Solo Sleep? Who needs it?

[Bakar]

Fall, 65, 515

Bakar woke with a start. She.. woke. She blinked, staring at her ceiling for a long while. The last night was a blur and she was having a hard time remembering what had happened. She went to push herself up, but cried out in pain as she felt very sharp pains come from both of her arms. Her eyes still adjusting to the dark- it was dark.

Her hearth had gone out. A thin beam of light came from under her door, it being the only thing letting her know the world hadn't been plunged into darkness. She tried to push herself up again, but again pain forced her back down. She groaned and swung her legs over the side of her bed. Something clattered to the floor, making a metallic clink. Using her elbows this time, she rose and stood, making her way to her door.

Something was wrong with her arms. They felt hot, as the pain refused to go now. She pushed through it as she opened her door. The thin beam grew until she could see around her room clearly. Relighting the hearth seemed a good thing to start with. She made her way to the corner of her room, towards the usually burning hearth. It was not just gone out, it was cold. It had been out for a while. More than a single night. She placed more fuel into it and went to gather the flame to light it.

Her neighbor was about to greet her, but she was much to preoccupied to really engage in the conversation. "Good afternoon! It's been a while! Have you been away?" She simple nodded in response, not having the energy to deal with it. She took the flame back to her room and closed the door, not even acknowledging the man outside of it. She lit the hearth, waited for the flames to grow then took a look around her room.

[Bakar]

The room looked much like it normally did. Clean, unused, plain. The bed was a little messy this day though. And there was something on the floor beside it. Rubbing her eyes she walked to the bed again, leaning down and picking up the object on the floor. It was.. her dagger. There was a white substance coating the top of the blade. The same substance also stained the bed. She tilted her head at this perplexing mystery. What could this be?

She didn't wonder very long. As she turned the weapon over, pain erupted from her wrist and she dropped the blade onto the bed. She was wearing her clothes, her arms hidden under the sleeves. She slowly rolled them up, revealing a myriad of cuts. Her eyes widened as they rose up and up her arm, continuing nearly to the elbow. She quickly rolled up the other sleeve, revealing the same.

The same white substance was slowly leaking from the wounds, nothing to stop it from escaping. It was her life that stained the knife and bed. Faint memories were coming back to her from the night before. No, from days before.

She had arrived home, from what she didn't remember. She sat in the chair. She stared at the wall. It was terrible. She was tired of it. She walked to her chest and took out the dagger. She had thought about it many times, but never went through with it. That day was different. She drew the blade across her arm, the white liquid leaking around it. But that was it. No more came after the initial amount. She waited to feel tired. It didn't happen. She made another cut. And another. Trying to drain more and more of her ichor, waiting for tiredness to overtake her.

It hurt, no doubt, as it hurt now. If not more. But sleep was something she wanted. Something she needed at this point. She had come this far, she was going to finish it. She felt her hand getting shakier. She lay down in the bed, dagger still in hand, and closed her eyes. And that was all she remembered until now.

Her ichor had returned, but the wounds were still there. She needed to do something about them, or they would continue to flow ichor whenever it was replenished. She wrapped her sleeves around tightly, ignoring the pain. She pushed through her door, heading towards her place of work.

[Bakar]

The walk was uneventful, and she finally arrived at Li Mauta. She quickly made her way inside, making for the back room. Benoit was busy doing something, and she didn't want to talk to him right now anyways. She made for the supplies.

Her arms now held open wounds. Her dead body wanting to decay, she needed to stop that. She didn't know how the ichor would interact with the outside would. Would it decay? Would it affect the tissue? She unwrapped her arms and assessed the damage. There was no current indications of decay, but she didn't want to risk it. She took a cloth and dried the wounds of all ichor currently there. Taking some salt, she put it into the wounds. As soon as it touched, pain, more than she had experienced last night, shot through her. She threw her arm down reflexively, most of the salt spilling onto the floor, though some still clung to the wound. She flexed her arm wishing the pain would go away. It didn't.

She shuddered as she realized she had salted one of the many cuts. She needed it dried. Yes, she would lose a little more ichor, but it was the only way she could think of to reduce the loss. It would hinder the leaking of the ichor as it slowly dripped from other areas.

The pain was nearly unbearable as she addressed the other cuts. She gently wiped away excess salt from her arms, the wounds looking a lot better. They were clean, and the ichor was clinging to the salt inside the wounds instead of seeping out. It wasn't as bad as it had initially looked, actually.

She looked around for a needle and thread now, planning on stitching up the wounds tightly, similar to her sternum. She clenched her fists as she remembered the last time she stitched herself up. It's not a pleasant experience, but this time, it was needed.

She tied the knot at the end of the thread and pulled it through the first cut. Her flesh was stiff, and forcing the needle through was harder than she remembered. Eventually, it gave and the needle was pushed through. She stitched it as tightly as she could, ensuring the wound was fully closed. It would never heal, but she would be able to continue to use this body. She continued with the other wounds, it was getting easier and easier to ignore the pain.

With her left arm fully stitched up, she turned to her right. She wasn't very good with her left hand, but she had to try. She tied the knot, no problem. When it came time to do the stitching though, she was having a had time keeping the needle straight. There was no room for settling here though. The wound needed closing. She tried again, this time the needle pushing through the skin. It was more askew than she needed, but the needle was already through. to combat this, she added more, tighter stitches. So also added another thread to the other side, ensuring both ends of the wound were tightly shut.

There wasn't as much trouble with the rest of the cuts, but there was a clear difference in stitching quality in both sides. She stretched her arms, testing the strength. They still pained, but the stitches held true, and the wounds remained closed. The pain was now more of a throbbing, than a sharp pain. It would go, eventually, as her ichor got used to the new additions to the body. The stitches would eventually feel the same as the one on her chest. Which is to say, she wouldn't even notice them.

She rose to leave, taking a glance around for Benoit. Still engrossed in whatever he was doing, she quickly made for the door. Exiting the building, she noticed how late it had got. The sun was gone, and most residents were in their rooms. She followed the remembered path back to her room, following the light of the torches throughout the maze.