Ollic didn't understand why he just stood back and watched Eshe help to clean the man's wound. Perhaps it was because there wasn't much for him to do. The room was small and foreign to him and he didn't feel well enough to get into trouble snooping about in places he shouldn't.
The man let out a small whimper as Eshe dabbed at around his wound with the alcohol swab, not giving himself a chance to answer Ollic’s previous try at conversation. After setting him back onto the patient’s seat, she gestured over toward Ollic, her hands in a frolicking position around her head as if she had just played magic with the man’s injury.
Ollic took out a plastic cup after a few chimes of scavenging through drawers for it. He then took the Rugberry tea he had taken from the shelf above and started to pour the contents into the cup. He took it over to the patient who leant over the sink, a furiously contorted face of both concern and pain strewn across his face.
The patient took it obligingly, opening his eyes slightly to see that Ollic handed him a cup. With his free hand, he put the cup to his lips and drank the beverage down, sticking his tongue out in distaste as he must not have found it flavourful.
Ollic smiled, taking the cup back and throwing into the nearby garbage disposal. He followed those actions as he took the alcohol over to the sink where he poured it over the needle to make sure that it was indeed sterile. Then, he sat back down next to the patient, scooting himself as close to the man as he could.
He tried to continue the conversation as to distract the young man from the pain that was soon to come, as the needle was near to enter his flesh. Ollic had never truly stitched someone up before. He had seen his father do it many times before, but he had never completely attempted it himself. Part of him found it irresponsible to be patching someone up with no initial experience, but the other half of him knew that it was possible he would be a genuine natural at it.
“So, I never did ask you, young man, what is your name?” The man didn’t have a chance to answer as Ollic had threaded the strand of thread through the eye of the needle and succumbed it to the surface of skin that surrounded the laceration.
A wail exited the patient’s mouth, sending shivers down Ollic’s spine, but his hand remained its hold on the needle as he crossed over the wound to another entry point a bit diagonal to his last. He punctured there too, the patient’s cry softer than the last.
Ollic gently tugged at the strand of thread before sinking it point into another position. The diagonal points were adjacent to one another, having Ollic feel proud of himself for believing in himself before starting. He knew he would know how to do something. It wasn’t too hard to sew, and his father had proved that, showing him how multiple times when he was a child.
The flesh started to ooze red fluid again as Ollic reached behind him to the counter to grab something to help dab it up. A fresh cotton swab was at the ready as he plucked it out of its jar and continue to dab at the injury. The blood soaked into the cotton swab, deeming it useless as soon as it had become useful.
Ollic found himself closed to being at the end of the line with room to sew as he quickly tugged gingerly on the thread, having the two parallel sides of flesh close together with a grotesque sucking sound that didn’t even make Ollic flinch.
Looking over his right shoulder he sought out a pair of tweezers from his healer’s kit and asked Eshe to grab them for him, both of his eyes tinted with blue for the excitement of helping someone in need and of green for the dedication and interest he had in perusing to help heal someone.
Ollic took the tweezers from his partner and began to tie the two sides of the thread into one, a small knot on the now closed wound.
The patient had stopped his whining and complaining of the pain half way through the procedure, either due to the fact that he was used to the pain or because he was too out of tears to sob.
Ollic quickly took the gauze he had set on the table next to the patient and began to wrap part of it around the patient’s freshly stitched wound. When it was thick and tight, he then ripped off the un-needed material and stuffed it back into his healer’s kit.
Ollic sat back, adding his own little flourish, mimicking those of his partners not minutes ago. He looked back at her with a small child grin, his eyes opening wide as he did so. Eshe looked that of a girl he had seen many years ago; the visions he had tried so hard to block out after his mother’s death returning to him in quick flashes.
“Eshe,” Ollic mumbled, repeating what he had once said years before. “Eshe, drink this. I can't be held accountable for someone dying.” Could it truly be her? The silly girl with all the winter clothes? The child who fell in the snow, squirming from underneath the wrath of her incredulously long skirt? The girl who barely perished from a simple cold, but had been saved by Ollic’s nimble hands and childhood medical wits?
The patient thanked his nurses before parting the room, heading for the secretary to learn about the rest of what he was meant to do to help keep his bandage clean. Rest, warm clothes and much tea, Ollic knew it all and he had done it all to the woman who stood before him, a glow radiating off of her in silent whispers.
“Eshe,” Ollic murmured, “Do you remember being in Avanthal?”
The man let out a small whimper as Eshe dabbed at around his wound with the alcohol swab, not giving himself a chance to answer Ollic’s previous try at conversation. After setting him back onto the patient’s seat, she gestured over toward Ollic, her hands in a frolicking position around her head as if she had just played magic with the man’s injury.
Ollic took out a plastic cup after a few chimes of scavenging through drawers for it. He then took the Rugberry tea he had taken from the shelf above and started to pour the contents into the cup. He took it over to the patient who leant over the sink, a furiously contorted face of both concern and pain strewn across his face.
The patient took it obligingly, opening his eyes slightly to see that Ollic handed him a cup. With his free hand, he put the cup to his lips and drank the beverage down, sticking his tongue out in distaste as he must not have found it flavourful.
Ollic smiled, taking the cup back and throwing into the nearby garbage disposal. He followed those actions as he took the alcohol over to the sink where he poured it over the needle to make sure that it was indeed sterile. Then, he sat back down next to the patient, scooting himself as close to the man as he could.
He tried to continue the conversation as to distract the young man from the pain that was soon to come, as the needle was near to enter his flesh. Ollic had never truly stitched someone up before. He had seen his father do it many times before, but he had never completely attempted it himself. Part of him found it irresponsible to be patching someone up with no initial experience, but the other half of him knew that it was possible he would be a genuine natural at it.
“So, I never did ask you, young man, what is your name?” The man didn’t have a chance to answer as Ollic had threaded the strand of thread through the eye of the needle and succumbed it to the surface of skin that surrounded the laceration.
A wail exited the patient’s mouth, sending shivers down Ollic’s spine, but his hand remained its hold on the needle as he crossed over the wound to another entry point a bit diagonal to his last. He punctured there too, the patient’s cry softer than the last.
Ollic gently tugged at the strand of thread before sinking it point into another position. The diagonal points were adjacent to one another, having Ollic feel proud of himself for believing in himself before starting. He knew he would know how to do something. It wasn’t too hard to sew, and his father had proved that, showing him how multiple times when he was a child.
The flesh started to ooze red fluid again as Ollic reached behind him to the counter to grab something to help dab it up. A fresh cotton swab was at the ready as he plucked it out of its jar and continue to dab at the injury. The blood soaked into the cotton swab, deeming it useless as soon as it had become useful.
Ollic found himself closed to being at the end of the line with room to sew as he quickly tugged gingerly on the thread, having the two parallel sides of flesh close together with a grotesque sucking sound that didn’t even make Ollic flinch.
Looking over his right shoulder he sought out a pair of tweezers from his healer’s kit and asked Eshe to grab them for him, both of his eyes tinted with blue for the excitement of helping someone in need and of green for the dedication and interest he had in perusing to help heal someone.
Ollic took the tweezers from his partner and began to tie the two sides of the thread into one, a small knot on the now closed wound.
The patient had stopped his whining and complaining of the pain half way through the procedure, either due to the fact that he was used to the pain or because he was too out of tears to sob.
Ollic quickly took the gauze he had set on the table next to the patient and began to wrap part of it around the patient’s freshly stitched wound. When it was thick and tight, he then ripped off the un-needed material and stuffed it back into his healer’s kit.
Ollic sat back, adding his own little flourish, mimicking those of his partners not minutes ago. He looked back at her with a small child grin, his eyes opening wide as he did so. Eshe looked that of a girl he had seen many years ago; the visions he had tried so hard to block out after his mother’s death returning to him in quick flashes.
“Eshe,” Ollic mumbled, repeating what he had once said years before. “Eshe, drink this. I can't be held accountable for someone dying.” Could it truly be her? The silly girl with all the winter clothes? The child who fell in the snow, squirming from underneath the wrath of her incredulously long skirt? The girl who barely perished from a simple cold, but had been saved by Ollic’s nimble hands and childhood medical wits?
The patient thanked his nurses before parting the room, heading for the secretary to learn about the rest of what he was meant to do to help keep his bandage clean. Rest, warm clothes and much tea, Ollic knew it all and he had done it all to the woman who stood before him, a glow radiating off of her in silent whispers.
“Eshe,” Ollic murmured, “Do you remember being in Avanthal?”
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