Candystriping

[Mot]

The cancer ward in the hospital was not a cheerful place. Old faces, young faces, male and female. Anyone could get cancer, even in today's age. Those fighting the dreadful disease were housed in a special wing of the hospital. They also were regularly catered to by candystripers and nurses to keep morale up. The only thing worse than a cancer patient was a cancer patient with depression.

"And what are you going to do when you get better?" 
There was a tall, lanky man in scrubs seated at the edge of a little boy's bed. His nurse tags hung proudly from the collar of his light blue shirt - only bright colors in this section of the hospital.
The little boy, clutching an oversized superhero action figure, smiled tiredly. He'd lost all of his hair and had a thin layer of baby-fine fuzz all over his scalp. "I'm gonna get a job to help my mom pay all of the bills from the hospital. She says it's worth it to make me better, but I know it must be a lot of money." 
The nurse just nodded. His dark hair was drawn back into a ponytail at the base of his neck. He was skinny, almost alarmingly so, and his eyes were set far back in his face. He himself looked sick. "I'm sure you'll do so well." He reached out and put a single hand on the boy's shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. Then he got up and walked out of the room. Just as his foot was crossing the threshold, the boy's monitor flatlined and he fell back lifeless against his pillows. 

[Arratar Tsagarae]

Spiders were great pets, giant ones, were even better but sometimes their playful noms could prove venomous and said venom could eat into a man's arm. So Arratar, scourge of the skies, made a rare visit to land, specifically the hospital with a crew member. She needed antivenom as she had run out of her personal supply. A vicious enemy of both Nadja and Hana she had not gotten any less capricious or loud in all her years, for there she was in a hall talking to a doctor, or rather yelling. "In this day and age you dont deal in venomous creatures??" the doctor winced "Ma'am we do but the bite marks were as big around as a man's thumb the dose he received was massive, how did he get it?" "What do you MEAN by such a massive dose? My giant spider bit him. I think that sums it up very well!" She was dressed in modern garb but was still undeniably a pirate. ..and yes..outside in the parking lot was Cupcake, calmly waiting in a parking spot with NO cars parked remotely near her. The drow's ship was further away where her crew was hanging out, bot at all worried for their wounded crewmember. It was common knowledge that it was a 'had it coming' scenario..

[Mot]

Mot's attention was pulled by the brash drow woman and her mention of giant venomous spiders. He appeared beside the doctor, looking just as official but considerably creepier, and extended his hand to Arry. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. "This will bring his pain to an end," he explained. In his palm was a small glass bottle, with a cork and everything, and even the resident doctor did a double-take at it. "Half of the bottle should be enough of a remedy."

[Arratar Tsagarae]

The saucy woman snatched up the bottle and held it up to examine it in the light. with her chin tilted up and her eyes glowering down she studied the sickly, soft spoken man before her. "what is it? I haven't seen a mysterious bottled concoction in years. A lot of style in deceit and murder has gone away everyone uses guns, or wusses out. Its ridiculous really. I like guns but , i like poison tipped knives too, and spiders.." she sighed. "Oh ive gone all nostalgic, back to the point at hand. what did you give me, and if its a remedy, how od i know its effective. You look sickly enough." Arry wasnt nice, she was vicious but the way she spoke ot Mot was still pretty nice for her.

[Mot]

Mot looked down at the abrasive woman rather impassively. "I suppose you have no way of knowing how it works until you administer it to your man. In the meantime, he suffers more every moment." He spoke very quietly, never above a whisper (think Tucker from FMA), and barely even lifted his eyebrows for emphasis on his words.

[Arratar Tsagarae]

Did Arratar know gods? actually she knew a lot of them. It was remarkable that Nadja hadnt smoted her in fact but Mot was definitely one that eluded her.she just stared ta him in the same ferocious way that she did everyone. That wonderful personality she had shone through better than ever now as Mot made a point of his suffering and she didnt flinch. "So? suffering isnt an issue to me, him being useless is, but i dont have time for this, either he dies because no one here can do anything or he dies because you failed to impress me, either way ill blow something up and then everyone's a winner." she asserted as she walked right into the room and her pale looked drow crewmember and poured the contents in his mouth as instructed. "who, ARE you anyway?"

[Mot]

Mot followed Arratar quietly. He walked with a slight hunch, which may have been just an illusion because of how skeletal he was. He stood in the doorway and watched the drow woman administer his medication.
"I have many names."
Its effects would take hold soon, making it quite obvious as to what was happening. First, the drow's pupils would dilate. Then he would begin to sweat and convulse while hypoxia of the blood took over, making it feel as though his very veins were aflame. Slowly, after screaming in agony, death would take him. And still Mot watched from a few feet away, impassive and quiet.
"My condolences for your loss."

[Arratar Tsagarae]

The feisty little imp of a drow slowly turned to look pon Mot as the boy flatlined. "I would say if you had many names that you were death but death would not precipitate someones demise." She thought out loud. That was about as articulate as she got. she was smarter than any human but still not Ayden or Frideswide smart. She was more streetwise and keen, like a beast. "I should really blow you up though, regardless of who you might be." she said in a stiff tone, eyes locked straight ahead on Mot's mournful looking ones.

[Mot]

"You could try," Mot quietly suggested, his mournful eyes making him constantly look as though someone kicked his puppy. He stepped back out into the hallway. Crossing the threshold, he was suddenly no longer dressed as a nurse. Without any transition or period of rest to dress himself, he was now wearing a long black peacoat that stopped at his knees. His thin frame was hidden by a dark grey vest and black slacks, and his hair was down and shaggy. He looked as though he were dressed for a funeral, and still walked with that same hunch, with his head slightly down. All the time, he looked like a disciplined puppy.
"Call me Mot. The others do..."

[Arratar Tsagarae]

The captain followed him out, seeing him now dressed in a coat ,flat out looking like a mortician now."Mot.." Aratar was getting pretty old and she remembered during the plague years people praying to a Mot and cursing a mot. She let out a little shrill, sharp laugh and sped up to get to his side, then her voice dropped. "You are the god they used to curse..do you think its funny to assume being what you are makes me any less pissed off? "

[Mot]

"Nothing is funny," he answered without hesitation. Standing in the middle of the hall, nobody would go near him. People went out of their way to walk around him, making him a very obvious buffer in the middle of the hospital floor. "Emotion should not be linked to people. They are fickle and frail. They die all the time. Life is fleeting." His dark eyes glanced back toward the room. "Will you seek vengeance for his death?"

[Arratar Tsagarae]

The little drowess stopped beside him and followed his gaze back to the room that held her now very dead crew member. "I would like to, but your a fucking god. It doesnt matter how much I would want it for the money i lost on him, I wont achieve it. as sickly as you are, youre still a god. " she scowled. "Im starting to realise as centuries pass why IM not a god. I wouldnt be a pleasant one." she smirked darkly.

[Mot]

"You're right, it doesn't matter. That is how you should think of that man's life. It didn't matter. In the end, he was going to die, and the money invested in him was a waste."
Down the hall, a team of doctors had convened, all toting clipboards and wearing masks. They looked concerned, scared even. Just then, an automated voice came over the building's PA system: This hospital is now under quarantine. Remain where you are and a doctor will be along to assist you at the earliest convenience. Thank you for your understanding.
Mot held his hand out to Arratar. "We should leave."

[Arratar Tsagarae]

The drow nodded. "Yeah yeah but my money mattered. I see people ,some veen gods, saying that theyve lived thousands of years but act like children, and I think, they dont really get living at all. They let themselves degrade until they dont seem like wise ancients at all. Its a sick world when I cant even shoot them in the face." she ranted. "A queen among my people and that poor excuse for a drow couldnt handle a spider bite, on a DROW ship too. If this taught me anything its to raise my standa- she was cut off suddenly by the loud announcement. She looked at the doctors and nurses that seemed to speed up around them, and slowly she would rotate her craned neck and look at the frail god sideways. "Well okay, that was pretty good." she finally admitted. When he offered his hand she didnt hesitate, as she didnt want to be forced to deal with that stupid corpse

[Mot]

Not surprisingly, Mot's hand was as cold as ice. Even dressed as warmly as he was, he felt like death.
Calmly, he guided the drow woman through the hospital. With her hand in his, nobody seemed to even notice them, and so they walked right out the front door just as armed guards were getting there.
People were spilling out of their rooms, vomiting, delirious with fever. Many of them were decorated in festering boils that were spreading along their body. It looked like the plague-simulator games that people played on their phones, come to life.
Outside, Mot released the mighty tiny drow. "You have no fear of suffering. What is it that you do?"