multiversallogs | never put your hat on the bed, son, never put your hat on the bed

Who: Njoki, Bob Barker & YOU.
What: Fixin' horses, seein' clients, chattin' on the phone, etc.
Where: Mafaton, various other places throughout Baedal.
When: All throughout the week
Notes: The remade horse scenario is for Martha, but the rest of the options are open to everyone. If you want to chat and set anything up, give me a shout.
Warnings: Some gore and bodyhorror. These are Remade horses.

Even with the reduced population of cruorvores in the city, Njoki is still busy enough to have regular wait periods between making an appointment and seeing her. It seems those that are left have a vested interest in warding their property and making sure their appearance is as human as possible. For this reason, she's often out and about anywhere in town: tracking down new suppliers, riding the trains, taking a well-earned break in a coffee shop after a particularly difficult bit of work, and so on.

Today, she's on time and waiting for Martha outside a Mafaton stable with a rucksack over one shoulder and a toolbox in hand. It's worth noting that she's wearing clothing to suit a dirty, messy, hands-on sort of job.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Recalling the time that she had gone grave robbing with the Doctor, and of course her time in medical school doing dissections, Martha had elected to dress in dark clothing as well. Dark clothing that could be easily cleaned and that stains wouldn't be visible during her return home. Seeing Njoki, Martha smiled quickly, and raised her hand in greeting.

"Thanks for letting me come along with you and do this, Ki. I appreciate it, and bought coffee." Because really, nothing helped work more than having coffee.

"Nice," she says accepting a cup and taking a sip before leading the way into the stable. "You work with horses before?"

Once they're inside the main room of the 'horses' become visible and it's immediately apparent that someone with a good deal of talent or strange humour has worked these animals over. A few have mechanical parts woven through their bodies, back legs replaced by pistons or treads, while others are new species or merged creations. Njoki is partial to the oddly bioluminescent one with slowly waving poisonous tendrils instead of a mane.

"No, I'm a bit of a city girl, me. The closest I've come is bringing tea to the stablemaster. He didn't want me to get close to the horses." For reasons that she still didn't want to think about, let alone mention.

Looking around the stable, Martha is immediately taken by the sight of the odd horses. They have a horrible beauty all their own, and Martha can't help but stare at the horses and how their bodies are place together. "They're beautiful." The words were spoken in a slightly odd tone and Martha's hand extended towards one, but didn't quite touch it-it seemed that she had in fact learned a few things.

"You'll want to keep your hands to yourself and don't get behind them. Some of 'em don't go for oats." Some of the horses snort and stamp at Njoki's presence, but get over any nervousness as the stablemaster comes out to great them. He's a short, stocky man with bright, reflective blue-green eyes and visible fangs.

"I've got Big Boy out back for you. I think the problem is that there's a rough part on the piston that keeps rubbing against the bone, but I can't tell from the outside."

Nodding and slipping one hand in her pocket, Martha busied the other hand with the coffee that she'd grabbed, counting on her hands being occupied so that she wouldn't forget and touch one. The warning about not getting behind them was something that had been ingrained in her since she was a kid and had seen her first Western; with the way the horses had been put together, there was no doubt in Martha's mind that a kick would be terrible for her.

Martha doesn't even blink at the man and his fangs instead she greated him politely with a smile and was posed to follow them both out back to see the horse and the piston.

"Does it cause him pain?"

"Enough to make him ornery. There anything you'll need me to do?"

"I'll need you to get him relaxed and down so I can work on the leg." Njoki follows the stablemaster along until they reach a barn with a lone, large draft horse tied into a stall. He's clearly in some measure of discomfort and while the stablemaster takes him out and walks him around so that Ki can see where and how the damage is affect him before he stops, stares the horse in the eye, and ~through mystical vampire whammy~ gets the horse to lay down and sleep.

With a nod to show that she's able to see the problem, Njoki motions to Martha that they ought to unpack her kit and get themselves ready to get to work. First, she takes out a small bottle of water that smells faintly of oranges and herbs. "Sprinkle a bit of this on yourself."

Martha doesn't know very much about horses, but seeing an animal in pain is something that is universal for her. Wincing a bit when she watched as the horse favored his leg, the doctor was relieved to know that Ki was going to be able to fix it up.

Watching as the vampire got the horse to lay down and sleep, Martha just stood there waiting, a bit like she would when she was going to assist on a surgery. After so long of being around new experiences, Martha didn't even question it when Ki handed her the bottle. Sprinkling a bit on herself, Martha then moved to hand the bottle back, spelling the orange and herbs. "What does it do?"

"Metaphysical equivalent of washing your hands; Florida water's good stuff and it'll clean off whatever you've picked up walking through the city." Njoki rolls up her sleeves, sprinkles some over the horse, but avoids the stablemaster in case he's one of the vampires that doesn't react well to 'blessed' objects.

Kneeling by the injured leg, Njoki runs her hands over the skin and metal a few times before turning to Martha to speak, "Basically all you need to do is sit back and watch. If you're going to be ill, step outside, okay?"

With that out of the way, Ki rubs her hands together a few times and peels the skin back off the leg without any tearing or resistance, muscle groups go curling up and away next. There's a bit of blood, but not as much as one would expect.

Martha nodded, and she shifted herself out of the way, and as well as out of the light source. She didn't say anything when the warning about being ill happened; once she might have worried about it, but field surgeries without the benefit of more modern medical supplies had changed her mind about that.

Instead, she just watched in an interested manner as the skin was pulled away from muscle, and then as muscle was pulled from bone. It was amazing how little blood there was, and Martha expected that it was due to the fact that the blood wasn't pumping at whatever the average rate for a horse was, so it made sense. After all, blood was such an important thing to living tissue.

Speaking softly so as not to be an interruption, Martha asked, "what secures the muscle to the piston?"

"There's a sort of magical graft that the remakers do. I dunno how it works, but it does, although ..." She trails off as she gets down to the bone and runs her hand along the surface, feeling for a catching. "Although, sometimes they miss a bit and I come in."

"You pass me that file?" It's less like a proper file and more like a letter opener made of bone, but for her purposes it works the same way.

Magic wasn't a concept Martha was unfamiliar with at that point. She had gotten used to the idea that it could be its own thing, and that it had its own logic for knitting flesh and bone together even without the things her medical mind was informing her that were needed.

Martha's eyes widened, when she saw the bone, and she quickly leaned forward just a little bit so that she could see what was happening. The file was passed quickly, and she made contact with it with her skin as little as possible; leftovers from when she'd done her surgical rotation.

Njoki chuffs in thanks and then working by feel more than sight, she runs the file over the tricky bit of bone until she's satisfied that it's smooth enough to be comfortable but still able to catch the muscle where it's needed.

"And the bottle now," she continues, passing the file back, and pointing towards a small, empty green bottle.

Taking the file back and handing over the bottle, Martha was definitely having the same feeling of excitement that she used to have when she had considered being a brain surgeon. Too bad there had been that small interruption in her educational process.

"How often does something like this require maintenance?"

never put your hat on the bed, son, never put your hat on the bed

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