Another day that ends in y

[justice_is_blond]

WHO: Anders, Benedict, Myr, Simon
WHAT: Someone needs some medical attention.
WHEN: At the end of the infiltration plot
WHERE: Infirmary in the Gallows
NOTES: Could be a little gross with the neck wound.

Sometimes the Inquisition goes a day or two without serious injuries. Those are rather nice days. There's no frantic rush into the rooms, no high spikes of stress, and it's entirely unlike Kirkwall.

Which is why those days are rare.

All the same, before the arrival of panicked groups, there's the routine. Anders is chopping herbs with the assistance of two cats. It's pleasant. Relaxing. It can't last.

Comments

[justice_is_blond]

He's not certain that killing the pain is enough here, now. Anders exhales, stopping his casting and resting a hand on Benedict's shoulder for a brief moment.

"All right. All right. Let go, Myrobalan." His words are quiet as he steps away, going to the desk and starting to pull ingredients out of drawers. "Benedict, I'm going to give you something to knock you out, if you'll take it. We'll get it out while you sleep."

Many of the injuries he sees in the Inquisition infirmary are due to combat, many of them born by people who would avoid admitting they're injured as if it's the most shameful in the world. He's grown heavily accustomed to that. Even in Darktown it's people who are ready to be treated, who have already been through a great deal. He's forgotten how young Benedict is when it comes to worldly experience.

[faithlikeaseed]

Myr doesn't need to be told twice--not when he'd already frozen at the sound Benedict made, at the way the younger man pulled away from him. He draws his hands back and breathes out in a heavy sigh as Anders explains the game plan; it seems only sensible given how distraught their patient's become. Whether or not he's a spoiled Vint brat, he sounds utterly pathetic and it pierces right through Myr's soft heart.

"Ashlock," he calls, softly, "be my eyes here--is there a blanket I can get him?" Between the blood loss and the miserable southern weather, the poor bastard's likely freezing.

[paladingus]

"I, ah--" Simon has no idea, never having spent enough time in the infirmary to know where spare stock of such things might be kept. He knows exactly how well poking around for one would go over.

"Only on the beds, that I can see--I'll fetch one that nobody's using, if it's all right--" He moves to do so, neither wanting to begrudge Benedict the necessary comfort or pull the healer away in the midst of his work.

[altusimperius]

Fortunately now past the point of caring who's here and who isn't, Benedict just nods to Anders, his hands shaking as they cover his tearful face, all vestiges of dignity siphoned away with his blood.

[justice_is_blond]

It takes a little fishing to find a sleeping potion that doesn't mix poorly with the painkiller Anders had already given Benedict, which means the only response Simon gets is a wave in the direction of the beds to grant permission. Shortly thereafter he's bringing back the potion and holding it to the shaking boy's lips.

"Here. You'll be out for some time, and when you return to wakefulness this will be attended to. Just breathe and drink." In any other crowd he'd make a joke about not doing both at the same time, but... this isn't the right setting for that.