impure_tale

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168

Honestly, this is why I so loathe these infirmary visits. You strap me to a bed (so much wasted potential, there) and I miss everything interesting.

And so few visitors! The lot of you wish me to die of ennui, is that so?

[Private to Infirmary Staff]

In all seriousness we really must discuss the matter of my release. Am I going to require surgery of any kind? It's been agony on my back to even try to walk; what is to be done?

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You're strapped to a bed? Really?

What's the ennui Death Toll like, I wonder?

[Sarcastic. Trolls gonna troll.]</>I

You will have to ask the doctors of more modern medicines, but I do personally believe that bed rest is the best cure for this ailment.

There have been several offers for assistance. The technology that we have should be able to heal everything and there's been the offer of spells.

For a time I was. Presumably because I could have exacerbated the damage by moving.

Monsieur, there is tale called "The Yellow Wallpaper" that I discovered sometime after arriving here. I think you should acquaint yourself with it.

I was rather busy, marquis, and I somewhat doubt that I would be the person you wished to see you in your helpless state.

Ah Monsieur St Just, you do not give yourself enough credit. Does it shock you that I might enjoy your company?

A little I must admit. I've seldom been even civil to you.

You've also seldom been uncivil. I should think that balances things out.

I rather first imagined it would resemble something like a bedroom romp with you, but I'm certain that cannot be the case. You see, a death by ennui would at least be an occurrence to remark upon later.

Edited 2011-06-12 16:12 (UTC)

I try to avoid you. A reminder of aspects of home I don't wish to remember.

Marquis...I have been remiss because I was insane for a few days, I fear. I still think you are one of the more interesting Barge members and rather enjoy your company and fearless prose.

Ennui you must be saved from. I have lived with it for centuries and it has made me a bitter creature. May I bring you anything?

Between you and I...I was tempted to make you an offer to resolve your injuries. But I suspect it is one you would refuse.

I have said already that I shall not accept magical aid. What am I to expect?

Are there many half-lunatic libertine writers in your time?

You are most gracious, Monsieur. Perhaps more to read would be enough, though I do not reject good conversation.

The technology here can heal everything. You're simply going to require physical therapy afterwards. Accelerated healing still produces scar tissue.

I see. What would physical therapy entail? And for how long?

Stretches. Resting. Low impact exercise. A brace or a cane to take pressure off of particular parts. Nothing particularly strenuous.

...Fortunately we have a pool.

No, I think you were the only one. My cousin made a go at writing something terrible--or so I've heard--but he was miserable at it. To be honest, I was largely ignorant of you until I came here. My sister tended to keep a very close eye on my reading habits.

But... you remind of the nobility, not in good ways. And it has little to do with what you've done. I have no good excuse.

You're pretty tough. I think you can fight the ennui.

Doctor. How long?

It depends entirely on how much you restrict yourself to routine and conduct your business. It's always difficult to say with humans.

Make an educated guess.

I can provide both. I even have a story to tell you. Have you ever heard of a hopelessly romantic vampire?

A few months with a cane. Up to a year before the discomfort fully goes away. Never if you mistreat yourself.

Perhaps I shall. Can it be found within the library?

That seems fairly routine, but still unpleasant.

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