Theo winced as the padded armor came off the jagged stab through her side, the blood soaked homespun pulling off her abdomen with it, as she thumped a hand down on the ground as a new wave of nausea flooded through her. "[color=#ff851b]So, not on my knees, but save the kidney if you can, I like my ale a little too much, as you well remember.[/color]"
Her normally healthy tan had faded down into ghastly white as she remained still, letting the feel of his magic flood through her -- soothing and cool, even if it made her feel just a little more cold than before. She would deal. "[color=#ff851b]Told ya not to say nothing. Besides, not everyone can have a tall blonde knitting them back together. Have you see male dwarves? You elves got the pretty end of the stick. We're dying cause most of us like the looks of human and elf males more, and pretty sure they feel the same about us. Ma and Da were the last actual set of dwarves I knew of before they were killed.[/color]" She kept talking, nonsense, she had to talk to keep herself awake and aware. She knew that much was important.
She watched him work, watching his face scrunched in concentration as she felt some of the pain ease, some of the pressure in her abdomen start to lessen, she figured that was the internal bleeding knitting back together, a strange feeling. His face was honest though, when he was healing her -- most of the time he hid behind a mask of indifference, or false flattery, bravado -- but when he was healing, he looked more honest. Those few times she had seen him in the Back Water in the past, the strange intensity of his stare when he thought no one was looking. She hated it. She didn't like people that hid behind masks. And he wasn't right now -- his annoyance and his frustrations at her were real, not a mask. She liked him when he wasn't hiding.
"[color=#ff851b]You know I'm shit at following directions. We've worked together often enough now that you know that well enough.[/color]" She could feel his hand on her finally, the numbness that had been the area directly under his fingers flaring back to life, and eliciting a mix of a groan and a whimper from her. The hand on the side of her body he wasn't working on came up to her mouth and she bit the back of her gloved hand to keep herself still. Eyes closed as something felt like it re-arranged back into place inside her, earning another whimper. Why was it that his hands were only on her when she was bleeding out and about to die?
Pain, she could handle. She'd been stabbed and shot so many times in the past that this was nearly an everyday sort of thing, it was the effects of magic, going in and putting things back right in a hurry, instead of the natural healing process that honestly worried her. She was a horrible patient, and she knew it. She expected at any given moment for something to go horribly wrong with it, and the tendrils that were moving about inside her to rip something else out of place, or play higgly-piggly with an organ, fuse something together that shouldn't be.
Theo's imagination was the part of healing that bothered her the most. "[color=#ff851b]Amateurs? You'd use jute, or chains? I like silk because once wet it's tensile strength far surpasses most metals. I can bend iron with a well woven wet silk. Seriously though, you get me outta this one Ruth, and I'll get you another apple, and share that damned bath with you. Lemon grass, right? You always smell of it when you come out of the baths at the Back Water. Lemon-grass and sweet almond oils. I'll even get our favorite whore to bring in some of that new ale she's been brewin[/color]."
She'd seriously keep her end of the bargain at this point, eyes fluttering as she finally breathed in shakily as something else inside seemingly slid back into place, causing the rips in flesh to be the main focus of the pain now, "[color=#ff851b]It hurts, Ruth.[/color]"
Her normally healthy tan had faded down into ghastly white as she remained still, letting the feel of his magic flood through her -- soothing and cool, even if it made her feel just a little more cold than before. She would deal. "[color=#ff851b]Told ya not to say nothing. Besides, not everyone can have a tall blonde knitting them back together. Have you see male dwarves? You elves got the pretty end of the stick. We're dying cause most of us like the looks of human and elf males more, and pretty sure they feel the same about us. Ma and Da were the last actual set of dwarves I knew of before they were killed.[/color]" She kept talking, nonsense, she had to talk to keep herself awake and aware. She knew that much was important.
She watched him work, watching his face scrunched in concentration as she felt some of the pain ease, some of the pressure in her abdomen start to lessen, she figured that was the internal bleeding knitting back together, a strange feeling. His face was honest though, when he was healing her -- most of the time he hid behind a mask of indifference, or false flattery, bravado -- but when he was healing, he looked more honest. Those few times she had seen him in the Back Water in the past, the strange intensity of his stare when he thought no one was looking. She hated it. She didn't like people that hid behind masks. And he wasn't right now -- his annoyance and his frustrations at her were real, not a mask. She liked him when he wasn't hiding.
"[color=#ff851b]You know I'm shit at following directions. We've worked together often enough now that you know that well enough.[/color]" She could feel his hand on her finally, the numbness that had been the area directly under his fingers flaring back to life, and eliciting a mix of a groan and a whimper from her. The hand on the side of her body he wasn't working on came up to her mouth and she bit the back of her gloved hand to keep herself still. Eyes closed as something felt like it re-arranged back into place inside her, earning another whimper. Why was it that his hands were only on her when she was bleeding out and about to die?
Pain, she could handle. She'd been stabbed and shot so many times in the past that this was nearly an everyday sort of thing, it was the effects of magic, going in and putting things back right in a hurry, instead of the natural healing process that honestly worried her. She was a horrible patient, and she knew it. She expected at any given moment for something to go horribly wrong with it, and the tendrils that were moving about inside her to rip something else out of place, or play higgly-piggly with an organ, fuse something together that shouldn't be.
Theo's imagination was the part of healing that bothered her the most. "[color=#ff851b]Amateurs? You'd use jute, or chains? I like silk because once wet it's tensile strength far surpasses most metals. I can bend iron with a well woven wet silk. Seriously though, you get me outta this one Ruth, and I'll get you another apple, and share that damned bath with you. Lemon grass, right? You always smell of it when you come out of the baths at the Back Water. Lemon-grass and sweet almond oils. I'll even get our favorite whore to bring in some of that new ale she's been brewin[/color]."
She'd seriously keep her end of the bargain at this point, eyes fluttering as she finally breathed in shakily as something else inside seemingly slid back into place, causing the rips in flesh to be the main focus of the pain now, "[color=#ff851b]It hurts, Ruth.[/color]"
02-29-2024, 12:29 AM
