[RQ] If you like pina coladas

"We destroyed the grove we found last time," he rumbled in explanation as he walked across the steaming pumice beside Torchline's resident healer. "But there are always more." Like the whack-a-mole game he had seen played at some of the street fairs in Haulani. Destroy one void-infected area and another would pop up somewhere else along the coast.

In respect for the heat he had donned thick-soled sandals beneath his star-stitched leather trousers, but his muscular chest and arms gleamed in the red light of the nearby volcano, clad only in a light sheen of sweat. His steely hair was pulled back in a tight braid for the day's work, and his emerald eyes scanned the rocky, lava-stitched landscape that rose from the sea in search of the familiar green spike of the molten pineapple plants they sought. Or at least, formerly molten, before they had been corrupted by the Void and turned into hallucinogenic slushies.

"Has the clinic been busy this season?"


Isla

so much of our lives is just carving through the dark

"Isn't that always the way?" Isla sighs as they scan the searing coastline for any sign of the strange, void touched fruit that Hadama spoke about. Her sandals are in her hands, however - they aren't likely to survive the walk across such a superheated landscape (and she hasn't thought to get more suitable footwear, like the demigod beside her) and it isn't as though her feet will burn.

She also carries a thick, burlap sack to grab any number of the shadowed pineapples once they find them. For now though the coast is clear, and her pebble blues once more rake across the landscape for any trace of the void.

"It has not, surprisingly," she says of the clinic, brushing a lock of hair back from her face where it has escaped the bun she'd lifted it up into. "Other than the flurry of activity from the tournament, of course." Both acting as medic for said tournament and having to deal with the various drunken fallouts from the night after had seen the clinic get busy, only to calm down again.

"You fought well, by the way."

The volcano was a simmering giant dozing high above them as they strode across its lower reaches. Hadama chose his route with care, seeking to prolong the life of his footwear as they walked across old lava flows and avoided the more recent streams. He stayed close to the water, as much from the psychological comfort that it gave him as for the assumption that it would be more likely to succor vegetation closer to the mitigating coolness of the ocean.

"That is good to hear," he murmured, quiet relief in the undertones of his rumbling voice before her compliment gave him reason to look over at his Ancient companion and incline his head in acknowledgment. "Thank you." He was proud of how well he had done, even if luck had played as much part as skill in his reaching the finals. "And thank you for tending to us." All of the entrants who had needed her care between and after bouts, bruised and bloodied - though only dead in one thankfully brief case.

A hint of green peeking up from between a roll in the rocky landscape drew his eye and he changed their direction to head towards it before he spoke again. "Is there anything your clinic needs? That Flora and I can do for you?" Isla's expertise was an important asset for Torchline, and the tournament had proven that she and her clinic were well worth the investment to keep them there.

so much of our lives is just carving through the dark

Between them they cover good ground; Isla is not quite as partial to the water as her companion, and so sticks to the rockier outcrops as they walk so she might keep her eyes peeled for their prey, however stationary it might happen to be. "It certainly is. Any amount of calm is always welcome in my sort of job," she agrees with a warm laugh. It also feels a little like the calm before a storm, but she does her best not to dwell on things like that.

Only inclining her head at his gratitude - like most medics, it's more than just a job to the Remedy, and she'd not have felt capable of doing anything but helping - Isla turns accordingly to follow after the tuft of green Hadama has spotted in the near distance. Hopefully it will be what they seek, and they can be in and out before the demigod beside her gets too warm

"At the moment what you've already done is more than enough," she assures him. "I have all that I need, a few permanent staff to assist and a plethora of volunteers. A supply of the healing fountain's water certainly helps, too." Smiling, she glances up at the ex-Mer. "How about you? How have things been?"

"Mmh. In mine, too," Hadama agreed, his expression serene but a momentary twinkle of gentle humor in his green eyes as he glanced over at the Remedy. The days of boring paperwork between the rebuilding of the War and the first Void creatures appearing were now cherished memories and times that were dearly missed in the current climate.

Luckily his gaze returns to the landscape in time to spot a tell-tale spike of green, though at their current distance they couldn't tell if it was the plant they sought - which was to say, infected by the Void.

It was Hadama's turn to incline his head in acknowledgment of Isla's reassurance. He listened with satisfaction to her list of assets and gave a second nod at the mention of the Healing Fountain's helpful properties. It was hard not to remember the triage they had needed to set up after the devastation of Starfall whenever he thought of it, however. The waters had saved many lives that day.

But not all.

"Unfortunately eventful," he admitted after a thoughtful pause, considering how to answer her question. "Not always in a good way." As they crested the ridge and found a small grove of pineapples spread out below them in the rich volcanic soil he narrowed his eyes against the ashy air, trying to discern if the tell-tale purple glow infected the plants. "...Does your clinic heal wounds of the mind and spirit as well as the body?"

so much of our lives is just carving through the dark

"Oh I bet." Isla does chuckle her agreement at that; having also been leader of a region once upon a time, she doesn't wish that kind of responsibility on anyone. Granted, at least (as far as she's aware) none of the current leaders are in a position where they're fighting a lost cause for a race everyone seemed to hate, but po-tay-to, po-tah-to, you know?

Case in point as Hadama describes how he's been as of late, and Isla pauses at the top of the ridge they've climbed so she might crouch down a little, as if the lower vantage point will give her a better indication of the state of the fruits below. "Sorry to hear that," she says softly, and she means it.

As for her clinic and it's various purposes, she shakes her head sadly. "Not at present, no," she apologises. "I have heard that some people with very advanced healing magic can soothe the mind and soul. Alas, we as a region are even more short on therapists than we are on medics."

Isla's understanding was unexpectedly soothing, as was her gentle good humor. Hadama looked over at her, his expression serene but a look of silent appreciation in his eyes. Po-tah-to, indeed. A versatile ingredient that went well in many dishes, even when the specific recipe changed. I'm sorry it's late I don't know if that made any sense.

"Indeed," he rumbled his agreement to her diagnosis on their shortage of medical professionals. "You are appreciated. More than I can say." After Ray's loss in the Oerwoud, Isla's extensive expertise was a significant blessing to Torchline. "If you come across a healer of minds, please extend an invitation on our behalf..."

He trailed off as they paused at the ridge line to consider the grove. The plants below looked green from above, but the healer's sharp eyes might note the flicker of shadowy wings moving around them. Void-touched insects flitted beneath the fronds that sprouted from the tops of the fruits, and here and there a glimmer of violet peeked through the leaves.

Hadama regarded the grove impassively before reaching to free his trident from his back. "Hmm. One fruit should be enough," he rumbled, tilting his head to see if Isla agreed or had other suggestions.

so much of our lives is just carving through the dark

"That's kind of you to say," Isla says with a soft smile, bobbing her head in a nod. "Maybe I'll advertise for it. I suppose I could start learning myself, but I fear I would run the risk of taking on too much." Besides, as a physician one needed to be necessarily distant from their patient at times in order to diagnose and remedy - the opposite, naturally, of a therapist.

With keen eyes taking note of the violet aura surrounding the fruits below, Isla wrinkles her nose and shifts to open the burlap sack wide enough that they might be able to place one of the pineapples within it without having to touch it or get too close in general. "More than enough, based on how potent all the void creatures seem to be," she agrees, rising to her feet and stepping back. "I should have brought gloves." A small oversight, but at least they have Hadama's trident.

"I wonder if anyone has accidentally eaten these."

"You already do enough," Hadama agreed solemnly. "Another specialist can be sought.” It would not do to overwork their resident doctor. Her reputation had him believe that she would do that already if another disaster arose. He might not understand the nuance between healers of bodies and healers of minds, but he approved of the concept of work/life balance.

Or else who would treat their doctor?

Given the amount of nightmares, hallucinations, and general mental trauma that the void was responsible for, Hadama was indeed cautious around the frigid purple pineapples. ”Indeed,” he rumbled, satisfied with Isla’s agreement. He did not particularly want to leave more than one alive. Or any alive, in truth, but the requirements of their task were clear. ”We can tie the bag to the trident when we are done, and carry it at arm’s length,” he suggested as he considered the challenge before them.

With Isla holding the bag open he slipped said trident from his back and used the tines to carefully pierce the stalk of a shadowed pineapple that was not quite ripe yet. It would last longer that way, he hoped, gently twisting his weapon until the fruit separated from its parent plant and fell into the Remedy’s bag. ”No one has reported doing so… or admitted to it,” the King amended after a moment’s thoughtful pause. ”Have you had many patients harmed by infected animals and plants?”

so much of our lives is just carving through the dark

"Here's hoping there's one already keenly looking for a clinic to join," Isla agrees with a smirk, though she doesn't truly think it will be all that easy. "I also wonder whether we ought to consider a veterinary branch," she adds, more as small talk than anything, and her smile is one of gentle amusement. "There are so many Attuned and others with shifts, I wonder if we need to take their health into account while shifted, too."

But anyway - back to pineapples.

Standing a safe distance back as Hadama sniks one of the fruits and transfers it to the bag, Isla swoops forward once he's done and quickly ties a knot in it so they don't risk touching the pineapple with their bare hands. "That sounds like a good idea," she says, nodding and rising back to her feet so he can snag their void parcel.

"We've had a handful of people, but nothing beyond what I would expect," she continues, of those who had come into contact with the void. (AKA no PCs). "It's almost always an accident. I suppose it can't be helped right now, but hopefully when all of this is completed, there will be less occurrences."

As they claimed their corrupted pineapple - bagging, tagging, and wrapping it up with a proverbial bow - Hadama considered their ongoing conversation. "Mmh. A very good idea," he agreed after a comparatively brief contemplation of the sensible suggestion. And though it was only tangentially related, it reminded him to ask: "Is your clinic also able to tend to Mer?" He had helped their previous apothecary, Ray, to expand her clinic into the nearest canal to include treatment rooms for Merfolk. Though fewer of his people came to the surface since Starfall and the expansion of void creatures roaming the waters, it was good to know where to send them in an emergency when they became sick or injured in Haulani.

He reached over with his trident to slide the middle tine gently and carefully through the loop beneath Isla's knot, then lifted the burlap containing their prize at arm's length. Satisfied that it would not slip off, he turned to head back across the volcanic tuff. "Hmm. I am glad it is not worse," he rumbled, an emphatic note in his usually calm voice. "Have any shown signs of wounds that do not heal? Or of being corrupted themselves?"

so much of our lives is just carving through the dark

Smiling at Hadama's agreement - it had only been a passing thought, but now it's one that she might give serious consideration once they're away from Apopo's volcanic reaches. As for the Mer, though, that does cause a crease of worry to her brow, and she shakes her head. "Ability-wise I am sure I would be able to tend to any injuries, and I could study to get to grips with any differences in treatment needed, but the clinic is in the floating portion of Haulani."

An oversight she's only just noticing, having been favouring a centralised location above all. "I wonder if I might be able to create an outpost of the clinic next to one of the canals, though, for the Mer to drop in if needed." She'd need more overhead and it would certainly be an expansion, but it's no bad thing.

As for corruption in the general populace, as they begin the trek back into town, Isla is pleased, this time, to be able to give a confident shake of her head. "Nothing like that, no," she says. "That doesn't mean there might not be people out there with those ailments, of course, but they aren't coming to the clinic if that's the case."

Given how their previous clinic had been washed away without a trace after the tidal waves of Starfall, Hadama only inclined his head in acknowledgment of the wisdom of Isla's clinic being out of reach of the hungry ocean. Her suggestion of an outpost that was more accessible to the mer was met with a firmer nod of agreement "It would be welcome," he agreed. "I would be honored to help, if you follow that current." Though not a Mer anymore, Hadama had not forgotten his roots. Anything that helped his people beneath the waves had his approval and support.

His sandals were by now beginning to look quite the worse for wear after trekking over Apopo's sharp-edged rocks and heated shoulders. His gaze moved with slow, steady rhythm from the terrain in front of his feet, to the distant destination, to the volcanic landscape around them, checking for predators or threats that might interrupt their errand. He returned his attention to Isla briefly as she shared knowledge that did a great deal to ease some of the tensions on his shoulders. "Indeed," he murmured, his voice a low, thoughtful rumble of understanding of the limits of their knowledge. "Please let Flora and I know if it does happen." Given Isla's professionalism it did not truly need to be said, but this way there would be no ambiguity. "Does the clinic have space for quarantine?" A train of thought the Remedy should have no problem following given the current topic of conversation.

so much of our lives is just carving through the dark

"I would appreciate that," Isla says with a smile that grows brighter at having found a potential solution to her oversight. "I am hoping to start a healer's guild soon, using my clinic as a headquarters, so hopefully that will draw in more people with such abilities. But either way, I'll let you know when I'm ready to build the outpost."

As the heat reduces but the terrain remains craggy, Isla takes a moment to put her own sandals back on, before picking up their pace that they might sooner reach the kinder ground of Torchline's earth and sand. "I will," she assures him. "And it doesn't have one presently, but it shouldn't be much work to create such a space."

And luckily, with the healing fountain to fall back on, any non-void related ailments shouldn't be difficult to tend to in the meantime.