lostcarnival | (no subject)

Who: Zecora and everyone else
Where: The medical tent and in the carnival
When: Soon after the Agent battle
What: Zecora does her job. And is tired.
Warnings: None?

A.

[The medical tent is a dark and shadowy place in the aftermath of the Agent attacks, but those shadows are not unwelcoming. The very essence of the air seems permeated with Zecora's personality, warm and exotic and welcoming if you can get past how mysterious and occasionally creepy it is. In the depths of the tent, Zecora herself stalks from tables to seats to cauldrons bubbling in the back, seeming everywhere and nowhere at once, as if she's less a being and more a force of nature.]

[Given how the carnival is, this is probably a little alarming.]

[Those who are already here, she has instructed already -- whether they're awaiting minor treatments or major. But for those just arriving? Even in the middle of her exams, she lifts her voice to greet them, a faint rasp at the very depths of her rhymes.]

Please enter. Have a seat.
I'll be with you soon to treat
Whatever ailment is your trouble.
Call if I'm needed on the double.

B.

[Late at night, when the businesses of medicine in specific and the carnival in general are done, those keen of eye or sharp of ear -- or who just happen to be walking past the food stands -- will find a zebra half-sitting, half-lying on a bench, a partly-eaten funnelcake lying next to her muzzle. She'd tried to get some food, the first she'd had all day, once she'd single-hoofedly seen to every patient and ailment in the carnival's numbers... but exhaustion had won the day.]

[On the upside, she's looking properly solid now -- but beneath her fur, her fae marks glow a faint grey, apparently unable to stop even out of the presence of active magic.]

[Wait a moment and the observer gets to spot one hoof twitching violently, proof that her sleep isn't quite as restful as she needs it to be.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Still soon after the fight with the Agents, soon enough that Childermass has yet to wake up again from first, being taken down for being possessed, and second, dealing with the bug that had caused the mess in the first place. It's probably a kindness that he was out cold for the latter, though he'll be waking with a start regardless.

It's not like this is his first time waking up somewhere mysterious, though he's almost sure this isn't a dream. ]

This is--

[ Oh, right. He remembers is shooting Strange. Never mind where he is, because that new thought gets him shoving himself upright to sit and then regretting it immediately. ]

Edited 2017-01-12 05:28 (UTC)

[Zecora is over by him in a heartbeat, her eyes a blank glowing yellow beneath her raised hood as she regards him.]

This is the medical tent.
After the fight, here you were sent.
It would be best
If you continued to rest.

[ Aaaand... right. He's not going to be too startled by Zecora. Medical tent, doctor's a talking zebra, that's all as it should be. That he can consider it normal at all isn't something to dwell upon right now, either, so he won't. He also won't continue to rest, but instead attempt to get up out of the cot. ]

I cannot. Where is he? Where's Strange? I shot— [ No, that wasn't him. ] He was shot. By one of them.

I said, 'Sit and rest,
That would be best'.

[Zecora stalks over to push him down, gently but firmly, with one obsidian hoof.]

And that you will do
If I have to make you.
Everypony is all right.
We lost none this night.
Those in need are treated
For my skills are still undefeated.

[ And it looks like he's sitting back down, thanks to a hoof squarely against his chest. ]

None? [ At least he won't struggle to stand up again once that's said. ] He'll be all right, then?

[ Sorry, everyone else who got injured. Childermass is pretty fixated on the well-being of Strange, even if he is generally glad there's been no deaths on their own side. ]

Everypony will be just fine
With help from spells and brews of mine.

[Good. Zecora isn't certain she has the strength to hold him down, especially not with her legs feeling progressively more rubbery as the night trickles on. She'd have to numb his muscles or something, and that just complicates everything.]

[ Whereas Childermass isn't certain what she is and isn't capable of. Sometimes it's better not to tempt fate and find out. So, instead, he sighs and runs his hands through his hair, trying to put some semblance of order to it (it doesn't work, but whatever). ]

And the agents? Gone?

A ruthless scour
From the Ringmaster's power
Sent them away
Earlier today.

Even the one that had...?

[ Had what? He gets caught up trying to decide how to put it. The one that had possessed him? Taken over? Controlled? It's still frightening to think about, even to a man so typically stoic as himself. ]

Every one, from first to last.
Their presence is in the past.

[Maybe she could be more firm and emphatic without rhyming, but hey -- she's Zecora.]

That is a great relief, then.

[ Nightmare fodder for the next few weeks, too, but he can deal with that. ]

I knew they could take over people within the Matrix, but I thought the carnival counted as outside of their own reach...

[No one who got taken over would be going back to their trailer without a healthy stock of Sweet Dreams potion. Mental trauma needs treatment just as physical does.]

Quite a shock.
We're taking stock
Of the means they used
And the powers abused.

[Not that she could give a ton of detail on THAT score.]

[ Now if only there were a potion to ensure someone would actually take a potion... ]

We don't know how yet?

[That potion is called Zecora. Really want to disobey her orders?]

Perhaps we do, I have not heard.
I am too busy to get word.

[ What she doesn't know can't garner her wrath, right? ]

I will take that as a no... [ Which it was. He's pretty sure. Although, on that matter, it's hard not to feel a little irate all of the sudden. ] Must you speak in rhyme every time? Doesn't that make all of this difficult?

[ Is this a faerie thing? Talking zebra thing? Magical doctor thing? All three? ]

[How will you make sure she doesn't know?]

[Also, is this really the time to question her rhyming?]

It would be harder to not rhyme
Than you to do it all the time.
The zebra tongue does it as a matter of course
Not doing so is something I must force.

[ Hopefully by never mentioning it.

And now is the best time, since he is, unfortunately, being irate. Just a little. Sorry, Zecora. ]

God forbid there's ever a serious illness that's unrhymable, then...

[Zecora chuckles, a faintly raspy noise after her long night.]

Rhyming is about the flow --
Quite easy to do, you know.