The Usual (Post-Raid Healing)

Artorias hadn't been standing idly watching his wolves for long before a brusque bump to his shoulder caught his attention, head snapping round to see the chromatic Deion pushing his way past him into the infirmary. He'd just been about to disregard the wolf when Deion stopped abruptly in his tracks and turned to eye him up and down, then motioned for him to follow with a tsundere yet insistent command. Artorias hadn't seen his injuries as grievous as they were, but followed the healer all the same, limping to keep weight off of his injured leg while he was ushered away to a bed in a more quiet corner of the infirmary. Artorias hoisted himself up onto the bed, trying to keep his leg off of it so as not to stain the sheets with his blood, and watched while the cosmic wolf began producing numerous medical tinctures and tools. His doctor scowled and looked around, then excused himself for a moment and bid he get comfortable. Not like Artorias was going anywhere fast in his state.

Doing as his physician bid him, Artorias remained on the bed, watching the rest of the Hallows wolves at work. He frowned to think of his pack mates as injured, but many had gotten by easy. Just some scrapes, minor cuts, and bites to slap salve on and call it a night. They'd thrashed the pirates and he was so, so proud of them all. Deion returned then, and while some would consider his gruff and curt bedside manner a turnoff, Artorias found it quite refreshing. His sister was the most talented healer he knew, but sometimes she got too in her head and worried. Deion gave it to him straight, preparing him for the worst in the best way possible. Artorias eyes the needle and sutures as well as the salves and washcloth Deion had gathered. Yeah, he could tell this wasn't going to be pleasant...

"Didn't expect it to be," he remarked. "Wish I had a drop of whiskey to help take the edge off... You do what you have to." Artorias went to present his bleeding leg to Deion—then paused as he reached over and grabbed another cloth from the side table. The azure-furred brute stuffed the cloth in his mouth and bit down, not wanting to disturb the rest of the pack or draw concerned attention their way in case what Deion did caused some uncontrolled reactions from him. Now sufficiently gagged, Artorias presented his leg to the healer once more, the clean impalement wound present just above his wrist. This was going to suck, but it sure as hell beat dying...

"Artorias Carpathius" | "Carpathian" | "Corbin" | "Argent"