The Usual (Post-Raid Healing)

If there was one thing Artorias could do well, it was follow instructions and know when he needed to put faith in an expert. He knew nothing of healing and medicine, and Deion was his carer for the time. He put his trust in the galactic-furred brute while he prepared his poultices and tinctures, promising the young alpha something better than whiskey if he cooperated. Artorias raised a curious brow, the promise of a nice reward indeed quite tantalizing to him. A fragrant salve was applied to his injured leg, then Deion let it sit to absorb. As the seconds ticked by, Artorias felt his foreleg growing more and more numb around the application site, a tingling nothingness settling over where pain had been moments before. He could still feel the pressure when Deion moved or manipulated his leg, but there was no pain otherwise. He appreciated how Deion informed him of everything he was doing, taking the young wolf along with him so he knew what to expect and what was coming.

Then the actual stitching began. Artorias met Deion's surly gaze and nodded in understanding, taking a deep breath in through his nose to settle himself. To his surprise, the floral and spicy smelling salve on his leg had indeed numbed him to almost all sensation. All Artorias felt was the pinch of the needle going through flesh and muscle, then a gentle tug as the sutures began to bind his wound closed. It still drew small grunts of discomfort from the Aegis, but it was far more manageable than he'd been expecting. He was still thankful for the cloth gagging him though so he didn't end up growling out of reflex or drawing undue attention to themselves. The alpha being wounded the worst in combat wasn't exactly something he wanted to advertise to his pack.

The process didn't take long, and before he knew it, Artorias had been fully stitched up. Deion applied some yarrow powder as an astringent to help close the wound, Artorias spat out the rag, then offered a short chuckle in response. "No, not that bad." His attending physician gave him strict orders to belay any training lest he rip out pieces of his leg and that the stitched would need to be removed in a week or two. He gave a nod of understanding and turned his foreleg around, inspecting the fine work the healer had accomplished. "I'll be sure to avoid crippling myself for life. Thank you, Deion." Testing if he could put weight on his leg, Artorias climbed down from the bed—and almost fell face first as the numbness hadn't quite worn off yet. He caught himself before he could eat the stone floor, however, and hobbled over to snag a sling off of a nearby table to hold his leg up until he could regain the use of it. "So, did I earn your special brand of painkillers?" he asked Deion with a roguish grin. Heaven knew he could use a pick me up celebratory libation after tonight.

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