The trip to his chambers seemed to become more and more of a death trap with every coming year. Mostly, this was to do with the steps leading up to the chamber, something to be thankful for, for it was better to be higher and warmer than lower and colder within the castle walls. This however, did not stop his knees from complaining with every lift and bend and if he tripped over the warm robes wrapped about him one more time…Confounded robes. Confounded stairs. Confounded knees.
Opening the old wooden door, Gaius trudged steadily in to his chambers, shutting it behind him with a click. A bowl of warm broth, he suspected warm only by charm of course dinner time had passed ours ago, and a lump of soft corn bread lay still steaming gently on the table and a fire crackled merrily in the hearth. He sat with a heady sigh and picked up a book that lay open on a marked page, a page denoting the ingredients for a sleeping draught. He would have to get back to work on another of Morgana’s draughts tomorrow.
It was late but the warm yellow glow from the crack in the door to the room at the end of his chambers told him his young charge was still awake and probably reading. Or asleep with the candle still burning. It had become busy all of a sudden in Camelot, a whirl of colourful characters and a mix of guests all at once. No doubt the king would be feeling the strain, in time he supposed they all would. The sicknesses spreading in the lower village seemed to be abating at last and as Gaius sat down to his light supper he wondered who would next come through his door. A physician’s work, it seemed, was never done.
((OOC: Thread revival!))
Turning up at the inopportune moment, seemed to be becoming quite a habit for the young midwife. It didn’t matter what she was doing, or where she was going, she always managed to turn a perfectly simple situation into somewhat of an ordeal. Case in point: She’d walked to Camelot - yet managed to get lost. She’d also met the crowned Prince of said city, and proceeded to shout at the poor bloke. So really, given her aptitude for bad timing, it was no actual shock, that she was calling upon the famed court physician, long after it was deemed socially acceptable to do so.
Decked out in a mixture of green and yellow today, the petite woman made her way swiftly up the steps, scuffed knuckles reaching out to knock gently on the door. She did want to make a social call at some point, but that could almost certainly wait until a time outside of the twilight hours. She was there on business, (or rather more specifically to get some pain relief for one of her charges). Shuffling on the spot, the dark skinned female wrinkled her nose, as she wiped her bloodied hands straight down her dress. She was going to invest in an apron one of these days, it might make her look less horrific when she turned up on people’s doorsteps.
Appearances were irrelevant however, she could be coated in all manner of bodily fluids before it really dawned on her just how terrible she appeared to the outside world. Her only priority was keeping her patients alive, and in a fairly reasonable state of health to care for their children. She’d just spent four hours delivering a breeched baby, had to relocate the mother’s hip, and now, to top it all off, she was having to wait to make sure that the poor woman rolling around in agony, was going to get a little analgesia.
Tapping lightly on the door once more, Brangaine pursed her lips as she awaited a response. Perhaps it was too late a call, afterall.