The good thing is that thisworks. After setting up and running a few trials, Carter is quick to notice the positive effects of the light. Yes, there are side effects and he is dealing with a lot of frightened people. But they have something to break that awful hold on their minds and that, to Carter, is an absolute win. It feels good. It makes magic a little less scary and a little more tangible. A mundane treatment that drives out the inexplicable.
But it's also daunting. It's been a while since he conducted his last study and it's been, well, never that he conducted a magical study at that. While simultaneously treating people and trying to help them. He's always had a good bedside manner but the violent yelling, the threats, the fear and pleads are getting to him and he's stretching himself thin trying to stay on top of it all.
There is a bit of a downtime and he sits, exhausted while he catches up on some charts and nurses a long cold coffee. When someone approaches he looks up.]
Hi.
[He sniffs, rubbing his face and forcing himself to sit up straight.]
Anything you need?
b. Treatment Wildcard
[ooc: Bringing someone in? Being brought in yourself? Here to help? The Doctor is in!]
c. For Luka
[When they bring in Luka, Carter closes his eyes, trying to ward off the multiple deja-vus that hit him.
Luka, shattering lights all around Gloucester.
Luka, throwing rocks at him.
Luka, in a tent, more dead than alive.
Luka, on this stretcher right now, in restraints and clearly as out of it as he was before. Carter moves, starts working on him right away but it's hard. When did this happen? How did this happen? In the end he sits, monitoring him, waiting to see if his condition improves. Sometimes he checks his pulse, hydration levels, temperature. Sometimes he's in the back of a pick-up truck again, dabbing Luka's sweaty face with a cool towel.]
This is a real bad habit you've gotten yourself into lately, you know that?
[He mutters quietly to himself, checking the IV.]
What, you think I'll always come running to bail you out?
[The answer is yes. Yes, he will.]
ii. walking hell cw: addiction, hard drug use, syringes, ptsd, survivor's guilt, violence, stab wounds, blood, gore
[The dream is a mess. It's disjointed, it's hazy, it's disorienting. There are hospital hallways that go on and on and on. Enter a door and it leads into another, an endless maze, there's no way out. There's upbeat music and it's loud, too loud, thumping basses and funky drums.
There's Carter and he's running.
There's himself, chasing him. Younger but looking much worse for wear. There are dark circles under his eyes and something manic in his attitude. There's a knife in his hand and he brandishes it. Sometimes he rams it into his own side, bringing it back bloody, then waves like a promise. This is coming for you.
Despite of the music it's easy to hear this other Carter. His voice is snide, sharp, unpleasant.]
You know, I had everything under control. I did! I was figuring it out? I was handling it, I was doing a good job. But noooo, you're making it so difficult. And for what? You're sick of it. I'm sick of it. And so is everybody else.
John Carter | ER | ota
a. coffee break
[Here's the good thing.
The good thing is that this works. After setting up and running a few trials, Carter is quick to notice the positive effects of the light. Yes, there are side effects and he is dealing with a lot of frightened people. But they have something to break that awful hold on their minds and that, to Carter, is an absolute win. It feels good. It makes magic a little less scary and a little more tangible. A mundane treatment that drives out the inexplicable.
But it's also daunting. It's been a while since he conducted his last study and it's been, well, never that he conducted a magical study at that. While simultaneously treating people and trying to help them. He's always had a good bedside manner but the violent yelling, the threats, the fear and pleads are getting to him and he's stretching himself thin trying to stay on top of it all.
There is a bit of a downtime and he sits, exhausted while he catches up on some charts and nurses a long cold coffee. When someone approaches he looks up.]
Hi.
[He sniffs, rubbing his face and forcing himself to sit up straight.]
Anything you need?
b. Treatment Wildcard
[ooc: Bringing someone in? Being brought in yourself? Here to help? The Doctor is in!]
c. For Luka
[When they bring in Luka, Carter closes his eyes, trying to ward off the multiple deja-vus that hit him.
Luka, shattering lights all around Gloucester.
Luka, throwing rocks at him.
Luka, in a tent, more dead than alive.
Luka, on this stretcher right now, in restraints and clearly as out of it as he was before. Carter moves, starts working on him right away but it's hard. When did this happen? How did this happen? In the end he sits, monitoring him, waiting to see if his condition improves. Sometimes he checks his pulse, hydration levels, temperature. Sometimes he's in the back of a pick-up truck again, dabbing Luka's sweaty face with a cool towel.]
This is a real bad habit you've gotten yourself into lately, you know that?
[He mutters quietly to himself, checking the IV.]
What, you think I'll always come running to bail you out?
[The answer is yes. Yes, he will.]
ii. walking hell cw: addiction, hard drug use, syringes, ptsd, survivor's guilt, violence, stab wounds, blood, gore
[The dream is a mess. It's disjointed, it's hazy, it's disorienting. There are hospital hallways that go on and on and on. Enter a door and it leads into another, an endless maze, there's no way out. There's upbeat music and it's loud, too loud, thumping basses and funky drums.
There's Carter and he's running.
There's himself, chasing him. Younger but looking much worse for wear. There are dark circles under his eyes and something manic in his attitude. There's a knife in his hand and he brandishes it. Sometimes he rams it into his own side, bringing it back bloody, then waves like a promise. This is coming for you.
Despite of the music it's easy to hear this other Carter. His voice is snide, sharp, unpleasant.]
You know, I had everything under control. I did! I was figuring it out? I was handling it, I was doing a good job. But noooo, you're making it so difficult. And for what? You're sick of it. I'm sick of it. And so is everybody else.