Day 027: Splinters
Summary: Some minor surgery and absolutely no embroidered ponies
Date: 21 June 2016
Related: Sew It Seams
Madelyn Max 

Cargo Hold
The lowest level of the dropship was once meant to store large amounts of cargo in addition to auxiliary seating. As the camp outside was built, however, it was cleared of the meager supplies sent down with The 100, and now is merely storage for the most valuable of resources. It's walls, deck, and ceiling have been stripped to bare metal panels, and several small areas extend beyond the central area, providing an illusion of privacy. A single lowered door with a pair of curtains across it is the only exit from the dropship, while two ladders pierce the ceiling, leading to the levels above.
25 May 2149

It is now the morning of the 26th day since the dropship holding the 100 delinquents lanted, more than three weeks having passed since the first breaths of air had been taken, the first freedom of running through the forest, and eventually the first encounters with those that they did not know already inhabited the earth — the Grounders.

And now, the camp was under attack. A wall had been built and was constantly being upgraded and worked on, around the dropship. But another ship had fallen from the sky, fallen from the ark, and crashed into the Grounder village of Thripoda, destroying it. And regardless of the fact tht the delinquents had no control over those events, a Grounder named Sonia had declared war against them. Some of the Grounders with which they hold a truce, the Trikru of the Coesbur village, had come and gone and not interfered, but by and large they were now under siege. Arrows had flown into the walls, declaring that hostilities had resumed, and other delinquents had been injured. It was too dangerous to go out of the camp alone, which meant reaching the river, a good 2 hours away, for water was impossible. A trip was planned to go out to a closer water source, and Max had signed up to go. But now in the early hours of the morning befor the excursion, he was sitting in the dropship, putting together a small first aid kit to take along on the journey.

Max had been in the box for 5 years before the drop, having gone in at 13 for murder. If Madelyn had been in the box for any length of time, she probably knew who he was — though few really knew him. Max was near silent, rarely talking to or bothering anyone, in his own sort of self-imposed solitary confinement. It wasn't that he couldn't talk. He did, every so often, but mostly he kept to himself, even when in the large common area that was shared by all. He read, a lot.

In the days after the landing, suddenly Max had become very vocal, for a while, expressing opinions and getting into the politics of camp. He'd been involved in the original ambush that was their first encounter with the Grounders, and the return ambush. But lately, he'd fallen silent again after having been part of the group that had gone to Thripoda and been attacked.

He'd given a small pile of makeshift bags over to Madelyn. He'd attached braided cloth handles to them, to make them a little more sturdy, but he's not a craftsman, and the work was coming apart. "Do you think you can fix them?" he asks.

The slight young woman picks up one of the bags, examining it carefully. She turns it over, turns it inside out, turns it back over, pokes and prods. "Going to have to completely reattach these handles if you want them to be useful. How much do you want to carry in these? Going to need something a little sturdier for reinforcement, but… Hm. Maybe even some leather. That'd be a dream, huh? Line the bottom and reinforce the straps with leather?" As Madelyn goes on, she seems to be talking to herself more than to him.

"Tink works with leather. But I don't know if she has any," Max says, rolling up some makeshift bandages and pushing them into his own bag, the one he's been carrying around since the day after they'd landed, with its makeshift red cross on the outside. He has some small packets of herbs as well, some for inflammation, some for fever. Those, too, he packs away into the bag. Glancing over at his handiwork he nods, not seeming to take offense. He'd tried. It was more something to do with his hands than a particularly skillful attempt. "Mostly for whatever we gather in the woods. Herbs, mushrooms, nothing very heavy."

Madelyn wrinkles her nose in thought. "Yeah, but we want to know that they're study enough for that, and won't give up the ghost if you have to book it, you know?" She considers the bag thoughtfully. "Yeah. I can fix these up. If you ever come across any fabric at all out there, I'd really appreciate it. Our clothes won't last forever, and we're definitely going to need new things when winter comes. That's not supposed to be for a while, right?" She pauses, musing. While she talks, she fiddles her fingers idly against her leg. Catching sight of the medical supplies he's packing away, her eyebrows shoot up and she veers into a seeming nonsequitur. "Hey, can you take a look at something for me? I got a splinter under my nail the other day and I don't think I was able to get all of it out. It's getting red and angry and kind of gooey and I'm pretty sure that's not a /good/ thing." She furrows her brow and gives a small embarrassed head cant.

Max nods and says, "I'll bring you whatever cloth I find next if you can fix them up," with a nod toward the bags. Then he sahkes his head and says, "Not for a while yet.. for winter. But yeah, we're all going to need more than what we have." He gets up then from where he's sitting, bringing his bag with him, and crouches down in front of her, holding out one hand. "Let me see. Sounds like it's infected."

"It's a deal, then. Man, I wish I knew the first thing about weaving. Then I'd actually feel useful instead of, you know, only being able to work with what we have," Madelyn laments, shaking her head. She extends her left hand for Max's inspection. The middle finger appears to still have a sliver of wood wedged in the nail bed and infection has indeed set in.

"Alright, well.. we're going to need to clean this out and get out the remainder of the splinter," Max says. "Hold tight." He gets up then and wanders out of the drop ship. He's gone for a little bit before he returns with a couple of things. "So, this is going to hurt." He makes no bones about that and takes her hand firmly, first rinsing it a bit to remove dirt. The knife, which he'd sterilized, he then takes and carefully begins to work just the tip toward the bit of wood to catch it against the nail and draw it out. He's careful, and slow, but any touch to the infected tissue hurts like a sonofabitch.

Well, at least she'd had the foresight to sit down while he was looking for his torture implements. To her credit, she doesn't flinch or twitch too much, but her face screws up in pain and she takes slow, shuddering breaths through her teeth as he works. "How bad?" she manages to choke out.

"We're going to get the rest of the splinter out," Max explains as he works it as gently as he can. Eventually he gets out the wood and looks close to see if he can find anymore. "Now I'm going to squeeze the goop out and wash it again. That part's going to hurt, too. But then we're going to wrap it up, and I'm going to give you some dressings. You're going to have to keep an eye on it, and if it worsens at all.. you need to let one of the med techs know. But it's not a bad infection, and cleaned out, it'll hurt for a while but should heal up on its own."

Madelyn nods gravely. "So, is 'goop' a technical term?" she asks, trying to distract herself with half-assed banter. She watches the procedure with interest when she's not grimacing and hissing.

"Very technical," Max says, "Ancient peoples used to be unable to understand the true meaning of goop because it was such a specialized term." He says it flatly, but there's a twitch at the edge of his lips. He takes her finger then and cleans out the puss from the wound after he's certain there are no remaining splinter bits. It hurts. It's.. goopy. But the result is then cleaned once more, and then wrapped in a dressing. "I'll check back on it when we get back from gathering water, later. If I'm not back, or it spreads any farther, find a med tech and have them check it out."

This activity is appetizing and fun for the whole family! "You'll be back," Madelyn replies, quickly and firmly. She wiggles her fingers experimentally, examining the dressing. She grins a little at a joke that apparently only exists inside of her head. After a moment, she decides to share. Softly and mischievously, she explains, "I could basically flip anybody off and then be like, 'Hey, no, it's just the bandage…'" she explains. She wrinkles her nose. "…that was way funnier in my head."

Max lifts his eyebrows at her swift and firm retort, "Keep coming back thus far. Don't figure that I won't. I just meant later tonight, but.. that too." He then glances at her finger and says, "I dunno. I could think of a few folks who might deserve it. Use the excuse if you've got it," a little bit of humor showing through.

"There's a reason I keep to myself. There's too much posturing and swaggering going on. Hell, those two girls who barged into my tent earlier couldn't go ten minutes without hurling insults so hard that I almost had to duck." Madelyn gestures vividly with her uninjured hand as she relates the tale. "But at least I think I got some decent trades out of it. Seems that the girls all want new underwear. There's a tip for you," she grins.

An eyebrow arches a bit and Max asks, "Who barged into your tent hurling insults?" Curious, vaguely. Though he nods when she says she got some good trades out of it. "Well at least it was productive." The comments about girls wanting new underwear draws a faint smirk. I'd be surprised if most folk wouldn't mind some new underwear right about now.

"Pair of brunettes. Um…" Madelyn wracks her brain. She's bad with names. "Ruth. And Cassandra. That's right." She nods almost confidently. "Hey, I didn't realize how hopeless most people are at sewing. I could start a little empire." The mousy girl gets a twinkle in her eye. "I'd make a pretty great empress."

"A well dressed one, anyway," Max says, nodding when she mentions who had come barging into her tent, though he doesn't offer any particular commentary on either of them.

"So, um, do I, like, owe you anything for fixing up my finger?" Madelyn asks, canting her head. "I kind of like my fingers, after all. They're, you know, useful." Babbling. That's another thing she's good at.

Max shakes his head when she asks if she owes him anything, sitting back on his heels now that he doesn't need to be quite so close, and sets aside the knife to clean it again, puts the extra bandages and things back in the bag. "Nah, we're good."

"If you insist. I could, like, embroider ponies on your pants or something. Everyone likes ponies, right?" Madelyn leans forward, trying to get him to smile. "Oh! Hey!" She gets distracted by a thought running through her head. "Got any kind of thin rope or cording? I could totally do a drawstring on those bags for you."

Max just kind of stares at him as though she'd just offered to pluck his nosehairs individually. "Uh, I'm good, really." But then the gears are shifting and he follows the conversation jump to the new topic easily enough. "I can see if there's some around that isn't being used for anything. I don't have any offhand."

"Okay, no ponies…" Madelyn gets up, gathering the bags with her right hand. "I'll see what I can do. I might be sewing a little more slowly right now, but I can get these ready to go for you before you head out. If you can't find cording, I bet I could rig something up with the scraps I have." She starts to turn to leave, then pauses. "Need anything else?"

"I'll see what I can find, too," Max says, and when she moves to get up, he gathers his things from the floor around him and begins to pull himself to his feet as well. When she asks if he needs anything he shakes his head and then says, "Thanks.. I apprecaite the help."

Madelyn grins a small earnest grin. "Any time. Thank you, too, for the, like, surgery. I appreciate not dying of gangrene." She tucks the bags firmly under her arm. "You know where to find me," she says by way of parting, before heading out to start working somewhere with better light.

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