Chane Laforet (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fidele) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sirenspull_logs2012-08-01 05:26 pm
fidele) wrote in sirenspull_logs2012-08-01 05:26 pm
Entry tags:
open
Who: Chane Laforet fidele, and open to anybody involved with her/in the Newcomer Hunt being treated in the hospital!
When: Afternoon of Tuesday 31st through to Thursday 2nd. Tag in with day/time in the subject line.
Where: Skye Medical Centre in Sector 4.
Summary: A little reconnaissance with the people she wanted to help, and helped her.
Warnings: Discussion of the Newcomer Hunt?
Even if every part of her aches down to the bone as she rests, she doesn't want for much more. The surroundings are different to when she was first dragged into this place the day before, but then, all of Chane's recollections are snippets lost in short bouts of painful movement and exhaustion. She doesn't remember the window at her bedside.
Somebody must have wanted to free up a bed and moved her, even lending pillows for her to sit propped up on. Or, more likely, a certain someone moved her to where the light could fall across the sheets. Not that she's complaining. It's good to see the city again and hear the traffic and everyday bustle on the streets below.
Nothing can erase the memories of those past few days, however. She remembers the other newcomers imprisoned on the hunting-grounds-- the ones who gave her their name, especially. They wanted to matter to her, regardless of whether she could provide them protection, and despite her self-preservation, her refusal to cooperate, her panic and nerves... their lives matter. The uncertainy of each one's survival lingers like a fluctuating undercurrent of the intruding sensation of the IV drip, the pain that's slowly leaving her system. Knowing that those others are safe-- Kaiji, Yosuke, Bolin, Conner-- would ease her. But seeing them, she awaits with trepidation and a strange, light emotion she doesn't quite recognise as simple second-hand relief. Her NV is bent and damaged, and using her telepathy only brings back echoing memories of pain; all she has to communicate with is her notepad and pen against any visitors' voices breaking through the silence that's fallen on her corner of the wing.
fidele, and open to anybody involved with her/in the Newcomer Hunt being treated in the hospital!When: Afternoon of Tuesday 31st through to Thursday 2nd. Tag in with day/time in the subject line.
Where: Skye Medical Centre in Sector 4.
Summary: A little reconnaissance with the people she wanted to help, and helped her.
Warnings: Discussion of the Newcomer Hunt?
Even if every part of her aches down to the bone as she rests, she doesn't want for much more. The surroundings are different to when she was first dragged into this place the day before, but then, all of Chane's recollections are snippets lost in short bouts of painful movement and exhaustion. She doesn't remember the window at her bedside.
Somebody must have wanted to free up a bed and moved her, even lending pillows for her to sit propped up on. Or, more likely, a certain someone moved her to where the light could fall across the sheets. Not that she's complaining. It's good to see the city again and hear the traffic and everyday bustle on the streets below.
Nothing can erase the memories of those past few days, however. She remembers the other newcomers imprisoned on the hunting-grounds-- the ones who gave her their name, especially. They wanted to matter to her, regardless of whether she could provide them protection, and despite her self-preservation, her refusal to cooperate, her panic and nerves... their lives matter. The uncertainy of each one's survival lingers like a fluctuating undercurrent of the intruding sensation of the IV drip, the pain that's slowly leaving her system. Knowing that those others are safe-- Kaiji, Yosuke, Bolin, Conner-- would ease her. But seeing them, she awaits with trepidation and a strange, light emotion she doesn't quite recognise as simple second-hand relief. Her NV is bent and damaged, and using her telepathy only brings back echoing memories of pain; all she has to communicate with is her notepad and pen against any visitors' voices breaking through the silence that's fallen on her corner of the wing.
Re: Morning, August 1st
Seeing Dr. Yumeno approach is somewhat of a relief (that emotion is just about reconciliating itself with her reasoning; when she's lonely, it's good to see another person she recognises, and that feels positive enough), although still surprising. She wasn't expecting a visit from him so early on... or from him at all, perhaps, since she'd met a different doctor before. His motions are gently reassuring, drawing a small nod from her almost immediately to his question. Reaching across carefully, she picks up her notepad and pen from the side-table, settling them in her lap in preparation to sign, talk, answer.
no subject
He gives her a wane smile, eyes looking over the charts briefly, raking over her treated injuries and the IV drip, checking, double-checking to be sure that everything seems to be in order. It's difficult to toe that balance between sticking to professionalism and offering personal consolation. But his eyes show fair bed manners and a darkened look of grim disgust.
There's no reason any of this should have happened a second time. Atrocious. Higher administration ought have been involved. This time, he's got to make sure they follow due process, and fight from the place he is able.
"I don't presume to know what really happened to you, and I'm not going to pressure you to talk about it now, unless you want to." Dr. Yumeno explained calmly, keeping his voice even. "I suspect the police will want to take a formal statement, when you're ready. But I do want to make sure that at the very least, your medical records are kept detailed and accurate on file."
He leans in closer, handing her a clipboard once she seems ready and able.
"I think is is wise for all newcomers involved seeking power of joint attorney- which is why I'd like to recommend Mr. Armando to you, and allow him access to look at your medical records. For that, I'll need your written consent."
no subject
Better. I've slept.
She can't stop watching him bemusedly despite his calm air and, as he speaks, her expression loses the honest curiosity and gains a completely blank undertone. Half of this sounds like it's from a different universe. The world of consistent contact with the authorities, statements, attorneys-- trust, in other words, in forces outside a small circle of dubious affiliations and moral grey areas. It doesn't offer her a sense of comfort as anyone else might have felt. It's puzzling-- it shows in a slightly furrowed brow as she lowers the notepad and takes the clipboard in hand, scanning the paper.
An attorney? For her? Even outside her homeworld, the concept of confronting the law with her past is dangerous. Surely it was nothing short of a miracle that the first people to find her back then weren't law-abiders themselves; here, in a hospital running with regulations and higher control and everything on paper, she wouldn't have such luck.
Somewhat regretfully, Chane sets the clipboard down and stacks the notepad atop it to write out another note for Daedalus, hoping he has the patience with her that his voice seems to carry.
I don't understand what you want to do.
no subject
And Daedalus is patient, aware that the ordeal is a harrowing one.
"I want to make sure that there is little doubt who hurt you, when and what they've done to you, and that it is connected to what's happened with others. To see that they are brought to maximum accountability for it. As newcomers, we need to defend each other's basic rights to health and safety."
"For that, we need to submit evidence. The records of your examination with Skye can only be released to the court of law with your permission."
"However, I think this should be done as soon as possible, so that there can be no tampering with your records, so that no one can try to lessen the severity of what's happened to you on paper."
no subject
At least, she hopes it wasn't her identity that led to the abduction in the first place. And Daedalus seems more concerned with doing something about the aftermath than finding the reasons for it. She hesitates to write again, wondering when she thought understanding her attackers was so important, before tilting her head down to reply.
The medical records are the evidence?
no subject
...As a doctor, that's really the most he's able to do, beyond the healing process itself.
"My part, for little what it's worth," Daedalus smiles wanely "but I want to see it done so that this never happens again."
"Has...Mr. Stanfeild been in to see you?" (Still a touchy subject, since, well... he did lead a chase right through their apartment several months ago.)
no subject
It's a moment before she brings herself to adapt to his topic change, back slouching slightly as if in defeat. Occasionally she wonders if it should ever be a question whether he has been to see her lately: even when she doesn't require assistance he's practically always by her side. The nurses have noticed, at least, the way they shoo him out after visiting hours have ended.
Many times.
no subject
"He must have been worried sick." He sighs, sitting back in the chair. It's...been a difficult week for Daedalus, evidenced by the darker circles under his eyes and a strange, heavier melancholy in the way he holds himself "....Anyway, has anyone given you a time frame for how long they intend to keep you for observation?"