https://staging.knockturnbound.net/ Sun, 02 Aug 2026 01:17:55 +0000 MyBB https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=694 Mon, 01 Dec 2025 05:18:10 +0000 Dorian Montreaux]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=694 Thursday, June 16, 1921
The corridor outside the apothecary
Around 3 PM
"Have it on my desk by the end of your shift. No--No--Yes--Alright."

Dorian exited the apothecary, blue eyes trained on the clipboard in hand. It wasn't often that he ventured into the depths of the hospital, and even less often that he had to make personal check-ins. That afternoon was a bit of an anomaly. After having received some conflicting reports on the supplies within the apothecary, the man had asked to have a report done up and sent to him. Potion ingredients didn't typically grow legs and walk yet those within his hospital seemed to have developed the habit.

The man pored over his notes as he made his way down the corridor. The number of patients and guests who'd come to collect their medication only to be turned away with requests that they wait was growing abysmally. Even one was too many, but Dorian had never been an idealist and knew these things happened from time to time.

Nearly weekly, though?

The staff had either grown too complacent and heavy-handed with their brews, or the hospital had found for itself a thief. The types of ingredients and potions that were perpetually sprouting wings and spiriting themselves elsewhere of late were the sort that, when put together, couldn't really be considered a coincidence, but he needed a fuller picture and was tired of waiting for a report that didn't seem it would ever come.

Dorian flipped the parchment at its edge, taking a peek at his next stop before heading back to his office. If he remembered correctly, there was a matter requiring his attention over in the morgue. He might as well, having already come so--

THUD!

"Merlin." His hand reached out automatically to steady the woman he'd so unceremoniously collided with before his mind could even register that that was what he'd done. In the small curfuffle, his clipboard hit the ground with a sharp clatter. His knees began to bend as he sought to pick it up, but the man straightened suddenly as if only just realising what he'd done.

Vague eyes sharpened as they took her in, looking her over with new concern. "Are you alright?"

He was ashamed to admit he hadn't been looking where he was going.]]> Thursday, June 16, 1921
The corridor outside the apothecary
Around 3 PM
"Have it on my desk by the end of your shift. No--No--Yes--Alright."

Dorian exited the apothecary, blue eyes trained on the clipboard in hand. It wasn't often that he ventured into the depths of the hospital, and even less often that he had to make personal check-ins. That afternoon was a bit of an anomaly. After having received some conflicting reports on the supplies within the apothecary, the man had asked to have a report done up and sent to him. Potion ingredients didn't typically grow legs and walk yet those within his hospital seemed to have developed the habit.

The man pored over his notes as he made his way down the corridor. The number of patients and guests who'd come to collect their medication only to be turned away with requests that they wait was growing abysmally. Even one was too many, but Dorian had never been an idealist and knew these things happened from time to time.

Nearly weekly, though?

The staff had either grown too complacent and heavy-handed with their brews, or the hospital had found for itself a thief. The types of ingredients and potions that were perpetually sprouting wings and spiriting themselves elsewhere of late were the sort that, when put together, couldn't really be considered a coincidence, but he needed a fuller picture and was tired of waiting for a report that didn't seem it would ever come.

Dorian flipped the parchment at its edge, taking a peek at his next stop before heading back to his office. If he remembered correctly, there was a matter requiring his attention over in the morgue. He might as well, having already come so--

THUD!

"Merlin." His hand reached out automatically to steady the woman he'd so unceremoniously collided with before his mind could even register that that was what he'd done. In the small curfuffle, his clipboard hit the ground with a sharp clatter. His knees began to bend as he sought to pick it up, but the man straightened suddenly as if only just realising what he'd done.

Vague eyes sharpened as they took her in, looking her over with new concern. "Are you alright?"

He was ashamed to admit he hadn't been looking where he was going.]]>