Healers Promise
01-17-2016, 06:55 PM
He was surprised when his assistance was requested in cleaning Arietta's wounds so that the healer could tend to it. Wasn't that the job of the healer? He supposed though that the boy had his work cut out for him already, and he offered his help when he didn't need to; in fact, they were quite a lucky bunch to have the attention of any healer, especially the attention of one who's mother would probably rather see them dead. There was no reason Xephyris couldn't give him a hand and try to make things easier on the boy. Thus, he nodded to Tornach before turning to Arietta, wondering what she thought. Her look was an apologetic one. The man shrugged and moved toward her. "This is gonna be weird for both of us," he murumured, trying not to make eye contact. For several awkward moments he stood close to her, mere inches away, examining the wound on her face and wondering how he should go about it.
It seemed there would be no easy or pleasant way to do this, so he simply reached toward the left side of her face with his muzzle and let his tongue wash over the fur of her face. He washed away what he could of the blood, some of it dried, some still fresh. It was a strange thing to taste the blood of a comrade, blood he hadn't sought with his own fangs. He was careful not to be rough nor touch the eye directly. Damn, it's good to be a fighter, not a healer, he thought, slightly disgusted by the task he'd been given, Who can do this for a living? He'd been made to rip and tear flesh apart, to draw fresh blood, not to mend and fix the wounds once they'd been dealt. Still, he would say nothing about his displeasure with the task, merely carry on until he was sure the wound was cleared up enough for Tor to give it a look over.
"How's that?" he asked Arietta, wondering if it felt any different. Of course, he was sure that the pain in her wrecked eyeball was casting a cloud over most other sensations. Mostly he just wondered if it was good enough so that he could stop licking her face. Perhaps it wouldn't have felt so awkward for him if he knew her better, or if he knew she wasn't Sin's mate. He didn't particularly like getting up close with someone he wasn't familiar with, but alas, it was all for the good of their healing process after this battle. Sitting back, he waited for the boy to look over Enigma, wondering if he'd be called upon again to help. Please no... please tell me you can heal Enigma's wounds on your own, he thought with a passing shudder. Though he was unwilling, he would do what he had to in order to get them all healed up, and he wouldn't resist any commands given to him, even if he despised it all the same.
It seemed there would be no easy or pleasant way to do this, so he simply reached toward the left side of her face with his muzzle and let his tongue wash over the fur of her face. He washed away what he could of the blood, some of it dried, some still fresh. It was a strange thing to taste the blood of a comrade, blood he hadn't sought with his own fangs. He was careful not to be rough nor touch the eye directly. Damn, it's good to be a fighter, not a healer, he thought, slightly disgusted by the task he'd been given, Who can do this for a living? He'd been made to rip and tear flesh apart, to draw fresh blood, not to mend and fix the wounds once they'd been dealt. Still, he would say nothing about his displeasure with the task, merely carry on until he was sure the wound was cleared up enough for Tor to give it a look over.
"How's that?" he asked Arietta, wondering if it felt any different. Of course, he was sure that the pain in her wrecked eyeball was casting a cloud over most other sensations. Mostly he just wondered if it was good enough so that he could stop licking her face. Perhaps it wouldn't have felt so awkward for him if he knew her better, or if he knew she wasn't Sin's mate. He didn't particularly like getting up close with someone he wasn't familiar with, but alas, it was all for the good of their healing process after this battle. Sitting back, he waited for the boy to look over Enigma, wondering if he'd be called upon again to help. Please no... please tell me you can heal Enigma's wounds on your own, he thought with a passing shudder. Though he was unwilling, he would do what he had to in order to get them all healed up, and he wouldn't resist any commands given to him, even if he despised it all the same.