There were thumping footsteps, a tutting and huffing sound he had grown familiar with working around the lasses, and then the door slammed shut firmly. That meant that Bron was angry, that much even he could discern through the throbbing. Yet he wasn’t sure why, he was the one who had been roped into a fight, injured and then found out his comrade had not only returned to her dust addiction, but had possibly been high during the fight he had been injured in. He knew she had denied it but there was no way to know for sure. He sighed, took her at her word and nodded into the silent isolation. He was starting to think he was cursed, everywhere he went there were complications and dramatics. If it wasn’t Arcadius it was an unbridgeable gap with Tazrae, or another pretty lass addicted and being destroyed by drugs – and all the rest.
“Look Bron…I’m sorry…it’s the pain talking. If you want help then I have a place, somewhere removed from these streets…and a good healer that might help you” he offered by way of apology, but simply getting a glass of drink shoved into his face in silence, her gaze stormy and her tone direct.
He had little option but to finish the drink, though it had smoky tones that he would have rather relished. Still he saw the sense, even f it was the guard basically forcing it down his throat. He wasn’t sure why she was rattling through the thing with such speed, he wasn’t about to die. Perhaps, he thought, she just wanted to get him sorted out, kicked out and then spend her time alone. As the alcohol burned his throat and he wiped his eyes of the small amount of water that sprang up I response, he saw that she had her own injuries, ones he had ignored in his focus upon his own. Perhaps, on balance, he wasn’t the one who should be feeling as if he were having a hard time of it. He kept his counsel for now, there could be time to talk it out after.
Instead he took the alcohol saturated cloth and wiped it over his forehead gash with a hiss of indrawn breath, then the wound in his side with a deeper sound that was more akin to a growl. Still he felt it burn and do it work, numbing the areas slightly even as he knew it was cleaning it, at least in a rudimentary sense. It was better than infection and he could pick up some medicine later, bring some for Bron if she needed it too. He froze as the door banged open, and given how Bron jumped up at the sound he was glad that she hadn’t started the stitching. Doubly better when this Alice too it instead, seeming to know what she was doing better than Bron did.
“Bronwen…Druva…asked for my help defending this place. You’re welcome for the blood shed, now can someone please stitch me up before I lose too much blood that alcohol alone won’t replace it” he said, laying down on his side so his left side, the side with the injuries, was showing and available for access.
Truthfully, he was starting to feel better already, his senses returning and sharpening more than they normally did after a fight. Perhaps his training had conditioned his body to be more resistant, he had no idea but he was grateful that he was able to think clearly and watch both women exchange glances, roll their eyes and then Alice got to work on his forehead. He felt like having another drink, but mostly he had started feeling rejuvenated. Small tingling at the edges of his senses, as if some mystery were at work for him to puzzle out, pulled at him. He blinked and looked at them both, noticing how they were possessed of their own beauty. He winced as the stitching began but as she moved to his side, his forehead now done, the overriding feeling was one of impatience, and an energy that he wanted to be rid of.
Was this how the post-fighting high felt? He had heard the mercenaries talk of it in the taverns but had never fought enough to feel it himself. He had fought today though, more than he had in a long time. The day he had rescued Bron didn’t count. He had killed them before they had even seen him. This day, though, had been a proper scrap and there was a soft smile that crept across his lips as he looked at Bron, watching her.
“How does the head feel?” Alice asked him, still tending to his side and so not looking up.
“Better…much better. Despite the pain I feel great. Think I could get a few free drinks for the fighting? It feels like such a long time since I just…forgot about the world and enjoyed an evening in Sunberth”
He lay as still as was possible but the longer time went on the more he felt as if he wanted to be up and dancing, drinking, smoking, gambling and exchanging stories with the patrons he could hear were already back at their enjoyments. His foot started to tap gently, involuntarily, as he waited for Alice to give him the signal she was finished and that he was going to be able to move.
“Fancy a few drinks Bron? My treat, I forgot about your injuries, they aren’t too bad, are they? I’d offer to wash the blood off of you but you stormed out so I’m guessing you’re angry. She’s angry” he directed the last to Alice, who tutted and hummed but said nothing.
“Look Bron…I’m sorry…it’s the pain talking. If you want help then I have a place, somewhere removed from these streets…and a good healer that might help you” he offered by way of apology, but simply getting a glass of drink shoved into his face in silence, her gaze stormy and her tone direct.
He had little option but to finish the drink, though it had smoky tones that he would have rather relished. Still he saw the sense, even f it was the guard basically forcing it down his throat. He wasn’t sure why she was rattling through the thing with such speed, he wasn’t about to die. Perhaps, he thought, she just wanted to get him sorted out, kicked out and then spend her time alone. As the alcohol burned his throat and he wiped his eyes of the small amount of water that sprang up I response, he saw that she had her own injuries, ones he had ignored in his focus upon his own. Perhaps, on balance, he wasn’t the one who should be feeling as if he were having a hard time of it. He kept his counsel for now, there could be time to talk it out after.
Instead he took the alcohol saturated cloth and wiped it over his forehead gash with a hiss of indrawn breath, then the wound in his side with a deeper sound that was more akin to a growl. Still he felt it burn and do it work, numbing the areas slightly even as he knew it was cleaning it, at least in a rudimentary sense. It was better than infection and he could pick up some medicine later, bring some for Bron if she needed it too. He froze as the door banged open, and given how Bron jumped up at the sound he was glad that she hadn’t started the stitching. Doubly better when this Alice too it instead, seeming to know what she was doing better than Bron did.
“Bronwen…Druva…asked for my help defending this place. You’re welcome for the blood shed, now can someone please stitch me up before I lose too much blood that alcohol alone won’t replace it” he said, laying down on his side so his left side, the side with the injuries, was showing and available for access.
Truthfully, he was starting to feel better already, his senses returning and sharpening more than they normally did after a fight. Perhaps his training had conditioned his body to be more resistant, he had no idea but he was grateful that he was able to think clearly and watch both women exchange glances, roll their eyes and then Alice got to work on his forehead. He felt like having another drink, but mostly he had started feeling rejuvenated. Small tingling at the edges of his senses, as if some mystery were at work for him to puzzle out, pulled at him. He blinked and looked at them both, noticing how they were possessed of their own beauty. He winced as the stitching began but as she moved to his side, his forehead now done, the overriding feeling was one of impatience, and an energy that he wanted to be rid of.
Was this how the post-fighting high felt? He had heard the mercenaries talk of it in the taverns but had never fought enough to feel it himself. He had fought today though, more than he had in a long time. The day he had rescued Bron didn’t count. He had killed them before they had even seen him. This day, though, had been a proper scrap and there was a soft smile that crept across his lips as he looked at Bron, watching her.
“How does the head feel?” Alice asked him, still tending to his side and so not looking up.
“Better…much better. Despite the pain I feel great. Think I could get a few free drinks for the fighting? It feels like such a long time since I just…forgot about the world and enjoyed an evening in Sunberth”
He lay as still as was possible but the longer time went on the more he felt as if he wanted to be up and dancing, drinking, smoking, gambling and exchanging stories with the patrons he could hear were already back at their enjoyments. His foot started to tap gently, involuntarily, as he waited for Alice to give him the signal she was finished and that he was going to be able to move.
“Fancy a few drinks Bron? My treat, I forgot about your injuries, they aren’t too bad, are they? I’d offer to wash the blood off of you but you stormed out so I’m guessing you’re angry. She’s angry” he directed the last to Alice, who tutted and hummed but said nothing.
