Three in the Morning [Germany] | Do Not Forget Me

Belarus - Natalya Arlovskaya
(The Joint Pact)

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Three in the Morning [Germany] Jun 12, 2016 2:32:03 GMT -5

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Post by Belarus - Natalya Arlovskaya on Jun 12, 2016 2:32:03 GMT -5

God, she's such a trainwreck.

She can't even stop herself from breaking down in front of someone who wouldn't hesitate to use that against her if he had to, she knew she wouldn't, he might have promised not to tell but he'd use it against her, twist it, go through the buried remains of cities and bury them a bit further to see her expression, no, what is she doing, she shouldn't be here, shouldn't be here, shouldn't be here. At least the human is a doctor. Natalya actually likes doctors. Maybe that's why she's breaking down, except she can't, she can't.

She tries to take a moment to catch her breath. She likes doctors, so she should focus on that- they were somewhat predictable, bound by laws that went beyond country borders and ethics that held them to their word. She liked hand-picking her own doctors, though beggars could not be choosers. People accused her of liking the expressions of all the people around her when she found a low-payed nurse practitioner that she decided she could trust or a doctor who worked in the middle of nowhere instead of the ones with high grades, the ones well-vetted ahead of time, the ones that made sense to pick. No, that wasn't it at all, though- it was simply that Natalya knew who she could trust, and if she had to pay to finish getting them through medical school, she would.

This was why she hadn't seen a doctor in a while. She didn't get to choose so much anymore, and this was personal, necessary, personal, she was supposed to choose for these things, because even when ordered most doctors she knew would maintain patient confidentiality out of sheer ethical concern but not if they were assigned to her by someone who actively wouldn't want that happening, not if she didn't get to choose, maybe she was here because she didn't get to choose, maybe she was here because she just wanted to choose, she wanted to leave.

She took another deep breath. The doctor was speaking. The German sounded wrong, he was being stern, he was being soothing, she was being ridiculous, she had to keep herself in check she was being ridiculous why was everything so wrong everything was too loud it didn't matter that it was quiet it was too loud and her head hurt and it hurt and it hurt and it hurt and she didn't want to be here and it hurt and she'd brought herself here and it hurt and it hurt and it hurt and she- breathe, breathe-

Natalya moves her hand without thinking, not noticing as it moves up near her temples, a useless effort to keep a brain-deep ache from spreading further as she searches her lips for words. "No- me- have not- said?- have not said- do not know what to- no, wrong-" She knashes her teeth in frustration. She's talking all wrong. She doesn't get it, but she is talking all wrong and she was supposed to have stopped doing that, she was supposed to have the words come out correctly now but everything's so blurry and loud and it hurts and it takes her a minute to realize that whatever she'd succesfully pushed into her system what had to be thirty-six, forty hours ago was now completely useless and the complete lack of sleep she'd had, when combined with it, was making her situation worse but it was hard to care because it hurt.

But she'd tried to explain, tell the doctor why she didn't know where to start, didn't know where to open up because she hadn't, because she hadn't the faintest idea what was really wrong, why she could only start listing symptoms and a situation that had spiraled out of control and why she couldn't tell anyone, because she couldn't tell anyone (and it hurt). She didn't try to explain why she was scared, why she wasn't scared, why some days she shot things just to keep herself out of her head she just wanted morphene or something and it hurt and she just wanted to get what she'd come for and leave.

"Will try say more correct," she tried, and then she realized that she'd run out of words altogether, which was not good, it was never good, her head hurt horribly and there were stars in the air but she could handle that, she just couldn't handle running out of words. She'd long ago resolved never to do that: trying to speak and coming up with nothing was a horrible, horrible feeling. She felt horrible. Why was she such a mess? What was wrong with her?

She looked desperately at Germany. "Brother's," she asked, though that wasn't the word she'd wanted to use at all, she was fairly certain, she was trying to ask if he knew an easier language, one that rolled off her tongue better, and she knew the word and she knew the sounds of it but they weren't coming together, a blank in a place that normally slid easily in her brain. She uselessly lifted the hand that wasn't on her head, trying to find a way to gesture what she meant, but it was shaking and she didn't think she could do that either.

This was a horrible idea and she just wanted to go home.

[SO-4]

Germany - Ludwig Wilhelm
(The United Allegiance)

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Three in the Morning [Germany] Jun 14, 2016 18:47:52 GMT -5

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Post by Germany - Ludwig Wilhelm on Jun 14, 2016 18:47:52 GMT -5

This time when Belarus begins to speak, and in such a disjointed fashion, Germany looks up from his cooking with a hint of concern on his features. Translating her words very carefully so as to preserve that aspect of them, the doctor glances in his direction as if to confirm, and he silently nods. Yes, that's what she said. The next statement is less concerning, but still not completely correct. The word after, seemingly out of place. But in the time that it takes the doctor to look very, very worried about this - worst case scenario, the conditions that would cause these symptoms in a normal person who require much better equipment to handle than anything he has on hand - Germany considers the situation and takes a stab at what's going on and how he might be able to help.

"Would it help if we spoke Russian?" he asks, now speaking in perfect Russian. She seems to be having trouble with her words, and if by 'Brother's' she was referring to her brother's language, then that's not a problem. He's quite fluent in Russian able to speak it without much of an accent - in fact, if you didn't know better you'd probably be more likely to guess that he is from some lesser known region of Russia instead of an outright foreigner. But it's a very useful skill - he doesn't advertise that he has it much because a part of its usefulness is when people assume that he can't understand what they're saying. Of course, even as he makes that suggestion he's aware that letting Belarus of all people know that he can speak it ruins some of its usefulness, but apparently he doesn't care enough about that right now to refrain. He just hopes that his suggestion is a good one - if that's all it takes to ease her difficulties in communicating, then so be it. If it doesn't? Well, then they have a problem - he doesn't speak a word of Belarussian, and if she can't speak any language very well right now, that's an even bigger problem.

Belarus - Natalya Arlovskaya
(The Joint Pact)

Posts: 130
Likes: 2

Three in the Morning [Germany] Jul 2, 2016 0:34:38 GMT -5

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Post by Belarus - Natalya Arlovskaya on Jul 2, 2016 0:34:38 GMT -5

Natalya's head hurt very, very badly, and now that she was sitting down, out of the crowd of the battlefield, she no longer had smoke and sound to distract her with- or at least, she mostly didn't. The mostly-sleeping camp was filled with the kinds of sounds that weren't going to be very helpful as distractions, even as she tried to calm herself down. They reminded herself too much of sometime else. Except everything in this room was all wrong to remind her of sometime else because everyone was looking at her all wrong, but also because her words were failing her like they shouldn't be.

She watched as Germany and the doctor exchanged worried glances. Natalya, somewhere, knew exactly how bad this seemed- it didn't entirely matter that, when she was young, getting upset would often silence her altogether, or that, when she was young, she'd first started a habit of not mincing words because it was too difficult to bother mincing them at all. Because that didn't happen anymore. Because Natalya could, somewhere, figure out what headaches and losses of motor control and light sensitivity and difficulties speaking and occasional blurred vision and nausea and dizziness might add up to. She just didn't want to think about it.

She was beginning to think she might not be able to say anything- she didn't want to say anything- she had to say something now that she was here- her head hurt- when suddenly Germany was speaking Russian. She stared for a moment. It shouldn't surprise her. Prussia was the petty one, and Prussia still knew the language, but Prussia had also been forced to (and probably only remembered the correct amount to just piss everyone off). Germany's Russian was somewhat oddly accented, but actually acceptable, and more importantly, it meant she could speak. She felt exhausted all of a sudden- she didn't want to sleep.

"Yes, Russian is easier," she said, nodding, a quiet gratefulness rushing out with her voice. She had no idea how he'd figured out what she was trying to say because she just knew she'd been saying it all wrong, but it had been figured out anyway. She paused. She felt wrung out. She didn't want to sleep, but she knew she had to, but she did not want to sleep much if at all if she could help it. That, and running herself into the ground was the best way to force herself to sleep with little trouble, especially when there were too many things to think about. Now was the time for the disadvantages of that tactic.

"I sorry," she said, "for not being entirely..." she paused, searching for the right word, "present." she finally settled on. "I do not like sleeping recently. Difficult. Has been... probably... nearly fifty hours?" She shrugged, slightly helplessly. "I could sleep, but... I need to work. Make myself sleep without thinking. Think too much, not so good for me." She was being uncomfortably open with the two people in the room, but she'd wrung herself out and was finding it harder to care now. It wasn't like the walls she shoved up, preventing her from caring- no, it was simply that she'd spent too many emotions to spend more now. She would normally care more.

"What exactly... useful for you to know?" she said. Her voice still hitched against itself, but the words were less nonsensical for now, and she sounded a bit less halting. She audibly was either not thinking up the words as quickly, though, or perhaps just thinking more slowly altogether- Natalya couldn't entirely tell at the moment. She wasn't entirely certain of how she would even begin to figure out how to tell what her head was doing, other than burning itself in her skull. Without thinking, she covered her eyes. It did not help much, but it helped some. She realized she probably ought to add one more note, for the doctor's sake.

"Oh. Medication. What I have... have not taken it in... two-thirds?... as long as sleep, I have been war," she added. "Distracted myself too well, but have it only in low, over-the-counter doses, helps some, not as much."

[SO-4]

Germany - Ludwig Wilhelm
(The United Allegiance)

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Three in the Morning [Germany] Jul 3, 2016 14:26:31 GMT -5

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Post by Germany - Ludwig Wilhelm on Jul 3, 2016 14:26:31 GMT -5

For his part, the doctor looks surprised himself to hear his nation speaking Russian, but on the other hand he's quick to accept it. Yes that's been the language of the enemy not just for the past thirty years but at many times in the past, and instantly recognizable as such even to a non-speaker, but the very nation you belong to is perhaps the last person in the world to be concerned about knowing it. Surely Germany has his reasons.

And so, it's as simple matter for them to proceed - well, mostly. When speaking Russian, Germany has to occasionally pause to remember which word he wants - he doesn't use the language very often, but when he does it's usually extremely useful. But it really only slows the conversation slightly, and in fact he turns back to his food preparations - though perhaps notably he glances over to look at the other two more often than he was before.

Though as Belarus explains why she's having such trouble, if anything the doctor begins to look less concerned. Not that he doesn't still look concerned, but severe sleep deprivation isn't as bad as some of the other things that could cause her symptoms. He nods in understanding, and when asked if there's anything else he would like to know, he asks, "Aside from the wound I just treated, are you in any other physical pain? Also, before I asked if I could do a basic assessment - I didn't understand your answer. Do you mind? Knowing things like your temperature, blood pressure, and so forth would be very helpful for me."

As she speaks of the medication she uses, he looks thoughtful and slightly troubled. It's clear that she's been attempting to avoid and ignore her health problems instead of actually treat them, and for quite some time now. And he hesitates to allow her to simply continue that. But, on the other hand, if she's been awake for that long and it's affecting her that badly, he's strongly tempted to simply give her the medicine she needs to rest - that would surely help her, if only for the short term. Finally, when his inner debate has reached a resolution, he comments, "Perhaps it would be a good idea for you to sleep now, and then we can speak again when you wake up?" Perhaps the way she responds to that idea will help him make a decision.