|Everything You've Got|
|Summary:||Starling turns assistant to Senna when Tam and Einion stagger back from battle.|
|Date:||January 28th 2012|
|Related Logs:||Siege of Seagard|
|An abandoned house, readied for the arrival of lesser-born wounded.|
|January 28th 289 A.L.|
It's a long walk, or at least it certainly feels like hundred of miles to the pair of men, one knight, one pikeman. Both are coated with blood, both work to help support the other. The pikeman, however, has another one of his Quarter supporting him on the other side, given the weakness of the pair. Blood trails behind them, and seemingly with each step, a new, shuddering breath has to be taken. Einion can't really see what's ahead of him, and his voice is a quiet wheeze, "How far, ser?" He's not all that sure, now, that he'll make the final yards.
There's a little medic area set up in one of the reclaimed houses, and at least it's prepared. Or at least as well-prepared as one can be when supplies are low. Senna waits along with the other few people who know a thing or two about healing and aren't attached to a single lord or family, her sleeves rolled up and her hair braided back away from her features. "Fuck fighting in the streets," she sighs when she sees the first and the worst start to approach, moving forward to meet the men and lend a shoulder as she can. "Not far, boys," she answers Einion's question. "Let's take a look."
"Y'just shut yer fucken mouth and walk, boy. Just shut up and walk." Despite the harsh words, Tam's tone is clearly rich with fondness for the other man - he looks awful, but nowhere near as bad as the other. As Senna approaches, the knight steps away, sagging against a wall. "Take 'im, Mistress. Do whatever ye got to do. I'll make sure ye're rewarded, just… /save/ him." He begins to sink, himself, sagging down the wall slowly. "He's hurt real bad," he adds unnecessarily.
The tanner is grievously wounded, and it's only by a sheer miracle by the Warrior the man walks at all. He's got holes in his chest, one critically that should have caused his death immediately, but didn't. There's a strike upon his neck that has caused welts to rise and black and blue of blood that wells within.. and in comparison to those, the other wounds to his chest, and left leg (his bum leg) are negligible, even if they are almost as bad as the others, all told. Einion nods, blinking in order to focus. He feels rather than sees Tam depart his side, and there's a moment of panic. He leans still upon his pike, but he's dangerously close to simply falling. "Mistress.. it doesn't hurt.." And it doesn't…
The two are barely through the doorway, the blood isn't even drying where it's smudged against the wall, and a quiet voice is added.. albeit still stronger that Tam's. "Senna." Arms folded, face ashen, Starling enters the building, deliberately keeping her dark eyes -only- on the healer. She must have been waiting outside, or very close by - on the roof, knowing her - to be here so swiftly. "..nevermind Coop. You remember what I promised..?" Tilting her jaw down a little, she fixes a meaningful look upon the other woman. "..everything you've got. If y'please." She steps aside, following this, out of the way of the other men and women here, who are about to get very busy. Just as well there's a wall at her back, frankly, when she finally begins to look toward the two soldiers.
Senna eyes Tam as he sinks against the wall. "He's not the only one," she notes, though she wastes little time in getting Einion to a cot. "Get yourself in a cot if you can, ser," she adds to Tam. "We'll get a look at you next." For all she's a woman, there's surprising strength in her, and she knows exactly how to handle an increasingly limp body. "I've got it," she assures Starling, even as she presses her lips tightly together at the injuries. "It's going to be a long night."
"Alright, Healer.." Tam tries to rise, fails, tries to rise again. He seems baffled by his own body failing him, then simply rolls over onto his hands and knees and begins crawling toward a bed. His face falls when Starling enters - genuine despair touching his features. But he says nothing, as yet, simply grimly crawling toward one of the beds and resting his upper body against it as he gathers the strength to haul himself up. Blood spills forward onto the sheets. "..Sorry," he murmurs, though whether he's apologizing for ruining the linen or for something else isn't entirely clear.
Barely seeming aware of herself, Starling simply stares, for a long moment, at Einion as he's helped onto a cot; only a curt nod offered in response to Senna's assurance, such as it is. But, something to occupy one's mind always helps.. or usually it does. Turning her gaze upon Tam as he fades, she steps toward him, haltingly at first, then with more purpose, stooping to grasp him by the upper arm and -heave- him onto the bed he's trying to crawl upon. "..c'mon, Coop.. I can't lift you m'self.." Her words are murmured only, but uttered close enough by his ear that perhaps they might be of some comfort to the poor man. And if not? There's a hushed whisper of thanks that follows, before she tries to guide him back, gently easing him to lay down on the ensanguined sheets.
Einion makes the cot, but it's only the beginning for him. His armour is slit in places, and even as he lies down, blood seeps from his deep wounds. The pike is released, with great difficulty- his comrade in Green has to pry the tanner's fingers from the shaft before it's released. With a nod to them all, he departs. The stricken serjeant begins to close his eyes.. to sleep. Now, he's so very tired, and sleeping sounds like a great idea.
"Oh, little bird. I tried.. I didna keep m'word.." Tam lets himself be settled onto the bed, gasping for breath as he lays there. "My glove.." he reaches reflexively toward the tooled leather - a gift from the leatherworker lying not far from him - and grits his teeth. "Ye ought'a take it back, girl. I'm sorry." His eyes trail over to Einion, swallowing and raising his voice sharply, with a sudden inrush of strength. "Ye /open yer fucken eyes, Wycliffe, ye little whingin' brat! Ye die when I /say/."
"Get him undressed, carefully," Senna instructs Starling as to dealing with Tam, even as she works on the same with Einion. "Put pressure on anything that's still bleeding. Stick with that for now, all right?" When Einion starts to fade away, she reaches up to give his cheek a sharp slap. "Stay with me, hon," she urges, making short work of the armor to get a good look at the wounds. "This is going to hurt like hell. Starling, get me one of the rods from the fire."
So warm, so very tired.. and all he wants— and the shout from the knight, coupled with the slap on his cheek causes the tanner to shoot open his eyes. He draws a deep breath, and now, lying there, he can begin to feel the insults hurled upon him in the form of wounds. His body begins to shake, a groan coming from him. From the peaceful, almost euphoric feeling to the beginnings of the kind of pain he'd never felt before. The armour is easy enough to be pulled off of him in pieces.. and he's left in a homespun tunic, also in tatters and covered with red life's blood.
"You've kept it well enough, Coop." replies the dark-haired girl, staying his hand as it reaches toward that gauntlet merely by laying her own atop it. "..you keep that, too. You got him here. Now.." Evidently paying heed to the healer at the next cot, despite this quiet exchange, Starling drops her attention to Tam's rather battered looking armors, setting to unbuckling the straps alongside his ribs. "..this needs to come off. A'right?" A passing glance sweeps over his bloodied leg, as well as the rest of him, but it's evidently his barrel chest that has taken the brunt of things; crimson seeping through the maile of his hauberk. Grimacing in spite of herself, she chances a glance to the soldier's eyes.. but just as swiftly, Senna's saying her name again.
Looking up sharply, the girl unthinkingly just grasps a handful of the dubious sheets Tam's already lying on and rrrrriiiiiips a wad of the linen free, bundling it and thrusting it into his fist. "Press this on.. right back.." Bit frantic, this healing business. Before she has time to think upon what's been asked of her, Starling's by the fire, selecting one of the waiting irons there and eyeing it dubiously before offering it out to the other woman. Her attention is studiously kept away from Einion as he groans and trembles.
A taut smile crosses Tam's features at Starling's reassurances. He tries to sit, to help her with the armor, but only manages to get an elbow beneath himself. "It's alright, lass," he murmurs softly - far from playing up his injury this time, the man seems determined to downplay it. "Y'go help him. Go on." Tam presses the bandage to his chest, sucking in air before he snarls out again, his voice hoarse with pain and effort. "Ye lis'na me, ye horr'ble little shiet! Ye -owe- me, aye? For that time wi' Isolde! Ye /owe/ me the effort here.." he trails off to cough, groaning and clenching with his free hand at the bedsheet. "Ye fight, boy. Fight."
Senna splashes water over Einion, doing her best to get a look at the damage before it's too late to do anything about it. "I hate doing it this way," she mutters under her breath, catching the inside of her cheek between her teeth as she takes the heated iron from Starling. "Find the vessel…" She talks to herself quietly as she works, drawing on some older memories. "Gods help me." And then that piece of iron is plunging into the wound in Einion's chest, searing the flesh to stop the worst of the bleeding. She does try to direct it, tries to avoid healthier flesh and just stop the bleeding, but there's only so much to be done.
It hurts. It hurts.. and Einion is officially afraid. He nods his head, though the gesture isn't as broad or visible so as be seen. The sight of the heated poker brings a scream from the tanner, but that apparently is only the beginning. He calls out, more afraid now than even out in combat, "Tam!" before he screams in pain, his back arching. He shudders and takes a deep breath, his cries undoubtedly carrying outside the chiurgeon's area.
Is that a /tear/ running down the grizzled hedge knight's face? How many young men has he seen die like this, before now? He ignores it, locking his eyes on the other man, gritting his teeth as he snarls. "That's it, boy! I'm here. I'm here, son." Determination keeps his hand pressed against his own wound, though he seems to have forgotten it, struggling to rise again as the other man calls out his name. "Ye're doin' good! Just think, neh woman'll ever refuse ye after this. Women love scars, son. /Love/ 'em."
With the iron handed off to the healer, Starling remains very quiet, not wanting to interrupt the woman as she works so intently. Newly freed, her hand drops to rest upon Einion's forearm - about the only part of him without blood pouring from it. The calm in the moments prior is almost unsettling in itself. But as her dark eyes flit upward, the red-heat of the metal reflects in them and they widen with horrific anticipation. Tightening her grip where it already lies, she instinctively flings her other arm across to grasp and hold the tanner's other wrist, trying to pin him as his body reflexively spasms with the pain, the scent of burning flesh thick and nauseating in the air. Closing her eyes tight, Starling turns her face away, willing herself not to falter and doing what she can to keep the man still, lest he inadvertently worsen his already dire injuries. "Senna.." The healer's name comes out on a choked gasp, with faint, querelous question within it. How long does she have to hold? More to the point, how long -can- she?
Senna already has her free arm across Einion's shoulders, all the better to hold the tanner still. From the grim look on her face, she's done this before. When she removes the iron, it still glows faintly, and she lowers it into a container of water with a hiss, attention all on the wound. It probably doesn't make Einion feel any better when she roots around in it, though after the cautery, he's probably not feeling much. Finally she nods, letting out a huff of breath. "All right, that's the worst of the bleeding. Now we can see what we have here."
Einion is crying, tears welling and falling, mixing with dirt and blood, trying to focus, trying to do anything, but all he can see is the lure of the darkness. "I can't.." The cauterization does, indeed, begin to send his body into shock again, the feeling of pain dissipating as nerves are overloaded. It's another miracle that he's still conscious.. with the pain, the blood loss.. "Seven save me.. it hurts.." He shakes his head, his eyes looking up, unfocused now in the pain and fear. It's even worse than battle..
"Ye -can-, ye bastard. Ye're goin' to be fine, Einion, goin' to be fine." Tam pants as he lies back - he can tell that the worst is over, perhaps having seen it before. The effort of encouraging the other man is taking its toll, his older body sagging inside its armor as though he deflates. "Seven Above, that was desp'rate.." he murmurs to himself. Slowly working his gauntleted left hand up his body, Tam fishes out a scrap of braided cloth, clenching it tightly.
A sheen of sweat gleams dully across Starling's brow, nausea evidently plaguing her in the wake of the sickening - but very necessary - cauterising. Slowly withdrawing her hands and opening her eyes, she looks up into the tanner's features as he goes limp once more. Which is worse, silence or screaming? She couldn't tell you, in this moment. Biting hard on her lower lip, she takes a slow step back from Einion's cot and draws a tentative lungful of air. Finding that she can, in fact, remain standing and keep from heaving the contents of her stomach, she reaches to rest one bloodied hand lightly upon the man's stubbled cheek, regarding him, just for a moment, from up above. She doesn't say anything, though. What's there to offer? He's barely even conscious. Sweeping her thumb across his cheekbone, she then casts a look toward Tam, still flung where he landed upon the next cot, and starts in his direction, her touch drifting away from Einion's befuddled senses. There's still work to be done.. and Senna needs space. "Coop." she prompts, softly, just as he relaxes. "..your armor." Back beside the veteran, she returns to unbuckling the hauberk, as if nothing had happened.
"If it hurts, that's good news," Senna informs Einion as she works quickly over his wounds, using a smaller piece of metal here and there when she finds something that's bleeding more than it ought to. Which will clearly help with the screaming, right? "Dying doesn't hurt. When it stops hurting, then you're dying. So hold on to the pain. Ride it." The wounds on his arm and leg she simply wraps tightly for the moment, saving dealing with them for later. The others need a wash, and a careful check for broken bones as well.
He can? He can? He has to. Einion has a mother and sister home, and.. a.. a nice girl that he hopes to one day.. maybe court? Maybe? He shudders again, a groan rising as the pain washes over him again. He can survive this.. and he's not dying. Not yet? He feels every touch, feels every move around him, even if they're not touching him. He draws another breath and lets it out, groaning even as Senna moves on to other wounds. He can't feel the poking and prodding for the pain in the hole in his chest.
"Oh. Right. I forgot." Tam forces a ghost-like, broken grin toward Starling. "I knew event'ally, it'd come to this, little bird. Ye're so desperate t'see me naked, huh?" He winces, struggling to help, lifting his arms up over his head with considerable effort. Over Starling's shoulder, his gaze travels back to Einion, watching quietly before he looks back. "Ye're doin' well, little bird.. doin' well." The shifting of his armor reopens the wound - blood flowing down his barrel chest, pooling in his lap. "Sorry," he says again, a bit thickly.
Starling doesn't answer the words of the injured knight. But the telling wobble of her lower lip, no matter how swiftly she bites down on it, is perhaps answer enough. Her arms take as much of the weighty maile as possible, keeping it from pressing too hard as she hefts it free of Tam's battered torso then simply drops it to the floor by her feet. The doublet beneath, greasy with warm blood, she doesn't bother to remove. she simply guides him back to his recline and unlaces the front, pulling it carefully apart to bare his chest. Oh. That's not good. The sight of the gristle and mess beneath has her glancing wide-eyed toward Senna for guidance.
This is going to be a long process for Senna and Einion. That hole in his chest is going to require a great number of stitches, bandages, and probably a few more cauteries. And poultices and leeches for that bludgeon wound on his neck. And eventually stitches for the wounds on his arm and leg. "Pressure," she says absently to Starling, starting her work on cleaning out the chest wound with a mix of water, alcohol, and some distilled herbs.
The blessing of pain is hardly something to be asked for, and Einion simply can't handle it much longer. It's not sleep that takes the tanner, but rather, blessed unconsciousness, the differences easily discernable. He groans first, then cries out before darkness comes, his eyes rolling back into his head. It'll make Senna's life easier, and ultimately it'll begin the healing process.
A wet laugh escapes Tam at the expression on Starling's face, and he reaches out with one blood-soaked paw to stroke her hair lightly. "I'm alright," he murmurs weakly. "I'm alright." He closes his eyes in a drowsy blink, bald head covered in sweat. Opening his eyes again, his hand still clumsily patting at the back of her head, he says "I'm real sorry.. I done bad things." A cough, a grimace, and he carries on. "Do I look as pretty as ye'd hoped, now ye finally got me undressed?" He's periodically interrupted by shudders and grimaces of pain as he speaks, doggedly driving on despite clear evidence of agony. His free hand clenches that scrap of cloth, staining it with his blood, knuckles white with the grip of it.
Pressure. Right. Snatching up another handful of cloth, Starling settles to a perch on the edge of Tam's cot and presses the material down over the deepest crush of the wound, gently at first, almost gingerly, then gradually increasing as she tries to stem the crimson that stains the linen. That gentle pat seems to go unnoticed, or at least she doesn't flinch from it, even as it matts more crimson in her dark tresses, and eventually she's brave enough to look up at the knight's stricken features. "..hush yourself, coop. You never did learn when to shut it." Still, the faintest ghost of a smirk twitches at her lips. "..I'm sure you're not lookin' your best, right now." In fairness, neither is she. A smear of blood goes unchecked across her cheek, as well as all over her hands. But it can't be helped.
Senna works as quickly as she can on Einion, especially after he passes out, then moves back, wiping the back of her wrist across her brow. "All right. He'll hold for now. And his body needs a rest before I keep going. Let's see to you, Ser," she sighs at Tam, moving to the next cot to take a look at the knight. "I hope this pushes the buggers out to sea," she murmurs. "At this rate we're all going to be too injured to fight the next round."
"Thass where ye're wrong, poppet - I'm prettier in red." Another wet, wheezing cough from Tam, his head resting back on the cot. He tries to keep stroking Starling's hair, as though -he- is soothing -her-, but the pressure on his chest eventually causes his arm to fall aside. He tries to raise it again, then laughs - weaker, this time - and gives it up. "We won. We broke 'em.. they're runnin' to the boats now, Healer."