rushbrandt - Tumblr blog

[rushbrandt]

[hey everyone, sorry for being absent for a couple days - i got back from ny and have been busy with work + preparing to move to my new apartment! i'll reply asap.]

[rushbrandt]

Rush wracked his head for this guy's name. He remembered faces, but not names, and - oh. Right. They all wore name tags. His read "Zacharie H." Right. Though Rush was a talkative guy, he was usually too focused on one thing or another during his working hours to chat it up. And frankly, he knew this guy usually kept to himself. He had a funny energy about him, something Rush didn't recognize. He knew the island was overflowing with strange auras, other supernatural beings milling about, brewing in quiet corners. He could only really sense other ghosts, since their energy was most familiar to him. Zacharie H. was a somber energy, slow-moving and thick. Definitely not the swift, smooth energy flow of ghosts.

"Mornin'," replied Rush, gathering up his instant noodles and taking the seat across from Zacharie. He took on his offer of coffee and grabbed a mug - one that had a horse in a crudely photoshopped party hat on it, his personal favourite - and filled it until even the meniscus look dangerously unstable. The bitterer the coffee, the better, so he usually took it black.

"Poe?" commented Rush, after a moment. He took a sip of his coffee and feigned thoughtfulness, grinning widely when he spoke again. "A little too spooky for an eerie, empty hospital, don't you think?" he said. "Man, that one piece - about the dude with the vulture eye? That used to scare me shitless. Like, just the way Poe paints the image of the eye, you know? Blue, staring, the thin strip of light directly on it - it would be enough to drive me crazy, so I kinda sympathize."

Rush stopped only to stir up his noodles with his chopsticks and take the first bite. "Y'know," he continued, "the fact that Poe managed to come up with this many fairly original scary shit makes me wonder what was going on in the poor dude's head. Considering that the scariest stuff he would've heard before writing that was probably, like, Mother Goose. Aesop's Fables."

Rush nodded, mostly to himself, and took another hulking bite of his ramen.

hospital beds // closed rp

Zacharie had been sitting quietly in one of the larger chairs in the staff room, generally undetectable. He generally spent most of his time around the hospital, though he tended to drift away from the pediatric ward and maternity wards alike, preferring to spend the majority of his time with elderly patients or older folks whom had no one to talk to for the lonely hours of the day when their doctors were too busy attending to someone else. It was nice to sit down and listen to the plain and simple lives of other people, tales of joy, sadness, grief, and life. It was somewhat calming, and it made the hours tick by with little issue. 

However when there was no one else to talk to and no other odd jobs to be done, he spent the other half of his time in the staff room, either reading, listening to music, or doing his best to draw flora and fauna alike from memory. For the most part, he was somewhat invisible to other staff members like doctors, attending physicians, and other higher up board members who ran the whole damn place. And it was fairly enjoyable to say in the least; not having to constantly strike up a fake conversation with someone that he would really only engage with to climb up on the pay scale with, but after working in the hospital for over a century…well, you tend not to worry about your salary. 

"Morning." He greeted softly, not looking up from the thick book he was currently reading. The Complete Works of Edgar Allen Poe. He was a sucker for the dark classics of the Englishman. “There’s a fresh pot of coffee too if you’d like, I fixed it up about five minutes ago, should still be pretty hot.” Although there were a few doctors and nurses that he talked to more frequently, he felt as if he operated on his own rather than as a part of the hospital. However, this also meant that he didn’t have a lot of work friends to converse with, and thus his already joke-worthy social skills were even more joke-worthy. 

[rushbrandt]

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my reason is always selfish: you if you think so, then it’s most likely true

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Rush gathered up his breakfast as gracefully as he could and took one of the counter bar seats so he could continue talking to the girl. He declined her offer of cream or sugar, instead doing what he always did - leaving the teabag in the hot water until it was as bitter as possible. He took a sip before replying to her.

"I much prefer the later hours," he said, finally removing the teabag. "Not necessarily at the hospital, though. It can get kinda dull. Everyone's asleep. And for a dude who doesn't really need to sleep, that can get a little..." he trailed off, picking up his cake pop and eyeing the sprinkles thoughtfully. "Awkward," he finished. 

Awkward in the sense that he couldn't count how many times he'd startled someone with his presence in the early hours. Rush, for all his focus, could also be rather distracted, and could spend hours sitting or standing in one place, simply thinking or reading or conversing with himself. It came with his kind, really - whenever he was more energy than physical manifestation, it was nearly impossible to recognize the normal passage of time. He had once showered for nearly six hours, alerting his former landlord, who had practically kicked him out of the small apartment complex on the spot. He had to be careful not to slip into a stagnant state sometimes. It was getting more and more difficult as the years went on.

Whatever. Taking a bite out of the cake pop, he wondered if the girl knew what he was. It was rude to ask outright, he knew, but he was itching to know what she was.

"So," he began again, "have you been working here long? I just started at the hospital about a month ago. It's fucking great. Not that I'm encouraging you to visit. Because, you know, that usually entails being admitted." He grinned widely.

let him eat cake // closed rp

The waitress laughed as she turned around, going back to Betty and it’s deathbed. “We just dip ‘em, mister, ain’t nothin’ special. They’re real simple.” She gently pet the side of the old machine as she spoke, mourning quietly.

Rei could feel the man’s eyes on her, not in a particularly lecherous way, but definitely a curious one. Most of the other supers had some weird way of recognizing one another, auras or something. She knew Ama could actually tell someone’s species just by looking at them. Rei herself had only the faintest inklings of this intuition, and mainly relied on her steady sources of information for telling who’s what. She also knew the hospital had a few super nurses, and those were the only people who didn’t come in in the morning looking like they got dragged through hell and back on the way. That guy was probably one of them, she reasoned.

She turned as the man started speaking, heading towards the bakery case. “Any particular arrangement of sprinkles pique your interest the most?” she asked, teasing just a little. She grabbed the croissant and plated it, along with the chosen cake pop, and slid it towards him. The waitress turned to get a mug and a tea bag, plopping it into the ceramic cup before filling it with hot water. She slid it towards him as well, taking more care as to not spill. “Cream, sugar, et cetera?”

She smiled brightly as he spoke, taking the bills and slipping them into their place in the cash box. “Y’know, I don’t think a single person on this island is a mornin’ person. I sure ain’t. I quite enjoy my sleep, thank you very much. The tea should help some. Probably the sugar in that cake pop too,” she pointed out. “I’ll admit, mister, you’re one of the most chipper not-morning people I’ve ever seen in here. It’s always you nurses.”

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Rush blinked at her and pulled the other earbud from his ear. "Yeah," he said, "yeah, sorry. Just distracted by the particularly intricate arrangement of sprinkles on those cake pops."

He took the menu and flipped it open, glancing at her from over the rim of the laminated thing. She had a weird energy about her; definitely alive, but old - much, much older than how old she appeared, and definitely a hell of a lot older than he was. His seventy-something years had nothing on her decades - centuries - what was she?

Whatever. He closed the menu and set it back on the counter, smiling at her widely. "I'll just take a cake pop, a croissant, and a mug of green tea, please," he said. He reached for his wallet, taking it from the pocket of his scrubs and fishing out a few bills. As he counted out the correct amount, he continued speaking to her. "I've never actually been here this early," he noted aloud. "I work nights at the hospital every once 'n a while, but usually I head straight home. I think the tea'll help, y'know? I'm not exactly a morning guy."

The smile on his face was genuine, despite the fact that this was true - dusk was much preferred over dawn, but here he was anyway, being obnoxiously chipper after being up for so damn long.

let him eat cake // closed rp

It had been a long morning. A busy one, too. The first one in a few weeks that they had more than two customers in the building at once for more than 10 minutes, and one of the espresso machines breaks down. Just her luck. This was the older one, always in need of repairs and tweaks of a large variety. The milk frother always had to be angled just right, the specific filters were actually discontinued, the cords were frayed. Even through all it’s faults, she still relied on it. She had affectionately nicknamed it Old Betty some years ago, and Rei and Old Betty had a long history. She was sad to see it finally give out.

Rei heard the door bells tinkle behind her, but she was so close to getting Betty running again she just couldn’t turn to help the newcomer. She considered calling out her intentions briefly, but gods, she was almost there, c’mon…! CLANK. …Fuck. Maybe she should just give up. Maybe it was time for a warrior’s funeral for the old thing. Yeah.

She sighed softly and turned around, glancing at the stranger. He seemed to be happily distracted in his own mind, and she took the opportunity to be slower about bringing him a menu. She hummed as she walked over with the laminated pamphlet, plopping it down in front of him. “Hey, mister, you okay?”

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let him eat cake // closed rp

After a late night at the hospital, Rush, still in his scrubs, a black raincoat thrown over the pale blue clothing, whistled his way to the Kahi cafe. He had skipped between Arcade Fire and Drake and Simon & Garfunkel on his iPod (2003 clunky, varnished vintage) before finally settling on some Frank Sinatra. Not exactly alive-at-eight-in-the-morning music, but he wasn't tired. He was never tired. He didn't need to sleep, and the closest proximity to a living human's version of it that he could complete was reverting to his true state - an invisible "ball" of energy, a galaxy unto itself. It was nice, however, to lie down and feign sleep in his visibly human form. 

He had a habit of pretending to have conked out in a public place, if only to see how people reacted. He'd met quite a few interesting individuals that way, but those were memories to recount another time.

The cafe's doors welcomed with their perpetually precipitated glass panels and snaky gold lettering. He still hadn't looked up what "kahi" meant; all he knew is that word looked gorgeous in a Victorian font, skating across actual sand-hewn glass. 

Inside, the few early regulars were already milling about. He dropped his backpack by a window seat before sidling up to the counter, pulling one earbud out so as not to seem completely thickheaded. The girl behind the counter seemed busy, poking at one piece of machinery or another, so he waited, glancing at the pastries on display with genuine interest. Cake pops, he noted, were something he'd have to try. He remembered when instant cake mix was a new novelty, when his mother came home with half a dozen boxes of the stuff, proudly proclaiming that she'd managed to practically grab the chocolate mix right out of Mrs. Douglas' hands, that catty woman, always trying to weasel her way right into one of my garden parties - 

He and his sisters had devoured the cake forty-five minutes later with a shared sense of having just conquered some new sugary field, leaving their mother both satisfied and rather concerned that these boxed batters might leave her homemade cakes behind. 

Smirking to himself, Rush had been so focused on the memory that he hadn't noticed the barista approach the front counter.

[rushbrandt]

explore the universe as well as your own mind

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hospital beds // closed rp

One in the morning, two shots of espresso, and three plays through of Arcade Fire's Funeral later, it was time Rush dumped the hypodermic needles into the incinerator and took his goddamn breakfast break. The hospital was quiet; quiet enough that Rush hadn't seen another nurse for a good hour or so. He worked primarily in the paediatric ward, avoiding maternity like the plague - but the room was mostly empty, only four patients soundly asleep, cuddling the rabbit plushies he'd brought in for the kids a few weeks ago. Aside from tending to the kids in the daylight hours, Rush ran odd jobs at night - restocking, replacing, remaking. It kept him busy, and when he had a spare moment, he snagged charts and notebooks and read and read and read. He had a voracious appetite for medical knowledge, and had to stop himself on multiple occasions from poring over patient's confidential files.

Good thing he was a professional at keeping secrets. 

Once the needles had been safely disposed of, Rush trashed his plastic gloves, checked in on the kids one more time, and then headed to the staff room. He dug around in his locker, found a pack of instant ramen and his latest read, and tried to moonwalk through the sliding doors to the kitchen area of the staff room. He found that one couldn't really moonwalk to the sound of a synthesizer and an organ (damn you, Win Butler) and settled for awkwardly shuffling. Whatever. 

He flicked the kettle on and dug around for a pair of chopsticks from one of the million times someone had ordered Chinese, sat down, and waited for that familiar click.

He'd only been working for the island's hospital for a month, but the routine was starting to irk him. As a nurse, he didn't have as much to do, especially on such a quiet island like this - surgeons and even family doctors got more interesting cases. There was supposedly a psychiatrist working here, too, though he hadn't met her yet; he supposed even she had a more interesting time. Rush sighed and flipped his book open, trying to quiet the doubting voices in his head. It was a good job; he liked the hours; their was no burn ward, only a burn emergency kit stocked away somewhere, so he didn't have to deal with any sort of triggering situation; one of the doctors was a ghost, for fuck's sake. His ungrateful ass should be happy about finding such a place. He'd never worked in a place with such a ethereal presence before; never worked with another ghost before. Most ghosts didn't bother taking a human form - too much work to maintain. It got tiring after a while, keeping the illusion alive. But Rush liked the challenge, and he respected any other voided form for taking it on, too. He'd been drifting for fifty years now. Jesus. He'd be hitting sixty years soon, meaning that he'd be seventy-eight, seventy-nine in living terms. Maybe he should have a party. Happy unbirthday to you, Rushford Nathaniel Brandt - how many more decades do you plan on smoking through? 

Smirking to himself, Rush stood up to pour his boiling water over the packaged noodles. He hadn't noticed someone else enter the staff room, and blinked at them in momentary surprise. 

"Oh," he said. "Hey, dude."