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 Posted: Wed Feb 11, 2015 5:09 pm
It wasn't terribly late on a Wednesday night, but class had kept Orah later than she would have liked as she struggled to catch up on what she had missed. There were labs to make up, notes to take... it meant dinner tonight had been a bagel from the cafeteria after they stopped serving real food and by the time she headed home, she was starving.
The book bag over her shoulder pulled downward with a leaden weight as she wove between the evening foot traffic towards the apartment she shared with Arian. Walking distance to the university had been a must-have on their list of apartment criteria, as was the third bedroom currently occupied by Liam. They hadn't meant it for long term stay, but Orah didn't regret offering the space to the newly purified Vespa. He'd needed a place and they had the room... no thought required.
Skirting a couple who were taking up far too much sidewalk with their PDA against the side of a building, Orah kept her eyes on the ground and ignored them fiercely. Things like that left her feeling vaguely uncomfortable and right now, thoughts of her love life or lack there of was not helpful in the least. And it was just... unseemly, doing that out where everyone could see it. They obviously had no shame at all.
Further along, the crowd thinned out and her walk became easier, unimpeded by the press of people even as cars and trucks rumbled by to her right. Their lights limed half of her in yellow highlight as they passed and her mind drifted, idling through her studies, things she needed to do and old memories. She almost didn't notice, so wrapped up in her day dreaming, the man that limped towards her. It was the hitch in his gait that drew her attention, the off rhythm of his steps jarring enough to call her back from the depths of her mind.
Orah slowed to a stop as she looked up, blinking slowly at the dark haired man who struck her familiar. She'd met him before, hadn't she? The wind of a passing semi swept the strands of hair up around her face and sent them skating across her eyes before she reached to tuck them back. The library... yes! I got coffee with him.
"Shale?" The young woman ventured, her hands curling around the strap that cut across her chest, pinning her navy peacoat down. "Are you hurt?"
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Posted: Wed Feb 11, 2015 5:59 pm
The creature found no recognition for his native form - it seethed and spat at his very existence, and no display of standing ground diffused the situation. All movements only angered the beast, with remaining motionless fast becoming his only option. Yet Shale stayed, quieted to silent breaths, while he watched the creature manifest its harrowing displays.
The creature had roared, a trembling sound that struck him as uncannily similar to his night in the forest, before it charged him. He lacked the speed to avoid, the strength to rebuke. The fight, however short, promised injury atop injury.
He found no time to twitch a muscle before the youma was upon him.
Keratin claws reached out to seize its prey, puncturing the soft flesh of oblique muscles on one side and drawing a great gouge across his opposite him before he stepped back into the hold with knife drawn from his boot. With both arms elevated above its grasp, he maintained a marginal advantage, even as the grip of the beast slowly bent his ribs inward and threatened breakage of his costal cartilage. With precious seconds at hand, Shale drew back and buried his knife into the warm, wet flesh of the creature's eye, which loosed an earsplitting shriek. Immediately the creature released its grasp of the hunter and coiled inward on itself to nurse the bleeding injury until thick jets of ash poured from the socket.
Shale hardly turned around before the beast charged again, all the more enraged due to injury alone.
For the first time in years, Shale's heart beat helplessly against its cage in a fit of adrenaline hounded by fear. I won't live through this - not like I am. I don't have time to set up an attack. Wait... There are better means to fight. And with a fleck of concentration, Shale called forth Umber's uniform which led to a short halt of the creature before it wholesale bowled him over. It hissed terribly in his face, and for a long moment lingered with but an inch between himself and the beast's deadly mandibles, before it slinked back into the blackened alleys for a target more fitting of consumption.
The uniform melted from Shale shortly afterward, leaving behind the visage of a pained hunter with tattered shirt and jeans. Both hands clasped over the deep gash, though neither pressure or cover seemed to quell the flow of blood. A glance toward his other side revealed two punctures on the very cusp of his oblique muscles, suggesting all organs missed. It's not as serious, at least. I'm lucky it only tried to grab me. With claws like those, I could've been skewered.
I'm not out of the woods yet. I need medical attention. Especially antibiotics. I don't know what was on those claws, and I don't want to find out...
Shale set to a limping gait back to the main streets spanning the city, and fought to advance through each pale hood of light in his quest for some kind of clinic, or general store that might carry suture material. Inwardly he hoped they had ample instruction, too, for he had little idea how to address a gash of this magnitude. However, the sidewalk grew long with stores of all sorts, from florist boutiques to coffee shops to specialty clothing stores, yet no store front offered any sign of a clinic. Already the blood stained down to the knee of his pants; he hadn't much time to waste on finding the supplies.
Occasionally Shale grunted a shuddered breath to loose flecks of pain that built up in his system. His sides nearly paralyzed him with the exorbitant agony that bled through his system, yet he forced himself to persevere. And luckily, as he neared the street corner to another vast array of shops, a familiar girl called his name and issued her own concern.
"Yes," he answered, voice strained. He leaned back against the nearest wall, offering little consideration for potential bacteria lurking on its surface. With both hands still pressed firmly to the gash, he offered a short explanation. "I found some kind of... Creature. It wasn't gentle. Help is appreciated, if you were taught for these injuries."
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Posted: Thu Feb 12, 2015 12:41 am
There was blood... quite a lot of it that she could see when he stopped moving and she got a proper look.
"Oh god, Shale..." Orah breathed as she closed the distance between them and reached to steady the broad shoulders. He'd been attacked, that much was obvious and the what of it was revealed as he spoke of a creature. He'd run afoul of a youma... he was lucky he was alive at all. Her mouth pinched at the corners, the young woman assessed his state with a sweep of her eyes, knowing the signs to look for and how to read the clues.
"We need to get you to a hospital, to a doctor. I can call an ambulance, but first..." She said as she pulled her bag over her head and let it fall unheeded to the ground with a heavy thump of books. "Let me see..."
Her hands were gentle but insistent as she tugged at his wrists, needing him to release his hold for a moment while she checked the extent of his injury. The motions felt almost routine... their paths in her mind worn smooth from repeated use. She had done this before... remembered doing this before. At least, if she truly were insane, it came with some fringe benefit in a situation like this, huh? Orah had to resist the urge to grin in that moment, knowing it would probably come across as less than stable.
"Is this all of it, or is there more?" She said as she released his hands to bend to her bag, throwing the flap open to dig around inside. The type of medical supplies she would need for an injury this severe were just not what she carried around with her... as much as she regretted that now. There were still hospitals one could go to for major injury, there was no need to rely on a handful of overworked doctors and nurses. There was no need for medical kits... but at least she had had the foresight to keep some small bit of first aid with her at all times. When she came up again, there was a small snick of a metal release and a switch blade's bright steel caught the light from her hand.
This was going to look crazy strange to passerby... thank god there were few. She didn't have the luxury of worrying what anyone thought of a bloodied man being fussed over by a young woman in the middle of the sidewalk so near to the university. Injury first... his wound was priority.
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Posted: Fri Feb 13, 2015 8:59 pm
Shale winced softly as she peeled back his hands to observe the damage. Skin left agape, the adipose tissue exposed along with the muscle beneath. Most of it lay intact, but the shredded few protested greatly at any attempt in movement. His limp could not be prevented - that much he recognized immediately.
"A hospital is out of the question. No medical insurance." And no want of their care. I am so used to nursing my own wounds, but they were never this severe. I don't like that I have to rely on her for this. The alternative, though... Hands closed over the wound again to desperately encourage clotting, and Shale watched her despite the thin sheen of cold sweat and faltering consciousness. "If you can fix this, I would be grateful. Otherwise, help me find someone who can - and will do it cheaply." The pain of his wounds often urged his mouth shut, teeth gritted and pressed firmly to mitigate some of the pain. It enunciated his jawline with muscles contracted to stiffness.
"There is no more than this." And it's hardly a time to go looking for other wounds when pain already alerts me to the deepest ones.
The click of a blade set open and willing pulled his attention off his own injuries. While the handle looked worn and paint chipped in places, the blade itself was taken care of. A few nicks remained in the flat surface of the blade, but nothing to indicate actual damage to the cutting surface. And given the motif scrawled over the handle, the blade was stylized for someone with far edgier tastes than the girl before him, who bore no hints at tribal decorum. Inwardly he wondered if she consistently obscured her natural inclinations and dressing habits from the world, or if the knife landed in her possession by some other cause.
Many of the woods know to mislead. It begets survival. Yet in these streets, misdirection seems a cherished component of their culture.
"Were you planning to cut my clothes off or deepen the wound? Neither are necessary," he hissed through clenched teeth. "Put the knife away. It holds no use here."
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Posted: Fri Feb 13, 2015 9:41 pm
She could hear the pain in his voice, but there was nothing she could do to relieve it right now. Had she been back in the hospital, if she'd still had her crystal... but she didn't. All she had was a pair of inexperienced hands, a willingness to help, and what little she had managed to recover of her training.
No hospital?
"But..." Orah stammered, and then blew out a frustrated breath. No health insurance? "Would you rather die?"
It was ridiculous, but it was hard to rebuke him when she herself avoided hospitals... For different reasons, but still. Knife held loosely, with the familiarity of long handling, Orah gestured at his shirt with her free hand.
"The shirt needs off. Its already ruined and its in the way." She said firmly, dark eyes serious. "I can help you, but you have to let me do it. If you don't want the whole thing off, then I'll take the part in the way... I want to use it to pack the wound and wrap it. It'll holder tighter than your hands. I don't have suture materials with me, so either I take you home with me or I pick up some at the drugstore a few blocks over, but you need something to slow the bleeding now. Please."
It was surprising, how frustrating his wariness was. Had she gotten so used to people simply doing as instructed? It had been so long since she had treated anyone who didn't know her by name or face, and trusted her care. It was something of a reminder, how different things were now. And how surreal this moment was. A man, savaged by a monster, attempting to be tended by a young girl with phantom medical training. They were both insane, truly, because he didn't seem to find this the least bit odd either.
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Posted: Sun Feb 15, 2015 10:04 pm
"I don't think it struck anything vital. It becomes a consideration of scarification more than survival." I hold no favor for unbroken skin, unlike this culture. I can take the scars that I am dealt. Exsanguination is still a concern. I need medical attention regardless of my choice.
Wordlessly Shale's hands left the wounds and tugged his shirt away as gingerly as possible. The spread of tattoos grew far more obvious, with the great symbol sprawling over his chest and encircled by red. Were it another time, they may prove a talking point, but now they nearly blended into the wound itself for further confusion. Shale attempted to straighten up, though he could not reach his normal height with the muscles damaged as they were. Hands clenched while they wanted to seek the wounds and apply pressure again.
I've never been injured this badly before. Even if logic dictates that I will survive this, the base fear remains. If a mistaken assault by ally leaves me in such a condition, then deliberate battle instigated by my foes may lead to far worse outcomes. I cannot tread carelessly through this experience. If I do, I will meet a similar fate as my brother. Caution takes precedence.
The shirt was wadded and stretched tight between his fists for a long moment when the pain dug deeper into his tolerance. Afterward he pressed the length of material to the deeper gash, while neglecting the puncture wounds on the opposite side. He doubled over with a seething hiss, waiting for the pain of newly added pressure to abate. "Whichever is closer," he responded with eyes locked on her feet from his position. "I don't have a preference beyond expedience."
And I need to learn far more of this war than the Negaverse's training manual explains, provided that experience does not lead to far worse outcomes...
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Posted: Mon Feb 16, 2015 6:27 pm
Scarification more than survival... Orah's mouth drew into a line of exasperation that quickly changed to concern as he began to pull his shirt off himself.
"Wait...!" Was all she managed before he pulled it off and revealed a set of wide shoulders and toned chest decorated liberally with tattoos. It gave her pause to see it and she had to shake herself out of staring to deal with him pressing the shirt to his side.
"Shale!" Orah said, her tone sharp and rebuking. Her motions were stiff as she folded her blade away and tucked the knife into her pocket. "I was going to cut it so you didn't hurt yourself getting it off and possibly make the wound worse!"
Dropping to a knee, she dug for something else among the books and notebooks she had brought with her. When the young woman came back up, she had a couple of square packages of gauze in one hand and an ace bandage in the other. Tucking the bandge roll under her arm, she ripped the packages open to free the sterile gauze. These went to the punctures he wasn't try to hold. The tight set of her lips kept her from grumbling about his state, but it showed in her motions.
"Hold this." She demanded as she pushed one end under his hands and set to wrapping the whole of the bandage around his torso, pulling it tight to replace the pressure of his hold. It forced her to get closer to him than she would have normally with her arms around his chest, but in a huff as she was and focused on the task at hand, it was easier to ignore what would have made her uncomfortable and shy before. Orah had dealt with worse than this in her time at camp... tending him now was a reminder of everything she had been sorely missing these last few months.
"It'll be easiest, and cleanest, to deal with this at my apartment." She said as she finished off the wrapping with the little pins that would hold it in place. "Its not far from here, just down the block and around the corner. Can you walk that far?"
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Posted: Tue Feb 17, 2015 7:39 pm
Her objections were well-meaning, but exasperating in their own manner. If you had articulated that sooner, I wouldn't have tried. But to say so just invites argument. The wounds are not worse, and that is what matters.
Shale cooperated wordlessly in pinning the ace bandage to his side, but the pressure of it over painful wounds elicited breath holding and quick winces complete with a hiss through teeth. It seemed she knew well enough what she was doing, even if her procedure felt unsteady or lacking confidence. Yet she already knew more than he concerning deep trauma, which was already a boon. The makeshift bandages held blood well enough to prevent seeping through to the wrappings just yet. Overall it seemed he would survive it with little incident - and well enough, too, since his own lack of foresight led to such injury. Had he considered powering up to face the creature initially, the encounter would've met a much cleaner end.
Lessons learned, he supposed.
An invitation to the house must mean something different here, he thought before he tested a slow gait. The wounds protested any movement in the hips but it was unavoidable lest he army crawl the distance of a city block. "It should be fine if I'm careful." Such conscientiousness for his injuries was demonstrated in taking short, light steps with slow movements that minimized exacerbation of the lacerations. Luckily the streets were mostly empty, yet the lamps provided substantial luminance to identify their path, and the city maintained its own predictable straight lines and ninety degree angles to prevent losing one's way. Idly he considered that even the blind may find their way without stick or guide here., but thought nothing more of it.
"Your help is appreciated," he managed in strained tones. "Normally the injury is left for the injured to tend. Only their family would undertake the task. For another to do so invites responsibility for that soul. I wager the same is not necessarily true here, with the large number of hospitals and high volume of medical personnel." Or the war exacts such a high death toll that the city lacks for family members to take care of it. Or the number of injured turning up at the hospitals demand more to be built to handle the influx, and subsequently more medical personnel to handle the shifts. I cannot even say which. Perhaps Slate would know, were he still here.Whimsical Blue can change venues in your post!
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Posted: Tue Feb 17, 2015 8:57 pm
Standing to the side with her hands out to catch him if he faltered, Orah let Shale take a few ginger steps and studied his gate. It wasn't ideal... he was hurt pretty badly, but he should make it. Hopefully. It wasn't like she was going to be able to carry him without powering up and there was no way she was doing that. Taking a moment to grab her bag off the ground and sling the strap across her chest, the young woman hovered by his elbow on his stronger side, ready to provide support should he need it.
"You're welcome... I would have helped anyone in your condition." She kept careful pace with him, her steps shortened as she frowned thoughtfully. "Where are you from? It sounds like a very small community, to be able to function that way. Someone who is injured... its hard to self treat. You have to deal with the pain and the limited reach, and the wound itself getting in your way... Its so much easier to have someone else do it. Wherever you are from... it must depend on a family structure a lot more than here."
It wasn't a subject she was unfamiliar with... despite the medical tent, many in the camp had self-treated, including Thraen. She'd even self-treated on occasion... to her friends' dismay. Finding a place like that in this time period though... it was strange. This man was very strange to her... and the more she saw, the more she wondered.
They made their slow, painful way down the block to the apartment building and Orah dug her keys out of her bag to let them in, holding the door open as she watched Shale with concern. At least there was an elevator to the top floor where the apartment she share with her room mates was... and there were no prying eyes about at this time of the evening as people settled in for the night. The elevator binged and the door opened with a soft whoosh, the young woman sliding inside to hold the door for him again. One hand on the door, she reached to hit the proper button, turning back to track his progress.
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Posted: Sat Feb 21, 2015 6:46 am
Each step provided liberal reminders of each muscle in his body that he used when walking, particularly of the injured variant. Even the lightest, gingerly step provoked a shock of pain that urged the man to grit his teeth until he enunciated his jawline. While it was a painful and entirely slow endeavor, remaining where they were spelled further disaster than simply retreating into someone's home, considering that if further youma appear, he may be hard pressed to transform with others watching.
The questions offered by Orah seemed a good distraction from such thoughts, if not ideal. "It is a small community. It's... Significantly different from here." It's difficult to decide at what point is sharing more information than I should give to an outlier, and how much is considered boring in this culture. I don't know if she was expecting just a passing answer, either. "Family structure is a strong influence. Since we are of small number, there's no need for a hospital. Only those with hazardous occupation find themselves hurt often. Or kids that play beyond their means. I could say injury is treated differently, but I don't know the full process here." Yet.
By the time they reached the apartment complex, he questioned if he said too much. However, he knew the location of the village or its customs were never meant to be fully concealed from curious eyes - they simply were, and it was considered a fortunate phenomenon. The few stragglers that discovered the place received a frigid shunning by post of the populace, save for the more extroverted and curious children, but the rest of their family often prevented such shenanigans from coming to pass. Those who went to town market and met their vendors knew they existed to some degree. Perhaps, in a grander scheme, there was no worry for telling Orah any of his origins.
He remained mostly quiet upon reaching the elevator, and leaned against its metal wall while he entrusted some of his weight to the hand rail. It helped a margin to relieve some of the pressure on the beleaguered muscles. However, the ride was not long and as they slowed to the stop, the elevator let out a bing and opened its doors to a young, blonde mother pushing a pink and blue stroller with one small child inside. He spared the mother a glance upon passing, though she seemed to be averse to any interaction. She stalked inside with a certain gait that belied her wariness and interest in protecting her child.
The doors closed on her without a trace. For the quickest second, he wondered if she was real.
Upon passing the various apartments, he noted the great span of wall between each door. These places must be quite large. The apartment I've been hosted in does not offer these kinds of gaps. But there was little time to speculate, as they already reached the threshold of the apartment that Orah kept.
Tensions born from culture urged him to object, but he tried to stymie the incredulity as he already did once before.
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Posted: Sat Feb 21, 2015 9:07 pm
Getting joined in the elevator was not ideal, not with Shale shirtless and bleeding. When the mother and child got on, she shifted to put herself between them, shielding the worst of the injury from view with her body. It put her close to him and she cast her eyes to the side, looking anywhere but at him while they rode in silence.
Small community... family structure... No hospital? It was strange, but she supposed there were places on this earth with stranger cultures. Maybe it was a small town in the mountains or desert or something, deeper in the wilderness than most and used to depending on each other than on any one outside.
When they reached the proper floor, Orah let out the breath she had been holding and led the way to her apartment door. Keys jingled as she dug them out of her pocket and fumbled open the door, shoving it with her shoulder to hold it open as she turned back for Shale.
"Here, sit at the counter." She said as she let him inside, noticing his hesitation but thinking it the pain of his wound. The thought that he might not like entering her home never even occurred. This had been closest and easiest... there was no other consideration on her end, nor reticence about letting a stranger in. There probably should have been, in all honesty, but he was injured and the Nurse in her spoke louder.
The entry way was open, offering a view inwards to the large living room and the kitchen off to the right. Everything was immaculately clean, down even to the rug under their feet. Walls of a bright white set off the warm browns and cool blues of the furniture, everything comfortable and meant for socialization, rather than display. There were many pictures in frames, smiling faces beaming from all over. It was obvious which belonged to Orah and which to her room mate, but there was no placement distinction between them.
Leaving him to take one of the wooden stools at the peninsula, the young woman headed to the right and the rooms located down the short hall. There was a soft sound of knocking and a name being called before she entered the guest room, making for the medical supplies kept in the closet.
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Posted: Sun Feb 22, 2015 5:46 pm
After a measure of hesitation, Shale slipped inside and offered a thorough glance to his surroundings before he started to walk further into her abode. The clusters oh photographs held few commonalities - mostly a black-haired boy with glasses, or Orah herself. He wagered that the other one must've been a roommate of sorts, or a lover, as they lacked a great many characteristics between each other to be considered relatives. The size of the apartment suggested multiple occupants, but lately he had been exposed to those who hoard these multiple bedrooms for minutia like offices, or craft rooms, or even exercise rooms.
However, a glance through a doorway offered a view of a bed, along with more of the same photographs found in the main hall. This, he suspected, was the black-haired one's room.
Shale was not afforded much time to dally; between the pain of standing and Orah's urges, he approached the bar of the kitchen at a slower clip and took a seat gingerly. Fingers found the edge of the counter where they pressed hard to white out the skin momentarily, and the tension helped distract from mounting pain in his beleaguered sides. Yet as he waited, Orah knocked on a room further away before she entered slowly and disappeared for reasons entirely beyond him.
Would someone keep medical supplies in their bedrooms? A bathroom seems the likelier location, with its 'medicine cabinets' and 'first aid kits'. I don't know. I can ask later if it still concerns me.
While he waited, Shale unbuttoned and unzipped his pants to relax some of the tension around his hips. It felt significantly more relieving to the muscles around the wrap, though the injuries themselves yearned for similar treatment. And if Orah intended to stitch any of the wounds together, then they would inevitably require unwrapping... So Shale popped off the two metal pins that held the ace bandage in place and began slowly unwinding the material from itself. As always, it clung desperately to itself before coming off in a thick peeling sound.
Once he reached the wounds themselves, he took extra care in unwrapping so that the packs of gauze fell into his hand rather than on the floor. The bloodied material was piled into his lap while he looked over the wounds, which now threatened to bleed once more. The glance alone afforded more than enough information for him, and Shale quickly tossed the ace bandage onto the counter and pressed both the gauze and the bloodied shirt to their respective locations.
Hopefully this is a straightforward process.
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Posted: Sun Feb 22, 2015 7:32 pm
When the young woman came back, it was with more than just a small first aid kit. The waterproof box she carried was larger than one might expect and she had both a towel and a set of clothes under her arm. The box and clothes went onto the counter, the towel on the floor under Shale's stool. Her kitchen was not an ideal surgery, but it would have to do.
Water gurgled from the faucet as Orah washed her hands, a pair of latex gloves from the case going on after to minimize danger to her from whatever might be in Shale's blood. She noted that he had removed the bandage she had put on him, but it wasn't something to worry about now. She would have had to remove it herself anyway.
Retrieving something from the case, the yougng woman went to fill a glass with water and bring it to set in front of her guest. She twisted the top off a bottle of pills and shook the maximum dose out into her hand, offering them in turn to him.
"Here, take these, they'll help with the pain. Its just ibuprofen. I'm afraid I don't have anything for the wound itself while I'm stitching." She said. One of the many frustrations of being tossed back to a time when she was not a fully trained nurse... the scrape and struggle to offer the sort of care she could have offered with ease in the future.
"I haven't... done this in a while." Orah admitted, trying to appear confident in her skills while still being honest with him. Her fingers drummed restlessly against the counter before she stilled them, curling them under and into her palm. "Its going to be a little rough."
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Posted: Sun Feb 22, 2015 8:39 pm
For a time, Shale only looked at the offered glass of water. Inwardly he grappled with the request to take them, and the necessary release of the pressure over one of the two sets of wounds. Finally he decided that temporary release of pressure wouldn't amount to much in the end, and he moved the gauze packets from his puncture wounds to take the medicine offered. They went down easily enough with a few swift gulps, even if he detested the bitter aftertaste. Any relief offered would have to do.
Orah's confession offered little influence over his situation in either direction. He watched her steadily, judgments constrained behind his gaze, before his attention turned to the fingers on the table. "It would not be my worst experience," he admitted, with two occurrences coming to mind and both not fit for normal conversation. Most people of this culture expressed disgust for scars, and while only one experience resulted in a scar, the other enforced an indelible change over his condition. And considering Xenotime's words, sharing such an experience with someone wasn't the keenest of ideas.
He could fabricate a hunting story to provide comparative proof, but backing up his response hardly seemed necessary.
"Take your time, if you need. I am patient with pain." Our bodies were made for it. If we endured no pain, no stress, then we would die in half the time. Through arduousness comes longevity. I wonder if this consideration holds any merit in your culture. Or even beyond that, with you. Our cultures only offer so much background before individuality fine tunes the rest. It may be that you view pain as something that must be exterminated and you cannot consider any other point of view.
I wonder if it's hypocrisy, then, to take those painkillers. I cannot imagine they will mitigate the entirety of the process. Even so, the mending period afterward delivers its own tension. There will be no free scar.
"If you would tell me about yourself during the process... I would appreciate it. Conversation gives distraction." More importantly, it helps orient to present company.
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Posted: Sun Feb 22, 2015 9:32 pm
Some of her tension eased as he swallowed the pills. He was somewhat biddable, at least. It made things easier, that he put such trust in a stranger... but it was worrying, as well. It benefited her for being able to help him, but there were many people in the city who could take advantage of it. If it had been an agent of the Negaverse that had happened on him, it was doubtful he would have survived it or gone uncorrupted. He was new to Destiny City... he had no idea how dangerous it was for the unwary.
Digging into the case she had brought out, Orah withdrew the materials for stitching and set them on a sterile pad she unfolded on the counter. She arranged them neatly, sneaking glances at Shale as she worked. Not his worst? With what little she had glimpsed of his background, she wondered. His wound was not the worst she had ever experienced personally either, but in her case, she had a whole other life to account for it.
Fingering the suture material brought up another frustrating point though... This was as far as she knew to go. The actual how... she was going to need a refresher.
"You may be patient, but I still regret causing you more pain." She said she left the kitchen for the living room, returning with the laptop from the desk by the balcony door. She opened the top and began an internet search for medical texts, fingers moving lightly over the keys. "Just because you can endure something doesn't mean you should have to."
Her hands hesitated and she blinked as she glanced up at Shale, feeling suddenly awkward as he took a strange track and asked for more information... about her.
"I don't... I mean... There isn't much of interest to tell." She hedged as she dug a bottle out of the case and filled it at the sink, grabbing a clean rag from a drawer. Circling the counter, Orah gently pulled Shale's hands away from the wound and let the bloody cloth fall to the towel on the tile floor. She set to work rinsing away the blood and cleaning the wound, using the rag on the unbroken skin. Surprisingly, he had undone his pants while she'd been occupied, but she pushed that to the back of her thoughts, focusing on his side instead.
"I believe I already told you my father owns a flower shop and that I'm a nursing student now. I'm kind of boring, beyond that... I don't do much, but study and go to school. Sometimes I hang out with my friends. I share this apartment with two of them... Arian has the room over there and Liam is staying in our guest room while he's between places." She said as water sluiced down his skin, exposing what was blood and what was blood-red tattoo. So much of him was covered in it... it made her wonder again why he'd chosen the decorations he had.
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