no silverware necessary, so that’s what he did, following her example.
“Marika’s tits, that’s sweet,” he coughed after a moment, his quasi-medieval-fantasy taste buds unaccustomed to that degree of corn syrup. “I… strangely want five more. Wow. Delicious.” Never accuse him of not rolling with it, whatever “it” was. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear carefully, exposing a gold and teal teardrop earring as he did so. Not hospital regulation, but honestly, kill him before you took away his fashion. “What’s the other thing, then?”
Syd grinned at his reaction. “Right?” She had more, but set the box to the side since he was asking and wanting to make his way through things. The tacos had more of a variety, since Syd tacos were not everyone tacos - and not everyone could handle her level of spice. “Alright, next one is pretty much a requirement, but I didn’t know what your tastes are like, so-”
She set out a few different hot foil packets. “Are you a vegan? How do you feel about meat? And how to you feel about spicy things? Or shrimp? I have options. Do you even have shrimp where you come from or are they freaky giant mutants?”
“I don’t know what a vegan is, I eat meat as long as I have no idea it was originally cute, I do a bit of spice-- I don’t know if I could be considered a professional with it, but I try to keep the crying to a minimum, I eat shrimp, we have lots of freaky giant mutants; in particular I’ve heard a crustacean-like being lives in the caves near the University, and no, I’ve not tried to eat them.” That was a lot of words all at once, but he didn’t mind the questions. Rogier didn’t mind any of this, tired as he was of being treated like a tragedy. It was why he’d asked to be removed himself from the center of the Hold back home; he couldn’t stand to see the wreck of D’s face, or hear Fia’s worried tones. Sydney was treating him like a person, and that warmed him in a way that wasn’t from his (managed) fever.
He reached out for one of the foil packets, and hesitated.
“I don’t eat the shiny stuff, right? That’s a universal constant, I think.”
“Alright good. I’m not going to ask about that yet because if humans are good for any one thing, it’s looking at something and going “yeah, I can eat that”.” She kept unloading what felt like an endless supply of tacos, but she’d grabbed a few extra fajita meat ones for Kate in case bribery was needed. And just cause.
“Okay, we’ve got fried avocado taco, grilled shrimp taco, carnita taco - this one’s spicy, and then a few different breakfast taco combinations. One that’s egg and bacon, egg and veggies and potatoes…” She grinned and pulled out a blue packet. “And butt burning sauce if you’re feeling daring.”
None of it made much sense to Rogier, but he didn’t care. He grabbed the egg and bacon taco, because he knew what eggs were, pulled the foil back, politely refused the butt burning sauce (“Thank you, but I’m falling apart from the waist down; why add butt burning to the mix?”) and took a satisfying bite.
“Delicious,” he pronounced after a moment, after he’d swallowed and was attempting to be as polished as he could while being ill and tucked into bed. “Are all these foods native to your world? Or were they new to you as well?” It occurred to him he didn’t know much about where she was from, save that people had extraordinary powers that weren’t well-received, and that she was generally happier here. He couldn’t blame her there. The Lands Between held nothing good for him these days.
Syd had yoinked the spiciest of the lot so she could eat it with a healthy dose of butt-burning sauce. Or a gross amount, depending on who you asked. Her dulled senses made that more of a Syd problem than it was anyone else’s, though, so she kept the judging to a minimum when others declined her level of heat.
She pulled up a chair to the side of his hospital bed and made herself comfortable. “Yeah, mine is like-- you probably haven’t had any ability to explore, but it’s more similar to the city out the window. Less old-timey and magic and poison swamps and more pollution, tacos, and guns. Everybody who feels more out of place seems to enjoy the donuts first, after their free alcohol.”
“They’ve not offered me any free alcohol here in the clinic,” Rogier objected. “And here I thought they cared.”
He’d looked out the window, of course, and marveled at the unfamiliar sights. It was completely different than home - had more people, for one - and while it was beautiful he found he missed the golden glow of the Erdtree, like some people missed mountains or the sounds of the ocean. Still, he was eager to explore, to find out what was here. “Guns,” he murmured, the word tugging at his recollection. “Oh right - a Jacob Frye mentioned those. A weapon.” His nose wrinkled and he looked back at her. “Speaking of weapon - that smells spicy. How are you still conscious?”
Syd snorted and finished off her messy taco with minimal droppings onto her foil catch all. “You can get it later when you’re fixed.” She wasn’t about to go that far into annoying the clinic workers by sneaking him in some. Donuts and tacos were her limit.
At the question, she shrugged one shoulder. “I spent some time as an icicle, never fully thawed. It dulled the senses a little so I’ve got a high tolerance.” She shifted a little in her chair and balled her foil up but didn’t throw it at him despite the temptation. “How’s your pain level today? Has the curse moved at all?”
Rogier had heard of stranger transformations, so he didn’t ask the questions on the edge of his tongue. Still, he filed away her claim of having been an “icicle” for a time when he was sharper and had something to write with. “Do you like warm places, then? The coast, sunshiney windows… things like that?” It wasn’t the more technical questions he’d like to have asked, but it’d tell him a lot about her, and Rogier was nothing if not a little bit nosy.
At her question, he laughed. It came out more like a huff. “Pain level’s better than it has been,” he said, which was both true and not really an answer, then looked chagrined. “I don’t know what sort of potions or physicks you’ve got available here, but they do their job. The thorns seem to be growing out rather than up… which, selfishly, I’m rather glad about if I manage to escape this with my life.” Rogier would be damn grateful if he lived, but not grateful enough to live a life of chastity. “I may have to be pruned before this is all over,” he added flippantly. Never let them see you sweat, after all.
“Sunshine and heaters are my best friends,” Sydney confirmed, not at all bothered by it. It was close to summer and she still threw on a hoodie to come here, thanks to the chill of the hospital being an annoyance. “I just recently told the calendar guy on the network that I wanted a sunlamp so I could bask like a reptile for the photoshoots.”
She pushed the food table away a little bit so she could peek at any changes, since he was a little cagey in his reply. “Ras is a pretty good potion maker from what I’ve seen. I’ll see if I can push it back down a little more, though we’ve got plenty of gardeners here in Vallo if you want to go that route.” She pulled back the blanket covering his legs, and winced at the view despite having already seen it before. Still looked painful as fuck. “Do you want me to warm up my hands first?”
“I read that they were doing something people were sounding shrewd about,” Rogier admitted; he wasn’t able to do much more than read these days, and that entry had gotten so many replies. “Lots of talk of clothes, and lack thereof. I’d have volunteered, but I think you’re the only one eager to see what I’ve got going on under this depressing sheet, reptile or no.”
“And no need to warm up your hands,” he added after a moment, his smile tightening slightly, a flash of vulnerability and then it was gone again under good humor. “The cold feels nice.”
“Aw, don’t sell yourself short,” Syd wasn’t exactly eager either, but she knew damn well there was likely some healers that were into it. “I bet if I took pictures you’d go viral in mere minutes. Not that you know what either of those terms mean.” She at least was assured that the curse wouldn’t spread to anyone in close proximity, but viral likely meant something else to someone who’d been without tiktok all their life.
She found a space between-- ugh, gnarly thorns sticking up out of the skin on his legs. They were still short enough that she could work around, but he was right - growing out.
Thanks to that wish she’d been granted forever ago, Syd’s healing worked in a similar way to her resurrection skills - like magically stitching a person from the inside out, but it was always stopped before she could push it to full healing, the limitations forcing her into a wall. Still, she closed her eyes and dug in, her brain grasped onto the threads that were tainted and corrupted, angry and red as they fought back against the poison in his bloodstream. Syd stitched, put pieces back together, weaved ends, cut off the flow from one thorn to another.
It took her a few minutes to get anywhere good, but the end result was like a weed whacker had trimmed them down a little and tamed a portion of the wilds before she hit the wall.
It hurt. It hurt more than nearly anything had, partially because he was sharper than he had been at his worst in the Hold, more aware of his surroundings, his fever lower. Rogier didn’t complain or make a sound, his lips pressed together with a violence that they had turned white. He held still, because he knew that at the end of the pain came relief, and sure enough it did, balancing on a knife-point and finally falling over into something cold, soothing, and quieter. The curse was still there, doing damage with every moment, but for the time being, its worst effects had been pushed back. He let out his breath in a hiss, missing his hat; if he had been wearing it he might have ducked his head so Sydney might not have seen the color of his face nor the water in his eyes.
But she had, and so he wrinkled his nose, and shrugged, refusing to be self-conscious. “It’s much better,” he said, and then: “You know, there’s got to be a more pleasant way for you to meet people,” the joke lilting despite the shakiness of his voice. “What do you actually do for a living? Other than… spine-rattlingly powerful magic?”
“This is why I prefer my patients to be dead,” Syd quietly muttered, more to herself than Rogier. She pointedly ignored him gathering himself again, she’d known enough people that hated their vulnerabilities put right out there that it seemed the nice thing to do.
“I’m nothing compared to a bunch of people here, for the record. Chump change.” She’d never been good about considering herself magical - not with how it worked in their world. Syd covered his leg back up with the blanket gently before she was tempted to try again to push it further back. “I work at a local farm, The Barns. I’ll bring you a pint of ice cream when I come by tomorrow, do you want chocolate, vanilla, or strawberry? You can’t go wrong with any of them but don’t tell my boss I said that.”
If he weren’t feeling like he was moments from leaving behind a pretty corpse, Rogier would have shown her a sorcery. Glintstone-based magic wasn’t just versatile, but in his mind quite attractive, taking on a bright teal hue flashing with internal light. Rogier prided himself on being neat, clean, and well-dressed even when traveling through the most disgusting of regions; it was killing him to be so— unlike himself now.
But he had a feeling he didn’t want the hospital to get angry at a blue glintstone sword going through the wall, so he just smiled. “Strawberry, please. Thank you so much for taking time out of your day to come by.” Already he felt better, her magic giving him some reprieve from the ever-growing thorns. He tucked away the notion of the Barns for later. “I’ll make it up to you somehow when I’m able to do more than be talkative furniture.”
“Oh yeah you’re definitely going to owe me some alcohol and maybe a favor or two. Save some room for Gilmore and Blue, too.” Syd pushed the food table back in his direction. “Keep the rest of the donuts but don’t make yourself sick eating them, I might get banned.”
She pointed at him, all 5’2” of her in the ass-kicking boots strapped around her ankles, less than intimidating but trying anyway. “And get some fucking sleep. Also pretend I didn’t say that because I refuse to be known as a responsible person.” Even if she was, and had always been a lot more mature and grown up than others her age, but the EO thing helped with that. And being shot at.
Rogier had begun grinning sometime in the middle of her litany of rules and requests, the sort of grin that generally got him out of half of the trouble he managed to nosedive into. There was something funny about someone showing up, being kind, providing snacks, relieving his pain, and then making sure that their rep was intact. “If anyone asks, I’ll say you did a line of powdered erdleaf flower on my nightstand and then got so rowdy you had to be removed from the room by someone large and angry. Your secret responsibility is safe with me.”
If he had a hat he’d tip it. Alas, he had nothing, so instead he ripped into another donut, more or less ignoring her warning not to get sick.
“Perfect, I don’t know what that is but I hope it’s similar to cocaine. Get rest! I’ll be back tomorrow.” Sydney gave him a thumbs up and slowly morphed it into a middle finger on her way out the door, despite the fact that he probably didn’t know what that meant.
But if it meant he’d flip people off as a kind goodbye gesture, Syd would consider herself a true winner.
Rogier was mystified, but no stranger to quickly picking things up, returned the gesture in the manner in which it was given. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks again for making this less dull.”
He made sure to raise his middle finger at Dr. Danvers when she came to check on him an hour or so later.