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[There is a man in the corner of the lobby, curled on his side with a hand to his side, where blood blooms outwards on the pure white canvas of his clothing.
His breath shudders and one silver eye opens, showing a glimmer of confusion.
Moments ago he'd been dying. Muraki had been sure of it. Shortness of breath, fluttering pulse, and the unmistakable dark edge of approaching unconsciousness. And if that hadn't been enough, there had been the fire...
...Fire? Who had set that fire?
He frowned and shifted, gazing around at his surroundings. Could he be dead right now? This could almost be JuOhCho - though if he was here for judgement he was sure there'd be someone keeping a very close eye on him. But there was no one at the moment.
He slowly pushed onto an elbow and glanced downwards, tugging at this bloodstained garments. The blood was still fresh and wet, but the stab wound to his side was gone completely. Not even a scar.
Curious.
Not quite as curious, perhaps, as the fact when he tries to picture the face of whoever it was that had put that wound there, he came up completely blank.
The doctor moved to sit up further, his bloody hand reaching out and brushing over the open pages of a book he hadn't yet noticed near his side, leaving a large bloody smear across one page of the journals.]
What's this?
((open via journal or in person. He's been healed by the castle, he just looks like a bloody mess XD))
His breath shudders and one silver eye opens, showing a glimmer of confusion.
Moments ago he'd been dying. Muraki had been sure of it. Shortness of breath, fluttering pulse, and the unmistakable dark edge of approaching unconsciousness. And if that hadn't been enough, there had been the fire...
...Fire? Who had set that fire?
He frowned and shifted, gazing around at his surroundings. Could he be dead right now? This could almost be JuOhCho - though if he was here for judgement he was sure there'd be someone keeping a very close eye on him. But there was no one at the moment.
He slowly pushed onto an elbow and glanced downwards, tugging at this bloodstained garments. The blood was still fresh and wet, but the stab wound to his side was gone completely. Not even a scar.
Curious.
Not quite as curious, perhaps, as the fact when he tries to picture the face of whoever it was that had put that wound there, he came up completely blank.
The doctor moved to sit up further, his bloody hand reaching out and brushing over the open pages of a book he hadn't yet noticed near his side, leaving a large bloody smear across one page of the journals.]
What's this?
((open via journal or in person. He's been healed by the castle, he just looks like a bloody mess XD))

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. . .
The book works like a phone.
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Does it?
[He observes the book at it transcribes those words...]
Interesting.
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If you wish for some clean clothes this place will give them to you - like magic.
[ Pauses, then picks his sandwich innards from the floor and puts his meal back together. ]
And there is a clinic nearby with doctors.
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I'm fine.
What do you mean wish?
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If you think really hard about something you want then it shows up.
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Oh, and there's the source of it all. She wanders over, but keeps a good few feet distance from him, not wanting to get too close to the blood. Gods, she'd need a coffee soon]
Hey? You okay?
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Paradoxically, yes.
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Because you seem to be bleeding a lot and that's generally the opposite of being okay.
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Was bleeding. Past tense. Though I'm not sure how that happened.
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At all? I mean, usually you get attacked by something for it to happen.
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dictated
H-Hey! Are you okay? Are you hurt?
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I was. I seem to be fine now.
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Re: dictated
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and then he suddenly smells blood.
so he'll just be... up there... watching Muraki and deciding what to do about the
tasty tasty tastystranger.]no subject
Tsuzukiwhoever it was that managed to wound him....It may take a few minutes. Muraki isn't in the habit of staring up at ceilings normally, but once he's gotten his bearings and had a chance to look around properly, well, it's a hard thing not to notice.
And then he'll stare back, though in a vaguely impassive way. Not something you see everyday.]
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he'll take a moment to stare back, just as impassive about the whole thing... before he just sort of detaches himself from the cieling and drops to the floor below.
...where he promptly stands and tosses his book on a nearby couch. this guy is way more interesting than Faulkner right now.]
Hello, stranger.
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[He should probably bother to act more surprised, all things considered. He was at a clear disadvantage here. Ripped simultaneously from the fingers of death and his old life, all on the heels of having his plans ruined entirely by a person he cannot even picture.
So no, he wasn't exactly in the mood to act the innocent, innocuous doctor. Privately he was furious. And the staggeringly attractive young man in front of him would have been a very pleasant little toy to take it out on, if it weren't for that little display that marked him as very definitely not an easy target.]
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[he walks up to him, very casual about the whole thing, and ends in a crouch a casual talking distance away. he stays on the balls of his feet, perfectly still, like a statue, his arms folded on his knees. his eyes are the only things that move, really.
and they glance over his face and back towards where that wound used to be, and then back to his face.]
What a fortunate arrival. Others have had it much worse.
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[Action]
After a brief pause for observation Conan approaches him with a carefully innocent expression in his face.]
Ne, do you need help getting to the clinic?
forever!
[He looks at his hand, mouth twisting with a moment of irritation before he wipes it on an unstained portion of his long white coat - it was ruined anyway. His irritation is more with his situation than with the blood.
How did this even happen?]
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[Tiny child :|]
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Ah, but that's interesting! Sometimes people arrive here injured, but I've never met someone who had all their injuries disappear. From the dryness of the blood on your clothes it must have been very quick.
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