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“The bleeding has finally stopped,” a doctor announced into the bustling room, and Akasja perked up to pay close attention to the scene. The young butcher who not long ago had come into the River Flower for emergency help lay exhaustedly in his hospital bed, his face pale and a little damp with sweat. Strands of his dark brown hair were stuck to his angular face. The man finally could rest.
The doctors had been working ceaselessly to stop the bleeding from a sliced artery in his finger, a wound sustained while he had been closing shop and cleaning his blades. The work required to help him was beyond Akasja’s skill set. She had no idea how to cauterize a wound like that, though she was familiar with ways to keep someone from bleeding to death. Still, Akasja had been listening to the events unfolding, knowing her services would be needed soon to help with the man’s pain.
As Akasja rushed over to the countertop where she kept her supplies, she recalled an old memory. Before she had ever arrived in Endrykas, Akasja was once among her family and friends in the deserts of Eyktol. On one occasion, Akasja had gone foraging with her cousins for edible cacti. On their way towards a particularly verdant location, Akasja had lost her footing. She had fallen in such a way that one of her hands had shot outwards from her body –and right into the body of a spiny cactus. After dislodging herself from the plant, a few of the needles had stuck into the back of her hand. Those she had to remove as well. They had thankfully not gone in very deep, but once Akasja had plucked a particular spine from her hand, a dark pearl of blood began to ooze from her skin. It was then that Akasja knew her vein itself had been pierced.
With a sharp exhale, Akasja shook the memory from her mind. Seeing the blood surge forth from her own hand had been surprising; she had not expected so much to flow, and the sight had made her light-headed. But that had been a very minor injury, and a bleeding vein was easier to deal with than a sliced artery. While veins oozed, arteries squirted.
Akasja put a hand to her aching forehead and decisively sat down. Thinking intently about bleeding injuries was too dizzying. With hunting, she didn’t care so much, couldn’t allow herself to care. But when people were injured, it was Akasja’s job to care. More than that, it was in her nature. She just had to figure out the proper boundaries, the right time to shut off her empathy and just go to work. This, she told herself, was that time. The butcher was in pain, his bleeding had stopped, and Akasja was ready to help.
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46th Winter, 515 AV
Mid-evening
Mid-evening
“The bleeding has finally stopped,” a doctor announced into the bustling room, and Akasja perked up to pay close attention to the scene. The young butcher who not long ago had come into the River Flower for emergency help lay exhaustedly in his hospital bed, his face pale and a little damp with sweat. Strands of his dark brown hair were stuck to his angular face. The man finally could rest.
The doctors had been working ceaselessly to stop the bleeding from a sliced artery in his finger, a wound sustained while he had been closing shop and cleaning his blades. The work required to help him was beyond Akasja’s skill set. She had no idea how to cauterize a wound like that, though she was familiar with ways to keep someone from bleeding to death. Still, Akasja had been listening to the events unfolding, knowing her services would be needed soon to help with the man’s pain.
As Akasja rushed over to the countertop where she kept her supplies, she recalled an old memory. Before she had ever arrived in Endrykas, Akasja was once among her family and friends in the deserts of Eyktol. On one occasion, Akasja had gone foraging with her cousins for edible cacti. On their way towards a particularly verdant location, Akasja had lost her footing. She had fallen in such a way that one of her hands had shot outwards from her body –and right into the body of a spiny cactus. After dislodging herself from the plant, a few of the needles had stuck into the back of her hand. Those she had to remove as well. They had thankfully not gone in very deep, but once Akasja had plucked a particular spine from her hand, a dark pearl of blood began to ooze from her skin. It was then that Akasja knew her vein itself had been pierced.
With a sharp exhale, Akasja shook the memory from her mind. Seeing the blood surge forth from her own hand had been surprising; she had not expected so much to flow, and the sight had made her light-headed. But that had been a very minor injury, and a bleeding vein was easier to deal with than a sliced artery. While veins oozed, arteries squirted.
Akasja put a hand to her aching forehead and decisively sat down. Thinking intently about bleeding injuries was too dizzying. With hunting, she didn’t care so much, couldn’t allow herself to care. But when people were injured, it was Akasja’s job to care. More than that, it was in her nature. She just had to figure out the proper boundaries, the right time to shut off her empathy and just go to work. This, she told herself, was that time. The butcher was in pain, his bleeding had stopped, and Akasja was ready to help.
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