Already done! [Said as he does a little spin on his heel and SALUTES before skipping off to go rummage through the drawers that he has presumably already rummaged through.
But then, more seriously:] Please do your best to hold on, though. Even if it's valuable data, I'd rather not trade you for it, okay?
CW: he's a 10 but he keeps committing medical malpractice
[the way that it's probably a halfway decent oven it just takes a little time to heat up because scien brofiise is.... himself. regardless he'll just move to shrug off his lab coat. that gets left on the floor. i'm sorry dahut. one-handedly undoes the single misdone button on his shirt as he goes to sit on the operating table.
he starts listing out all the shit that he needs for open heart surgery..... help me.]
[HE REALLY JUST SKIPS OVER THAT PART ENTIRELY. Dahut sighs very hugely but he will dutifully keep rummaging around for said tools fucking help.]
Yep! They have quite a few different sample collection containers here. What a nice place.
[NO!!!!!
He'll move over to start setting extractors, forceps, scalpels and gloves on the lil tool shelf beside the operating table. DO THEY EVEN HAVE THESE OTHER THINGS UP TO THE MID 1900S i assume some ye olde variations of them at least. Dahut's looking over the 1940s version of a defibrillator.]
[thank you sweet dahut. scien will continue to consider his options, looking over the materials. he will at least make sure that they aren't rusty because that's the minimum amount of investigation he'll allow.]
Get me a local anesthesia. [for open heart surgery they apparently typically use general anesthesia but scien doesn't want to be knocked out... fucking crazyass] It doesn't need to be ideal circumstances, we just need to get some answers. It will be easier to tell if our bodies were tampered with than the others.
In the event that I die, you know the drill. Burn the remains.
[THEY'RE NOT RUSTY THIS IS MY LOCATION I'LL DO WHAT I WANT IT'S STERILE!! everything's just old as fuck...]
Got it, got it! And I know; you can be sure that I'll burn every bit, memory bank first. [Because he likes Viktor but he does not trust Viktor...
AWAY HE GOES to fucking get Scien some local anesthesia WHICH MIGHT BE EXPIRED. WELL. HELP. It's fine. He'll spend a few moments carding through the bottles he'd set aside earlier.]
It's hard to tell the expiry on some of these, so I'll run a test somewhere else first, okay? [Even though Scien's pain tolerance is probably so high that he could fuckin stay conscious through non-anesthetized open heart surgery jesus.]
but scien will just go to lay on the table, yawning even though this is about to be ABSOLUTELY HORRIBLE. he will wait for dahut to finish the preparation since most of scien's jumping in point will be the actual HORRIBLE SURGERY itself.]
Go ahead.
[this isn't exactly scien's first rodeo but there's honestly a chance that this tech simply will not survive it since apparently the first open heart surgery only succeeded in 1953 and this isn't his tech.]
[IT IS!!!!! MY LOCATION THAT I DIDN'T PUT A HEART LUNG MACHINE INTO SO THEY'RE JUST OUT HERE.
After a little more rummaging, he'll approach with a syringe in hand, though he's also looking a little perturbed. Making a lil grabby motion with his free hand like GIVE HIM WHATEVER BODY PART YOU WANT LOCAL ANESTHESIA TESTED OUT ON SIR.]
We might have a problem, Monsieur Scien... It doesn't look like we have any sort of heart lung machine to work with here.
[LEGGY... Dahut will gently prep an area with an alcohol wipe so he can inject this anesthesia that may or may not be expired, flicking through his IRIS to set a quick timer so he knows when he can stabby.]
Sound more troubled! [HE'LL JUST SAY IT.] Are you sure...? I reaaally don't want you getting gutted and not knitting back together again!
[HE'S GOTTA MAKE HIS HUMAN BLENDER TECH FASTER BUT JUST THE PART THAT CAN REVIVE.]
Nosebleed already asked the question of if we can die, so if I don't get around to it, I'm pretty sure he'll try in some attempt to make up for his self-imposed sins.
But I have a backup at home. He doesn't. I'm not eager to die, but logically speaking, the individual who lost control of themselves and also gets to live on no matter what happens here is the most reasonable sacrifice.
[there is a distant thought of because you're the same as anyone else, you don't get to make others sacrifice themselves for you but he doesn't show it in his expression.
cold logic and scien's lack of self-preservation.]
[There's something in his expression that's genuinely discomforted for a there-and-gone moment - maybe the human part of his heart that's reluctant to consider pushing through whatever the hell they have to deal with here alone, yet again - but it'S NOT LIKE THAT STOPS HIM.
Instead, he just sighs, picking up a scalpel.]
I'm going to be really mad if this doesn't net us at least three usable pieces of good information.
[HE DOESN'T WANT SCIEN POTENTIALLY DYING FOR FUCKING NOTHINNNG sure knowing what's on the inside is a good thing in and of itself, but NOT GOOD ENOUGH!!!
Anyway he'll test Scien's leggy for anesthesia now girl help.] Going in! [A single, careful cut, small as can be but deep enough to really test for numbness.]
[scien said that if you don't find anything that's a skill issue? but he'll watch the incision get made, wait as if accessing how much pain he's feeling, and then just nods.]
At least try to be even a tiny bit less insufferable on the eve of your maybe-death.
[SAID WITH A HUFF and no actual belief that Scien will ever be anything less than Scien. But he'll wipe the blood away from his incision, clean it with an alcohol pad and go to slap a lil bandaid on it! Too bad this will be useless!
Moving back up after that and placing the scalpel back on the tray so he can pick up his syringe again.]
O-kaaay, just a few little pokes here and there—
[Local anesthesia for his chest and stomach where the incisions are likely to go! They're both nightmare creatures!]
[scien will be so scien! there will be a little scar from that incision later when he rises from the trash heap.
he'll sit obediently through the anesthesia injections, and while he's waiting for it to activate, he'll lift his hand to tap two fingers against dahut's forehead to get his attention.]
I need you to be fine, with or without me.
[they both know that they'll be going through with this regardless. there's too much opportunity to refrain or hesitate. there are enough geniuses in the graveyard that scien thinks that while he's useful in most situations, he isn't needed. and he does not have an attachment to life that would make him fearful in the slightest about this sort of dilemma.
but he would be leaving dahut behind, if things go south. dahut should get to say what he wants this time.]
[SCIEN WILL BE SCIEN WITH HIS GROWING COLLECTION OF SCARS!!!!
At the forehead tap, he makes a little noise, but when he looks up and he's met with that sentence, he'll drop the hammy whining he'd been preemptively gearing up to do.
They're Relivers from Arpéchéle: the oldest, and one of the older. Their relationship with death is dicey at best, disrespectful and inhuman at worst. Dahut himself feels hardly any of the emotions behind the values that his mother once taught him and that he tried to hold onto so tightly - tight enough that they warped and cracked in his hands. And while Scien is his closest confidante, the person here who means the most to him by far, and he'd be a sore loss to face for more than one reason...]
I will be.
[At the end of the day, Dahut is always prepared to go on alone.]
[in the end, they are scientists. all they do is trivialize life, and they are selfish and cruel. scien always paints things in the most dramatic, worst strokes - but it is because he inherently sees the value in life that he can confidently do so. that is the one part of his humanity he has not lost sight of. he will not look away from the horrors - and he will always be the first to pay them, whenever is reasonable.
this is what's reasonable, as is dictated by his cold logic and ruthless intent. he knows that dahut understands that, but he nods once the acceptance comes. dahut will need to be okay, to press forward and survive. he can do so because he is one of the few on that island that doesn't single-mindedly rely on scien to solve all their problems.]
That is why I chose you.
[because dahut is one of the few who is capable of seeing a future past scien brofiise.
and that's all he'll say before tapping on dahut's wrist next. activate the I.R.I.S. already, nerd.]
[Pride isn't one of Dahut's vices, really, but there's still an undeniable sort of twinge of it when he hears that. For better or for fuckin wildly worse, he did work insanely hard to get to where he is. He also truly does admire Scien and he appreciates the acknowledgment of the ways in which he lives up to Scien's towering expectations.
But!! He'll just acknowledge that with a light little hum, moving to flick his I.R.I.S. open and pull up something to take notes with and a couple of timers.]
Should I record?
[IMAGINE HAVING THIS FUCKING HORRIFIC OPERATION ON FILE.]
Yes. Remain on standby. Only intervene when I request.
[dahut is literally going to have scien's second death video on his I.R.I.S. i guess, because god cannot simply have just one. for so much of the procedure, he is practiced. clean incisions without so much as a wince, only the biological reaction of a rising body temperature that comes with a body under attack.
but with a scalpel on hand, scien continues to wage war on himself. he draws the lines on his own chest to open himself up like one of those puzzles he loves so much. he makes verbal recitations to dahut as he takes inventory of his organs, his body, no suspected anomalies. even as his already traitorous lungs start to struggle.
he keeps going until he reaches his own memory banks, inspecting every visible inch of it. it's not the first time he's held his own heart in his hand. it will not be the last. but without all the equipment, he can feel even his own hand starting to waver. there is an awful lot of blood being lost, not making it to the correct destination in his veins.
he'd told dahut to intervene when he requests. he runs the math in his head. it is important to know if they can come back from death. if they can't, he will meet his end here. he was ready to over a week ago. he has no regrets. he has no fear. dahut will be fine.
to the end, when his memory bank starts to stutter and fail, he doesn't ask for salvation.]
[Dahut remains on standby dutifully. He watches, records with an unwavering hand, takes additional notes without missing a beat, and monitors Scien's vitals carefully as he works.
He isn't usually around when Scien cuts himself open like this. Mostly, he's there when Scien's already patched himself back up again, helping to clean up blood or offering water, towels, something warm and satisfying to eat or drink in the aftermath. He's so desensitized to gore at this point that even this gruesome display hardly garners any notable emotions, though he still doesn't like it. His expression is passive despite that; all joviality and energy set to the side, silent to let Scien focus.
But even uninterrupted genius can't save someone from simply not having the necessary tools. As Scien's hand wavers a little, his gaze flicks to the side, like he's preemptively mapping out where he'll need to go and what he'll need to grab when Scien calls for him.
...If.
If Scien calls for him.
He doesn't, and it's not a surprise. Dahut watches the life bleed out of him and the stutterstop of his nonbiological heart like a guardian of Death himself, taking meticulous notes and perfect video through the last moments - maybe the last moments. There's no desire to act against orders and intervene without the say-so, but again, again, he's not happy. A tiny part of his mind wonders if "only intervene when I request" would be the last time he'd ever hear this version of Scien; a technical stranger, but still so perfectly familiar.
At the moment of his death, he hits the second timer. He'll dutifully record as Scien's body, just seconds after his heart stills for good, begins to wither and decay away, though the recording destabilizes a little as he rushes to quickly try to grab a sample of the flower as they ALSO START DECAYING!!! i guess scien can watch him run a quick gamut of sensory tests with a petal. Just eats his corpse flower for science and speaks his notes aloud.
The recording shuts off after that, though. Dahut also shuts off after that for just a second or two, taking a deep breath as he braces his arms against a table that now only holds bloodied clothing and tools mid-use. He watches with a distant, detached curiosity as ice begins to creep up his gloved fingertips, leaving pretty patterns against the table's metal surface.
And then, he folds them, the motions mechanical and rote. He tidies the table a little, sets out cleaning solutions for later. He does a last check of the entire area to make sure he hasn't missed any anomalies or samples. He'll lose thirty minutes in this room to his routine after-procedure cleaning, and then go alert the other three to the yet-again death of his nation's only god.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Already done! [Said as he does a little spin on his heel and SALUTES before skipping off to go rummage through the drawers that he has presumably already rummaged through.
But then, more seriously:] Please do your best to hold on, though. Even if it's valuable data, I'd rather not trade you for it, okay?
CW: he's a 10 but he keeps committing medical malpractice
he starts listing out all the shit that he needs for open heart surgery..... help me.]
Scalpel, gloves, oxygen mask, heart lung machine, defibrillator, sternum saw maybe.... extractors. Forceps.
Do they have spare blood bags?
[please acknowledge dahut's last statement]
i hate it here still
Yep! They have quite a few different sample collection containers here. What a nice place.
[NO!!!!!
He'll move over to start setting extractors, forceps, scalpels and gloves on the lil tool shelf beside the operating table. DO THEY EVEN HAVE THESE OTHER THINGS UP TO THE MID 1900S i assume some ye olde variations of them at least. Dahut's looking over the 1940s version of a defibrillator.]
Some of these are pretty rudimentary...
it's bad and it will only get worse
Get me a local anesthesia. [for open heart surgery they apparently typically use general anesthesia but scien doesn't want to be knocked out... fucking crazyass] It doesn't need to be ideal circumstances, we just need to get some answers. It will be easier to tell if our bodies were tampered with than the others.
In the event that I die, you know the drill. Burn the remains.
no subject
Got it, got it! And I know; you can be sure that I'll burn every bit, memory bank first. [Because he likes Viktor but he does not trust Viktor...
AWAY HE GOES to fucking get Scien some local anesthesia WHICH MIGHT BE EXPIRED. WELL. HELP. It's fine. He'll spend a few moments carding through the bottles he'd set aside earlier.]
It's hard to tell the expiry on some of these, so I'll run a test somewhere else first, okay? [Even though Scien's pain tolerance is probably so high that he could fuckin stay conscious through non-anesthetized open heart surgery jesus.]
no subject
but scien will just go to lay on the table, yawning even though this is about to be ABSOLUTELY HORRIBLE. he will wait for dahut to finish the preparation since most of scien's jumping in point will be the actual HORRIBLE SURGERY itself.]
Go ahead.
[this isn't exactly scien's first rodeo but there's honestly a chance that this tech simply will not survive it since apparently the first open heart surgery only succeeded in 1953 and this isn't his tech.]
no subject
After a little more rummaging, he'll approach with a syringe in hand, though he's also looking a little perturbed. Making a lil grabby motion with his free hand like GIVE HIM WHATEVER BODY PART YOU WANT LOCAL ANESTHESIA TESTED OUT ON SIR.]
We might have a problem, Monsieur Scien... It doesn't look like we have any sort of heart lung machine to work with here.
["MIGHT".]
no subject
scien needs his hand in order to actually do the surgery so he'll just pull up his pants leg and offer it out. leggy....]
That's troubling.
[sound more troubled if you agree]
Chances of survival drop considerably. However, I would rather see what we can glean from the process. Proceed regardless.
no subject
Sound more troubled! [HE'LL JUST SAY IT.] Are you sure...? I reaaally don't want you getting gutted and not knitting back together again!
[HE'S GOTTA MAKE HIS HUMAN BLENDER TECH FASTER BUT JUST THE PART THAT CAN REVIVE.]
no subject
But I have a backup at home. He doesn't. I'm not eager to die, but logically speaking, the individual who lost control of themselves and also gets to live on no matter what happens here is the most reasonable sacrifice.
[there is a distant thought of because you're the same as anyone else, you don't get to make others sacrifice themselves for you but he doesn't show it in his expression.
cold logic and scien's lack of self-preservation.]
That's all there is.
no subject
Instead, he just sighs, picking up a scalpel.]
I'm going to be really mad if this doesn't net us at least three usable pieces of good information.
[HE DOESN'T WANT SCIEN POTENTIALLY DYING FOR FUCKING NOTHINNNG sure knowing what's on the inside is a good thing in and of itself, but NOT GOOD ENOUGH!!!
Anyway he'll test Scien's leggy for anesthesia now girl help.] Going in! [A single, careful cut, small as can be but deep enough to really test for numbness.]
no subject
[scien said that if you don't find anything that's a skill issue? but he'll watch the incision get made, wait as if accessing how much pain he's feeling, and then just nods.]
Acceptable.
no subject
[SAID WITH A HUFF and no actual belief that Scien will ever be anything less than Scien. But he'll wipe the blood away from his incision, clean it with an alcohol pad and go to slap a lil bandaid on it! Too bad this will be useless!
Moving back up after that and placing the scalpel back on the tray so he can pick up his syringe again.]
O-kaaay, just a few little pokes here and there—
[Local anesthesia for his chest and stomach where the incisions are likely to go! They're both nightmare creatures!]
no subject
he'll sit obediently through the anesthesia injections, and while he's waiting for it to activate, he'll lift his hand to tap two fingers against dahut's forehead to get his attention.]
I need you to be fine, with or without me.
[they both know that they'll be going through with this regardless. there's too much opportunity to refrain or hesitate. there are enough geniuses in the graveyard that scien thinks that while he's useful in most situations, he isn't needed. and he does not have an attachment to life that would make him fearful in the slightest about this sort of dilemma.
but he would be leaving dahut behind, if things go south. dahut should get to say what he wants this time.]
no subject
At the forehead tap, he makes a little noise, but when he looks up and he's met with that sentence, he'll drop the hammy whining he'd been preemptively gearing up to do.
They're Relivers from Arpéchéle: the oldest, and one of the older. Their relationship with death is dicey at best, disrespectful and inhuman at worst. Dahut himself feels hardly any of the emotions behind the values that his mother once taught him and that he tried to hold onto so tightly - tight enough that they warped and cracked in his hands. And while Scien is his closest confidante, the person here who means the most to him by far, and he'd be a sore loss to face for more than one reason...]
I will be.
[At the end of the day, Dahut is always prepared to go on alone.]
Even if it'll be a biiig headache, promise!
no subject
this is what's reasonable, as is dictated by his cold logic and ruthless intent. he knows that dahut understands that, but he nods once the acceptance comes. dahut will need to be okay, to press forward and survive. he can do so because he is one of the few on that island that doesn't single-mindedly rely on scien to solve all their problems.]
That is why I chose you.
[because dahut is one of the few who is capable of seeing a future past scien brofiise.
and that's all he'll say before tapping on dahut's wrist next. activate the I.R.I.S. already, nerd.]
Let's begin.
no subject
But!! He'll just acknowledge that with a light little hum, moving to flick his I.R.I.S. open and pull up something to take notes with and a couple of timers.]
Should I record?
[IMAGINE HAVING THIS FUCKING HORRIFIC OPERATION ON FILE.]
cw: self-operation, unintentional suicide, virche
actually,]
Yes. Remain on standby. Only intervene when I request.
[dahut is literally going to have scien's second death video on his I.R.I.S. i guess, because god cannot simply have just one. for so much of the procedure, he is practiced. clean incisions without so much as a wince, only the biological reaction of a rising body temperature that comes with a body under attack.
but with a scalpel on hand, scien continues to wage war on himself. he draws the lines on his own chest to open himself up like one of those puzzles he loves so much. he makes verbal recitations to dahut as he takes inventory of his organs, his body, no suspected anomalies. even as his already traitorous lungs start to struggle.
he keeps going until he reaches his own memory banks, inspecting every visible inch of it. it's not the first time he's held his own heart in his hand. it will not be the last. but without all the equipment, he can feel even his own hand starting to waver. there is an awful lot of blood being lost, not making it to the correct destination in his veins.
he'd told dahut to intervene when he requests. he runs the math in his head. it is important to know if they can come back from death. if they can't, he will meet his end here. he was ready to over a week ago. he has no regrets. he has no fear. dahut will be fine.
to the end, when his memory bank starts to stutter and fail, he doesn't ask for salvation.]
no subject
He isn't usually around when Scien cuts himself open like this. Mostly, he's there when Scien's already patched himself back up again, helping to clean up blood or offering water, towels, something warm and satisfying to eat or drink in the aftermath. He's so desensitized to gore at this point that even this gruesome display hardly garners any notable emotions, though he still doesn't like it. His expression is passive despite that; all joviality and energy set to the side, silent to let Scien focus.
But even uninterrupted genius can't save someone from simply not having the necessary tools. As Scien's hand wavers a little, his gaze flicks to the side, like he's preemptively mapping out where he'll need to go and what he'll need to grab when Scien calls for him.
...If.
If Scien calls for him.
He doesn't, and it's not a surprise. Dahut watches the life bleed out of him and the stutterstop of his nonbiological heart like a guardian of Death himself, taking meticulous notes and perfect video through the last moments - maybe the last moments. There's no desire to act against orders and intervene without the say-so, but again, again, he's not happy. A tiny part of his mind wonders if "only intervene when I request" would be the last time he'd ever hear this version of Scien; a technical stranger, but still so perfectly familiar.
At the moment of his death, he hits the second timer. He'll dutifully record as Scien's body, just seconds after his heart stills for good, begins to wither and decay away, though the recording destabilizes a little as he rushes to quickly try to grab a sample of the flower as they ALSO START DECAYING!!! i guess scien can watch him run a quick gamut of sensory tests with a petal. Just eats his corpse flower for science and speaks his notes aloud.
The recording shuts off after that, though. Dahut also shuts off after that for just a second or two, taking a deep breath as he braces his arms against a table that now only holds bloodied clothing and tools mid-use. He watches with a distant, detached curiosity as ice begins to creep up his gloved fingertips, leaving pretty patterns against the table's metal surface.
And then, he folds them, the motions mechanical and rote. He tidies the table a little, sets out cleaning solutions for later. He does a last check of the entire area to make sure he hasn't missed any anomalies or samples. He'll lose thirty minutes in this room to his routine after-procedure cleaning, and then go alert the other three to the yet-again death of his nation's only god.]