To Bond Over Death [Kechaiya]

[Amon Torque]

Fall 11, 514
It began with a few yells, but slowly escalated louder and louder, creating a roar of noise that echoed around the streets. Tensions had been on the rise from the beginning of fall, like a rubber band slowly being stretched. And it just so happened today was when the pressure had to snap, right outside his house fortunately for him. He grabbed his backpack throwing in just about everything he had. He made a point of taking anything he could use from a medics point of view, including his apron, kukri, dried herbs, his two jars of wound balms, and all of his spices, just in case. He also threw in a length of rope and his waterskin, trying to prepare for anything.

Amon charged out the door just as a few of the bravest and dumbest gang members started the fight off with yells of rage and sprinted toward an unlucky adversary, most attacking with large messy swings, leaving them open for attack by anyone who could see the weakness. But Amon had no need to kill, in fact, his goals were the exact opposite, he wanted to save.

A few more yells and more and more foot soldiers running toward each other with swords in striking positions signaled the official beginning of a full fledged gang fight. Amon hugged the wall, getting low as he snuck to the ground, attempting ti stay hidden while still move fast. He noticed a decomposing shack that appeared to have no door or occupants other than a few sleeping sacks strewn throughout the room. He took advantage of this, ducking into the room swiftly, tossing his backpack to the side to free up his muscles for a harder task, getting people into the shack.

His first target was a man so unlucky he didn't even make it into battle, with a stray crossbow bolt impaling his shoulder with a less velocity than a normal bolt would, a thought flashed through Amon's head he could survive! Or at least he could with a bit of medical care. Amon dashed out into the field, putting the mans free arm over his shoulder, taking most of his weight as he pulled him into the shack hurriedly, laying him down on ground gently as he could.

Amon took note that it wasn't bleeding yet, with the bolt still clogging the wound. But that signified it would be gushing the second he took it out, so Amon tried to get prepared for the crimson liquid that would soon be covering him. Amon took out the kukri, gripping it tightly as he forced the blade through the cotton fibers, cutting a few long strips. Amon turned back to the man laying on the ground, moaning loudly and throwing questions toward Amon.

The wooden shaft of the crossbow bolt stood straight up, lodged into the mans shoulder, [hit the bone,/i] Amon thought sadly, examining it closely. He deducted what needed to happen from there, "look, sir. It needs to come out, if it doesn't there could be permanent nerve damage, rendering your arm unusable," Amon explained, hoping the man would understand the procedure about to take place, "try to hold still."

He gripped the shaft tightly, watching the mans face contort with pain. "3, 2" Amon ripped out the arrow with a quick yank, noticing the man had passed out from intense pain, giving a out a loud cry then going limp. Its better this way, Amon thought to himself, now he wont have to feel this. Amon's hands flew to his waterskin, pouring a bit of water of the water to clean out as many splinters as he could. As the water touched the gushing wound, it was tainted dark crimson red.

Amon worked quickly in the low light, opening his backpack and taking out a jar, feeling only slightly nauseous at blood flowing out. He opened the dipping two fingers into the sticky substance, honey, his natural antiseptic. Amon grabbed his apron, wiping the wound of blood, then he wiped honey over the puncture hole. He uncorked another jar finding cinnamon, it will numb it, but thins the blood he thought, hands passing to the jar and setting it to the side.

He grabbed another jar, opening it to the strong smell of garlic. Perfect, this will prevent infection and speed healing... Amon thought, taking a bit of the fresh garlic and squishing it with his hands then rubbing it into the wound, knowing it would help. He took the garlic and placed it back in the jar, taking out another jar, hopefully what would finish the wound off would be inside. Amon was happy to see his balm when he opened the jar, it was just what he had been searching for. He scooped a liberal amount, seeing as the wound was bleeding heavily and clearly deep.

Amon applied the waxy paste to the wound, knowing it would slow the wounds bleeding dramatically, if it clotted the blood correctly, like it was intended to. His hands fumbled to the strips of cloth, placing one of them onto the wound, tying a long string of hemp rope around the mans upper torso to secure it on, making sure it was tight enough to apply pressure. This man needs stitches! Amon thought, concerned that he didn't have any needles or thread with him. I hope this is enough for now.

He looked back out to the battlefield, and even though the whole process only took him around five minutes, the situation had descended into chaos. Amon sprinted cautiously out to the battlefield, pulling a few of the still conscious but wounded gang members into the hut, ready to begin it again. It was then he realized he wasn't enough. Amon could not fix an army, he needed help. And needed it fast. He called out to the surroundings, yelling for medical help loudly.

[Kechaiya]

Note : You forgot to add the Fall 11, 514 Timestamp It wasn't even late in the day, and Kechaiya was already exhausted and sore. Yesterday had been hectic, painful, and long. She could only assume today would be no better. She was making her way back home, pack on her back like always, hood of her cloak up, like always. She was chewing on a raw potato her last patient gave her in lieu of payment. She only accepted it for he quite literally had nothing else of value for her to take, and she was hungry. Meandering through the winding streets, she thought it was becoming a bit quiet. Hair stood on the back of her neck, and she didn't know why. Then a door in front of her burst off of its hinges, flying backwards. Kechaiya saw that a man was tackling another was what caused it. They landed roughly in the street, the one atop the other landing blow after blow into his face. Kechaiya turned to flee, only to find her way blocked by several men with a variety of weapons in an all out brawl. None of them cared that she was there, more interested in killing one another. She turned back to the other two, seeing the assailant was finished with the man he tackled. He glared up at her, pure blood lust in his eyes. Kechaiya shrank under his glare. She moved to the side, raising her hands in the air, a universal sign of peace, in hopes he would see the fighting behind her. His glare moved over her shoulder, and with a roar, he charged past her, knocking her down, and joined the fray. Seeing that she was already on the ground, she decided to check on the guy who'd been beaten. His nose was completely crushed, several facial bones shattered, teeth broken shards or completely missing. She pressed two fingers to his neck. Nothing. She tried his wrist. Nothing. She placed her ear to his chest. Nothing. This man was dead. Nothing she could do for him. She stood up, took one look back at the continued fighting, and moved on. She moved quicker now, for if the fighting had begun here, it would be elsewhere. Moving between the alleys, she heard a man shouting for a doctor. It didn't seem real far, and she moved toward it, staying close to the walls. She came to an open intersection, a bigger, more open space. There were men and women in full combat scattered all over the intersection. She heard call for help once more, and spotted the source. A man crouched over another, in what appeared to be an attempt to aid him. She watched him drag the man into a dilapidated building, then go out and fetch another. Kechaiya tried to watch the ebb and flow of the battle, to find a chance to get through. Finally, spotting what she thought to be an opening, she ran for it. Most of the people were too busy beating each other to notice her, but one man backed up into her, sending her careening into another. She somehow managed to keep her footing, and kept pressing forward. Making a beeline for the man's impromptu clinic, she hopped over a fallen woman, nearly stumbling in the process. Reaching the hut, she ducked inside, seeing a few fallen gangsters. She set her pack down, and immediately began examining them, not paying any mind to the man who called for aid, and not even sure where he was at that particular moment. Her ebony eyes saw one man with what appeared to be a severely torn arrow wound. He was unconscious, and she assumed he did not tear it out himself. He was bleeding rather steadily, and a cursory glance at the others made her decide that he needed treatment first. She picked her pack up and moved over to him, so that she could kneel by his shoulder. She unpacked her healer's kit, herbalism kit, and sewing kit. She pulled out a small jar of grain alcohol, splashed it on her hands, rubbing them together until dry. If that man came back in, she had some strong words for him. She continued to prep herself and her gear, getting her mind prepared for another long, tiring day.

[Amon Torque]

Amon ducked through the fight heading toward his target, a woman on the ground with a leg lacerated deeply. He called out to her, helping her stand on her good leg as they crossed through the tide of battle, waddling back to his hut, only to find a woman working on his patients. Amon laid the woman down gently, glancing toward the other medic helping out, his calls had been answered.

Amon ran toward the pile of bandages, also grabbing his jar of balm while was over in the area. He turned back to his current patient, having done basic dressings on many of the others already. Amon stuck his fingers into the jar, taking out a scoop of the paste, wiping the blood off before smothering the wound in it. Then he grabbed one of the cotton bandages, wrapping it around the leg tight. He called to the woman working behind him, "can you do stitches?"

He hoped the woman could, his balm was working great, but on the deeper major wounds, it wasn't able to clot the blood enough. Amon jogged to his jars of fresh garlic, he also grabbed his balm, along with a mortar and pestle and handful of alfalfa. He bent over next to the arrow wounded man, setting down the jars next to him.

He began to grind up the dried alfalfa hurriedly, attempting to make a kind of blood clot powder. Amon ran back to his book, flinging open the pages until he found the alfalfa. It said nothing on powdering it, seeing as though it was basic uses only. So Amon took a chance, hoping that it would work as he continued to grind it to a fine powder.

Amon motioned to the jars one by one, attempting to fill her in on what to use and when. "Honey is over there, disinfectant and will help the wound heal faster," he said, motioning to the corner and hoping the woman understood even in the high stress situation, "this will help slow the bleeding and adds another layer of disinfectant," he commented, continuing to grind the powder but pointing toward the jar.

He continued to inform her of the garlic, cinnamon, and the finished powder he mades uses one by one, setting down the mortar and pestle. "Now, lets see if we can get this bleeding to stop" he said, picking up the small bowl of alfalfa powder, and kneeling closer to the wound, preparing to pour a bit onto it.

It was then that he heard a loud bang behind him, turning to see a body had fallen against the huts side, and was limping inside the ruined hut with his sword upright, in the best fighting stance he could muster with a severed leg. Amon set down the pestle and put his hands in the air, trying to reassure the man, "we are simply medics sir, I work for neither gang. I am just trying to save lives." The man looked unconvinced and let out a low growl, signaling he was not doing this peacefully. Amon's hand flew to his belt, seeking out the hilt of his kukri. He yanked it from its sheathe, hoping the man would be intimidated enough to leave them be. "I could fix that leg if you drop your weapon," Amon tried again, "I honestly don't mind harming, but I enjoy healing."

The man hobbled toward one of the helpless patients laying on the ground, sword raised ready to strike, with the man on the ground exposed to the mans sword range. Amon ran toward him, trying to stay confident while holding the unfamiliar blade unsteadily. Amon never even used it, he simply kicked the mans wound, causing a cry of pain and forcing him to fall to the ground. It was simple from there, he grabbed the mans weapon and set it on the other side of the room, then grabbed his length of rope, tying the mans hands together. Cruel? Yes. Necessary? Of course. He looked back to his previous patient, heading back over and grabbing the small bowl again, ready to pour once more, hopefully without interruption.

[Kechaiya]

Kechaiya needed to clean the wound, but using anything that wasn't boiled risked infection. She cursed herself for not being better prepared, not bringing a pot, or anything to create a fire. When the man asked if she could do stitches, she glared out him as if he'd asked her if she could fly. Of course she could do stitches, anyone who healed people knew how to do stitches. At this rate, this man was going to kill more people than he would save. She needed to take charge before this got out of hand. The man before her's wound, while not immediately fatal, would let him bleed out due to the arrow being ripped out. Everyone know that pulling an arrow out caused more damage than when it went in. She yelled out to the man, not paying any mind to what he was doing, doing her best to sound commanding and authoritative, despite her poor Common and thick accent. "Stop what doing. Find me helmet, build fire. You do what I say. You hurt people more. Listen me, and you fix them. Go! Now!" She could use the helmet to boil her saltwater for cleaning the wounds, and prepping the bandages. The herbal paste the man used would work for now, but her medical knowledge forced her to go beyond it. She folded a bandage several times, then rolled the man onto his good shoulder. It was a through and through wound, so she placed the bandage against the exit wound, then rolled him back. She grabbed another bandage, repeating the process, applied pressure to the entry wound. She looked over at the woman with the leg laceration. That wound could wait. She listened to what he said about his herbal remedies, but those weren't fixes. They should supplement real healing, real medicine. This man was relying on them way too much. And until he completed the task she ordered him, she couldn't move forward to properly fix up these gangsters.

[Amon Torque]

His eyes were fixed on the powder, barely taking into account what the woman said as he worked. His ears never were responsive to commanding, authoritative tones, over the years he learned anyone who used them was more bark than bite. His hands moved with a mind of their own, pouring the powder onto the wound to stunt the bleeding until je could truly do what the woman had asked. "Stop what doing. Find me helmet, build fire. You do what I say. You hurt people more. Listen me, and you fix them. Go! Now!" he heard, the words going in one ear and out the other until he finished pouring the light brown powder completely. Must know a thing or two about what to do then, he thought to himself, and judging by her tone, she saw him as completely incompetent. Amon kept his head cool, and stood up quickly. "My house is close. It will be quicker to start a fire with the right materials" he said, keeping it simple for her to comprehend.

Amon waited for no response, if only I had the things we actually need for stitches. And with that thought, he took off, his back forced back against the wall, staying low as he got closer to his door. What the petch was she thinking? 'Grab a helmet', was he supposed to run up to a soldier and just take it in the midst of battle? Smart. Very smart. He tried to keep a cool head and not doubt her, she must have at very least have good intentions if she wanted to save them like he did. The thoughts were put to an end as his hand wrapped around the cold metal knob, turning it and pulling it back. The hand swayed by his side as he moved swiftly through the room to the table, also grabbing his oil lantern that he sometimes used at night to push out the dark from his workspace. He put it into his iron pot, a much better place to boil than a helmet, along with some sticks and a few small logs to light it.

His feet pounded against the ground, slamming with forceful purpose. And even though he was armed with a fierce look on his face, the pot tarnished his image to others exponentially. The only thing keeping the gang from simply killing him for the fun of it was the current fight going on, in which they couldn't detract their attention from unless they felt the urge to end up in his makeshift infirmary with one arm less than he started with, and in that case, he may as well already be dead. His body halted to a stop, feet sliding slightly on the loose dusty ground. The callused hands set to work, making a pyramid of kindling with a small log on top. He lifted the valve from the lamp, allowing a bit of oil to spill out onto the dry logs. Amon made sure that nothing flammable was nearby, before taking out his flint and steel, banging them over the oil and watching a singular spark hit the oil, igniting it and shooting up flames immediately. The log caught, and he put the pot on top of the small fire, before looking at the woman expectingly, "next?"

[Kechaiya]

Kechaiya kept firm pressure on the wound, waiting on the man, watching as he finally built the fire and got it going. "Come. Apply pressure to bandage. Not hard, but firm." Kechaiya got up, went to her pack, and pulled out her waterskin filled with saltwater. She poured it into the pot to get it to boil. She grabbed her sewing kit, and knelt down by the man. She then asked her impromptu partner, "You know plants yes? Add plants that stop infection, help heal, and the honey to water. You know the plants for this yes? This is how you help. You good at this yes?" She returned to the man's side, pulling out her suture needle and thread. Quickly, after several attempts, she threaded it and tied it off. "When done with that, make salve for pain and stop bleed, can do yes? Must be thick, will apply inside of wound." She grabbed several clean bandages, and dropped them into the boiling water. Kechaiya then grabbed her wineskin and poured some of it into the pot as well, saving about half of it. Returning to the man, she inspected his wound. The bleeding had slowed considerably, his face was a little pale, but not overly so, and breathing was stable. She could continue on this man when the water was boiling and the plants were added. Now came the most important part of her treatment, the payment. She man with the arrow wound looked to be about three golds' worth and the woman with the leg wound looked like about one gold. She searched them quickly for the coin, before getting back to work. She cleaned her hands once more, "When ready, bring me bowl of the water, I will clean wound. Then apply salve, then sew shut, both sides. You watch me. Then you will do same to leg woman. You need practice. Now you get."

[Amon Torque]

His ears perked up as he heard his fellow medic talking, asking him to press down apply pressure to the wound. He had a basic idea of how much pressure she wanted him to apply, and did so until she returned with a sewing kit, good, she can do some stitches he thought, standing up to get out of the way. You know plants yes? Add plants that stop infection, help heal, and the honey to water. You know the plants for this yes? This is how you help. You good at this yes? he acknowledged the short broken sentences with a simple "yes" before heading toward his herbalist kit. He grabbed his sharpest knife along with a small crushing tool, bringing them along as he picked up his jar of garlic and dried plantain. His final tool on his way back to the boiling salt water was the mortar and pestle, sitting by the bloody man on the ground.

His hands gracefully began to work, first chopping the garlic into smaller chunks. The same hands proceeded to press the juice from the garlic with his blunt pestle, forcing it into the small bowl. He removed the drained pulp and poured the juice into the water, watching the juice spread like tendrils of mist, reaching out to the very far corners of the pot, before finally dissolving into it. He pushed the corner his shirt into the mortar, drying it thoroughly before filling it with the brittle plantain. He began to grind it quickly, turning it into a fine dark brown powder. He tilted it over the pot, watching it blend with the water before disappearing into the mixture.

Stop infection? Done. Heal faster? Done. Now some honey... His mind began to wander, before remembering his jar of cinnamon in the toolkit he carried down. His feet began to move quicker than a normal walk as he jogged to the kit, putting the jar of cinnamon under his arm, as well as taking the honey from the corner. He jogged back, keeping the cinnamon to the side, knowing he may need it soon. The lid popped off easily, and he poured a gracious amount of the golden substance into the water, making sure he left some just in case another patient needed a separate dose of it.

"Here, just what you asked for" he said, making a quick gesture and recalling her next request. When done with that, make salve for pain and stop bleed, can do yes? Must be thick, will apply inside of wound. He began a mental pep talk, informing himself of the steps he needed, Alright, I can do this. The empty jars in my kit will work for melting... Safflower oil will be best for this particular situation. His hands searched his kit, taking out two jars he found, one containing some beeswax which he would use anyway, so he sparred himself the time it would take trying to dig it all out, the other jar was empty after all.

He threw in the fresh alfalfa into the iron jar, it was his only bleeding aid that he happened to have with him, and he knew fresh was best for this salve. He grabbed his waterskin, for saltwater would deteriorate some of the fresh herbs properties even though it did not effect the dried ones. The tilt of the waterskin was just enough for a trickle, and he allowed it to cover the herbs. It has to simmer, he reminded himself, placing the lid on top of the jar put not pushing down, allowing a tiny stream of steam to escape. He allowed it to simmer directly in the heat for as long as his patience lasted, only about a minute in a half. In the time he had let it sit in the flame, he had gathered his apron and the oil he needed. It took only a minute to strain the plantain from the water, which he proceeded to mix with oil in a empty jar, leaving the lid off and placing in the hottest part of the fire, buried into the coals slightly.

When the mixture stopped bubbling and the water was boiled out yet still leaving the herbal residue Amon took a large chunk of beeswax, stirring until they mixed into one substance. It was just thin enough to stir, but thicker than his last balm. Cinnamon will kill the pain, but thins blood. Two parts alfalfa and one part cinnamon should kill the pain and clot the blood. Amon measured out about half of the alfalfa he used, pouring it into the warm waxy balm and stirring until the swirls disappeared and the paste became one single color. Perfect. That should do. "This should work. It will meet most of your expectations" he said, the whole process only taking about five minutes. He had worked as fast as possible in the situation, and hoped everything was as potent as it needed to be.

[Kechaiya]

Kechaiya took the bowl of prepared water from her impromptu assistant. Thankfully this man was unconscious, for this would hurt severely. She let the water cool to just really hot rather than full on boiling. When it was ready, she brought the bowl just over the wound, then tipped it, letting a small, steady stream of the water pour into the wound. Her other hand grabbed a rag, cleaning around the entry of the wound, watching as the diluted blood flowed out. She was now able to get a really good look at the entry wound. She could see the entry slices, a neat little line. But there were also several more jagged lines, larger than those that entered, from where it was ripped out. It was time for her student to see the error of his ways. "Come here. Now." She waved him over as she continued cleaning the wound. She pointed with a single finger at the entry line, "This here where arrow hit him." Her fingers then indicated the jagged large wounds, "These from pulling arrow out. Cause more damage than arrow going in. Bad healing. Next arrow," she indicated this next part with her hands breaking an imaginary stick, "Break then pull. No more damage if do this. Understand?" She then dismissed her assistant with little thought. The wound, this side at least was cleaned. She then, grabbed him by his wounded arm, and rolled him onto his good side, his wound now higher up. She couldn't stitch him up if there was a bunch of water sloshing around inside of him. She cleaned the other side of the wound, then set the bowl down. After a while, her assistant returned with a balm. She trusted that he'd made it right, for she had no choice otherwise. She dipped a single finger into the balm, getting a healthy dollop. She then worked her finger into the wound from the back, ensuring she spread it as evenly as possibly along the walls of the wound. She placed another dollop just inside, below the skin, and repeated the entire process from the front side of the wound. The wound was prepared now. She cleaned her hands once more, "Come here, watch stitches." Grabbing her threaded needle, she studied the wound. She the set it down, and grabbed her a pair of leaf clips from her herbalism pack. The wounds were too jagged as they were for a simple stitching. She cleaned the blades of the clips, and grabbed some of the looser sections of skin. She snipped them away, until she had a nice, clean, albeit slightly bigger wound. She then grabbed her needle, and began at the bottom of the wound, using her other fingers to pinch the flesh a bit, in order to punch through more easily. Needle piercing through, she bridged the gap to other side of the skin, penetrating the skin on that side. She pulled the string through, and returned to the opposite side, and repeated the process, using one long, continuous string. Her stitching produced a sort of ladder effect, and slowly began pulling the skin together as she worked her way up. She made sure not to close it too tight so that toxins and the like could be worked out as the body healed itself. When she made it to the top, she cut the string, and tied off both ends. "If you can do that, go stitch leg wound. If not, watch do other side, then you stitch leg wound." She repeated the entire snipping and stitching process on the other side of the man. When they were sealed, she applied a little bit of the balm to the outside of the stitches. She then using a spoon from her kit, fished out some bandages from the boiling water. She let them cool a bit, then wringed them out in her hands. She then pressed a folded bandage to each side, while wrapping a bandage around the shoulder and beneath the arm pit to hold them in place. She made it somewhat tight, but loose enough to slip two fingers, not three, beneath. She tucked the bandage in on itself, happy with the work. She took a moment to relax and rest, then got up, to go see how her partner was doing on that leg wound.

[Amon Torque]

He watched her work closely, noting the little details. Every part of him screamed no when she began to cut the wound larger, but he just stared biting his tongue and forced himself to not lash out at her to stop the cutting. She knows more than me, he thought, although he cringed internally anyway. Never make a wound larger, a philosophy he now was forced to discard into a endless pile of ideas that turned out to be wrong or simply outright stupid. His light brown eyes focused in on the way the needle penetrated into the skin, watching every angle and distance of the entry points closely. He watched as she pulled just a bit after each stroke of the needle, but noticed that she kept it loose enough to let it breathe. He made sure to make a mental note of this as he watched her finish, knowing he may very well need it in the future. She told him to go work on the other wounded gang member, which he did so with no argument, eager to practice what he had just seen.

Amon's hands moved to the sewing kit, taking one of the needles out and making sure it was pre threaded. He took his balm with him on the way over, and seeing as the woman was not dying right this second, decided to do her the favor of applying extra honey and garlic juice directly to the wound. Amon started the process by dipping a cut piece apron into the water, taking it out and setting it on his bag to let it cool. While he was waiting, he used the mortar and pestle to squeeze some juice out of a clove of garlic, making sure he wasted none while doing so.

He took the rag and wiped the dried and new blood away from the wound, disinfecting the same time. He tipped the mortar over the laceration, allowing the juice to pour over it and enter it. The woman yelped, but did not move. He set down the mortar and pestle, talking in a calming voice. "I need to apply this," he said, holding up the balm, "it will help numb the pain, stop bleeding, and prevent infection. But it will sting pretty bad. I need you to stay still, alright?" She nodded and Amon scooped a gracious amount onto his fingers, he reached over the wound, and pressed with a decent amount of pressure, causing the woman to clench her teeth and yelp again. He slid the balm across the wound as he had seen his partner do, and noticed her face contort painfully. "The stinging will stop momentarily" he said, trying to console her. It did just as he said, and he watched her reach out and touch the wound gingerly, looking confused.

She sighed gratefully, telling Amon, "good. I can't feel it anymore, hurry up and stitch it." His hand shook slightly as he brought the needle closer to the end of the wound, which was strange, considering it never became shaky as it was now. He tried to clench his hand muscles slightly to deter said shakiness, before pushing the needle at a near flat angle into the wound and going out the other side, into healthy skin. The gash was not wide, and it was a simple stitch after seeing someone else do it. He repeated the steps, crossing from side to side and pulling very gently at the end of each cross, making sure to tighten the wound but let it breathe. It felt as natural as shielding did, and he began to work with precise turns and stitches, barely noticing he had reached the end of the long slash. His voice carried over to his partner, muttering, "alright, finished. How do I tie the knot at the end?"

[Kechaiya]

Satisfied that her patient would be fine now, she moved over to where her bumbling pupil was now working. His apparent cramp in his hand had not gone unnoticed, something that would go away with practice. But if he was cramping already, it probably meant he was gripping the needle a bit too tight. He was probably nervous, but he'd have to get over that. She let him finish first, and heard him ask his question. She refused to answer at first, now looking at the woman, hand now outstretched, "Pay first, then finish fixing." The woman's eyes were bewildered, not believing what she'd heard. Kechaiya pointed at her wound, "If not finished, that kill slow with infection. You pay, I fix. No pay, you die." Grumbling, the woman found her coin purse, and gave Kechaiya some coins, until the ebony eyed healer's gaze seemed satisfied. Kechaiya then set some of them next to Amon, as his share. "You do square knot. Cross short over long, short then pass under long through loop. Then do again, short over long, then short under long through loop. Pull to tighten. Then done. This square knot, or reef knot as Svefra say." Kechaiya neither knew nor cared if he understood her or not. He should've been watching her knotting more closely if he wanted to know. Her eyes looked over to the corner of the room where a man was tied up, growing weary from blood loss it seemed. Walking over to him, she then crouched down in front of him, his eyes burning fire back toward hers. Her eyes then moved to his belt, looking for any obvious signs of a coin purse but was disappointed to see none. He was well into shock, and would probably die from blood loss before too long. But Kechaiya was ever the business woman. "You have mizas?" The man's head lolled slightly, so she slapped him to get him to focus. "You have mizas?" The man faintly shook his head, and Kechaiya sighed. It could take him an agonizing bell or two die, and while she preferred to be paid, it didn't matter. This man was in Dira's grasp already. She nodded, patting him on the cheek with her left hand, while her right drifted to the waist of her skirt. She gripped her dagger, her left seeming to provide him some comfort. Silently she drew the dagger, keeping her eyes locked on the man, gently smiling. She then jammed the dagger upward, sinking it just above the lump in his neck, driving upward, hoping to strike his brain. She never took her eyes off his, finding it curious how surprised he looked. She saw his eyes lose focus, and could tell the life was gone from them. Dira had taken him. She pulled her dagger free, and wiped it on the man's shirt, before putting it back in the waist of her skirt. She turned back to her companion, "You get that knot?"