|No One Minds The Healer|
|Summary:||Senna patches Ruger up after the Riverlanders help the Crown forces hold the Bailey|
|Related Logs:||Pyke Siege logs.|
|Field Hospital - Army of the Crown|
|A sizeable tent filled with cots. Staffed by maesters, septons and those with healing skill, the place is literally a bloody mess..Oh and there's screaming too.|
|April 4th 289|
Not so very far from the field of battle lies the field hospital, staffed by maesters, squires, barbers…and Senna. She was capable enough at the beginning of the war, but as battles have come and gone, she's gotten even more efficient. And has made it clear that the Nayland men with serious injuries are her first concern, and not to be treated by anyone other than a maester or herself. So as men start to trickle off the field, she's waiting, sleeves rolled up, supplies laid out, and eyes wary.
Back from the bailey, already the wounded are being pulled in and seen to back in the hospital tents. Luckily, for the young Lord Ser Nayland he is afforded back by some people his is familiar with. There's a groan, given as his squire helps him from his armor, taking the time to peel him from the brigadine and chain mail coate he had on. "Maiden fuck me twice.." Rutger murmurs as he's looking down to the gash on his left. Though bleeding is light, his breathing though, is labored and painful at the moment.
No call for wine has been given, but the paling man does want something "Water." ached out before he's motioning for his armor. " Clean and fix it. I need it ready for when we break the siege.." and then he's coughing again. "Shite.." as he's turing to spit.
"That," Senna says as she weaves toward Rutger, "Is not exactly what the Maiden is known for." Even as she reaches his side, she's neck in neck with a squire as she reaches for buckles and straps, disarming the knight even as she takes in the state of wounds. "Not that one," she says quickly when the boy tries to pass a skin to Rutger, taking it back and trading it for another. "That's for cleaning wounds." She doesn't seem the least bit bothered by the spitting, and it's only once the inspection is well underway that she acknowledges her patient in truth. "Lord Rutger," she greets, summoning up a faint, professional smile.
"No." replies Rutger with a faint sneer, though that is coming at poking said wound with a finger, which likely will be slapped for it. "Thank you.." sighed out before he is drinking down a few gulps before sputtering. At least he had sense not to ask for wine yet. "How bad?" asked before he's looking to the dark haired woman and blinking. "Why my dear. A surprise to see you with the Army.." Apparently, he did not expect this. "And I doubt you expected to find me like this.." Rambling helps- or at least distracts from the pain.
"Mmmm," Senna hums, passing the armor to the squire and pressing a hand to Rutger's shoulder to get him to lie back. "My father was a tourney knight," she explains in the absent tone of someone focusing on something else - which is probably a good thing, given the situation. "And when the war came, he didn't want to leave me behind in such uncertain times. So I went with him. That's why I was at the Trident." There's a splash of that other liquid over the wound, and it is going to sting and burn…but at least it allows her to peel away fabric without taking skin with it.
"I remember you at the Trident." Rutger allows as he lies back but not without him cursing and then his hand is out, reaching for Senna's arm after whatever the fuck she splashed in starts to burn. Now is that him speaking out of injury or did he simply see her there. "And I remember you when we found you on the way back to the Mire." Well isn't this something to talk about. "I was a prisoner then, or pardoned prisoner. All the same.." He hisses out before he's raising his head to look, and to drink, before sputtering down with a sharp sound of pain. "We were both quite young. Well Five years ago younger at least."
"Oh, you found me, did you?" Senna asks, a glimmer of humor in her eyes as she looks up briefly from the wound. "That's not quite how I remember it." The liquid stings, but her fingers are gentle, brushing light as butterfly wings over tattered flesh to smooth away pieces of mail and arming jacket, swift and purposeful. "I remember finding my father. I remember trying to return to the tents to find them being ransacked. And I remember trying to find the most orderly force I could that still needed a healer. Conveniently, young Ser…Gods, what was his name?" She punctuates the question with another wash of liquid, the astringent scent of herbs sharp in the air, even over the copper tang of blood. "Young Ser Can't Ride My Horse," she decides after a moment, "was amenable enough."
Rutger stares quietly for a moment, turning his head as the cries of another wounded man catches his attention. Breathe sucked in through his teeth, before he is looking back over towards Senna. "I could ride my horse fine." he replies. "My horse, however was taken out from under me when our column finally collapsed. Never mind how many men, I killed, or sent home worse.." A sniff. "But one horse is killed from under you, and suddenly you cannot ride." And eyes close for a moment. "And I was sorry for your father. He fought well. Just for the wrong side." but then, so did Rutger and Rygar. "Which I've been reminded on since the King drafted me into his courtiers."
"Not you," Senna sniffs, bracing one hand against his shoulder as she feels along his ribs with the palm of the other. "He was with the main body of Nayland forces. Some young knight with more money and breeding than sense." She trails off, eyes clouding as she focuses more on what she can feel than on what she can see. "You, my lord, have broken ribs." Shifting, she switches sides to check the other ribs, then reaches up to take his chin, pressing her thumb to his lips. "Rinse and spit, then let me see your mouth." Her lips twist at the request, black humor in her eyes.
"There." Rutger states before he's wincing "It hurts there.." as if she needed anything else to tell her. Still Rutger does as he is asked before he is looking back to Senna for a moment. "I thought you've seen my scars before." And there he is taking a swig of water to swish and in deed spit. Eyes looking back up as he opens his mouth. "Don't poison me here. At least wait till I am old and grey before you do it." A crude joke, but still there none the less. "Well, do you remember me from the Trident, or did I only become in focus once you were among us?"
"Me? Poison somebody?" Senna blinks, fluttering long lashes in a guileless expression. "Surely my lord jests." She does take a good look inside his mouth, letting out a soft breath of relief afterward with a terse nod. "No foam means no damage to your lungs. That's good." She turns to retrieve a small tin from the satchel at her side, opening it before she squirts some of the disinfectant over her own hands. "I remember you and Lord Rygar well," she admits, dabbing her ring finger into the tin and gently tapping some of the cream along the edges of the slice over his ribs. It burns and then it freezes…and then it's blessedly tingly and almost numb. "I remember, because I was terrified that one of you would remember which side my father was on and mention it to someone."
"Why would we do that?" Rutger asks, before he is falling silent. It's that cooling affect. That breath of winter that cuts the pain down considerably. "Numb.." he murmurs before eyes are looking to see what he can catch of her work. Still he is calm, perhaps calmer now due to whatever that was. "I may be a bastard sometimes, my dear. But, I would never out a loyalist." though this is said softer due to the different ears situated in the tent-whether preoccupied with other wounded, or not.
"I'm afraid I didn't know that at the time," Senna points out with a small smile, threading a needle and drawing both it and the thread through the disinfectant before she starts. "What I knew was that I was suddenly very much alone in the world, and I knew exactly how vulnerable that made me." Vulnerable is not a word that anyone would apply to her now, of course. She shows no squeamishness about stitching up skin either, the motions smooth and efficient. "War is glory for noblemen. It's something else for the rest of us." She's silent for only a moment before she glances up, one dark brow winging upward. "Invited among the King's courtiers, hmm?"
Rutger is quiet, but there's not much to do when one is being threaded up. He listens a bit more, before the corners of his lips quirk up. "Yes." he replies. "I have worked hard to get within the King's graces. Enough to be called to go with the gaggle of us that hang about court. Needless to say, my past affiliations did me no favours." He has been ridden endlessly for having been a rebel- a vocal one at that, and for his other less than savoury rumors. "But still, I am here, which should help our cause."
"Mmmm. I'd offer to help, but I hear the King is a very far cry from Edmure Tully," Senna drawls, focused on the stitching once more. The cries and smells of an infirmary tent after a battle don't seem to register to her, at least until she looks up when the final stitch is knotted. "If you're hoping to win the king over with battle bravado, I'm afraid you're going to have to hope this fight lingers," she sighs, straightening to reach for bandages.
There's a faint laugh there, that brings a wince and a gritting of teeth from the Nayland male. "Oh, he's different. A merry man who enjoys keeping his city merry. If King's Landing is not feasting, drinking or fucking…I don't think His Grace is truly happy." And he's looking back to his side before he is looking back to her. "How long must I lie still in good air?" Rutger presses "And when at the earliest can I return to war? Please understand I am not trying to win his friendship with my blade, but proving I am loyal and good goes a long way for our case in Stonebridge."
"More than it did when you left," Senna agrees quietly, carefully starting to wrap the bandages around his torso. "Since…" She pauses, looking up with an arch of her brow. "You've heard about Lord Ryker, haven't you?" She hasn't answered the question yet, but she is busy carefully wrapping his ribs, after all.
"Seven willing.." he murmurs before he's raising up a bit so as to help her with the bandages, or at least make it easier to wrap him up. There's pain evident in his eyes, though whether it is for the ribs or the delicate conversation topic. It's unknown. Eyes flick back to the healer "I know. I was told." As to who was the unlucky Crownlander to let him know about his brother's death is not pinpointed. "I am glad he decided to be interred there..I am sure it made father Happy, that wish." Or at least his father could handle that. Not much time to mourn in the middle of a war.
Senna nods once, continuing to wrap. It's tight, all the better to keep his ribs where they belong, but not enough to pull on the stitches. "Well. For now, it means the King's impression of you personally is all the more important." As she ties off the bandage, she leans back, brows furrowing and lips pursing in consideration. "A week would be best," she finally sighs. "But to impress the King, three days. You'll still move poorly enough. Wear armor so that you don't bend. That is going to bruise impressively," she notes, pensive. "If you can arrange for the King to see it, and see you at his side despite it, it may help."
"Then I will rest three days, and prop myself up in armor afterwards." Rutger grimaces. "I would have wept, I believe." Rutger admits. "But, by that time we'd been fighting them back in the west. I just didn't have time." And he looks down to one of his hands before he is looking back to her. "Does that make me numb, Senna?" As if the healing mistress would be a good enough judge to figure that whole mess out. "I fear that my own tears not coming will make me look calloused. I loved my brother.." said softly. "Nor can I really fathom he's gone."
"He was gone for a long time before this, my lord," Senna notes quietly, starting to gather her things together again, taking care to rinse supplies and her hands as she goes. "The years he spent in Riverrun, away from his family. It must be easy to imagine he's only gone away again. That he'll show up any moment." She looks back to him once more, eyes narrowing slightly. "I doubt anyone is thinking overmuch about your reactions to loss, though. They all have their own losses now."
Rutger looks back towards Senna and there's a faint laugh. "They do. But everyone watches one way or another Senna. Everyone watches.." he trails off before he is moving to try and get up. Find himself a cleaner cot to lay down on. And it's poor poor moving. gingerly and everything. "I'm glad you are here and alive." said plainly enough. "I was worried."
"For me?" Senna arches a brow, a faint smile curving her lips. "You needn't be, my lord. I made it out of the Trident, a girl of eighteen, alone. Seven, the Drowned God, the Storm God, and Lord of Light help the poor reaver who tries to make a salt wife out of me," she laughs softly, packing things neatly away. "On second thought, perhaps I should have slipped off with one. They do seem to have the market cornered on shiny things in this part of the world right now…"
"Yes, but all of that is about to become all of ours. And I plan to bring home my own share of it." Which he's done good so far. Still there's a wince, and his hand steadies out. "Help me find a cot." he says softly. "Seven bless your resourcefulness." Rutger says. "I'll need the rest, if I'm to be performing a miracle worthy of the warrior in three days time."
"You don't want a cot here, my lord," Senna shakes her head, moving to his side to support him with a hand at his elbow. "There's going to be a good deal of screaming shortly. There's always at least one or two amputations. Where's your tent?" she asks, slipping her satchel over her shoulder. "You're not such a risk that you need constant supervision, and you'll sleep better there than you will here."
"I am amongst the courtiers..We're close to the King's own grand pavilion. It's closer to the center of Camp.." he states as his arm moves to catch her shoulders so he can lean a little on the healer. A look is given over towards Senna, before Rutger is grinning. "It'll put you in the prime place to know the movers and shakers of our kingdom. Come." As if Senna needed any prodding at a chance of more shiny things.
Shiny things? Shiny secrets. Knowledge is power of the best sort. "No one minds the healer, after all," she murmurs, a glint of anticipation in her eyes. She slips beneath his arm with the ease of someone who's offered that sort of support before, and seems comfortable with it as well, taking perhaps more of his weight than might be expected.