now every night, i pray to the stars

- @littlereqiuem

- @littlereqiuem

- @littlereqiuem

Ants eyes itched with a ferocity, the moon stretching further into the night sky as he patiently waited for any knock he might hear at his door.

He was far too anxious to nod off, the paranoia within him perishing any thought of even doing so. His purple tinted hands still worked at the knots in Maeves hair, head still in his lap and curled up in the blue blanket.

Restless, he continuously fought the urge to move, from checking too often on Maeves forehead— only reestablishing to himself that her fever was not going away— to stopping his bouncing knee as his worry increased. Checking the time on his phone didnt do much to calm him either, with each second seeming to move painfully slow.

He itched for something to do. Something to help or keep his mind busy. Anything, he begged. Frustration worked up inside him, rooting from pure worry.

He didnt want to wait any longer! The fear practically clutching at his heart and constricting his lungs so that each breath seemed to be less deeper. He needed to calm down.

He needed this hour to pass with haste.

“I think I broke a few traffic laws, but I got the stuff you mentioned,” They stated, not bothering with pleasantries.

They drive as quickly as they could in the beat-up white van they owned. They were finishing up some business on the other side of town when Ant called, and the trip back to the clinic to grab extra supplies had caused the wait to be longer than they’d have liked for a patient. Either way, they’d made it within the timeframe they gave Ant, fully stocked with more tools in the van.

Sutures wouldn’t be hard to do, however the mention of the child’s feeding tube had immediately set Mariyah’s mind racing with possible conditions. If the kid had some sort of underlying condition, the entire process could be far more complicated than they’d originally thought. Malabsorption perhaps? They’d have to run some tests. Regardless, they’d brought along a new feeding tube and nutritional supplements that they left in the van for the time being.

Her eyes flickered open when she heard someone else around, her breathing catching. Hyperventilating wouldn't be ideal, but she couldn't really help it if she did go into a panic. It didn't take much to send her into a panic after all. Ant had treated everything, so why did this lady need to be here?

Mariyah. The stress left from his shoulders in a very visible fashion. He recognized their voice, despite mostly hearing it muffled from behind their mask. He breathed in, though the constricting worry still had his lungs in a tight hold. His free hand went to scratch at his cheek, red lines appearing rapidly with its hardness.

He hadn't thought of putting on his own mask, especially with all the currently ongoing fiasco. He had other matters to think about-- more important matters, shooting a glance down at Maeve to see her eyes fluttering, dazed and still processing.

Understandable, Ants hand grazed back over to her forehead, ever so ferociously hot.

Their eyes flicked over the child’s pallid face, flushed with fever. The cut on her scalp. The dried blood that clung to the bottom of her nostrils. The thin sheen of sweat forming over the girl’s forehead. Pronounced eyes and a goiter that was swollen in comparison to Maeve’s malnourished frame, indicative of a potential thyroid issue. Mariyah hummed approvingly at the bandages Ant had applied, all of them fairly clean and an acceptable tightness.

Mariyah was not a soft person. They spoke in blunt responses and pointed remarks. Their laugh bordered on maniacal. Even when speaking fondly, their words carried a dry edge to them. And yet, when Mariyah spoke next, it was with a gentle tone.

“Hello. Maeve, right? I’m a friend of Ant’s, I’m here to help,” her small smile seemed to soften their features into and expression far more welcoming than their usual sly sneers and analytical gazes.

But alas, she was exhausted and feverish, so there was no reasoning to be had.

"Don't hurt me," she mumbled feebly, raising her hands towards her face as if to cover it or protect herself. It wasn't hard to tell that she wasn't in her right mind.

He, seeing Maeves adverse reaction to his familiar acquaintance, gathered her in his arms, in a way that would suggest a protective hold, as he took it upon himself to explain what little he knew of her situation-- at least what he could remember in his panic of seeing her appear at his doorstep.

"Shes got a nasty fever! Terrible burning in her stomach from what shes told me, as well. I did what I could, but-" An doubtful glance towards the bandages on her skull, despite Maris acceptance of it, "I dont believe it was enough." A hand went to hold her head, making sure she wasn't thrashing around in a way that would cause further injury.

"She'll need stitches from what I know." Ants eyes shot around the room disjointedly, trying to remember any more information to communicate. "Tylenol was last taken 3 hours ago."

He looked up at the doctor to gauge their emotions, thoughts, anything, of how awful the situation was.

The fever concerned Mariyah. What was even more worrying was the Maeve’s potential conditions. A part of them wondered if it was lucky they’d had been called when they were. The injuries had made Ant worried enough to reach out, and now they could figure out and help treat Maeve’s other problems. Mariyah doubted Ant would’ve asked them for help otherwise. They turned back to Maeve.

"Don't hurt me," she whispered, carefully turning the injured part of her head towards Mariyah. "Don't hurt me."

She kept whispering this. It seemed she was disoriented, unsure as to where she was or what was happening.

The only step forward that was pulsating through Ants thoughts was to push forward, despite it all— the fears, the doubts, all of it. Anything was better than being sat frozen still, processing the present. And so, with the child still in his arms, possessively wrapped, he sat her up properly in his lap.

With purpose, he readjusted her slightly as he filled in the still silence the persisted in the room, desperate for information on what to do next. “Are antibiotics needed for her? Which ones would be best? I was hoping to avoid the use of a hospital, but if its what is needed, then…” The rest of the thought hung in the air, vague, but the idea cemented itself. He will do it.

He had half a mind to share what other little information, both from educated guesses and tidbits of previous encounters, he had as to who might of been the reason for Maeves terrible condition currently. He bit his tongue with a struggle. He wouldnt bring something so frustrating up if it meant the doctor might be distracted from their due diligence in treating said child.

Jaundice, aka hyperbilirubinemia. A sign of liver failure. They’d have to treat what they could and hope to gain more information on the child’s conditions. They peeled back the bandage to examine the gash. About two inches long and fairly thick, staples might be necessary.

Mariyah turned to Ant, “What do you know of her conditions? I’ll probably use staples for her, but I’m more worried about her organ function than the surface injuries.” Their hand rested on Maeve’s head still, carefully parting her hair away from the wound.

She whimpered a little when the bandage was pulled back. Her hair stayed limp, a little greasy, and it was clear in some areas it had been yanked out or pulled viciously.

She mumbled incoherently- something about 'her' hurting 'me.' It wasn't clear.

Given some hindsight, it probably was not the best time or place, but a desperate man grasping for straws on a helpless situation only left a minimal amount of paths to take.

“She? Whos this she? Maeve? What did she look like?”

She's trembling violently as she tries to cover the cut with her hand, to stop them from touching it. She wants to go home. Where's home? What should she do? She's scared- nope, terrified. This is a terrified child, and now she's resisting them, trying to get away.

All while he attempted to not shift her while he was in his arms, in fear of accidentally messing up Mariyahs flow in stitching. He felt that any wrong move by him could make for an even worse experience for Maeve.

He would sooner chop his fingers off than have that happen on his own accord.

Mariyah glanced back down at Maeve. They didn’t know where the girl’s parents were, if she had any family still around in the first place. They had no idea how Maeve had survived so long in the condition she was in. Back to business, they were a professional.

"So long as it will help her from her feverish agony, then yes! You do, Mari, please!" He tried to refrain from having an increasing need for urgency in his tone.

Ant was no person who enjoyed pushing others into action but the situation in his eyes required immediate actions, especially when given the lack of awareness Maeve was exhibiting at the current moment.

It reminded him of the same effects he would see on the zombies he would raise, the dead eyed look, the groaning, the lack of motion control--

He quickly banished the thought from his mind with a violent shake or two of his head.

Ant waiting with biting patience, restricting himself from his habit of bouncing his leg with determination in respect to Maris careful work.

They turned their attention back to Ant as they balled up their gloves in a biohazard bag, “Do you know anything about her conditions? Why she needs a feeding tube?”

"I cant say for certain, she- she seldom talked about her condition previously. I have little information on her to begin with." He closed his eyes, trying to remember.

"She didnt want any food when she got here-- I hadnt asked why; Her eye, mouth, nose, and head all ached as well, 'inside and out' she said, ah, and inside her stomach." A shutter of a breath in as he continued, "She took out her feeding tube, it made her sick, I believe, They, whoever they are, hit her nose. Thats- thats all I know..."

The comment about the abdominal pain furthered their concerns. It was odd for a street kid this emaciated to turn down food. Mariyah needed more information.

“Maeve? You with me?” They questioned, “Can you tell me where your stomach hurts?”

She blinks heavily when Mari talks to her, and slips her hand out of Ant's grasp to rest it just over her stomach as an answer. After a moment or two, she reaches back to Ant.

He felt a sense of helplessness he hadnt felt before-- not in such a long time. What was he to do? Sit here and watch? Wait, as this child in front of him was dying in his arms? He cant have this happen again; no, no, never again-- But what was there to do?

He uselessly pointed to where Maeve motioned towards. He uselessly pulled his hand back. Useless in a situation he couldnt control, again.

Malnourished. Pale, yellowing skin… anemia? An autoimmune disease? Perhaps a virus? It all lined up with the abdominal pain to paint a very fucked up picture of the patient’s health.

Mariyah reached for their pocket, producing their penlight. They flicked it on and shined it in Maeve’s left eye. They still had a concussion to check for.

“Nasal.” He responds, voice quiet, yet above a whisper. “A nasal tube is what I’ve saw her with. I do not have it. She took it out before coming here.” He tries to regulate his breathing, “Many things happened to her before coming here.”

Mariyah closed their eyes for a moment, brows furrowing. They had to be professional. They had a patient to care for. They spoke after a deep breath, “I’d like to take some bloodwork from Maeve.”

Can you imagine? Can you actually imagine?!

I'd need so much therapy.

hm... he wouldnt be too bad. I dont think.

Absolutely not.

Don't know him, don't care! Anyone's better than Slade Wilson!

He's got rats, right? That's cool.

Mmn.

A cold and calculating archivist who deems himself above the natural order to resurrect his best friend from the grave? I can respect their record-keeping. Their knowledge. The eradication of all else toward their goals...

Their attachment is questionable.

Though, I suppose it would have been better than a cold chapel on a farm. Or a barren field that grows nothing...

Does this imply the existence of the wizarding world...? Does this imply that I am british now...? More questions than answers. Didn't this man spend most his time in a magical prison as well?

𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐄:

Often regarded as the strongest Type in terms of raw power, not just anyone can become a Dragon master. It takes resilience, resolve, and respect for those both stronger AND weaker than you. You can be a little stubborn and stuck in your ways, but sometimes that helps you avoid distraction from the more superficial things in life. You're patient (you have to be when raising a Pokémon that won't be fully evolved until level 50), unyielding, and you have a will that couldn't be budged by a draco meteor!

The Psychic Type has for many years been seen as one of the strongest types on the roster, but it's as dangerous as it is powerful. What would make you a great Psychic specialist is not some heightened IQ or supernatural gift, but rather your ability to remain level-headed in stressful situations. Pokémon like Alakazam, Metagross, and Hatterene are formidable partners, but can turn lethal the second things get out of hand. Psychic types require someone calm, composed, and unafraid of accountability to master them; as the age old saying goes, "With great power comes great responsibility!"

//THANKS FOR THE TAG!! i did this in character!! super fun and challenging :D

This was so much fun! Admittedly had to edit the one for Nym bc using a pale bright blue felt wrong and his face felt too bare lmao

Tagged by: @mossweaving (thank you!)

This was fun! Usually have more pronounced eye bags but I was too lazy to add them.

Tagged by: @expiredmorality (you look so pretty Dead!!)

// This was fun!! Ant got the jason todd hair going on. He is so goofy and im out here sweating whenever i get a notification ALDJKAJAKA. THANK YOU FOR THE TAG!!!

Are you bothered by your cosmic insignificance?

Do you mourn for a place or person you’ve never known?

Do you really think there is somebody for everybody?

Do you place any value in gender roles?

Do you have to be related to be family?

Are your platonic relationships just as valuable as romantic or family ones?

Are you in love? Do you want to be?

Do you think you can put love into categories (family, platonic, romantic, etc.) or is it just one general sensation?

Would you be happy with a life without romance? 

Are you always going to be a little in love with somebody?

Would you change your appearance if you could?

Do you have the feeling you’ve lost something you might have had in another life - whether it be a person, a place, a world, a language, etc.?

Do you believe in reincarnation?

Would you want to be reincarnated?

Do you think you’re special, or just another person amongst billions? Can you be both?

Do theoretical ethical debates have any value? Is it important people discuss ethical dilemmas, e.g. the trolley problem?

Did you have imaginary friends? Do you still have them?

Are you religious? Do you think your religion is ‘correct’?

If you aren’t religious, do you wish you were? Why?

Do you want a grand adventure?

Do you have somebody, whether it be a friend or stranger, who you think you could have loved if the circumstances were different?

How long does it take you to fall in love with somebody?Is the sensation of ‘falling in love’ or ‘being in love’ better?

Is love about convenience or something more? Can it be about both?

Do you think you really understand your gender and sexuality?

How fluid is your concept of gender and sexuality?

What’s the most life-changing choice you’ve made so far?

Are you afraid of growing old?

Would you want to live forever? How about for a billion years, a million, a millennium, a century?

Do you believe in some form of god/s?

Are your choices fated or of your own free will?

Do you have a hunch about how you’re going to die?

Do you believe in star signs?

How old do you have to be to be considered an adult?

Was your childhood happy?

What are you missing from your life?

Have you ever met someone who had a very similar personality to your own? Did you get along?

Do opposites attract?

Is your life what you expected it would be five years ago?

Do you know what you want out of life?

What makes a person ‘good’? Are you a ‘good person’?

What fundamentally matters do you?

Is freewill an illusion?

Do you create art? How do you define art?

How often do you lie? Is all lying inherently bad? Are you generally truthful?

Do you want to be remembered after your death? What for?

Is true world peace ever possible?

Do you have to suffer to truly understand the human condition? What is the human condition? How can you really experience it?

Are you free? Will you ever be? Can anyone be truly free?

Do you hold yourself to higher standards than you hold others?

What do you expect from a friend or partner?

What question could you ask to find out the most about a person?

Do you justify all your beliefs or have you just inherited/absorbed some?

Which beliefs do you have that is most likely to be wrong?

Can human really understand the complete nature of the universe, space and time?

Is a conscious what makes someone a person?

What do you think about artificial intelligence?

Do you thinks humans are obsessed with escapism (books, video games, movies, etc.)? Are you looking for an escape? Do you think that’s a bad thing?

Are we eventually going to ‘run out’ of new combinations for music, art, language, etc.? Is there a limit to human creativity?

What do you think the next era of music will be like?

What do you think the next era of fashion will be like?

Do we live in tumultuous times, or do they just seem so strange because we’re living in them?

Would you want to meet a clone of yourself? Would you like them?

How confident are you, really?

How consistent is your perception of time?

What age should people be allowed to vote? Should children and teenagers be allowed to vote?

How do you feel about the idea ‘an eye for an eye’?

What’s the worse thing a person can be?

How do you feel about monogamy?

Can you be in love with someone and still fall in love with someone else?

What’s the tragedy of your life?

Would your life make a good play?

Should people be prosecuted for crimes that weren’t considered crimes at the time?

Would you fight for your country? Do you feel a sense of loyalty to your nation?

Do you believe in gender equality in every aspect?

Do we have a moral obligation to care for others? To what extent?

Do you crave approval and/or praise?

Is there comedy in all tragedy and tragedy in all comedy?

Are you ever going to be satisfied?

When you are sad, do you listen to music that conveys your emotions or music that makes you happy?

Is your music organised by mood or sensation or do you just listen to everything at any time?

Would you marry a friend if they needed you to (e.g. for citizenship)?

Are you a deep person?

Given the chance to live your life on Mars, with no hope of returning to Earth but with the promise of scientific discovery and glory, would you take it?

Are you who people think you are?

Do you think you would be happier if you had been born a different gender, sexuality, race, ethnicity, nationality or religion?

What’s your toxic trait? Are you trying to improve yourself and fix it?

Do you anger easily?

Are you a jealous person?

If you lost all your memories, would you have the same personality?

Given the chance to reset your life (with none of the knowledge you currently have), would you take it?

Is hate as strong as love? Who do you hate?

Do you speak multiple languages? Which do you dream in? What language would you want to learn?

Do you draw meaning from your dreams, or do you disregard them?

How would you describe yourself when you love? Do you love forcefully, unconditionally, gently, quietly, desperately?

Is unrequited love real love?

Is your perception of yourself similar or the same to how others perceive you?

Are you overly analytical?

Do you ever feel that you are really a terrible person, and only act good out of societal or some other obligation?

Do you believe in magic? Are you superstitious?

come ask me these~ it will be a good conversation starter. 🤍

it often gets lonely on the moon and in silvermoon hall… i trust you’ll come keep me company? 𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯

Ants eyes itched with a ferocity, the moon stretching further into the night sky as he patiently waited for any knock he might hear at his door.

He was far too anxious to nod off, the paranoia within him perishing any thought of even doing so. His purple tinted hands still worked at the knots in Maeves hair, head still in his lap and curled up in the blue blanket.

Restless, he continuously fought the urge to move, from checking too often on Maeves forehead— only reestablishing to himself that her fever was not going away— to stopping his bouncing knee as his worry increased. Checking the time on his phone didnt do much to calm him either, with each second seeming to move painfully slow.

He itched for something to do. Something to help or keep his mind busy. Anything, he begged. Frustration worked up inside him, rooting from pure worry.

He didnt want to wait any longer! The fear practically clutching at his heart and constricting his lungs so that each breath seemed to be less deeper. He needed to calm down.

He needed this hour to pass with haste.

“I think I broke a few traffic laws, but I got the stuff you mentioned,” They stated, not bothering with pleasantries.

They drive as quickly as they could in the beat-up white van they owned. They were finishing up some business on the other side of town when Ant called, and the trip back to the clinic to grab extra supplies had caused the wait to be longer than they’d have liked for a patient. Either way, they’d made it within the timeframe they gave Ant, fully stocked with more tools in the van.

Sutures wouldn’t be hard to do, however the mention of the child’s feeding tube had immediately set Mariyah’s mind racing with possible conditions. If the kid had some sort of underlying condition, the entire process could be far more complicated than they’d originally thought. Malabsorption perhaps? They’d have to run some tests. Regardless, they’d brought along a new feeding tube and nutritional supplements that they left in the van for the time being.

Her eyes flickered open when she heard someone else around, her breathing catching. Hyperventilating wouldn't be ideal, but she couldn't really help it if she did go into a panic. It didn't take much to send her into a panic after all. Ant had treated everything, so why did this lady need to be here?

Mariyah. The stress left from his shoulders in a very visible fashion. He recognized their voice, despite mostly hearing it muffled from behind their mask. He breathed in, though the constricting worry still had his lungs in a tight hold. His free hand went to scratch at his cheek, red lines appearing rapidly with its hardness.

He hadn't thought of putting on his own mask, especially with all the currently ongoing fiasco. He had other matters to think about-- more important matters, shooting a glance down at Maeve to see her eyes fluttering, dazed and still processing.

Understandable, Ants hand grazed back over to her forehead, ever so ferociously hot.

Their eyes flicked over the child’s pallid face, flushed with fever. The cut on her scalp. The dried blood that clung to the bottom of her nostrils. The thin sheen of sweat forming over the girl’s forehead. Pronounced eyes and a goiter that was swollen in comparison to Maeve’s malnourished frame, indicative of a potential thyroid issue. Mariyah hummed approvingly at the bandages Ant had applied, all of them fairly clean and an acceptable tightness.

Mariyah was not a soft person. They spoke in blunt responses and pointed remarks. Their laugh bordered on maniacal. Even when speaking fondly, their words carried a dry edge to them. And yet, when Mariyah spoke next, it was with a gentle tone.

“Hello. Maeve, right? I’m a friend of Ant’s, I’m here to help,” her small smile seemed to soften their features into and expression far more welcoming than their usual sly sneers and analytical gazes.

But alas, she was exhausted and feverish, so there was no reasoning to be had.

"Don't hurt me," she mumbled feebly, raising her hands towards her face as if to cover it or protect herself. It wasn't hard to tell that she wasn't in her right mind.

He, seeing Maeves adverse reaction to his familiar acquaintance, gathered her in his arms, in a way that would suggest a protective hold, as he took it upon himself to explain what little he knew of her situation-- at least what he could remember in his panic of seeing her appear at his doorstep.

"Shes got a nasty fever! Terrible burning in her stomach from what shes told me, as well. I did what I could, but-" An doubtful glance towards the bandages on her skull, despite Maris acceptance of it, "I dont believe it was enough." A hand went to hold her head, making sure she wasn't thrashing around in a way that would cause further injury.

"She'll need stitches from what I know." Ants eyes shot around the room disjointedly, trying to remember any more information to communicate. "Tylenol was last taken 3 hours ago."

He looked up at the doctor to gauge their emotions, thoughts, anything, of how awful the situation was.

The fever concerned Mariyah. What was even more worrying was the Maeve’s potential conditions. A part of them wondered if it was lucky they’d had been called when they were. The injuries had made Ant worried enough to reach out, and now they could figure out and help treat Maeve’s other problems. Mariyah doubted Ant would’ve asked them for help otherwise. They turned back to Maeve.

"Don't hurt me," she whispered, carefully turning the injured part of her head towards Mariyah. "Don't hurt me."

She kept whispering this. It seemed she was disoriented, unsure as to where she was or what was happening.

The only step forward that was pulsating through Ants thoughts was to push forward, despite it all— the fears, the doubts, all of it. Anything was better than being sat frozen still, processing the present. And so, with the child still in his arms, possessively wrapped, he sat her up properly in his lap.

With purpose, he readjusted her slightly as he filled in the still silence the persisted in the room, desperate for information on what to do next. “Are antibiotics needed for her? Which ones would be best? I was hoping to avoid the use of a hospital, but if its what is needed, then…” The rest of the thought hung in the air, vague, but the idea cemented itself. He will do it.

He had half a mind to share what other little information, both from educated guesses and tidbits of previous encounters, he had as to who might of been the reason for Maeves terrible condition currently. He bit his tongue with a struggle. He wouldnt bring something so frustrating up if it meant the doctor might be distracted from their due diligence in treating said child.

Jaundice, aka hyperbilirubinemia. A sign of liver failure. They’d have to treat what they could and hope to gain more information on the child’s conditions. They peeled back the bandage to examine the gash. About two inches long and fairly thick, staples might be necessary.

Mariyah turned to Ant, “What do you know of her conditions? I’ll probably use staples for her, but I’m more worried about her organ function than the surface injuries.” Their hand rested on Maeve’s head still, carefully parting her hair away from the wound.

She whimpered a little when the bandage was pulled back. Her hair stayed limp, a little greasy, and it was clear in some areas it had been yanked out or pulled viciously.

She mumbled incoherently- something about 'her' hurting 'me.' It wasn't clear.

Given some hindsight, it probably was not the best time or place, but a desperate man grasping for straws on a helpless situation only left a minimal amount of paths to take.

“She? Whos this she? Maeve? What did she look like?”

She's trembling violently as she tries to cover the cut with her hand, to stop them from touching it. She wants to go home. Where's home? What should she do? She's scared- nope, terrified. This is a terrified child, and now she's resisting them, trying to get away.

All while he attempted to not shift her while he was in his arms, in fear of accidentally messing up Mariyahs flow in stitching. He felt that any wrong move by him could make for an even worse experience for Maeve.

He would sooner chop his fingers off than have that happen on his own accord.

Mariyah glanced back down at Maeve. They didn’t know where the girl’s parents were, if she had any family still around in the first place. They had no idea how Maeve had survived so long in the condition she was in. Back to business, they were a professional.

"So long as it will help her from her feverish agony, then yes! You do, Mari, please!" He tried to refrain from having an increasing need for urgency in his tone.

Ant was no person who enjoyed pushing others into action but the situation in his eyes required immediate actions, especially when given the lack of awareness Maeve was exhibiting at the current moment.

It reminded him of the same effects he would see on the zombies he would raise, the dead eyed look, the groaning, the lack of motion control--

He quickly banished the thought from his mind with a violent shake or two of his head.

Ant waiting with biting patience, restricting himself from his habit of bouncing his leg with determination in respect to Maris careful work.

They turned their attention back to Ant as they balled up their gloves in a biohazard bag, “Do you know anything about her conditions? Why she needs a feeding tube?”

"I cant say for certain, she- she seldom talked about her condition previously. I have little information on her to begin with." He closed his eyes, trying to remember.

"She didnt want any food when she got here-- I hadnt asked why; Her eye, mouth, nose, and head all ached as well, 'inside and out' she said, ah, and inside her stomach." A shutter of a breath in as he continued, "She took out her feeding tube, it made her sick, I believe, They, whoever they are, hit her nose. Thats- thats all I know..."

The comment about the abdominal pain furthered their concerns. It was odd for a street kid this emaciated to turn down food. Mariyah needed more information.

“Maeve? You with me?” They questioned, “Can you tell me where your stomach hurts?”

She blinks heavily when Mari talks to her, and slips her hand out of Ant's grasp to rest it just over her stomach as an answer. After a moment or two, she reaches back to Ant.

He felt a sense of helplessness he hadnt felt before-- not in such a long time. What was he to do? Sit here and watch? Wait, as this child in front of him was dying in his arms? He cant have this happen again; no, no, never again-- But what was there to do?

He uselessly pointed to where Maeve motioned towards. He uselessly pulled his hand back. Useless in a situation he couldnt control, again.

Malnourished. Pale, yellowing skin… anemia? An autoimmune disease? Perhaps a virus? It all lined up with the abdominal pain to paint a very fucked up picture of the patient’s health.

Mariyah reached for their pocket, producing their penlight. They flicked it on and shined it in Maeve’s left eye. They still had a concussion to check for.

why do you care so much? - @littlereqiuem

Because I do.

Because you deserve to be cared about.

Because once upon a time I was a child alone and wishing someone would just care about me.

Someone.

Anyone.

I needed someone to care.

No one did.

Not until I was all grown up and thought I didn't need anyone anymore.

"Hmm? Ah, I certainly do try to keep niceties up for as long as I can. Some occasional backhanded compliments and coldness never hurt anyone! Well, it hasnt killed anyone, at the very least. Confrontation is no issue to me-- after all, it makes up a good portion of my work!"

"I don't think I'm a violent person..."

CONTENT WARNINGS: LABOUR EXPLOITATION, GANG VIOLENCE, CANON TYPICAL VIOLENCE, A CHILD IN DISTRESS, SICKNESS.. the list kinda goes on iwl but like. be aware of the above before reading if youre passing by!

He donned his usual clothing, though with the necessary add-ons in order to keep his cleanly nature; thick gloves more proper for metal working than for dismembering, a surgical gown to keep from having his clothes drenched in rotten blood, and his messy hair was secured in a half bun.

Hearing a knock sound from the lesser common entrance of his shop, he sighed, attempting to go through his memory to check if he perhaps missed a deadline or pick-up of sorts. He, with tact, removed his bloodied gloves and left them on the table as a silent promise to come back and finish his work.

“Coming!” He shouted, maneuvering his way past the fridges that lined what used to be the living room and kitchen. Despite all his bloodied apron, none of it was dripping onto the tiled floors. A silent cheer in his mind that it had dried so quickly.

Finally reaching the door, he squared his shoulders— prepared to deal with an upset customer asking why his garage door wasnt halfway open like usual, even though he explicitly stated to himself he would take the weekend to not deal with people.

Still, he took a breath in and forced a smile to reach his eyes and opened the door.

“Hello there— oh my goodness. What in the world happen to you, dearie?!” Ant went stiff, now looking down to properly see Maeve, the poor poor child all beaten, bloodied and bruised at his doorstep. “My gosh! Come, come in, baby.”

"Sorry" she said somewhat blankly. "Interrupting."

Her voice didn't reflect on how she felt at all- her eyes were darting around, anxious, scared and wild. She picked at a thread on her sweater. Could they have followed her? They would surely know she'd packed up her things and left- they'd start looking for her in the morning when she doesn't turn up.

Once double, triple checking all was in working order, he went to focus his attention to Maeve, hands fluttering about her, almost scared and obnoxiously hesitant in touching her to examine her very obviously injured state. “N-now! Theres no need to apologize at all! Its a free day of mine, after all!”

His brain recalled memories from not too long ago, hints of her being in a dangerous situation. One that would get her hurt, lest she didnt keep her guard up. He shook his head, ridding his wandering thoughts. It was not the time!

Ant examined his own shop, realizing just how unsightly it would be to a child— and while he didnt have much preparations here to give any quality of comfort, he did set aside a room from the furthest corner of the garage for his occasional nap in the night.

This room had been used as the secondary room and was set next to the master bedroom. It was only now he realized how idiotic it was to do so, as he was using said master bedroom as his place to work at bodies.

The stench would be unbelievable intense for someone who wasnt used to it already. He thought it not a proper place at all to help her. The kitchen would have to do.

The more panicked she became, the more aware she became of the smell. Her stomach was sensitive enough already- adding the panic and the smell, she felt unbearably nauseous. She wiped the sweat from her face, the colour further draining from her face. Maeve wasn't stupid enough to think she hadn't gotten a stomach infection- it was why she'd pulled her own tube out after being beaten.

That being said, he knew that his shop wasnt doing any favors to soothe the child. It wasnt his best idea to invite a child to a place where it stunk of dead bodies, no matter how far from it you were— it smelt like home to him— but he hadnt much a choice in efforts to give Maeve a trustworthy place, given what little information he was able to play around with surrounding her situation.

If she were to get caught with the card, it could have easily been played off with his salesman attitude he was known for in those that delved into this area of crime. Alongside that, it didnt give her a chance to forget the address, as it was written down.

“Im… Would I right to assume this place is not to your liking?” Ant was never one to be good at structuring conversations to be more casual, still, he winced at his own inability to be normal, especially towards a child.

"I- it doesn't matter." She shook her head frantically. "It doesn't matter."

What mattered was not bothering anyone- Ant especially. But if she left now, it would bother him more. She ought to go back to the abandoned apartment buildings and just wait to die, from either the stomach infection or the beatings she had no choice but to take.

Still, he held back.

"Help," she repeated. "Please help. I don't care where we go. Please help."

It was only then that he allowed himself to melt into the child, arms securely wrapping around her as he got down closer to the ground. “Oh, baby…” Now on his knees, he easily was able to bring Maeve to his lap, to which it was only then that Ant realized how small she was in comparison. To him, it was known that she was wildly malnourished and, dare he say, disintegrating— but with him having no difficulty in shunning the world out from out using only his body, it was so apparent.

He adjusted slightly, whispers of encouragement and petnames to her, he had one hand on the back of her head, placing her face comfortably to where his neck was as his other arm held her by the torso.

It hurt, but she didn't know what hurt. Was it the physical pain, the ones in her stomach, mouth, nose, head? Or was it something else, something inside? She made another hiccup-y sound, almost like a sob. His fingers in her hair stung her scalp where the clumps of hair had been yanked.

“Ive got ya..” He made steady, careful movements across the room, skillfully avoiding the variety of plastic fold-in tables that littered the place, reassurances freely flowing from his voice. Finally coming across a proper marble table, nearing the kitchen, he picked up his phone and went to flick through his contacts until coming across one he knew with familiarity.

Ant sent a short, sweet message to this person, asking if free time was available by her, before he shoved it in his front pocket, not waiting for a reply. He once again started to move, tasks plaguing his mind of things that can be done right now, instead of one at a time. His next destination was the larger bathroom within the home, knowing that it was where he kept his first aid kit.

It was best to address the things he could, such as the injuries that were all across her skin, skull, face…

Her head was hurting too. Had she.. hit her head at some point? Had they hit her head? It would make sense. She reached her fingertips up to her scalp, feeling gently to find where her scalp had, indeed, split. It was carefully coming back to her now, how they had grabbed her hair and thrown- or maybe slammed- her head against.. something?

Eugh. Did it matter?

Setting it down on the sink, having it carefully balanced, Ant placed his hand to the kids back, circling small motions as he swayed for a small moment, hoping it would do well to wake her up a bit.

“Could you tell me where it hurts, Maeve?” Though he could see the very obvious bruising near her eye— which would certainly require a bag of ice— and the scabs of other wounds that covered her body, he wasnt an all knowing being. A memory prodded his thoughts that brain injuries were the ones to be most overlooked. “Does your head hurt, perhaps?”

He took his time in prying himself away from the kid, after double checking she was able to keep herself up right. His purpled arms, which had earlier that day reached his mid biceps, was now slowly reaching back down to his elbow— all of which, coming to no surprise to him, nothing out of the ordinary, as he unboxed the supplies.

"Nose. Mouth." Her left nostril was bleeding, the left corner of her mouth split. "Eye. Head, inside and out." She reached her fingertips up, feeling for where her scalp was split and bleeding. "Here. Arms and legs, inside. Stomach, inside."

He mentally prioritized each area that was told of-- having no clue on how to interact or fix something that was hurting from the inside-- Nose and mouth, disrupting breathing; brain trauma of some sort, Tylenol was likely needed for the headache; limbs and eye can be held off for a bit, given that Ant was there to aid her in movement.

A buzz in his pocket, likely from his phone, sounded out-- though it was soon ignored in favor of helping Maeve with her pain. It can wait a little.

He got to work, getting the antiseptic wipes as he narrated his every movement and intention to Maeve, in a sympathetic tone. He cleaned away the dried blood from her face, each touch gentle and considerate as to not move her head more than she needed. He used a gauze to lightly dab away the leaking blood from her split lip. He could only imagine how painful it must be to even speak.

She doesn't reach much to the wipes, words or touch- she just sits quietly, letting him work away at each injury. The world feels far away from her, strange and distant.

"Yeah," she mumbles. "It's alright."

It was a deep, ice cold terror of seeing her so deathly. A thought, selfish in its relevance, wondered if people had saw him like this. It was a vicious attempt to shake his thoughts clear of this, but his outlook of just how exhausted and seconds away from being lost to oblivion, frightened him to his core.

A shudder leaves him, as he finally comes back to reality and continues with his impromptu check up. He allows for the light to rise up to Maeves eyes, watching for dilation and concluding that no structural brain damage was given-- though, it didnt remove the possibility of a mild concussion affecting her, only the fact that it was not something that was needed to be taken to an emergency room for.

She sniffed, rubbing her eyes and blinking a few times after his brief examination. Maybe he was a doctor and that was how he got into the business of graverobbing and butchering corpses. It didn't particularly matter to her- just something to think about throughout all this.

"Took it out," she answered. "Was making me sick."

He persisted despite it all, a new plan coming to mind with thousands of variables flying through his mind at unprecedented speeds. If his hunch about all of these wounds was to be correct, then she needed immediate help, better help— more professional.

He opened his phone once more, his focus solely on the message reply he had received a few minutes earlier. While it was necessarily appropriate to call her a friend, she definitely wasn’t only a client of his. A very faithful collaborator, would be better given how often their assets were traded. He typed a short message, something regarding the need of her medical attention and expertise. His phone shortly buzzing thereafter with a estimated time of her availability.

Two hours. A sense of hot impatience slipped into him. Two hours? He didnt even know if Maeve would last two hours, let alone Ant being able to do anything to help her.

She rubs her face a little, wincing. Pulling the tube out was less uncomfortable than having one put in- she'd not learned how to put one in yet. It had been some random nurse who'd put hers in, in the back of an ER waiting room after she heard about Maeve's issues. She got fired after that- for helping people who couldn't afford it. She'd taught her how to take care of it and what to look out for, but when you were homeless, you couldn't keep things as clean as they should be.

Her stomach churned uncomfortably. She wasn't dying, nor did she really need emergency medical treatment- except maybe a stitch or two for the split on her scalp. She'd had stitches before and wasn't particularly happy about possibly having to repeat the experience.

He continued on, grabbing once again the bottle of pain killers he set down, and looked carefully at the instructions. Finally finding his answer, he popped it open and with a few shakes, got the needed amount out. He stilled, trying to work his brain into remembering where— or even if— there were water bottles.

The best he can do was a cup of sink water, which sounded just about as unappetizing as anything from the sink is. "I'll be getting you some water, dear. For the pills."

And with that, after once again checking the child was stable for the small bit he will be away, he moved away from the bathroom in a calm manner-- up until he was completely out of eyesight, to which he practically sprinted like a bat out of hell, nearly stumbling over himself and chipping his chin onto the marble countertop. He slid across the tile floor, minimizing the time to spend away from his-- the child.

Her stomach kept churning, though she knew there wasn't much there to vomit if she had to. She fiddled a little, feeling anxious but exhausted.

He sighs, returning from the sink full of supplies to be in front of Maeve, already eyeing the blood that spilled from her scalp. “Do you know where your head hurts the most? That way we can get it out of the way, easy peasy!”

It was a struggle to keep a joyous tone entrenched in his voice when he was so thoroughly frustrated with life once more. The insolence and audacity of some people, to have injured and take advantage of a homeless child— it made his blood boil. If it weren't for the stable head on his shoulders, he would have made the decision to deal with said person before taking care of the child, long ago.

The split was on her hair line, just by her left temple. It very much gave the impression that somebody had slammed her head against the corner of something.

He did the same for the other wounds on her body, slowly but surely using up his last items that came from his one and only first aid. He felt no sort of distaste for the usage of it--only the white hot temper he was getting from the increasing thoughts of how someone could do this to her, a confusing string of thoughts that left nothing but questions that would likely be unanswered for the time being.

He continued to mention each procedure of care to Maeve, careful in not being quick with his movements around her. He tried to think of what else to do to help, with his mind doing nothing to provide substance other than to have her rest until a professional was available.

"No," she mumbles.

Taking once last look of each covered wound to calm his anxiety, screaming what if he forgot something, what if itll be the thing to kill her. He'd roll his eyes at his own thoughts if he wasnt in company.

He got up from the floor, kneeling to get a better angle to place bandaids on scraps without his back aching. "Alrighty! Now, I'm sure youre in need of a nap-- at least for a little while, dont you think?" It was a rhetorical question by any means, something to keep the air light as he calculated what he can do to counteract the bloody stench that permeated the house.

No candles to speak of, no mint scented gel to place under the nose to even try and cover it up, not even Ants mask would do her any good-- seeing as it only filtered out gas, and not smells.

He did, however, happen to have a sweater from his apartment that he had brought along. He usually enjoyed the walks to and from places he needed to be, but with the colder air of the winter infecting the night with such a fervent vengeance, it was impossible to not cover himself with a few layers at the very least.

It clicked in his mind that he left said clothing in a corner near the doorway, a usual and careless habit of his, given that he never expected to hand it over to another.

Ant persisted soon after though, having it be no dent in his desire to do what he can for her. After reassuring himself that his kid would not be slipping off and falling, he closed the door to the bathroom they were in.

It irked him a bit to leave all the supplies around, messy and unordered, but he could not afford to when he had better priorities to attend to.

He walked the small pathway to where his sweater laid. Crouching down to reach it-- thick and warm, proper for the freezing cold of the night. It was huge in comparison to Ant, as his preference was, but something akin to a blanket to the child in his arms.

He wrapped the cloth around Maeve with his best attempt to not disturb her. Hopefully, the dusty smell of the very loved sweater would cover, or at least muddle the scent of blood guts and gore.

She nods as his question, preferring to be quiet now. Talking took energy. She didn't mind listening to him talk, though. Her anxieties would likely rule her mind without the noise of it- anxious she'd bothered him, anxious that he cared, anxious of what might happen to her now, whether that meant she was loved or she was hurt.

He made his way towards his one and only properly designated bedroom, the mattress being held up with a creaky frame. Pulling back the one blanket, thick and warm, with its outside being ever so fluffy, to place the child within the safety of its covers. Blue, to contrast all the red Ant had forced himself to see for hours on end-- a relieving color to his sore eyes.

He soon followed a similar pattern for himself, sitting up and laying Maeves head across his lap. He did well to ensure his sweater rested, not too lightly, near her shoulders, as he tucked in the rest of the blanket to surround her.

His ears open for any sound of commotion outside, he made it a point to himself that he would be the one to defend her, were anything else were to come her way, to harm her, or take her away.

He let his hands slowly work its way through knots of her air, occasionally touching her burning and feverish forehead.

Ants eyes itched with a ferocity, the moon stretching further into the night sky as he patiently waited for any knock he might hear at his door.

He was far too anxious to nod off, the paranoia within him perishing any thought of even doing so. His purple tinted hands still worked at the knots in Maeves hair, head still in his lap and curled up in the blue blanket.

Restless, he continuously fought the urge to move, from checking too often on Maeves forehead— only reestablishing to himself that her fever was not going away— to stopping his bouncing knee as his worry increased. Checking the time on his phone didnt do much to calm him either, with each second seeming to move painfully slow.

He itched for something to do. Something to help or keep his mind busy. Anything, he begged. Frustration worked up inside him, rooting from pure worry.

He didnt want to wait any longer! The fear practically clutching at his heart and constricting his lungs so that each breath seemed to be less deeper. He needed to calm down.

He needed this hour to pass with haste.

“I think I broke a few traffic laws, but I got the stuff you mentioned,” They stated, not bothering with pleasantries.

They drive as quickly as they could in the beat-up white van they owned. They were finishing up some business on the other side of town when Ant called, and the trip back to the clinic to grab extra supplies had caused the wait to be longer than they’d have liked for a patient. Either way, they’d made it within the timeframe they gave Ant, fully stocked with more tools in the van.

Sutures wouldn’t be hard to do, however the mention of the child’s feeding tube had immediately set Mariyah’s mind racing with possible conditions. If the kid had some sort of underlying condition, the entire process could be far more complicated than they’d originally thought. Malabsorption perhaps? They’d have to run some tests. Regardless, they’d brought along a new feeding tube and nutritional supplements that they left in the van for the time being.

Her eyes flickered open when she heard someone else around, her breathing catching. Hyperventilating wouldn't be ideal, but she couldn't really help it if she did go into a panic. It didn't take much to send her into a panic after all. Ant had treated everything, so why did this lady need to be here?

Mariyah. The stress left from his shoulders in a very visible fashion. He recognized their voice, despite mostly hearing it muffled from behind their mask. He breathed in, though the constricting worry still had his lungs in a tight hold. His free hand went to scratch at his cheek, red lines appearing rapidly with its hardness.

He hadn't thought of putting on his own mask, especially with all the currently ongoing fiasco. He had other matters to think about-- more important matters, shooting a glance down at Maeve to see her eyes fluttering, dazed and still processing.

Understandable, Ants hand grazed back over to her forehead, ever so ferociously hot.

Their eyes flicked over the child’s pallid face, flushed with fever. The cut on her scalp. The dried blood that clung to the bottom of her nostrils. The thin sheen of sweat forming over the girl’s forehead. Pronounced eyes and a goiter that was swollen in comparison to Maeve’s malnourished frame, indicative of a potential thyroid issue. Mariyah hummed approvingly at the bandages Ant had applied, all of them fairly clean and an acceptable tightness.

Mariyah was not a soft person. They spoke in blunt responses and pointed remarks. Their laugh bordered on maniacal. Even when speaking fondly, their words carried a dry edge to them. And yet, when Mariyah spoke next, it was with a gentle tone.

“Hello. Maeve, right? I’m a friend of Ant’s, I’m here to help,” her small smile seemed to soften their features into and expression far more welcoming than their usual sly sneers and analytical gazes.

But alas, she was exhausted and feverish, so there was no reasoning to be had.

"Don't hurt me," she mumbled feebly, raising her hands towards her face as if to cover it or protect herself. It wasn't hard to tell that she wasn't in her right mind.

He, seeing Maeves adverse reaction to his familiar acquaintance, gathered her in his arms, in a way that would suggest a protective hold, as he took it upon himself to explain what little he knew of her situation-- at least what he could remember in his panic of seeing her appear at his doorstep.

"Shes got a nasty fever! Terrible burning in her stomach from what shes told me, as well. I did what I could, but-" An doubtful glance towards the bandages on her skull, despite Maris acceptance of it, "I dont believe it was enough." A hand went to hold her head, making sure she wasn't thrashing around in a way that would cause further injury.

"She'll need stitches from what I know." Ants eyes shot around the room disjointedly, trying to remember any more information to communicate. "Tylenol was last taken 3 hours ago."

He looked up at the doctor to gauge their emotions, thoughts, anything, of how awful the situation was.

The fever concerned Mariyah. What was even more worrying was the Maeve’s potential conditions. A part of them wondered if it was lucky they’d had been called when they were. The injuries had made Ant worried enough to reach out, and now they could figure out and help treat Maeve’s other problems. Mariyah doubted Ant would’ve asked them for help otherwise. They turned back to Maeve.

"Don't hurt me," she whispered, carefully turning the injured part of her head towards Mariyah. "Don't hurt me."

She kept whispering this. It seemed she was disoriented, unsure as to where she was or what was happening.

The only step forward that was pulsating through Ants thoughts was to push forward, despite it all— the fears, the doubts, all of it. Anything was better than being sat frozen still, processing the present. And so, with the child still in his arms, possessively wrapped, he sat her up properly in his lap.

With purpose, he readjusted her slightly as he filled in the still silence the persisted in the room, desperate for information on what to do next. “Are antibiotics needed for her? Which ones would be best? I was hoping to avoid the use of a hospital, but if its what is needed, then…” The rest of the thought hung in the air, vague, but the idea cemented itself. He will do it.

He had half a mind to share what other little information, both from educated guesses and tidbits of previous encounters, he had as to who might of been the reason for Maeves terrible condition currently. He bit his tongue with a struggle. He wouldnt bring something so frustrating up if it meant the doctor might be distracted from their due diligence in treating said child.

Jaundice, aka hyperbilirubinemia. A sign of liver failure. They’d have to treat what they could and hope to gain more information on the child’s conditions. They peeled back the bandage to examine the gash. About two inches long and fairly thick, staples might be necessary.

Mariyah turned to Ant, “What do you know of her conditions? I’ll probably use staples for her, but I’m more worried about her organ function than the surface injuries.” Their hand rested on Maeve’s head still, carefully parting her hair away from the wound.

She whimpered a little when the bandage was pulled back. Her hair stayed limp, a little greasy, and it was clear in some areas it had been yanked out or pulled viciously.

She mumbled incoherently- something about 'her' hurting 'me.' It wasn't clear.

Given some hindsight, it probably was not the best time or place, but a desperate man grasping for straws on a helpless situation only left a minimal amount of paths to take.

“She? Whos this she? Maeve? What did she look like?”

She's trembling violently as she tries to cover the cut with her hand, to stop them from touching it. She wants to go home. Where's home? What should she do? She's scared- nope, terrified. This is a terrified child, and now she's resisting them, trying to get away.

All while he attempted to not shift her while he was in his arms, in fear of accidentally messing up Mariyahs flow in stitching. He felt that any wrong move by him could make for an even worse experience for Maeve.

He would sooner chop his fingers off than have that happen on his own accord.

Mariyah glanced back down at Maeve. They didn’t know where the girl’s parents were, if she had any family still around in the first place. They had no idea how Maeve had survived so long in the condition she was in. Back to business, they were a professional.

"So long as it will help her from her feverish agony, then yes! You do, Mari, please!" He tried to refrain from having an increasing need for urgency in his tone.

Ant was no person who enjoyed pushing others into action but the situation in his eyes required immediate actions, especially when given the lack of awareness Maeve was exhibiting at the current moment.

It reminded him of the same effects he would see on the zombies he would raise, the dead eyed look, the groaning, the lack of motion control--

He quickly banished the thought from his mind with a violent shake or two of his head.

Ant waiting with biting patience, restricting himself from his habit of bouncing his leg with determination in respect to Maris careful work.

They turned their attention back to Ant as they balled up their gloves in a biohazard bag, “Do you know anything about her conditions? Why she needs a feeding tube?”

"I cant say for certain, she- she seldom talked about her condition previously. I have little information on her to begin with." He closed his eyes, trying to remember.

"She didnt want any food when she got here-- I hadnt asked why; Her eye, mouth, nose, and head all ached as well, 'inside and out' she said, ah, and inside her stomach." A shutter of a breath in as he continued, "She took out her feeding tube, it made her sick, I believe, They, whoever they are, hit her nose. Thats- thats all I know..."

The comment about the abdominal pain furthered their concerns. It was odd for a street kid this emaciated to turn down food. Mariyah needed more information.

“Maeve? You with me?” They questioned, “Can you tell me where your stomach hurts?”

She blinks heavily when Mari talks to her, and slips her hand out of Ant's grasp to rest it just over her stomach as an answer. After a moment or two, she reaches back to Ant.

Ants eyes itched with a ferocity, the moon stretching further into the night sky as he patiently waited for any knock he might hear at his door.

He was far too anxious to nod off, the paranoia within him perishing any thought of even doing so. His purple tinted hands still worked at the knots in Maeves hair, head still in his lap and curled up in the blue blanket.

Restless, he continuously fought the urge to move, from checking too often on Maeves forehead— only reestablishing to himself that her fever was not going away— to stopping his bouncing knee as his worry increased. Checking the time on his phone didnt do much to calm him either, with each second seeming to move painfully slow.

He itched for something to do. Something to help or keep his mind busy. Anything, he begged. Frustration worked up inside him, rooting from pure worry.

He didnt want to wait any longer! The fear practically clutching at his heart and constricting his lungs so that each breath seemed to be less deeper. He needed to calm down.

He needed this hour to pass with haste.

“I think I broke a few traffic laws, but I got the stuff you mentioned,” They stated, not bothering with pleasantries.

They drive as quickly as they could in the beat-up white van they owned. They were finishing up some business on the other side of town when Ant called, and the trip back to the clinic to grab extra supplies had caused the wait to be longer than they’d have liked for a patient. Either way, they’d made it within the timeframe they gave Ant, fully stocked with more tools in the van.

Sutures wouldn’t be hard to do, however the mention of the child’s feeding tube had immediately set Mariyah’s mind racing with possible conditions. If the kid had some sort of underlying condition, the entire process could be far more complicated than they’d originally thought. Malabsorption perhaps? They’d have to run some tests. Regardless, they’d brought along a new feeding tube and nutritional supplements that they left in the van for the time being.

Her eyes flickered open when she heard someone else around, her breathing catching. Hyperventilating wouldn't be ideal, but she couldn't really help it if she did go into a panic. It didn't take much to send her into a panic after all. Ant had treated everything, so why did this lady need to be here?

Mariyah. The stress left from his shoulders in a very visible fashion. He recognized their voice, despite mostly hearing it muffled from behind their mask. He breathed in, though the constricting worry still had his lungs in a tight hold. His free hand went to scratch at his cheek, red lines appearing rapidly with its hardness.

He hadn't thought of putting on his own mask, especially with all the currently ongoing fiasco. He had other matters to think about-- more important matters, shooting a glance down at Maeve to see her eyes fluttering, dazed and still processing.

Understandable, Ants hand grazed back over to her forehead, ever so ferociously hot.

Their eyes flicked over the child’s pallid face, flushed with fever. The cut on her scalp. The dried blood that clung to the bottom of her nostrils. The thin sheen of sweat forming over the girl’s forehead. Pronounced eyes and a goiter that was swollen in comparison to Maeve’s malnourished frame, indicative of a potential thyroid issue. Mariyah hummed approvingly at the bandages Ant had applied, all of them fairly clean and an acceptable tightness.

Mariyah was not a soft person. They spoke in blunt responses and pointed remarks. Their laugh bordered on maniacal. Even when speaking fondly, their words carried a dry edge to them. And yet, when Mariyah spoke next, it was with a gentle tone.

“Hello. Maeve, right? I’m a friend of Ant’s, I’m here to help,” her small smile seemed to soften their features into and expression far more welcoming than their usual sly sneers and analytical gazes.

But alas, she was exhausted and feverish, so there was no reasoning to be had.

"Don't hurt me," she mumbled feebly, raising her hands towards her face as if to cover it or protect herself. It wasn't hard to tell that she wasn't in her right mind.

He, seeing Maeves adverse reaction to his familiar acquaintance, gathered her in his arms, in a way that would suggest a protective hold, as he took it upon himself to explain what little he knew of her situation-- at least what he could remember in his panic of seeing her appear at his doorstep.

"Shes got a nasty fever! Terrible burning in her stomach from what shes told me, as well. I did what I could, but-" An doubtful glance towards the bandages on her skull, despite Maris acceptance of it, "I dont believe it was enough." A hand went to hold her head, making sure she wasn't thrashing around in a way that would cause further injury.

"She'll need stitches from what I know." Ants eyes shot around the room disjointedly, trying to remember any more information to communicate. "Tylenol was last taken 3 hours ago."

He looked up at the doctor to gauge their emotions, thoughts, anything, of how awful the situation was.

The fever concerned Mariyah. What was even more worrying was the Maeve’s potential conditions. A part of them wondered if it was lucky they’d had been called when they were. The injuries had made Ant worried enough to reach out, and now they could figure out and help treat Maeve’s other problems. Mariyah doubted Ant would’ve asked them for help otherwise. They turned back to Maeve.

"Don't hurt me," she whispered, carefully turning the injured part of her head towards Mariyah. "Don't hurt me."

She kept whispering this. It seemed she was disoriented, unsure as to where she was or what was happening.

The only step forward that was pulsating through Ants thoughts was to push forward, despite it all— the fears, the doubts, all of it. Anything was better than being sat frozen still, processing the present. And so, with the child still in his arms, possessively wrapped, he sat her up properly in his lap.

With purpose, he readjusted her slightly as he filled in the still silence the persisted in the room, desperate for information on what to do next. “Are antibiotics needed for her? Which ones would be best? I was hoping to avoid the use of a hospital, but if its what is needed, then…” The rest of the thought hung in the air, vague, but the idea cemented itself. He will do it.

He had half a mind to share what other little information, both from educated guesses and tidbits of previous encounters, he had as to who might of been the reason for Maeves terrible condition currently. He bit his tongue with a struggle. He wouldnt bring something so frustrating up if it meant the doctor might be distracted from their due diligence in treating said child.

Jaundice, aka hyperbilirubinemia. A sign of liver failure. They’d have to treat what they could and hope to gain more information on the child’s conditions. They peeled back the bandage to examine the gash. About two inches long and fairly thick, staples might be necessary.

Mariyah turned to Ant, “What do you know of her conditions? I’ll probably use staples for her, but I’m more worried about her organ function than the surface injuries.” Their hand rested on Maeve’s head still, carefully parting her hair away from the wound.

She whimpered a little when the bandage was pulled back. Her hair stayed limp, a little greasy, and it was clear in some areas it had been yanked out or pulled viciously.

She mumbled incoherently- something about 'her' hurting 'me.' It wasn't clear.

Given some hindsight, it probably was not the best time or place, but a desperate man grasping for straws on a helpless situation only left a minimal amount of paths to take.

“She? Whos this she? Maeve? What did she look like?”

She's trembling violently as she tries to cover the cut with her hand, to stop them from touching it. She wants to go home. Where's home? What should she do? She's scared- nope, terrified. This is a terrified child, and now she's resisting them, trying to get away.

All while he attempted to not shift her while he was in his arms, in fear of accidentally messing up Mariyahs flow in stitching. He felt that any wrong move by him could make for an even worse experience for Maeve.

He would sooner chop his fingers off than have that happen on his own accord.

Mariyah glanced back down at Maeve. They didn’t know where the girl’s parents were, if she had any family still around in the first place. They had no idea how Maeve had survived so long in the condition she was in. Back to business, they were a professional.

"So long as it will help her from her feverish agony, then yes! You do, Mari, please!" He tried to refrain from having an increasing need for urgency in his tone.

Ant was no person who enjoyed pushing others into action but the situation in his eyes required immediate actions, especially when given the lack of awareness Maeve was exhibiting at the current moment.

It reminded him of the same effects he would see on the zombies he would raise, the dead eyed look, the groaning, the lack of motion control--

He quickly banished the thought from his mind with a violent shake or two of his head.

Ant waiting with biting patience, restricting himself from his habit of bouncing his leg with determination in respect to Maris careful work.

They turned their attention back to Ant as they balled up their gloves in a biohazard bag, “Do you know anything about her conditions? Why she needs a feeding tube?”

Ants eyes itched with a ferocity, the moon stretching further into the night sky as he patiently waited for any knock he might hear at his door.

He was far too anxious to nod off, the paranoia within him perishing any thought of even doing so. His purple tinted hands still worked at the knots in Maeves hair, head still in his lap and curled up in the blue blanket.

Restless, he continuously fought the urge to move, from checking too often on Maeves forehead— only reestablishing to himself that her fever was not going away— to stopping his bouncing knee as his worry increased. Checking the time on his phone didnt do much to calm him either, with each second seeming to move painfully slow.

He itched for something to do. Something to help or keep his mind busy. Anything, he begged. Frustration worked up inside him, rooting from pure worry.

He didnt want to wait any longer! The fear practically clutching at his heart and constricting his lungs so that each breath seemed to be less deeper. He needed to calm down.

He needed this hour to pass with haste.

“I think I broke a few traffic laws, but I got the stuff you mentioned,” They stated, not bothering with pleasantries.

They drive as quickly as they could in the beat-up white van they owned. They were finishing up some business on the other side of town when Ant called, and the trip back to the clinic to grab extra supplies had caused the wait to be longer than they’d have liked for a patient. Either way, they’d made it within the timeframe they gave Ant, fully stocked with more tools in the van.

Sutures wouldn’t be hard to do, however the mention of the child’s feeding tube had immediately set Mariyah’s mind racing with possible conditions. If the kid had some sort of underlying condition, the entire process could be far more complicated than they’d originally thought. Malabsorption perhaps? They’d have to run some tests. Regardless, they’d brought along a new feeding tube and nutritional supplements that they left in the van for the time being.

Her eyes flickered open when she heard someone else around, her breathing catching. Hyperventilating wouldn't be ideal, but she couldn't really help it if she did go into a panic. It didn't take much to send her into a panic after all. Ant had treated everything, so why did this lady need to be here?

Mariyah. The stress left from his shoulders in a very visible fashion. He recognized their voice, despite mostly hearing it muffled from behind their mask. He breathed in, though the constricting worry still had his lungs in a tight hold. His free hand went to scratch at his cheek, red lines appearing rapidly with its hardness.

He hadn't thought of putting on his own mask, especially with all the currently ongoing fiasco. He had other matters to think about-- more important matters, shooting a glance down at Maeve to see her eyes fluttering, dazed and still processing.

Understandable, Ants hand grazed back over to her forehead, ever so ferociously hot.

Their eyes flicked over the child’s pallid face, flushed with fever. The cut on her scalp. The dried blood that clung to the bottom of her nostrils. The thin sheen of sweat forming over the girl’s forehead. Pronounced eyes and a goiter that was swollen in comparison to Maeve’s malnourished frame, indicative of a potential thyroid issue. Mariyah hummed approvingly at the bandages Ant had applied, all of them fairly clean and an acceptable tightness.

Mariyah was not a soft person. They spoke in blunt responses and pointed remarks. Their laugh bordered on maniacal. Even when speaking fondly, their words carried a dry edge to them. And yet, when Mariyah spoke next, it was with a gentle tone.

“Hello. Maeve, right? I’m a friend of Ant’s, I’m here to help,” her small smile seemed to soften their features into and expression far more welcoming than their usual sly sneers and analytical gazes.

But alas, she was exhausted and feverish, so there was no reasoning to be had.

"Don't hurt me," she mumbled feebly, raising her hands towards her face as if to cover it or protect herself. It wasn't hard to tell that she wasn't in her right mind.

He, seeing Maeves adverse reaction to his familiar acquaintance, gathered her in his arms, in a way that would suggest a protective hold, as he took it upon himself to explain what little he knew of her situation-- at least what he could remember in his panic of seeing her appear at his doorstep.

"Shes got a nasty fever! Terrible burning in her stomach from what shes told me, as well. I did what I could, but-" An doubtful glance towards the bandages on her skull, despite Maris acceptance of it, "I dont believe it was enough." A hand went to hold her head, making sure she wasn't thrashing around in a way that would cause further injury.

"She'll need stitches from what I know." Ants eyes shot around the room disjointedly, trying to remember any more information to communicate. "Tylenol was last taken 3 hours ago."

He looked up at the doctor to gauge their emotions, thoughts, anything, of how awful the situation was.

The fever concerned Mariyah. What was even more worrying was the Maeve’s potential conditions. A part of them wondered if it was lucky they’d had been called when they were. The injuries had made Ant worried enough to reach out, and now they could figure out and help treat Maeve’s other problems. Mariyah doubted Ant would’ve asked them for help otherwise. They turned back to Maeve.

"Don't hurt me," she whispered, carefully turning the injured part of her head towards Mariyah. "Don't hurt me."

She kept whispering this. It seemed she was disoriented, unsure as to where she was or what was happening.

The only step forward that was pulsating through Ants thoughts was to push forward, despite it all— the fears, the doubts, all of it. Anything was better than being sat frozen still, processing the present. And so, with the child still in his arms, possessively wrapped, he sat her up properly in his lap.

With purpose, he readjusted her slightly as he filled in the still silence the persisted in the room, desperate for information on what to do next. “Are antibiotics needed for her? Which ones would be best? I was hoping to avoid the use of a hospital, but if its what is needed, then…” The rest of the thought hung in the air, vague, but the idea cemented itself. He will do it.

He had half a mind to share what other little information, both from educated guesses and tidbits of previous encounters, he had as to who might of been the reason for Maeves terrible condition currently. He bit his tongue with a struggle. He wouldnt bring something so frustrating up if it meant the doctor might be distracted from their due diligence in treating said child.

Jaundice, aka hyperbilirubinemia. A sign of liver failure. They’d have to treat what they could and hope to gain more information on the child’s conditions. They peeled back the bandage to examine the gash. About two inches long and fairly thick, staples might be necessary.

Mariyah turned to Ant, “What do you know of her conditions? I’ll probably use staples for her, but I’m more worried about her organ function than the surface injuries.” Their hand rested on Maeve’s head still, carefully parting her hair away from the wound.

She whimpered a little when the bandage was pulled back. Her hair stayed limp, a little greasy, and it was clear in some areas it had been yanked out or pulled viciously.

She mumbled incoherently- something about 'her' hurting 'me.' It wasn't clear.

Given some hindsight, it probably was not the best time or place, but a desperate man grasping for straws on a helpless situation only left a minimal amount of paths to take.

“She? Whos this she? Maeve? What did she look like?”

She's trembling violently as she tries to cover the cut with her hand, to stop them from touching it. She wants to go home. Where's home? What should she do? She's scared- nope, terrified. This is a terrified child, and now she's resisting them, trying to get away.

All while he attempted to not shift her while he was in his arms, in fear of accidentally messing up Mariyahs flow in stitching. He felt that any wrong move by him could make for an even worse experience for Maeve.

He would sooner chop his fingers off than have that happen on his own accord.

Mariyah glanced back down at Maeve. They didn’t know where the girl’s parents were, if she had any family still around in the first place. They had no idea how Maeve had survived so long in the condition she was in. Back to business, they were a professional.

"So long as it will help her from her feverish agony, then yes! You do, Mari, please!" He tried to refrain from having an increasing need for urgency in his tone.

Ant was no person who enjoyed pushing others into action but the situation in his eyes required immediate actions, especially when given the lack of awareness Maeve was exhibiting at the current moment.

It reminded him of the same effects he would see on the zombies he would raise, the dead eyed look, the groaning, the lack of motion control--

He quickly banished the thought from his mind with a violent shake or two of his head.