2022-05-01 - Wound Care

Surely no one is going to wake up that early the day after the Oak Avenue barbecue. Movement stirs eventually in Number 5, lazy and delayed as befits the weekend. It centers in the kitchen, of course -- the center of this household. Jules is up mid-morning, un-showered and still dressed in pajamas. Long flannel pants, tank-top; the bandaged arm is on full display, as is the tattoo on her shoulder blade, same side. She's puttering around, fixing a bowl of cereal and a pot of coffee.

Another time, another day, Una would have set an alarm to make sure to be awake before Jules, to show her care through the application of copious amounts of cooked breakfast foods. Today, though: not happening. Yesterday was exhausting (high emotions, high fun, high amounts of mingling, some of which involved people she didn't know), and for Una-the-introvert, sleep was vital. That means she's a few minutes after Jules in the kitchen, still dressed in her own nighttime garb of sweats and a t-shirt, barefoot and bed-headed as she enters the kitchen.

Her, "Hey," is cautious.

It's so early. So very early. However, Ava keeps odd times, so it's not terribly usually to see her up and kicking at a time like this. She's already done her run, had her shower, and had a small breakfast. Now it's time to go to check and see if the others are up. There's a little knock on the front door. Lo and behold, it is Ava along with a spare kit of bandaging supplies and all the proper cleaning materials and ointments. She even got the special anti-infection silver with her. Just in case any wounds open up.

It's as if it's a regular day, as far as Jules presents in her demeanor. "Morning." When Una appears, Jules shoots her housemate a smile as she finishes pouring cereal into a bowl. Milk will have to wait; she hears the knock at the front door. "I bet that's Ava," she predicts, headed out of the kitchen and towards the front of the house to find out.

"Morning!" Jules opens the door wide to let Ava in. "Come on, we're in the kitchen," she says, promptly leading the way. "Thanks for coming over."

Good timing, on Ava's part? Or bad? Una's expression makes it difficult to determine whether she thinks it one way or another. She lets Jules go to answer the door, while she pours herself coffee from the pot, then turns back to the fridge to examine its contents. There are plenty of leftovers, but do leftovers make good breakfast? Only sometimes.

"Hi Ava," she says, without glancing around. "Next time, come straight around the back, mm? It's almost always where you'll find us."

"Hey!" Seems like a regular day for Ava as well as she slips through the door with a grin for Jules. "How did it feel getting to finally sleep in your own bed last night? Hard to adjust, or did you sleep like a rock?" Following into the kitchen, the medical kit is set down and she leans against the counter to offer Una a grin as well.

"Morning. Right, back door. You got it."

"It felt amazing," Jules happily recounts. "My own bed has never felt so good before. Don't get me wrong, I love camping. But I also love coming back to my bed and being like, ahhhh, pillows." She heads for the table where she left her cereal bowl, asking, "You mind if I eat this first? Or are you super busy, making the rounds of wounded miscreant households?"

"Coffee?" Una wonders, presumably by way of offering Ava some of the delicious, sanity-saving concoction.

"I could heat up some cinnamon rolls, too... or cheese blintzes?" Food is a good distraction, apparently, from topics she's still not wholly comfortable with.

"Camping is so not my thing. I would want to take my whole bed with me because I am a spoiled princess." Ava laughs. "I'm glad that you got good sleep, though. That's very important. You go ahead and eat."

Una gets a smirk. "When have you ever seen me turn down coffee? You'll have to check my pulse if you ever see that happen. Or, that's how you'll know I've been replaced by an imposter-Ava." Eyes sparkle. "Mmm, cheese blintzes, please, if it's not too much to ask for? I love those. Especially yours." Maybe she realizes what Una is doing.

Jules doesn't ask twice. She goes right ahead and pours the milk into her bowl, leaving the container out on the counter in case anyone wants it for coffee. "Una, you know that if you're heating something up, I'm gonna want some too, pretty please." She starts munching away on her cereal, waiting for the other two to settle. Not diving into the gory details -- that's Jules doing Una a favor

"Well, there was that Dream. I'm relieved that hasn't turned you off breakfast at my place," says Una, with a crooked smile. "Okay, blintzes for everyone. Let me get them in the oven, and then I'll grab you that coffee, Ava."

It doesn't take long: a bag of blintzes from the freezer; a clean baking tray; the oven. Then she bustles around to fetch Ava that coffee, too, and to reclaim her own, taking up her usual position atop one of the counters with it.

"Ugh. That Dream." Ava shudders at the memory. "I'm trying to forget that ever happened, or I wouldn't eat again. It was psychologically scarring." There's a long sigh from the woman before she watches Una busy herself in the kitchen to keep her mind from thinking about fretting. A knowing glance is offered in Jules' direction while Una is occupied.

"What happened?" Jules wants to know as she scarfs down the cereal. "I don't think I heard about that one. So far I just turn into a Raven and get myself buried under a pile of trees. This, by the way," she tells Ava, "wasn't nearly as bad as the night I landed in the hospital. Maybe it could have been, but I don't think that was the point. Maybe if I proved myself unworthy or sucked really hard or something it would've been. But, uh." Una's busy, and she's going to hear about it sometime if she hasn't already. "A cougar attacked me. But one that was also speaking to me, so not like a normal cougar. That's what this is from." She puts her spoon down -- her cereal's gone now anyway save for the last dregs of milk -- and extends her arm, inner side up.

Una doesn't comment on the Dream, mostly because the conversation is moving onwards and it's a topic she's still not really comfortable with. Has she heard about the cougar already? It's hard to tell from the hard line of her expression, though there's certainly no sharp intake of surprise.

"It seems like a totally normal day, I didn't realize it was a Dream for a while. All the food was slowly turning wrong, but Ravn and Una kept on with it. I was trying to tell them it was wrong, but Una started crying because I wasn't eating her food, and Ravn wasn't listening. He kept asking if something was wrong even though I just told him something was. I felt like I was going crazy. I stormed off and then when I got into my house, I woke up standing up having walked into the house. So I wasn't actually sure if it really happened, or was a Dream. One of those, you know?" Ava explains with a frown. Waking Dreams are always the worst.

"Cougar?" Ava nods as if that's the most normal thing in the world. At least in their world. "Not many people can say they survived a cougar attack with so little injury to show for it. Good for you!"

"Man, that sucks." Jules wrinkles her nose in sympathy. And then, a little huff of breath that stands in for a laugh. "Thanks, I think. But I don't think it was so much attacking me as baiting me, if that makes sense? She was teaching me how to fight back." A small, proud smile grows as Jules tells it and remembers.

Una stares at her coffee, as if it might hold all the answers, and possibly make her feel better about this whole messed up situation (and it is, in her head, utterly messed up, just for the record).

Reluctantly; "I'm glad it didn't hurt you worse."

"Oh, that's even better. Few people can say they were taught to fight by a cougar. That's kind of badass. I can't fight for the life of me. I'm more of a healer, obviously." Ava grins. "You'd think with the way I open my big mouth sometimes that I can fight. But no. I have nothing to back it up with." She laughs softly, clearly trying to lighten the mood a little bit.

She offers a supportive smile Una's way.

The smile grows, reinforced by Ava's remarks. "Found out I can do a little healing too," Jules relates. "I think maybe it's the flip side of the coin? Like, if you know how to wound, you can learn to mend, too. So maybe you can learn the opposite." Unprompted, she starts to carefully unwind the bandage on her arm. "Do you think I need stitches? Can you even get stitches several days later after something happens?"

A glance cuts over to Una. "She was pretty amazing, to be honest," Jules says, softer and more serious.

Una is trying, here. Trying to be supportive, trying not to freak out. But amazing? A cougar, who took a bite out of Jules' arm?

That's a bridge too far.

She doesn't meet the gaze of either woman, instead focusing down on her coffee, and abruptly, on the oven-- though it hasn't been nearly long enough for the blintzes to be ready.

"I said I can't fight. I can certainly wound. Anyone with a certain degree of my abilities can cause wounds. With my level of power, they can cause life altering wounds. Or could before Vivisectionist started messing with powers." Ava huffs a breath. "I just don't like doing that, even with medical knowledge. Or maybe because of it? Let me know if you want healing training, yeah? Or any of the other stuff that comes with it. Fire and plants."

Her eyes drift away from Una as the red head refuses to meet gazes. She focuses on wounds instead. Her hands aren't washed yet, so she just visually inspects. "Even twelve hours after the wound is made is pushing it when it comes to being too late for stitches. Luckily it didn't get infected. I brought some nanocrystalline silver wrap that we'll use for the first couple of days to make sure the infection stays gone. There are silver creams too, but those are really used for burns. It'd slow down the healing process in this case. We don't want that."

Jules likely has some idea of Una’s reaction, given the way her gaze flicks to her housemate and rests there for a moment. Instead of pursuing the ‘cougars are cool!’ line, she asks, “Who’s the Vivisectionist? Veil-person? What did he do?”

The bandage is off now, along with the gauze immediately covering the claw marks. Jules rests her arm on the table and stays still. “I wouldn’t have been able to get to a hospital in twelve hours regardless unless I’d signaled for help. I do take a first aid kit with me when I’m out hiking, and it seemed like that could do the job until I got back. Lots of Neosporin.”

"You can help with the garden," suggests Una, cheerfully. This is a topic she's equipped for, unlike cougars. "Healing and fire and plants-- they're all linked. Which I didn't know, not fully, until relatively recently. But you can't ever heal yourself, which is a pain, since that really would be useful."

Especially if you do foolhardy things like hiking alone in the woods.

"I can't tell you the amount of times I have been super frustrated that I couldn't heal myself," Ava sighs. "But like most abilities of it's kind, Una is right, there's no using it on yourself. As for stitches, you always want to get them as fast as possible, within the first six hours of getting the wound. Once you see parts of the skin like in here have started to come together like they have?" Ava gestures into the wound without touching or getting too close. "It's too late. But there's plenty of ways to avoid infection and keep the scars to a minimum." All good news.

"Vivsectionist is one of The -ists. Beings from The Other Side of the Veil. The are more likely to interfere with us directly then some of the other beings. Effect stuff that goes on. There's an ability that we have in the upper level of our power range that can go as far as taking terminal diseases and putting them into remission. It won't get rid of them, but it'll put them on the backburner. Right now, if anyone tries, they get a power surge from her and an unhappy pink post it note telling them no."

“That would be useful,” Jules agrees. She turns to inspecting her own wound, though not before shooting Una a smile for the gardening suggestion.

“A Post-It note would be funny under normal circumstances. What else does she do? Is it just sad faces right now, or is she cooking up trouble?” One of Them, planning something. Jules has the good sense to frown at the thought.

"Her name gives some indication, I think," points out Una, making a face. It's hard to focus on happy fun things like gardening when there's the Vivisectionist right there. "I'm sure she's planning trouble. Or-- well, even if she's not, she's going to get it, isn't she Ava?"

There's a twitch of her mouth, now, as if she's found something abruptly funny. Maybe it's just that she's made the connection between Ava and Jules: both hunting down trouble, in their own ways.

"We're trying to work out what it is she's trying to do. Right now she's just keeping us from using a certain degree of power. To what end is currently unknown. We've been told that we're welcome to take it up with City Hall on the Other Side. Which means asking the Revisionist to alter reality to change it. Which we're not going to do. Because, well, none of us think altering reality seems like a really good idea. Especially from what Ravn has said about the way Revisionist doesn't really understand things the way people do. She thinks she's helping, but isn't."

Ava sighs. She glances towards Una at the lip twitch, tilting her head. "What?"

“There’s a City Hall on the Other Side?” Jules finds this equal parts fascinating and amusing. “That’s amazing. Well, maybe that’s the wrong word, but it’s something else. I haven’t gone over here and actually seen what’s there. Just been pulled into a couple Dreams.” She looks to Una too, eyebrow hitching up; she’s missed what Ava sees, but clued in when their neighbor directs attention Una’s way.

"Most people haven't seen the Other Side," says Una, using this to distract (with success that remains to be seen) from the attention being paid to her not-quite laugh. "But allegedly there's a whole mirror Gray Harbor over there. You have to be pretty powerful, as a... mover, to open that kind of door and be able to get back again."

And, because if she keeps talking, no one is going to prompt her again, "The Revisionist also sounds like a bad plan. That could really fuck shit up."

"I haven't been over there yet. Itz offered to take me over for my first time since he's powerful enough and has done it a few times himself. I trust him, so." Plus that whole little dreamy lilt. Sure, it's just trust. "I'd like to see the other Gray Harbor, but it's where all the -ists are, so it seems like a really bad idea to go there."

Ava is not so easily distracted, even if she gets to thinking about boys that she really shouldn't be thinking about. Her eyes stay on Una, an eyebrow hitching up. Ironically, and not planned, the same eyebrow as Jules.

"Fascinating," Jules murmurs. She's a mover, isn't she? If she's concocting any foolhardy plans, though, she's keeping them to herself. Or maybe even heeding warnings.

Moving along though. Jules has questions. "So this Revisionist. He rewrites history? Is this different from how certain things about Gray Harbor rearrange themselves, or is this dude behind the scenes, pulling all the strings?"

"She," says Una, who is-- nope, still ignoring that hitched eyebrow. "The Revisionist is a she. She's the one who made Ravn in charge of the whole lobster thing, and before that, being a famous Swedish Chef?" Does Jules know this story? Una plainly can't remember, given the question in her voice. "It's bigger than the Veil covering its tracks. It rewrites lives. It caused all kinds of problems for people, what she did. The last thing we want us for her to jump in and make changes, thinking they're for the better and then... them not being."

Ava nods in agreement with Una's telling of the story. "Ravn was telling me once about this poor girl, Sparrow I think her name is. People think this girl has twelve kids, and she's only about twenty-three or around there. Because that's what got changed about her. Hyachinth Addington wound up married to the man that she was in love. Everyone believed they were married. You know, except for the man and the man's girlfriend."

Ava winces in sympathy. "So, very meddlesome. Not something we want to invite back in to play around with. Now, woman what were you snickering at?"

Jules does not know this story. "She, got it. Are all the -ists female? So far I've heard you mention the Vivisectionist and the Revisionist." She too winces at the story Ava shares. "Jesus, talk about complicated."

As for the question? That's all on Una to answer. Jules is looking at her too now, eyebrows lifted again.

"Yeah," says Una. "And then there's the teen that bugs Ravn at HOPE. Vicky? Blonde girl. Says she used to be Black, and her parents are, so-- maybe she was part of all that, too, but I don't know, no one does, since... the world was rewritten. But no: I don't think they're all female. I don't think so, anyway."

The weight of both stares finally corners her into a reluctant admission. "I was just thinking... you're both kind of similar, in how you jump into things. Looking for trouble."

Ava nods. "Yup. Blonde. Very white. Says she didn't used to be. But to everyone else it's just the way it is. The way it's always been, so nobody blinks at it. But she knows the truth." Ava frowns a little at that. "Poor kid."

"I'm with Una on that one. I don't think they're all female. I think that's just the ones we've heard of so far. There are quite a few. Ravn plans to eventually become one himself. The Folklorist, will be his title." She shrugs a shoulder upwards. There's a smirk a moment later at what Una says, her eyes moving towards Jules.

"Poor Una. Caring for all of us trouble makers. We're going to end up giving her gray hair."

“You’re shitting me.” Jules looks both fascinated and a little horrified to hear the story of the black-girl-who-wasn’t. “Jesus. That kind of thing would really mess you up.”

Ava’s revelation makes Jules’ eyebrows arch all the way up. “He wants to become part of the Other Side? Can he do that? What would he do? Would his mind change until he’s no longer him?” So many questions. Jules is only pulled out of asking more by Una’s analysis. It makes her laugh, trading a glance with Ava, her fellow mischief maker. “I’d say I’ll try to be better, but knowing me...” All she can do is helplessly shrug.

"You're both irredeemable," agrees Una, who has at least chilled enough, by now, to be able to tease-- and it is a tease, no more than that.

"But no, not shitting you. It's pretty fucked up." She doesn't have a full answer on Ravn-the-maybe-oneday-Folklorist, but shakes her head and shrugs at the same time. "Impossible to know. I didn't know that was his plan, though-- I know he's said that, one day, not now, he intends to go to the Other Side and find out everything he can. Even if it means he might not come back."

"They're all said to have once been human but just aren't anymore. Whether that's true or not, I don't really know." Ava takes another long sip from her coffee as she considers. "They may all still have a baseline of their personality within them. After all, Revisionist does try to help where she can, if you ask her to. When Ravn's revision was bothering him, he asked her to change it and she did. So she can be reasoned with. Which I'm guessing is a trait carried on from her human self." It's clearly a guess from the look on her face.

There's an amused look from Ava to Una when she's called irredeemable. "You wouldn't have us any other way."

“Huh.” Jules absorbs this, and if she has an opinion, she keeps it to herself for once.

“Una,” she says instead, wheedling. “Will you pour me a cup of coffee pretty pretty please? With a dash of milk?” Jules has her arm unbandaged, after all, which apparently prevents her from getting up to do it herself. Or at least that’s what she would claim.

"I think she's read way too many trashy books and magazines, though, given her way of dealing with things," says Una of the Revisionist, complete with a wrinkle of her nose for emphasis.

Ava's other comment gets to go without response, because Una's giving Jules an appraising, and ever so slightly dubious glance instead. "I want a promise that you won't do anything too... reckless for a little while," she counter-offers. "And then you may have coffee. And a blintz. Or two."

"Hah! Could be. Probably soap operas too. Those usually go hand in hand, right? You know all of my stuff would end up being fantasy tropes and have a lot of elves. You'd see something with pointy ears and be like 'Ava's at it again with her bullshit'."

The request for a promise in exchange for coffee and blintz get's a small laugh. "I don't have to make that promise for my blintz or two, right? Because that was not in the contract before you put those babies in the oven and I'm gonna call foul play."

“I promise,” Jules dutifully replies. “I will not do stupid things on my own.”

Does that count? She smiles winningly.

Does Una trust that promise from Jules? Almost certainly no, not in the least. But she hops down off her counter perch anyway, bustling around to prepare the coffee.

"You," she tells Ava, "Are completely out of my control. But don't think I won't consider withholding in future, just in case. I'm going to keep the pointy ears thing mind, though, just in case. Ava's telltale signature."

"I'm fairly certain I'm outside of anyone's control. Perhaps even my own on occasion. Scientists are a crazy bunch." Ava chuckles at that, nose giving a cute, little scrunch. It dissolves into a look of horror. "No! No withholding food! That's just mean."

Once Una turns to work on food and drinks, however, her attention turns to Jules to see if the other woman was attempting to distract the red head for a reason.

“You’re a mad scientist,” Jules solemnly agrees. Oh, how little she truly knows.

There doesn’t seem to be anything behind her request for coffee except the desire for coffee in itself. “So,” Jules just says, “if the blintzes are coming out, will you bandage me back up? Somehow I feel like I shouldn’t eat, when, you know.” When there’s giant claw marks exposed.

"You'd better be good then!" teases Una. Mean, just, but... possibly effective? (Unlikely. Also, the idea of Una withholding food? Extra unlikely.)

"I'll get this sorted, you get the wound dressed," she agrees. "Do you have everything you need, Ava?"

Ava's bag is pulled up and dropped on the table with a plop. Medical bags can be heavy. "I have it all here." Moving so that she can tug her chair closer to Jules' , Ava studies the wound for a moment, getting her first chance to do so up close. "Okay." Supplies are set out first before foam sanitizer is rubbed onto her hands and then gloves are slipped on.

Fingers give a little waggle before a towel is laid out. "Just rest your arm on that so we don't make a mess on the floor. I'm going to clean you off first." Which involves a saline solution basically all over the arm, and another towel gently making sure to clean everything.

Jules complies, laying her arm on the towel and holding still. “So how much of a mad scientist are you, Ava?” she asks while the doctor works.

Una reclaims Jules' mug, pausing to look at the proceedings with a thoughtful and ever so slightly curious expression on her face. Then her gaze drops towards the actual wound, and she freezes, just for a split-second; then she's off again, coffee-bound.

After the saline comes a thorough drying, then long q-tips are coated in a clear ointment that's very gingerly dabbed into the wounds and along the sides of them. She's being careful not to cause too much pain as she goes. "This plus the silver bandages will help keep out the infections while they heal."

"I wouldn't say that I'm a mad scientist as much as a curious one. I just like to learn things. Especially about the Veil and it's effects on us. I'm doing biological mapping right now to see how much of what we have is genetic, and how much is random. Also, how much being near thin spots actually alters us on a genetic level, if it actually does. Or if it's all just something else entirely. Then there's the greenhouse, which is something else entirely."

If Ava's ministrations hurt, Jules tries not to show it. Her jaw is set, and she keeps her breathing steady. A tic of a wince does occur, though.

"What's with the greenhouse?" she asks, trying to distract herself with conversation and questions. "Are you testing just us," the Glimmerers, "or anybody who lives in Gray Harbor?"

Coffee, poured and milk added. Blintzes, pulled from the oven and then carefully piled up onto a plate, smelling amazing: all soft cheese and cinnamon. Napkins. All of this keeps Una busy; all of it means she has no time (liar) to contribute to the conversation.

It's rude to point out the wincing of someone who is working so hard to hide the fact that they're in pain, so Ava pretends like she didn't see it and just continues her work.

"I have Veil Figs planted in there. There are some in Firefly forest as well, but I wanted to see how different they would be when tended to in a faerie garden greenhouse as opposed to the natural woods. The fruits so far as they've been tested by others have bloomed and had Veil creatures some out of them. So, we'll see what happened in the greenhouse. I even added Cryptid blood to one of the plants. Only a drop since that's all I had. That's not really something you'll ever find again, you know? So I wanted to see how that would alter the fruit. I'm curious to see what happens."

So really, she is a mad scientist.

"Everyone, Shiny or not. I need baselines after all."

The more Ava talks, the higher Jules' eyebrows go.

She has so many questions. The one that she settles on asking first is this: "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

Oh Ava. Even Jules -- Jules, who goes on several day solo hikes to seek out spirits -- thinks this is a bit mad.

"Do I even want to know what Cryptid blood is?"

Finally, Una begins bringing her goodies over to the table, taking multiple trips to do so, and setting them up a solid distance away from doctor and patient: no cross-contamination here.

She's also still holding her tongue.

"Nope." Well, at least Ava is honest. "That's why there are cameras and reinforcement around the greenhouse so that things stay in it and can't get out, and I'm alerted once stuff comes out of the plants. But, science is about learning, not always about the best ideas." There's a little grin on her face. "To prove the electrical nature of lightning Benjamin Franklin held his knuckles up to a metal key that had acted like a lightning rod. Sometimes you have to get a little shock to make the science work."

"Crytids are like Bigfoot, the Chupacabra. Loch Ness Monster. Individual creatures that are supposed to be a myth. There's a monster name Haggleford who is up to all sorts of things. One of the things he's doing is killing these Cryptids and using their deaths and their blood to open portals to his world so he can bring back the people he's kidnapped from ours."

“Uh huh.”

Jules shoots a look at Una, one with frank skepticism, an unvocalized really?

“Cryptid sounds like a lizard monster,” she opines. “Sasquatch is actually a native legend from this region.” In case anyone wanted to know. “So you found a dead one?”

Given Una's expression, she probably finds something faintly amusing in Jules' skepticism, as if she wants to say really, from you? right back, but... she doesn't disagree with the assessment anyway; she shrugs, and gives Jules a somewhat rueful smile.

"Haggleford sounds like seriously bad news," she says, setting the food out on the table, just so. "I prefer cryptids to remain cryptids." Alive and unconfirmed.

Ava nods towards Jules. "Cryptid, legend, same thing in essence. A creature that's said to exist, but that we can't prove." Ava lifts the arm, moving on to the wrapping part of things. A piece of the wrap is settled vertically across the wounds first, making sure that the silver properties will stay in contact the whole time. Only then does she start to wrap.

"I found dried blood. Whatever happened to the remains is still a mystery. I studied half of the blood, and used the rest in the plant." Her attention drifts to Una as she nods. "He is very bad news."

Really, from her. Given the way Jules’ mouth quirks like she’s trying to hide a smile, she likely recognizes the irony.

“Still sounds like lizard monsters,” she says, but she’s listening. Watching, too, to see exactly how Ava dresses the wound. While Jules is competent with first aid, it’s another thing to see a medical professional at work.

“So somehow these monster deaths open a path through the Veil?” she asks. “When you say ‘his world,’ I assume that’s what you mean.”

This time, Una takes a seat across the table from Ava and Jules, watching the wrapping (if not the wound itself).

"Through the Veil," she confirms. "To somewhere else. But not necessarily as simple as... just the Other Side, I think?"

Ava nods her head towards Una. "It's not as simple as just the Other Side, or just The Veil. His world is requiring a special kind of Portal to access for some reason. Or perhaps that's because they don't have our kinds of abilities? Either way, I don't know if it's as close as the other parts of The Veil are. But a different reality for certain."

She frowns as she thinks about it more, continuing to wrap. Firm enough that it's unmoving, but not so tight that the blood doesn't circulate properly.

“So—a different place in there. Like a different layer in an onion. Huh.” These deaths, this Haggleford, none of it is good, but Jules looks intrigued as she sits there patiently waiting for Ava to finish. She’s learning.

Time will tell whether this is good knowledge to have.

This time, Una says nothing at all, but makes an unhappy face.

"Unless there is somewhere else. Beyond The Veil. That uses the Veil as a gateway. Who knows what else is beyond us? There could always be more." Ava can't discount that. "But most likely, yes, a different place in there." The binding is cut and smoothed into place, letting the wrap seal to itself. An extra piece of adhesive is used for extra hold. "There are sick kids, so we're told. A plague that's wiping out their people. Rather than asking for help, they are kidnapping people, ripping out their souls and putting the souls of their people into the newly emptied, unplagued bodies." Her eyes lifts. "This includes putting children into adult bodies. Hoping one of them might eventually come up with a cure for the plague."

“Well that’s...” Jules doesn’t really know how to finish the sentence, and it ends up hanging in the air. She shakes her head and grimaces instead, then lifts her newly bandaged arm to try flexing it at the elbow. “Thanks. So how long do you think I’m gonna have to keep this on?” Her other hand snakes out for her newly refilled coffee.

Una nudges Jules' coffee closer, and then the plate of blintzes, too.

Did she know about the sick kids part of this equation? The deep flush of her cheeks, now, might suggest that this is new information. "But we would help them," so sharply hissed free, probably emphasises the point. "If we could. If they asked."

"You keep the ointment and bandaging going until it's sealed up that it's scabbing and scarring. As deep as those wounds are, it will be awhile. I'm sorry for that. But cougars have big claws and cut deep. I would normally just heal that kind of a wound, but respecting wishes and all that, we're doing this the normal way. Which means normal waiting periods. At least two weeks." Ava offers a sorrowful look at that, because she knows it sucks. "But, I'll make sure you have all the supplies."

Una's reaction gets another sorrowful look. "I know. Both Zara and I offered to go over right then and help. We offered to meet and take samples and work on finding a cure. Even now after all this we offered help. They don't want help. They want bodies."

Two weeks. Jules nods before taking that first sip of coffee. She can handle that. From the way her expression is set, it doesn't look like she's about to change her mind on the offer of healing.

Two weeks of Una having to see the reminder of Jules' decisions every time she wears something that isn't long-sleeved.

"Assholes."

"Assholes," Una agrees.

It's going to be a long two weeks-- but at least she can say that much without flinching.

Ava packs up the remains of that wrap and sets it into a separate bag. The bag is pulled from her medical one and set on the table. "Should be enough here for a couple of days. I'll come over for the first day or two to help with the wrapping and make sure you and Della have the process down." Ava says towards Una with a small smile. "Sometimes getting to be a part of the healing process helps," she assures softly.

"Assholes," is thirded by Ava with a firm nod. "We're going to stop them and see who we can get back." She sounds determined.

“Thank you.” It’s said with a sincere smile. Jules reaches out with that newly bandaged arm, aiming to express that thanks with a quick squeeze of Ava’s hand. “I really appreciate all this.”

And now? Blintzes!