Roleplaying
2004 Archive
2005 Archive
Seminars
| When: | 28 March 2005 |
| Who: | Kacela, Noah |
| What: | Kacela charges Noah with returning an item to Tyrr, finding the circumstances of her acquisition of the trophy to be less than honorable. |
Brackenridge Hospital
First opening its doors in 1884, Brackenridge Hospital is the oldest public hospital in Texas. Under the management of a non-profit Catholic healthcare network and newly renovated, it stands as a testament to modern medicine at its finest. The building itself is tiered beige concrete structure with blue-glass windows standing some fifteen stories tall. It hosts all of the standard services one might expect from a hospital and is the region's only major trauma center.
The hospital lobby is laid out in a very orderly fashion. Across the room from the double-glass door entrance is a long sleek wooden reception desk. Hospital staff hand out forms to patients, prioritize patient care and answer questions. To the right, behind a set of blue double metal doors, is the entrance to the emergency room and trauma care units. To the left of the reception desk is a hallway leading to the elevators and the other departments on the floor.
The hospital is decorated in the simplest of styles. The walls are two-tone white and pastel blue, split in the middle of the wall by a divider that can serve as a handrail for those in need of such assistance. The floor is a tile checkerboard of white and gray squares. The reception area though is carpeted in a functional dark gray carpet with plastic chairs for visitors to sit upon.
What makes the hospital stand out as something other than a cold antiseptic facility is the staff. The nurses and receptionists joke and laugh together as they go about their work, employees sit with patients in the reception area and assist them with their paperwork or assuage their fears and hospital clergy comfort the friends and family of the sick and dying. The walls of this place house souls of great compassion and sacrifice caring for those who are need of healing and rest.
After repeating the process of speaking to a few receptionists and techs about four times, Kacela has managed to find herself in the cafeteria of the hospital. The nutritious, relatively affordable food is ignored for the moment. Currently dressed to the nines in a freshly purchased, or in this case gifted, Gucci three-piece, she looks thoughtful, the same black satchel from yesterday slung under her shoulder. She's looking around for someone.
Noah sits at a small circular table by himself. A chicken salad sandwich and some mac and cheese in front of him, Noah eats quietly.
Kacela invites herself to the side of Noah's table upon sighting him. She tilts her head to the side, and she smiles down toward him. "Good evening. Having a good break, I hope? I'm terribly sorry about leaving so abruptly the night before, there were some urgent matters that had to be tended to."
Noah looks up from his meal. He blinks once or twice as if taking a moment to make sure he sees what he sees "Wow. You look nice!" he says in a pleasant tone. He smiles now, "It's okay. I'm glad to see you."
Kacela parts lips. "Well, thank you very much, Noah. That's nice. I got whisked away to the Galleria in Houston by one of your former patients, actually. It seems he was pleased with the mending he was able to do in the past few days." Her thumb rubs against the strap of her satchel, and she asks, "Do you remember the offer you made to deliver something for me? I think I want to take you up on it."
Noah nods, smiling still "I'm glad to hear he's doing well. I'm....I'm sorry that wasn't a more comfortable experience for him," he says, sounding sincere. With that, he nods "I do. You would like something returned to Tyrr at Fado's?"
Kacela glances about, and then takes a deep breath to steady herself. "Yes. It was a possession of his deceased friend." She settles down upon the table, clearly on edge, as if seeking whether or not there were others present to take interest in the matter.
Noah nods once "I understand. I don't know all the details, but that's okay. It doesn't matter. If you would like it returned, I'd be happy to take it back to him for you." He looks at Kacela's behavior for a second, adding "Um...Is there something you'd like me to say or a note you'd like me to pass on along with it?"
Kacela takes in a deep breath, and nods. "Yes. I was present at the location..." She's halting, as if trying to compose herself, but her motions seem other wise calm, natural. "I was able to come across the weapon while I was on my way to the grocery store to get some more soup." She shrugs shoulders, sighing some. "It's a nice sword. I knew it when I saw it. I couldn't let it remain there at the scene, some addict would have come along and pawned it for ten dollars so they could get their next high. I cleaned, polished, and sharpened it..." At that point, she zips open the satchel. Thankfully, no obvious gleam of metal can be seen. She does, however, produce a two and a half foot length wrapped in a soft grey oilcloth, bound loosely about the middle by satin twine. She sets it down with a clunk upon the table. "It's old, Noah. And well-made, of Celtic origin." She smiles thinly. "It is important that it be returned. I wish to write a message as well, if you wish to look at it, you may, but only on the condition that I already be gone, and that you still deliver item."
Noah nods. He smiles still, seemingly trying to look supportive "It's okay, Kacela. I'll be happy to tell Tyrr that. And if you include a note, I won't read it. What you have to say to him is for you two to know. I wouldn't pry."
Kacela gives a sharp nod, and begins to scribble out text in blue gel ink upon a plain sheet of copier paper. "Very well, let me get this tended to." Should one yield to curiosity, the text will read:
Tyrr:
I would have preferred to have returned this in person, but the current state of active War between our two kinds prevents it. Your friend died well, determined to take the enemy with him. The conditions of his demise were not to our taste; a one-on-one contest of skills would have been the only honorable route. I kept the blade for myself to prevent it from falling into the filth-stained hands of the ignorant for fear of it being lost forever in the bowels of a pawn shop in exchange for some addict's next high. I never intended to keep it as a trophy, but instead cleaned and polished it as befitting for such a fine instrument. The person returning this to you is an innocent.
Once done, Kacela folds it up into quarters, and presents it to Noah, her expression drained of any emotion. "Thank you," she says simply.
Noah smiles as she writes. He doesn't try and read the paper. Instead he looks inside the satchel and takes a glance at the blade, without drawing too much attention to himself.
Additionally, for those who look inside the cloth: The blade's surface has been polished to the point of having a satin sheen on the flat, the edges themselves chrome-like in luster. The bronze hilt and pommel do not have a single mark of dark brown tarnish ANYWHERE, even in the seams and hard to reach recesses. The leather of the grip itself has been replaced with supple suede, and re-wrapped in fresh copper wire.
Noah smiles once she finishes the note "I'll see to it that he gets it and the note. I'll take care of it as soon as I can."
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