By Wit & Whitby
[Complete] [CW] Withering Flower [Doctors, Constabulary, and Court] - Printable Version

+- By Wit & Whitby (
+-- Forum: In Character (
+--- Forum: Whitby (
+---- Forum: Doctors, Constabulary, and Magistrates' Court (
+---- Thread: [Complete] [CW] Withering Flower [Doctors, Constabulary, and Court] (/showthread.php?tid=932)

Withering Flower [Doctors, Constabulary, and Court] - Sonia DeAngelis - 03-07-2023

<CW> Adult themes.

Sonia felt so very tired. There were days where getting out of her bed was the hardest thing she could do. She had been feeling poorly for quite some time, especially after the birth of the twins. It wasn't just fatigue, it was pain, it was sadness, and there were a myriad of other things going through her mind. Doc W. had suggested before she had even given birth to go to a different doctor, and up until that point, she did not really have any choice to get to him.

One of the men she trusted from the Diamond Pony had come to collect her after she'd secreted out a note to him that she was not well and did not trust her husband with her care. He did not seem too interested in her goings on in any case. He was in the cab with her, a concerned look cast her way as she seemed to have her eyes closed. "I'll be back for you in a few moments, Sonia," said the deep, bass voice.

The man exited the cab and moved to the door to Dr. Wells' home and office. He gave a calm but firm rap on the door, making sure to keep as calm as possible while his former employer rested in the cab. He removed the knit cap he wore and held it in his hands, worrying at the woven material.

RE: Withering Flower - Tristan Wells - 03-08-2023

Tristan had just closed his practice for the morning and was making his way upstairs for a hurried lunch before he’d be on the train to Danby. He had started servicing the nearby villages, renting a backroom for a weekly afternoon here and there to serve as makeshift doctor’s office. These scattered days, the long journeys, and the long hours were exhausting, but necessary. He had rented this place on Flowergate with his hopes set entirely too high. Now he was struggling to pay the rent and wondering how much it would cost to move to the edge of town and to what extent that location would affect his already limited clientele.

His foot had just hit the top step when he heard a rather firm rap on the door. He turned and went back downstairs. Ever since he had learned of Pippa’s potential murderer stalker, she was not allowed to answer the door. It was embarrassing to have to go himself – as if he couldn’t afford a maid! (Increasingly, he really couldn’t.) But this time he could hear by the determination in that knock that it was someone who needed a doctor.

There was no denying that a large portion of his job satisfaction lay in being that person people turned to in their hour of need.

He opened the door and saw the man. His eyes trailed to the cab behind him. “Dr. Wells,” he quickly announced to let the man know he had found the right person. “Can I help you?”

RE: Withering Flower - Sonia DeAngelis - 03-13-2023

<CW, A lot of stuff to cringe about.>

"It's the Mistress o' the Diamond Pony, doctor. She ain't doin' too good. Her babes are wit' her in the cab an' som' to watch em for us iffin they could come in too please? I'll carry'er in iffin ye get the door, but ye might be better lookin' at 'er in the cab first. She's mighty sick." He rushed all these words out before gesturing frantically for the good doctor to follow. It seemed that the man had plenty of worry for the situation that he wanted to make sure everything that needed to be alerted about had been so for the moment. He hurriedly helped the woman who was seeing to the lads get out and helped hand the children to her, one basket at a time to make sure there was room for Tristan to enter. The young miss made sure to cover the babies with blankets against any chill there might have been in the air, waiting for direction as to what she was supposed to do. This was the mute girl from the bar area of the Pony.

By the time Tristan would be there, the only people allowed in the cab was the doctor. It'd been way too tight a squeeze so he'd had to hold his employer close to him, curled in his lap just to get them all there safely without someone noticing them all. How he'd disentangled himself, he didn't know. He stood with his back to one of the doors to guard it, the other side being guarded by the driver who was armed in case trouble happened by. Sonia was not particularly liked by society because of what she was. And now with her married, some would assume that she wanted money from another rich man, and it just wasn't true.

She was so very tired, her heart beating like the drums in a symphonic masterpiece. She was so very lightheaded. The harsh reality is that she'd been trapped in two unwanted marriages, and both men... well, the one was an obvious villain in the saga that began to play out in Whitby. Skeletons were starting to come out of Carrington closets and she had just played her part in tipping the balance toward the downfall of prominent folks. She might not have had much of a choice in the end, but her children would be safe and she would find a way for someone else to take them away if she could only disentangle herself from Zecheriah somehow.

But the truth of the matter was that she was just so very tired and didn't want to be a part of this whole thing anymore. All she had wanted to do for her life was to get enough money to find out who her parents were, who she was. She didn't want to be Sonia anymore, stuck on her back for the rest of her life because she didn't have her real identity. She hated that she had turned to this life to get by.

She wanted to say goodbye to Darius. She felt like she was dying. She hoped not, she hoped maybe she could tell him why she loved him but wouldn't force her affections, she knew how it felt from his brother. The only reason she'd yearned for Darius so hard is because he was the only man who had ever just not blinked when she lay nude before him and he never once touched her sexually. He had never made her feel like a whore. He'd only ever seen her as his muse.

Upon entering the carriage, the scene would be of her now draped over the seat on the side opposite of where one would be allowed to enter. She was quite pale, her hair unusually dull. Her breath was shallow, she looked parched and weak. She had the look of someone who hadn't been able to eat much in some time. She had her eyes open but they weren't really looking at anything in particular. One could tell she was in deep thought at the moment and one could also very easily discern she was quite ill.

RE: Withering Flower - Tristan Wells - 03-19-2023

Danby would have to wait, it seemed…

Tristan had wondered what had become of Mrs. Carrington – no, Mrs. Meijer she was now. It had been a very difficult birth. He had never been called upon to assist another doctor with a birth before. Such things were hardly ever necessary. When all was done and it seemed Mrs…. Meijer was going to live, at least for now, Tristan had left her in the care of dr. Witaker. But he hadn’t been at ease, neither with her health, nor with what he had learned: that she had married Mr. Meijer that very evening. But she hadn’t been dr. Witaker’s patient, and the worries of his own life had kept him busy. And then there was Mr. Meijer to get past. Though Tristan had wondered occasionally, he hadn’t checked in.

Did they fuck?

Focus now.

“Of course,” he replied. “Through here, up the stairs, first door to the left, there’s a drawing room. Let me get my things.” And he turned to grab the bag he had prepared for his visit to Danby, which was sitting on a little table by the stairs. “Pippa!” he called down the hall. “There’s a lady coming through to the drawing room with infants. See to it that she has everything she needs!”

Then he followed the man out. He was a little uncomfortable with the idea of getting into a cab with a married woman. It seemed inappropriate and people talked. But if Mrs. Meijer was unable to get out of it on her own, she had to be doing really poorly indeed.

And she was, by the look of her, when the carriage door opened. Tristan slipped in, sat down and placed his bag on the seat beside him. “Mrs. Meijer,” he said, gauging her reaction, “can you hear me?” he took her wrist and placed his index and middle finger over the artery to feel her pulse. He placed his other hand on her forehead to check for a fever.

RE: Withering Flower - Sonia DeAngelis - 06-17-2023

Pippa took care with the woman holding the infants, offering to take one of the two so the poor dear could be comfortable. The nursemaid was seated and made comfortable. The men who were with Sonia helped then, one still keeping watch just in case someone from the Meijer family showed up.

The other man muttered, "She is so poorly, I couldn't bear ta look at her and not help." He had been her body guard back at the brothel, so Tris may or may not recognize him as a face from the Diamond Pony. Then when afforded the opportunity, the man gingerly and with all the care in the world, lifted his mistress into his arms against his chest. It wasn't hard to do, for she was becoming lighter over the weeks. And she was burning hot with fever.

Sonia rolled her head to the side, issuing a tired sigh between lips cracked from dehydration. She looked as though she would die any day if intervention didn't happen. "Doc Witaker wasn't home, so we came here instead. I don't know how long she has left but I don't think she is gonna make it if ye don't help her. The doctor that her husband has is a crack pot if he thinks she needs the barbaric treatments he's been talkin' bout givin' her. I had ta get her out of there before she died. I don't even think her husband knows just how sick she is."

RE: Withering Flower - Tristan Wells - 08-02-2023

"Careful!" Tristan snapped, when the man lifted her without instruction. It was done. "Take her inside," he added. "The room on the left, then the door to your right. Put her on the table." He followed the man in. Was this the illness she had seen Dr. Witaker for? Or was this Mr. Meijer's doing? At this point, Tristan wouldn't put it beyond him.

"Any wounds or injury you are aware of? How long has she had this fever?"