With every wobbling step, it felt like her charmed life was crashing down. Born and raised as a princess among princesses, Anandi had never actually been on the receiving end of a wound, with the exception of what she wrote off as love bites.
Sisters would be sisters.
This was different. This was real. Three jagged claw marks sank deep into her shoulder.
If it were not her own blood, she would be able to smell it from a mile away. As it is, the blood is all she can smell. And it should terrify her, and in some ways it does but--
crisp, slick copper. hot, salty red.
The scent makes her feel so… so alive.
And the pain, like nothing she’s felt before, sharp and electric and wanting to be unzipped.
It also felt like a new life was rising to take that charmed life’s place, and she did not feel an ounce of regret for her actions.
When the emissary staggers the hospital, she is preceded by the scent of salt and blood. The wound is fresh and not yet clotted. The dragon cut into her shoulder cleanly, but only the gods know where those filthy claws had been before sinking into her flesh. Dirty little creature.
“H-help!” She calls up into the canopy through gritted teeth. Her nostrils are flared and her breathing is heavy. “I need a fucking medic.” Rage and pain twist her face into a snarl that is not very becoming at all.
My pain will be red like a ripe cherry mashed on a white tile–
amaira can smell the blood before she sees who it belongs to. She’s found that her senses have learned and adapted to illness and injury, overtime. But even aside from that, this is a lot of blood. The pegasus thinks she could smell it from up in the canopy, but as it is, she is rummaging through one of the supply rooms located on the ground floor of the hospital.
When she hears the call for help, she turns—
And is shocked to find Anandi standing there, in the dappled winter sun, shoulder dripping fresh blood. Almost subconsciously, she pulls a bottle of saline liquid and a package of sterile gauze from the closet before moving over to the Emissary.
Her steps sound like heartbeats on the wood underhoof. “Andi,” she says, voice somewhere between choking concern and exclamation. Though she catches the tail end of the woman’s final refrain and cannot help but raise a brow. “It’s good to see that serious injury has not compromised your grace,” and it’s, perhaps, the first time an honest smile has turned up the corner of her lips in a long time.
Samaira pops the lid on the saline and begins to pour it over the wounds, rinsing away some of the blood so that she can see what they are dealing with here. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” an invitation—the deep cuts can be treated easily without knowing the cause, but it will not satiate her personal curiosity.
“We’ll have to get you upstairs into one of the rooms, but I want to try and stop some of the bleeding,” she begins, “but first, it seems you will learn what my bonded can do.” The pegasus glances up into the canopy, knowing that Alaunus is probably with another patient somewhere. “Alaunus, I need you down on the ground, please,” she speaks across their bond. She feels more than hears his response, like an awareness and confirmation. He will be with them soon.
From the blurred haze of her pain and anger, a familiar face takes shape. It comes suddenly into sharp focus; the beautiful brown locks of hair, the mysterious, mesmerizing lines of tattoos. “Samaira.” The rage softens, and the kelpie’s fury yields to a smile. That smile is made all the sweeter for its brevity as the pain twists her face into a grimace. That damn dragon had ripped open the door of her flesh to let pain in, and pain was a selfish, greedy thing. It did not care about the emissary's notions of etiquette. It did not care about propriety. It only wanted to sink and spread and sting, and it did these things with exceeding efficiency.
“It’s nice to see you,” she exhales, flutters her lashes, pretends for just a moment that she isn’t covered in blood and breathless with pain. We should have known a pretty face would make the pain easier for the emissary to swallow. I should have come sooner, the thought occurs to her. I’ve just been so busy… And, she admits to herself, building a relationship with the doctor would provide little to no political advantage. Brushing shoulders with politicians, queens, and champions would get her farther.
But Samaira was one of the first horses she had met. One of the first she could call a friend. One of the few. Surely friendship has value?
Anandi gasps sharply as the saline runs over the wound. Her thoughts instantly return to the present, the pain. “A fucking dragon happened to me,” she snarls, disgusted and furious. The whole event was a complete debacle, one she was not particularly keen to share the details of... But the ways in which she was a victim, those she would be quick to illuminate.
And then the bird comes, the one she once offhandedly (unapologetically) thought about eating. She smells him first-- warm feathers, warm blood-- and then hears the whisper of wings, and then he’s there, white and beautiful. Anandi looks at him, really looks, and is a little unnerved by the intelligence in his eyes.
When the kelpie speaks next she sounds a little smaller. Uncertain. Aware of her vanity, and unapologetic for it. It seems she would always be unapologetic. “Will it scar?” She looks to Samaira with sudden trepidation. "Please don't let it scar."
My pain will be red like a ripe cherry mashed on a white tile–
amaira meets the Emissary’s smile with one of her own, one she hopes expresses comfort and warmth. “It’s good to see you,” she responds, not thinking about the fact that she hasn’t seen the green-eyed woman since their meeting on the cliffs, since their walk to the court. There is so much she doesn’t think about, so much she doesn’t let in.
The Doctor is used to loneliness, used to being on her own.
At least she has Alaunus, who chooses that moment to arrive at her side. He lands gracefully before the grey mare and looks at the wound with bright sky eyes. At the mention of a dragon, the heron visibly ruffles his feathers. “I would say you did pretty well considering what you went up against,” Samaira comments quietly, almost thoughtfully. She doesn’t ask how Anandi got tangled with a dragon, but it’s good to know what caused the wound.
“Alaunus will be able to relieve your pain, and then we can get you into an exam room,” the earthen woman tells Andi, stepping away from the bleeding shoulder to give her bonded room to maneuver closer. And closer he does get, spreading the feathers of one wing over the wound. His feathers shine with iridescence in the pale winter sun.
He closes his eyes, and draws away as much of Anandi’s pain as he can. “Hopefully this will steady your steps and keep you from being in too much discomfort,” Samaira explains, watching as Alaunus takes to the canopy and the sky above to release the ache he had drawn into himself.
She’s surprised at the slightness of Andi’s voice when the Emissary speaks next, and Samaira offers a soft smile, just the smallest upturn of the corner of her lips. “We will do the best that we can,” she turns toward the lifts that lead up to the main rooms of the hospital, “are you ready to head up?”
The two mares are more similar than the kelpie realizes; although, of course it wouldn't occur to her that she is not entirely unique. Her situation is certainly unusual, and as a result she operates under the assumption that no one else here would understand her-- that no one else was lonely to the precise degree she was.
So the two lonely girls meet once more, this time with blood in the air.
And, of course, Alaunus is there too. The heron is beautiful in a way that seems otherworldly. As he comes closer, naturally, her mind follows where the stomach and its curiosity lead. What would the bird taste like, beneath those sleek feathers… Fatty, like duck?
She lowers her longing gaze, silently berating herself. Alanus was a friend of Samaira, and so he was off limits. Of course he was. When he spreads a wing over a shoulder she looks from the corner of her eye, like a guilty puppy. His feathers, iridescent in the pale sunlight, have a holy sort of gleam to them. It strikes her suddenly the extent to which he is beautiful. And then she learns of the gift he brings to the world.
Anandi smiles, hazy, the pain not lifted so much as smeared around, blurred at the edges. “What is he?” Her gaze follows the bird up and away into the canopy. Did it hurt him, to do what he did? For a brief moment she is surprised by her own concern, and then she dismisses her emotions entirely. They often did nothing but weigh her down. And she simply did not have time for that right now.
“Yes, I’m ready.” She glances up, not knowing what to expect further in the hospital. Suddenly feeling foolish for having never been here before. On diplomatic visits she often spoke of the excellence of the Dusk Court Hospital, yet she had never even seen it for herself. Well, now the emissary would have firsthand experience to share. She almost laughs.
It occurs to her then that she’s lost a lot of blood.
“Thank you, Samaira…” She leans into her winged friend, presses her lips to the other mare’s temple. Breathes in deeply, then out in a warm rush. “Thank you.”
amaira’s own eyes follow Alaunus until he disappears up and through the canopy. “He’s called a Caladrius. Him, and others like him, take illness, pain and injury all into themselves and then fly toward the sun, which burns it all away.” She turns back to Ananadi with gentle silver eyes.
“At least, that’s how I understand it to work,” she smiles. Her bonded can only take a certain amount of any ailment, of course, but if given multiple chances, his aid has helped speed the healing of very severe injuries in the past.
The doctor thinks of Florentine’s wing, once broken, and of Silas who very well could have died from his internal injuries.
She is turning toward the lifts when Andi’s weight leans into her. Samaira pauses, and is shocked into silence by the affection shown by the Emissary. It takes her a moment of ind her words, but Samaira carefully guides the woman forward. “Come on, let’s get you fixed up.”
The lift takes them up to the main floor of the hospital, and into a wing full of exam rooms intended for surgeries and other procedures. The earthen pegasus asks a passing medic to please fetch her ice, and they hurry off in the opposite direction.
In the room, she preps some clove oil and the necessary materials for suturing the wounds. After a few minutes, both the medic with the ice and Alaunus arrive. “Hold that to her shoulder for me?” Samaira asks, to which the medic nods and hurries forward to do so.
“Hey,” she says, drawing the Emissary’s attention, “How is your pain?” She would need to clean the wounds before sewing them closed, but the doctor would take care to numb the tissues beforehand, which is where the ice was coming in.
"Speaking."
I think we can probably wrap this up in the next round? @Anandi <3
Anandi hated this vulnerability. This flagrant display of weakness, red and warm and sticky. If it weren’t for Anouk’s insistence she would be hiding out beneath the waves, tending to (read: ignoring) the wound as best she could. Speaking of her bonded, the little water elemental is pressed to her neck, a dark stain that quivers with worry. “Are you going to be all right, Anandi? Is she going to make you better, Anandi?” The water hums, and the kelpie does her best to soothe its worries with a softness that no other living thing sees from her. “Yes Anouk, hush now. It’s just a scratch, really.”
Alaunus lifts up and away, vanishing into the canopy like a fever dream. Her last sight of him: backlit by a sun that seems far away, white wings aglow with a bright light that lingers in her eyesight long after he’s gone. “That’s incredible,” she says, blinking away the brightness. “I’ve never heard of such a creature.”
“You should learn such a trick, Anouk,” she is in good enough spirits to joke. In response, Anouk thrums with mock indignance against her neck. They both know the sea needs no such tricks.
But Anandi is only half paying attention to soothing her bonded. She carefully watches Samaira at work, noting the ease with which the doctor moves around the small room and directs the medic. It is the same quiet grace that she has come to expect of the pegasus, but in this place it is multiplied. Here is a woman in her element, and there is something absolutely captivating about it.
Despite the pain, Anandi’s senses are razor-sharp. Perhaps it is because of the scent of blood in the air- even though it is her own, it triggers something primal in the kelpie. The medic at her side is so warm, and this is only emphasized by the cold ice between them. When she closes her eyes she swears she can hear the heartbeats of the other mares in the room. It reaches for her across the stale copper air. It invites. She reins in her instincts with a tired hand. “Hey,” Samaira brings her back. “How’s your pain?”
“What pain?” She winks and smiles bravely, although a moment later the expression crumbles to a wince as the ice on her shoulder is gently readjusted. “Do what you will, doctor. I trust you.” She closes her eyes and attempts to shut down her other senses as well, and although patience was never a virtue of hers she leans into it now, and lets the long process of healing begin.
amaira looks after Alaunus as he disappears into the canopy, away to the sun, and Anandi speaks. She’s constantly reminded how grateful she is to have him as her bonded. He had been the one to heal her wing, the one to convince her to fly for the first time afterward… she breathes slowly at the thought of flying. Her heart has not been happy enough to fly for a long time.
She turns away from the window, flashing a half-smile. “He is incredible. Alaunus has helped save more lives than any of us could do on our own,” the pegasus admits, “There’s only so much medicine can do for a very serious injury.”
The doctor preps a gauze pad with clove oil, and fills a small plastic container with saline water and a small amount of mild soap. Hopefully this will clean everything to reduce the risk of infection and help with pain. When she turns back around, she offers the Emissary a more genuine smile at her response. “We’ll take care of that,” Samaira says, nodding to the medic that she can remove the ice from the wound.
Samaira begins to gently clean around the area, careful not to agitate it too hard so that it will not begin bleeding hard again. She carefully inspects it for dirt or debris, but the earlier rinse and amount of bleeding seems to have done a good job of cleaning whatever may have been in the wound.
“This will help numb the tissues, so I can stitch you up,” she says, glancing at Andi as she dries it and begins to press the clove oil soaked gauze to the skin around the wound. “If you don’t want a scar, the best I can promise you is to come back once it starts to heal and let Alaunus work on it,” the size of the wound by itself would leave a nasty scar, even with many smaller sutures.
But perhaps with Alaunus’ aid it could be healed in such a way it would be smaller. “You’re going to have to be careful not to go running around or you’ll open it back up,” the pegasus glances at the other woman with a raised brow in warning, though the corner of her lip curls slightly.
After a few minutes, Samaira begins to close up the wound with expert precision. She sutures swiftly but deftly, and carefully snips each one when she’s done. Once complete, the doctor bandages the area and prepares a lemon ginger tea mix for any pain or inflammation, and gives Anandi clear care instructions, so she can send her off hoping she’ll do what she needs to do to keep it clean while it heals.
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