PM to join [Infirmary] Healing Hand (Giat Ikati)

[Stitchens Plint]

33rd of Winter, 513AV

The day had been mostly calm at the infirmary. A few students had come to request healing of a sickness here or there, or perhaps a bruise or slight burn from various studies. Though it was not quite glamorous at times like this, Stitchens enjoyed his job. Well paid and well appreciated, his services were welcomed by many and so many came to him with their problems. As a healer of Rak'Kali, he felt an obligation to heal, and enjoyed it immensely when he obliged the urge. Later in the day during a Reimancy classes, one of the students came in with a third degree burn. It wasn't uncommon, but it wasn't every day, considering the class was much more "why" than "how too" from his understanding. He had never been in any of the magic classes, so he would not know the specifics, but one would hear things if he were to listen. The burn was thus far the most interesting feature of his day. Stitchens sat in the infirmary almost alone. He held a book in hand as well as a quill. He was enthralled in his writing, though it seemed it came to him in jabs. For the most part he just stares at the words already present, contemplating on them. His journal held a great many things, past thoughts and ideas for the future. With what little time between the occasional scratch or infection needing his help, he enjoyed indulging in that dream of sage-hood.

[Giat Ikati]

Giat ran through the streets, dodging and weaving pass anyone who unwittingly got in the way as she ran. There were at least 12 people chasing her, throwing weapons that left cuts and bruises on her skin . She took way too much today, too much since she’s been on her own, and now people are trying to do something about it. She ran into an alleyway speed up as much as she could, just barely avoiding being lasod around her waist but couldn’t avoid the rope that latched onto her ankle as her claws scraped against the top of the wall that separated her from the next street. She used all of her strength against whoever was on the other side of the rope playing tug of war with her ankle and threatened to tear off her leg entirely. She tried not to think about the pain as she pulled herself up, a loud snap signalling something was either broken or dislocated.

She let out a scream, though more of an animalistic yell -consequently dropping the bag of money in her mouth- it still sounded human enough to momentarily stun the men and give her enough time to quickly and painfully clamber over the wall, rope and all. She could hear the men’s outraged yelling as she picked up the bag and limped, well more like dragged her left leg, to another ally a few buildings away. Falling into a nearby crate and breathing heavily. Almost falling into an empty crate, she let the bag slip from her mouth and onto her clothes as she felt her chest burn and her wounds thanks to all of her running. Whimpers escaped her throat as she struggled to control her breathing while looking at the 5 bags in front of her. All of them full and got her into more trouble than they should be worth.

The Kelvic’s ears twitched as she listened for anyone near by, deciding that none were to close judging by the sound of their foot steps, she changed into her human form in a quick flash of light. Changing didn’t seem to make her situation much better, now it seemed her wound bleed a bit more freely, she could see that her knee was dislocated and the lower half of that leg was laying irregularly.

Giat bit her lip and sat up right in the crate, hastily throwing on the clothes she stashed away in there and hissing when the dirty fabric touched her skin and struggled not to cry out when she out her pants on. She was glad that she left behind her boots and stood up, leaning against the wall as she pocketed 2 bags that stuck out plainly and held the other three, in her hands tightly, all of which were concealed by her cloak as she tumbled out of the ally and towards her home.

Her vision started blurring as she neared the University and she could feel blood leaking into her clothing. She nearly fell over many times due to her leg causing her to depend on the support of buildings. But with there being so few buildings scattered about from here to her home she wasn’t sure if she could make it that far. She only managed a few feet in front of the University before falling over, not being able to stop the scream and whimper of pain when she fell on her injured leg. She let out soft whimpers and a few tears slid down her cheeks as she held the bags tight, trying to stand only to fall before she even pushed herself up right.

It didn’t take long for her vision to start fading, still conscious and eyes open, but hardly if at all aware of herself and surroundings at this moment thanks to the pain and blood loss. She couldn’t help as her mind drifted to being at home, curled up on her bed and sleeping… which sounded so good to her right now. To just forget about her injuries and finacial troubles and just... go to... sleep...

[Stitchens Plint]

His quill dashed lightly across the paper as he jot a few notes onto one of the pages. It was not enough to consider a passage, just a note on one of the already filled pages, an addition to a past thought. After finishing the single line of new information he corked his vial of ink and wiped the tip of his quill delicately on his already black shirt. He tucked the quill between the cover and the front page of his journal for safe keeping before sitting the book on a small table with the ink on top. Stitchens rose from his chair with the thought of heading to the kitchen. It was a short lived journey as a sound broke the silence. It was faint, distant enough he could tell it was not in the university... but it was a familiar sound. A scream. Agony filled as it was, his instincts lurched to the forefront, ignoring his need for rational thought. He dashed from the room and down the hall towards the exit. Though his speed was not as great as someone with a different muscular build, he made up for it by sprinting the whole way. He had to dodge some poor professor who had decided now would be a good time to leave his room. The clumsy movement left Stitchens stumbling for a moment. After righting himself, he waved back with a quick verbal apology. The professor was unharmed, luckily enough... Finally making it to the exit, he near burst through the door on his escape. The source of the scream had not been hard to spot. A woman was strewn across the ground wreaking of blood. Stitchens came to a stop for only a moment before kneeling by her side. She looked as if she were sleeping which, after placing two digits to her neck to check her pulse, he assumed she was, or close to it. The heavy aroma of blood meant she had lost quite a bit. Without considering the consequences of healing the stranger, he lowers further and with a gentleness unusual for such a well built man, he lifted the woman into his arms. Slowly rising to his feet, Stitchens would cradle her like a child. The close contact would allow him the ability to begin healing, even as he carried her back to the infirmary. His touch would bring a comforting bliss as he sought to first heal open wounds enough to stop the bleeding and prevent infection. He kept the process slow and easy, so as not to rouse her to anger or violence if she were to awake. Even if she did, maybe that mark upon the left side of his face would ease her, the Gnosis if a swirling snake rising from his cheek with a wing over his left eye. The shimmering opal stating it clearly as more than a simple tattoo.

[Giat Ikati]

Giat was hardly aware that she was being cared, barely registering movement as she continued holding onto the small bags close even whilst on the verge of losing consciousness. There was a strange feeling going threw her, one that made her relax more than simply thinking about being safe at home. Her barely open eyes drifted shut as she drifted off into the quickly surrounding darkness that becond her.

When she would begin to wake up she would be drowsy and slightly light headed, would attempt to move around only to be jerked awake by the sudden pain that would course through her leg and make the kelvic yelp. She would look around and realize that she isn't at home, but someplace else. Unfamiliar to her. Her heart would seize with panic as she recalled the events of last night.

The second the girl’s eyes would fall upon the healer she would shrink back, intimidated by both his size and stature, and her ignorance towards mystic markings would feed her unprecedented fear as she would mistake it for a much too detailed tattoo.

She would cower on whatever she was placed upon as she slept and try to find some way out, despite the pain in her injured leg.

[Stitchens Plint]

Stitchens had brought her back into the infirmary for better treatment in a more sterile environment. Though through the walk back he had managed to heal enough of her wounds to stave off blood loss, he could tell by the awkward shifting of her leg that her knee had either been shattered or dislocated. He attempted as graceful and smooth a stride as humanly possible... or as possible for his usual heavy footed walk. When they had reached the room he had left only moments before, he carefully laid her out on one of the long, slightly padded tables with her head on a pillow. He turned to his left to a tray of common tools, nothing for intense surgery, that was not his area of expertise. His little collection composed mainly of bandages, needles, thread, scissors and other things relatively simple. For now, he took up the scissors. And suddenly, she was starting to wake up. Not too kindly either, her struggles were very counter productive. Placing the scissors back on the table, he placed his hands on her shoulders, leaning in to look her eye to eye. His crystalline gaze was calming, disarming, serious and yet kind. "Easy there. You were unconscious and bleeding. I brought you to the infirmary for emergency medical care. I am a healer of Rak'kali, and a medic by trade." He offered the flurry of information with a smooth tone to hopefully help in calming this woman. "My name is Stitchens. Stitchens Plint." Then a smile spread across his lips, as if the pun of his own name was enough to turn this situation into a giggle fest. He did not giggle, but hopefully she would. Laughing was the first step to gaining a needed trust.