There were a few things about hospitals that Nicolette really disliked. First, and perhaps most obvious, was their purpose. While she preferred to think of them as "places of healing," rather than "places of injury or death," the latter was still true; lives were lost here, and lives were forever changed. The next thing she disliked was the weightiness in the air - a heavy sense of sadness, dread, and loss. The happier moments, such as births and miraculous recoveries, did little to make it easier to breathe within the white-washed walls.
Finally, Nicolette's heart broke for the forgotten. While it was true that most patients were surrounded by love and support in their times of need, there were some who appeared to be entirely on their own. "Frequent fliers," as one of her mentors referred to them, were the individuals constantly in and out the revolving front doors. This could be from their own negligence, or, of course, recurring medical conditions. Some, Letty suspected, simply appreciated the attention. They were lonely.
And some were just truly alone. The patients who lay in their beds, day in and day out, without a single visitor. No vibrant flowers spilling out of cheerfully decorated vases, no homemade Get Well cards on bedside tables. They had nothing, and no one.
One individual didn't even have a bed.
A great deal of magic and maneuvering had been used to bring the seven foot tall giant into the room. It was constructed of stone and metal, and runes were etched into what appeared to be it's chest. Of course, Letty had to refer to the creature as "it," as she had no idea what its preferred gender was. Something about its broad shoulders, however, made her suspect male.
He had puzzled the doctors, as they had never seen anything like him before. That was not altogether uncommon on the island, but it still left the medical community stumped. Was it simply a massive man, turned to stone by some dark force? Or was this truly a man of the earth?
Letty stared at him, blue-green eyes wide with sadness. Not a single guest had visited the poor patient since his arrival weeks ago. He simply kneeled in the middle of the room, lit by the faint lights that swung overhead. In a way, he looked a bit like the featured piece in a museum's gallery.
"Poor soul," the girl breathed. She knew she had to get back to work, but she had taken a liking to stopping by, and talking to him. He never talked back.
Expelling her sadness on a great sigh, Letty began bustling around the room, checking on the machines, and straightening up the pillows on the unused guest chairs. As she worked, she began to sing. It was a soft, floating sound that she generally used for healing. When she was alone, however, she used it to comfort herself. And, perhaps the stranger who shared the room with her.