>~< -- Hatching Sands

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Date Posted: 20:40:46 04/21/05 Thu
Author: Marja; D'rai; Z'ni
Subject: >~<
In reply to: Sahira 's message, "Ow!!!! WHERE THE SHARDING NUMBWEED?!?!?!" on 15:00:05 04/21/05 Thu

((Please excuse the minor power-playing; these ARE pretty big gentlemen here. Also please excuse the crappy post quality, because I had all of two hours of sleep last night and it's starting to show. >_< Oh, Sahira - which arm?))

"Oh-" For a moment, Marja is somewhere between frustrated and furious. The Sands are downright crowded; can't anybody spare a hand for two badly injured people? "Be careful!" she cautions them both, glancing around.

Then a young man, tall and husky - downright hulking, in fact - approaches at a fast clip, concern written across his face. "Careful, miss," D'rai cautions Sahira, bending and hauling her to her feet as gently as possible. He can only imagine what it must feel like to be getting sand in those gashes. "Here, let me help. Where do you want them, Healer?" he asks Marja.

About to redirect him to Isabel, whose abdominal wounds make walking on her own risky, Marja sees a slightly younger man built along the same lines as D'rai, and bearing a distinctly familial resemblance, sliding Isabel's arm around his neck and taking most of her weight onto his shoulders. "Over by the wall," she says quickly, pointing, then moves to join Z'ni and take Isabel's other side.

"Thank you," the Healer tells them gratefully as both girls are eased gently down to the sand, Isabel on her back, Sahira seated. The younger brother opens his mouth, but she cuts him off with a quick order. "One of you, please, use your shirts or the end of her robe and put some pressure on those wounds." She points at Sahira. "I need to take care of the other girl first. And whoever doesn't do that, can you run to the Lower Caverns and find me some water?" Marja doesn't like taking charge, but she seems to be the only person here who has any idea of what to do, and the Healer in her won't let shyness overtake the needs of her patients. As D'rai rushes off, she bends over Isabel, parting the rents in the white robe to get a better look at the girl's injuries. "This is going to hurt," she warns. "But please try not to move. The quicker we get this patched up, the better." She'd like to cut the robe off, and she still will if she has to, but in a large, mixed-gender crowd, if it's not going to get in her way she won't embarass the girl. The green's claws have left some shallow gashes on the redhead's collarbones and shoulders, but they're not important right now. As gently as possible, she probes around the far nastier wounds lower down - five deep, parallel slashes running diagonally across the girl's abdomen, three continuing down her left thigh. They're deep, and if any stress is put on them the abdominal cavity could be breached... but the talons didn't penetrate down to the entrails. The Healer breathes a silent sigh of relief. Even a Master would be challenged by pierced intestines, and she's only a Journeyman. But this, she can deal with.

Over beside Sahira, D'rai has pulled off his jacket and wrapped it around her arm, keeping a firm grip on the reddening fabric. He only has two hands, unfortunately, and as big as they are he can't hold her arm with one alone, so he can't put pressure on the cut above the girl's eye. It doesn't look serious, but like all head wounds, it bleeds a lot. Fortunately, though D'rai is for the most part medically illiterate, he's endured enough headwounds himself that he knows that much, and isn't tempted to panic and summon the Healer over. And while he's not the brightest glow in the basket, it doesn't take him more than a few moments to solve the problem presented by his lack of a third hand. Pulling a small wrapped parcel from his pocket, he shakes it so the meatroll he'd been saving falls to the sand and then drops the napkin in Sahira's lap before quickly returning that hand to her arm. Only one of her arms is slashed up, after all. "Could you hold that to your forehead?" the bluerider asks her solicticiously.

Meanwhile, Z'ni has returned with a pot of water, warm from the hearth (it was obviously meant for stew, but nothing had been added quite yet, and snatching it was quicker than filling an empty vessel). Marja motions for him to maintain pressure on the fold of once-white robe she'd been pressing against Isabel's stomach to stem the flow while she waited, then leans back from her patient for a moment, wiping her bloody hands on a clean cloth slung over her knee for just that purpose, and rummages around in her bag. "I'm going to have to stitch those," she tells Isabel. "Don't worry, I'll dose you with fellis first. I'm afraid it will knock you out of contention for a dragon - I can't imagine a hatchling could Impress someone drugged into sleep - but it will have to be stitched, and I am doing it now, and I will not have you die of shock because you're being stupidly stubborn." Her tone brooks no argument, and she tilts the girl's head up and touches the mouth of a bottle against Isabel's lips, the first few drops of fellis juice beginning to flow downwards.

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Replies:

Nooooooooo *wails* -- Isabel & Ina, 00:50:40 04/22/05 Fri
- Oh man. -- Jari, 00:58:53 04/22/05 Fri