The Forgotten Zodiac

Michael backed up out of the car, waiting for Subject impatiently, no matter how fast the other boy moved. Once Subject exited the car, Michael marched toward the house hurriedly. For all his bravado, he did actually care for Quinn, and wasn't going to let Subject's sleepiness get her hurt.

Subject stumbled towards the house, rubbing his chest. When they finally made it to the house and into the living room, Werr grabbed his hand and placed his free hand on Quinn's chest. "There," He said, pointing to just above her diaphram. "There's something small and definitely metal right there, just below the ribs."

"Move hand, then," Vrach pushed Werr aside, cutting through Quinn's shirt to get to the designated area. He started cutting at once, using the clamps to hold her skin back. It was pretty horrid to watch, but Werr didn't take his eyes off of Vrach's work for a second.

As much as Michael wanted to watch, the gore was definitely to much for him. His was a world of mental trauma, not physical, and cutting someone open was definitely physical horror. He turned around and headed into the kitchen, where Sylas and Timothy were busy. "Food ready yet, Sylas? Whatcha making?" He asked curiously.

"Spaghetti. I am almost done." Sylas nodded. "Is Quinn going to be okay...?" He asked quietly, looking very worried. "I smell blood..." He didn't want to look, though, afraid of what he might see.

Malya had turned Tyler's chair around so he wouldn't be looking at the operation. She handed him a small stack of children's pop-up books, smiling. "Here, let's read together, shall we?"

Michael shrugged. "She should be. Some doctor person is cutting a toxin emitter out of her heart. Werr's watching him, we should be fine." He looked over at the pantry and frowned. "Why are Timothy's legs sticking out of the pantry? Is he stuck in there?"

Tyler promptly turned back around. He thought he wanted to watch, though it would probably give him nightmares for weeks if he did. "I always break those. It's not my fault though. They're too fragile."

((Haha. I always break pop-up books, too.))

"I think he was looking for flour, but he is putting stuff back now. Timothy? Are you okay?" Sylas asked, patted the boy on the knee. "Do you need help?"

Malya turned the boy towards her again. "It's okay if you break these, we have more." She smiled. "I used to love these when I was your age."

((I do too. Well, I broke them when I was younger and so I've been scared of them since.))

Timothy climbed out and shook his head happily. "I'm organi-izing." He sneezed, somewhere back there a flour back had gotten torn, and he was now coated in the flour. "It w-wasn't organized r-r-right."

Tyler turned back around. "No, I can't break your books. That would be very sad for you, because those are nice books. I should just watch the grumpy man chop Quinn up."

((Haha. I'm not scared of them. I love them. :T))

Sylas blinked in surprise, brushing some of the flour off of Timothy. "So long as you are alright, I suppose it is okay. Dinner is almost ready."

"Zagat," Vrach said, reaching in with a pair of large tweezers and pulling out what looked like a tiny metal box. It was still dripping some clear liquid, along with Quinn's blood. Vrach removed the clamps and took his stitching kit from his ferret. "She need much rest and pills a day for next week, which I provide." He said, glancing sideways at Werr and Michael. "Managable, no?" He started stitching Quinn up, working quickly while his apparently well-trained ferret fetched several rags and a small container of watered-down alcohol solution, which would help get rid of any bacteria around the stitching.

((Well... Extremely paranoid is more correct. And Michael's not in there.))

Timothy sneezed, blowing all the four and leaned back into the pantry. "Sylas, can you make me a brush?" He was referring, of course, to the shadow-creation. He would have used his power, but he was afraid that would scare Sylas by using his Gift again.

((Oh, right.))

"Yes," Werr nodded, watching Vrach clean up the blood off of Quinn. "Thank you."

"I do my job. Now, who else is in need of medical attention?" Vrach finished up with his cleaning and stood again, brushing off the tricky surgery like it was nothing for him.

"Oh, yes," Sylas nodded, and shadows collected in his hand, forming a brush. "Here you go." He turned back to his sauces, oddly not smiling like he usually was. Something didn't feel right to him..."

((SUBJECT DOES. HE REALLY DOES. AND WERR. WHY DOES VRACH NOT SEE THE BLEEDING?

Why all those capitals? That was weird.))

Timothy took the brush from Sylas and climbed back into the pantry, brushing out the flour and happily reorganizing everything. "Thank you, S-Sylas." Strangely, he was having the most fun he had had in quite a while. He loved organizing things, but James never let him. When he did it anyway, it always made James mad, and that was scary.

(('Cuz it's polite to ask. Polish people are weird. xDD))

"I do, of course, but you should probably attend to Subject first." Werr pointed to the boy, who had apparently fallen asleep again in a couch nearby. There was a lot of dried blood on the front of his shirt, and due to Michael's shaking, blood was oozing out of his cuts again.

"Hm. Major bleed and serious lacerations...was boy attacked with sword?" Vrach asked after a few moments of inspecting the wounds.

"Yes. We were in a fight earlier."

"I see. I will take care of."

"Of course," Sylas managed to smile again, nodding. "Organizing things is fun, isn't it?"

Michael re-entered the room, assuming that Vrach was done. "Actually, yes. In a matter of speaking, he was attacked with a sword. It's complicated." He looked down at Quinn curiously. "She done?"

Timothy nodded, though Sylas could hardly tell. "I l-like organizing. Organizing is f-f-fun." After a few minutes, he finished organizing and moved over to where Sylas was cooking, curling up next to him contentedly.

"Yes, she is 'done'," Vrach nodded. "I see. I ask no more questions." He said bluntly, starting to clean up the wounds. They weren't bleeding very badly, not anymore.

"I am glad you have found something you like," Sylas smiled happily. "Dinner is in two minutes, okay? It is very close to being done."

"Good." Michael walked over and sat down by Quinn, subtly checking her pulse. "Hey look! She's not dead." He grinned at Vrach, arremtping to make it clear that he wasn't intending offense.

Timothy nodded happily. "Syyyyylas? Can I s-s-s-stay with you d-during d-d-dinner?" He scooted up against Sylas' leg, making a noise very close to a purr. "I l-like it with y-y-you."

"I said I never lost patient. It was not lie." Vrach said without turning around. He assumed Michael was surprised to find Quinn still alive or something.

Sylas blinked. "Yes. I do not mind." He smiled a bit, but it looked forced. In all honesty, he was still a little bit scared.

Timothy poked Sylas in the leg, worriedly. "S-Sylas? What's w-w-wrong?" He shifted slightly, scooting away from Sylas in case it was he was the cause of Sylas' unhappiness. "I-It's not m-m-me, is it?"

"And I believed you. Mostly." Michael rolled his eyes behind Vrach's back; people who didn't understand sarcasm were hilarious. "That's known as sarcasm."

"No, I...it is okay." Sylas shook his head, making more of an effort to smile. "I am okay. Come on, let us go and eat, dinner is prepared..." He carried the perfectly sauced and spiced pot of spaghetti over to the table.

"Sarcasm. Form of humor, using irony and sarcasm. More humor I don't understand of." Vrach tutted, still not looking away from his work. He was finished already, though, and was cleaning up now.

Timothy nodded and stood up, then hurried after Sylas, desperate not to be left behind. "Ok-kay. That's good, th-th-then."

Michael grinned. "Yes, sarcasm definitely uses sarcasm. It'd be hard to have sarcasm without making use of it." He leaned back and grinned at Tyler upside-down. "Breaking their pop-up books, are you, Tyler?"

((I meant to say stress of words, but okay. Vrach doesn't understand English very well, so I guess it works, haha.))

Vrach finally turned towards Michael, just to blink at him in confusion. "Nevermind, Vrach. I'm next." Werr had removed his shirt and was peeling away the bandages at his shoulders, not without wincing with every movement.

Vrach made a face. Some white liquid was seeping ever so slightly out of Werr's shoulder where the stitches were. "Infected," Vrach said at once, pulling a syringe and a rag. "This will hurt," He said before injecting whatever it was in the syringe into Werr's shoulder. Werr let out a yelp of pain, flinching back. Vrach just scooted forward a bit, using a pair of scissors to cut the existing stitches so he could apply his own.