better living through chemestry

Dr. Ambula Chase Victor of the 67th Hunger Games District 6 Mentor

[queencorazon]

Jaimie Alexander by Giuliano Bekor | 2011

[poisonmisty-blog]

Favorite Jaimie Alexander Photos ∞

[larmoyante]

How does your life move forward, when all you want to do is hold still.

Nina LaCour, Hold Still (via perfect)

[elijahcoldwell]

[brielarsonist]

[healing-thyself]

Nothing is more wretched than the mind of a man conscious of guilt.

Plautus

[evaanverlaine-blog-deactivated2]

[peetamillark-deactivated2014071]

[the-working-gear]

Brave. He wasn’t brave. He was scared. For Bula, and Aston, and Keely, and his mother back in their District, and for himself… No one was telling him anything. Nothing came through from Snow, or the Peacekeepers. The abrupt and absolute disconnection from the world was taking its toll on him just as heavily. How much longer was he going to be here? When would they realize he didn’t know anything? …would they realize he didn’t know anything? Or would they go on asking, and pushing and prodding until he snapped? Bula was crying. He hadn’t meant for her to cry- Gear reached out to take her hand again. “Everyone knows the younger ones don’t make it. I didn’t want her to be alone in there… if she-” Gear knew he was babbling, and revealing thoughts he had no intention of every saying aloud, let alone to Bula. But he felt the need to get these things off his chest, to just talk before he was left alone again. “…yeah, I can do that. I’ll be fine.” He gave a weak smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. 

[healing-thyself]

Bula could only imagine how confusing this all was for him. His life had gone from one hell right into another. At least in the arena the rules were clear, you knew what was expected of you and exactly what you were going to have to do to win. To survive. But here? What use was she as his mentor when she couldn't even see the playing field? What could she even do for him? 

Somewhere behind her a woman's voice sounded through a helmet 'Times up Doctor.' the last word more of a sneer than a title. Doctor, Mentor, Victor... Bula suddenly hoped for Gear's sake that they both wouldn't come to regret her unique style of desperately insane determination. With a nod the Doctor obediently wiped her face returning Gear's weak smile with one only slightly more practiced. Wordlessly she returned her tools to her case and closed the lid without fastening the clamp at the top. “I'll see you soon I promise.” She told Gear as she stood, the unsecured case in her hand.

“Dammit!” The Victor cursed to the sound of expensive tools clattering across the concrete floor. With a flustered glance at the three Peacekeepers waiting just outside the glass panel for her she mumbled her apologies and fell to her knees once more to retrieve the dozen or so instruments. She was quick and quite save for the sorries and excuses that spilled out of her. Once all her pieces were together again she closed the case with a snap snap and made her successful exit, only looking back at Gear once. A quick glance once the glass panel to the cell was sealed and she'd again more found herself flanked by guards. Follow my eyes, she thought with a little prayer that it might reach him.

Gear. The far corner of his bed. Back to Gear.

That was all the clues the Mentor could give him, all the hints she could spare before the female Peackekeeper jabbed her in the back with the tip of her rife, and like that she was gone.

[brielarsonist]

[the-working-gear]

Gear watched with a scrutinizing gaze as Bula went about her medical tasks. He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that it wasn’t fair to her - to watch her like she was his enemy, or that she might do something to harm him, but he just couldn’t help it. He couldn’t bring himself to focus elsewhere, or to look away entirely. “You must be better than their doctors.” Gear mused aloud, trying to lift the corners of his lips in a quick smile. But the thought of the Capitol needing a doctor on hand at all was… concerning. “-They haven’t hurt me.” Not physically, maybe. Other than the lack of food and water. 

He kept his hand still for her, allowing her to test his pulse as his other than returned the squeeze she offered him. It was comforting, ever so brief as it was. They wouldn’t hurt Bula. She was released, though maybe not free… But she was a doctor. They needed her. They couldn’t hurt her now. Still- “I’m sorry.” He blurted out. Don’t save it until its too late. Gear felt as though he needed to apologize before Bula disappeared forever, or he himself. “-Before the Arena, during the training. I’m sorry.”

[healing-thyself]

Bula managed a little chuckle though there was no real mirth behind it. “I doubt my credentials have anything to do with this.” She might have been clueless as to the aim of this little exercise when she'd first stepped into the cell, but she could already feel Snow's intention. Gear was pale, gaunt, and she could see how he tensed at her touch, how he watched her fingers with sharp eyes. She'd seen these symptoms before back in Six. Children, adults, the elderly- or atleast what counted as elderly in a district run on manual labor- all broken, beaten and terrified. Every time a new shipment of Peacekeepers were brought in the rates of inexplicable beatings rose and she and her colleagues had to tend to the mending. She was used to seeing much much worse, but just as Snow had intended Gear's wounds affected her much more deeply. He was alive she had to remind herself, alive and in relatively good condition. But knowing exactly what the human body's limits were did little to ease the ache she felt every time his eyes flicked from her face to her hands. Bula knew all too well that there were wounds even she couldn't observe with her scopes and gadgets. Wounds that didn't heal as quickly as a broken body did.

I'm sorry. Bula lost count of the pulsating beats and brought her gaze up to his slowly. “Don't...” God, training felt like forever ago. Not that she hadn't relived every day of it in her mind a million times since then. How selfish she'd been. How heartless to think that she had the right to choose one of them to save over the other. Of all the things in her life- of all the things she'd done in the arena and after, choosing between them had been the worst. “I'm the one- I'm so so... s-so sorry.” a hand left his wrist, the pulse forgotten now so she might cover her mouth and muffle the a stilted little sob. “You're so very brave Gear- so impossibly brave.” Composure was a little beyond her reach now, but even with a shaking whisper and tears streaming down her face she knew what had to be said. “I don't know anyone who would have stayed with Keely in that arena. Anyone who would have risked their lives for that little girl... Gear you're stronger and smarter than anyone gives you credit for- and I need you to be strong for a little bit longer. Okay? Can you do that for me?”

[brielarsonist]

[the-working-gear]

"Keely and I tried to keep our mouths covered when we noticed the ash…" Gear replied distantly. It felt as though the Games occurred a life time ago. Maybe not even his own life, like it had happened to someone else.

-Has she just answered his question? ‘All four of you’. There were four of them here. Almost everyone got out okay. Or so Gear had to believe. He had no true way of knowing if Keely was okay, or Aston, or even Silver. So he had to hope they weren’t found, that they weren’t blown out of the sky… He shuddered again, grasping his hands together so tight his knuckles began to turn white. Focus on Bula’s words. "Thanks, Bula." Though again, he had to wonder why they would listen to her at all. "-Why aren’t you in a cell?" He hoped that it was an innocent enough question. 

Gear knew that having his blood pressure taken wasn’t frightening. Or it shouldn’t have been, anyway. “Okay.” Just make it fast.

[healing-thyself]

Keely... the name alone was enough to make her pause, her stomach clinching a little at the thought of not knowing the child's fate. All Bula could be certain of was that she'd yet to see or hear any sign of Keely, or Aston, or half a dozen others. But even that information seemed like a mirage. For all she knew they were just being tortured and held in some other facility- or worse, they were already dead... after a moment the sound of ripping velcro brought her back to Gear and the sterile white walls of the cell.

“ I don't... They only let me out yesterday- I think.” between the blood loss, weakness from dehydration and hunger she really couldn't be sure of anything as meaningless as the passage of time in one of these cells, but Gear didn't need to hear any of that. “Snow didn't tell me why or what. But after my interrogation... they must have figured I'd be more use here than locked up.” she shook the statement away more than a little worried about its implications, instead she fell silent for a moment focused on counting the pulsing beats in his arm. Her free hand found his though, giving it a little squeeze as she watched the second hand on her grandmother's wrist watch tick tick ticking away. 

[brielarsonist]

[healing-thyself]

OOC questions or even questions from capital interrogators( just because she's been moved into a cushier cell doesn't mean she isn't still being asked about the rebellion, just over awkward suppers instead of torture.)

[the-working-gear]

It wasn’t over. Of course it wasn’t over. He was stupid to think for even a moment it would be finished now, that he would be set free to return home. He won the Game- Except that he didn’t. The Game never finished. It never would. Gear had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, and if he listened to it, it would tell him that he’d never be going home now. His mother… Gear’s eyes burned, and he pressed his lips together, refusing to let a single tear drop. He was stronger than this. He was supposed to be stronger than this.

Gear let out of a snort of a laugh, shaking his head. “No shit.” First the Games, now this. There wasn’t an end in sight. At least with the Games, he knew it would be over when all except one were dead. Would this be over when he lost his mind? It certainly felt as though he was beginning to lose it. The lack of food, the lack of information, the lack of care- Bula was here. She seemed… mostly okay. She wasn’t in a cell. That didn’t make any sense. She was a mentor, though, or had been. No doubt she had known more information about the break out. Did she give them answers when they asked?

He flinched openly at the sound of the medical case being opened. She wasn’t going to hut him. But the quickest glimpse of the various tools in the bag caused Gear’s stomach to flip flop. A cold rush of panic flooded over him and he edged as far away as he could, though he was already in a corner. There wasn’t anywhere he could go. He could fight her-

She wasn’t going to hurt him.

Swallowing hard, and though his hands were shaking, he complied with her request. He tugged up his shirt, trying his best to will himself into remaining still when the stethoscope made contact with his skin. It was cold, but not as much as it could have been. Deep breaths. He was good at that. Catching Bula’s quick gesture, a finger to her lips as she focused on her medical tasks, Gear’s eyes watched as she listened to his lungs. But what could he ask? What could they discuss in there short time they had? “Did you see the others?” -Because there had to be others. He knew there were, he just didn’t know who exactly they were.

[healing-thyself]

Bula sat back on her heels placing the stethoscope around her neck with a sigh. "Well your lungs are fine- good even considering the volcanic fumes in the Arena. But I can already tell you haven't eaten in a while. They're not feeding any of you enough. All four of you need more calories- but the adults are going to be better off." She said the words with out a whisper, just a doctorly conversation. She could only tell him what she knew. Maybe it was foolish to think there weren't more captives, but she'd only ever heard Sawyer, Watt and Elias. For now at least these four men were her only concern.

"I'll make sure they bring you something." she told Gear, determined to make it so. If he could keep them guessing as to what he knew about the rebellion she would have a better chance at advocating for better treatment. They wouldn't be easy on him. She knew that already, so did he she was was sure. But... broken was better than dead. "Gonna take your blood pressure now." Or at least she hoped so.

[the-working-gear]

As he felt Bula’s arms around him, finding himself pressed against her tight… She was real. She was here. And his body shook with the force of him finally relaxing in her embrace, though it took a long minute before he lifted his arms to wrap around her. Before the Games, maybe he had his disagreements with Bula. Maybe he wasn’t the friendliest to her, and maybe there were harsh words spoken between them, but it didn’t matter now. She was here and Gear felt the acute desire to fall apart in her arms. But that was one thing he wouldn’t let himself.

“I- I-…” He wasn’t sure what he wanted to say. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to ask. So he quieted himself, obeying her shushing, moving with her rocking, all while continuing to cling. It was okay. It would be okay, because Bula is out. She’s not in a cell. There had to be some explanation for that. “Are we leaving? Can we go home?”Gear hated how small he sounded, how unsure- 

Bula pulled away, and Gear’s eyes were drawn to the medical bag. It was Bula, she wouldn’t hurt him. That didn’t quell the sudden panic. “Why?”

[healing-thyself]

Because it's not over her eyes said as clearly as if her mouth had. She refused to let her gaze fall from him though, no matter how hard the truth was for her to tell him.

She didn't know why she was here. Not in so many words, but the intent was beginning to become clear. “You've been through a lot Gear.” It was true, he'd been through one of the most grueling Arenas in living memory, and from the looks of him now, the weeks since then hadn't been kind either. His features looked gaunt, his skin paler than usual, he looked exhausted and she could tell by the way his eyes searched hers frantically that his psychological state was no better.

She wished there was something more she could do for him, that there was some pill or shot she could give him to fix it all. “I'm not going to hurt you, I just want to make sure you're alright.” with a metallic snap the case to her right popped open and for the first time Bula got a look at what she could only describe as a medical toy box. Gadgets and gizmos glistened and shined, each and every one the product of half a dozen years of of half a dozen districts labor and ingenuity, all to benefit the Capital and it's citizens. It made her stomach turn. In the end she favored familiarity for invention, digging to the bottom for a stethoscope. “Pull up your shirt.” she directed him as she warmed the scope in the palm of her hand, breathing a warm breath on to it while slyly placing a finger to her mouth, her back to the Peacekeepers. If they were to communicate they would have to do so quickly, and quietly, no doubt they were being listened to this very moment and all the others as well, so just like old times really. “Take a deep breath for me.... you're no use to them if you don't know anything... and out. Again...don't let them know what you don't know... Good, once more real deep this time...”