G A R E T H
The warm playfulness with which she responded to him was a good sign. It meant the herbs were working, that she was beginning to feel better, more comfortable. It pained the medic to know that he was going to break that comfortability, shatter the otherwise pleasant atmosphere they had delicately woven together. She spoke concerns of other predators, and he couldn’t deny that was a concern of his as well. He didn’t want to show it to her, though. The mare had enough troubles on her mind, and she would need all of her strength and attention to keep herself from bolting, so that she could heal, so that they could move on and he could get some actual damn medicine.
If Gareth was to be honest with himself, he was working with scraps, with leftovers. He made it look simple, easy, but inside he was trembling. He was struggling between the need for them to keep moving so that he could care for her properly, and the knowledge that if he pushed her too far, she’d be getting a lifetime of rest if her limbs were destroyed. The blizzard outside would ground them, and part of him was grateful for it. It was as if nature herself knew that rest was the only option, even as his nerves quivered. Over what had been a miniscule tick on the clock, Pangaea had opened up to him, had trusted him to take care of her, had trusted in his knowledge and skill and placed herself at his mercy.
Was she right to do so?
The stallion hoped so. He took a deep breath, looking towards the entrance to the main cavern, quiet for a long moment. “If anything comes,” he said, his gaze returning to hers, rich vocals like thunder and eyes like steel. “I’ll deal with it.”
Then he got to work, smearing the paste around the wound, allowing it to sit while he grabbed another handful of linens, dunking them into the cauldron all at once. He was going to need them. His first point of order was to make sure that the entrance of the injury was free and clear, so that he could coax out any puss that may be hiding, any infected blood, any grit from travel that had embedded itself into her flesh.
He tried to be gentle with her, as much as he could, but there was no helping the sensitivity. It was perhaps one of the worst wounds he’d ever seen, having gone so long without proper treatment, through a battery of survival, his own attack. A pit dropped in his stomach, knowing that some of this damage was his own doing. How much of her pain had been his fault? How much more sorrow had he caused her? He pushed the thoughts away. Noor would have been appalled at how guilty the brute was behaving. How he was nearly dismissive of her actions that led to his intervention.
It hadn’t been her fault, though, not really. Starvation and pain did many cruel things to an animal, regardless of intelligence, personality or any other civil reason. He had come to understand that Pangaea was a bright mare, a fine whit, honourable, stoic if not hardheaded, and a right pleasant person to be around. She was not the ravenous monster that his Bonded had thought she was. That she thought she was, at the behest of a world too wrapped in its own ego to see her brilliance, her strength, her resilience.
For her sake he moved with confidence, swift as he worked to clean her wound; reapplying the numbing paste, what little of it he could. His audits were pinned back against his skull to protect them from any sound that came from her lips. He hunched over her, a protective stance, putting himself between her and the entrance to the main cavern. He didn’t believe that any beast would be out hunting in this weather, but on the chance her cries attracted some nasty piece of work, Gareth would not allow any further harm to come to her.
If Gareth was to be honest with himself, he was working with scraps, with leftovers. He made it look simple, easy, but inside he was trembling. He was struggling between the need for them to keep moving so that he could care for her properly, and the knowledge that if he pushed her too far, she’d be getting a lifetime of rest if her limbs were destroyed. The blizzard outside would ground them, and part of him was grateful for it. It was as if nature herself knew that rest was the only option, even as his nerves quivered. Over what had been a miniscule tick on the clock, Pangaea had opened up to him, had trusted him to take care of her, had trusted in his knowledge and skill and placed herself at his mercy.
Was she right to do so?
The stallion hoped so. He took a deep breath, looking towards the entrance to the main cavern, quiet for a long moment. “If anything comes,” he said, his gaze returning to hers, rich vocals like thunder and eyes like steel. “I’ll deal with it.”
Then he got to work, smearing the paste around the wound, allowing it to sit while he grabbed another handful of linens, dunking them into the cauldron all at once. He was going to need them. His first point of order was to make sure that the entrance of the injury was free and clear, so that he could coax out any puss that may be hiding, any infected blood, any grit from travel that had embedded itself into her flesh.
He tried to be gentle with her, as much as he could, but there was no helping the sensitivity. It was perhaps one of the worst wounds he’d ever seen, having gone so long without proper treatment, through a battery of survival, his own attack. A pit dropped in his stomach, knowing that some of this damage was his own doing. How much of her pain had been his fault? How much more sorrow had he caused her? He pushed the thoughts away. Noor would have been appalled at how guilty the brute was behaving. How he was nearly dismissive of her actions that led to his intervention.
It hadn’t been her fault, though, not really. Starvation and pain did many cruel things to an animal, regardless of intelligence, personality or any other civil reason. He had come to understand that Pangaea was a bright mare, a fine whit, honourable, stoic if not hardheaded, and a right pleasant person to be around. She was not the ravenous monster that his Bonded had thought she was. That she thought she was, at the behest of a world too wrapped in its own ego to see her brilliance, her strength, her resilience.
For her sake he moved with confidence, swift as he worked to clean her wound; reapplying the numbing paste, what little of it he could. His audits were pinned back against his skull to protect them from any sound that came from her lips. He hunched over her, a protective stance, putting himself between her and the entrance to the main cavern. He didn’t believe that any beast would be out hunting in this weather, but on the chance her cries attracted some nasty piece of work, Gareth would not allow any further harm to come to her.
"Speech" || @Pangaea |
