faderift | Skyhold

Skyhold

WHO: Anyone & everyone
WHAT: Open post for business as usual around Skyhold
WHEN: The first couple weeks of Harvestmere, 9:41 (aka October)
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Please mark any necessary content warnings in thread subject lines. Also, make sure to check out the other log posts already made!

Far from the glamorous adventurous world-saving people signed up for, most of the hustle and bustle in Skyhold at present is cleaning. The Great Hall is a disaster, and crews are assigned to haul out the cracked and rotting planks fallen from the wide-open roof, and tear down the vines covering the walls. Ivy encrusts the main staircase outside and many of the fortress walls and is cleared in section while other groups assess or begin shoring up the stonework as it's revealed. There are scaffolding to build, materials to sort, crates to unload, tents to stitch together or set-up, and on and on and on, endless mundane chores vital to the survival of the organization.

When not hard at work, people cluster around fires across the courtyards. Many mingle freely, going about their business, running errands and messages, planning scouting missions, tallying up supplies, distributing or playing with the sending crystals that were found in a basement vault and which a group of mages have just today finished preparing for use. Once a good number have been passed around and the first Inquisition-wide transmission made messages start being broadcast; maybe you can help someone out.

The rebel mages and renegade templars mainly keep to themselves at opposite sides of the complex given the choice. Mages assist with healing and research and bicker amongst themselves about their options and their fate. Templars help train recruits in swordforms and basic combat techniques or spar with the more advanced and bicker amongst themselves about their options and their fate. Despite having all pledged themselves to the Inquisition, they still feel like separate factions and tension between them is palpable wherever they cross paths.

Like at meals, or the communal message board in the courtyard, or at the Herald's Rest. The mess hall/tavern is so new it still smells of sawdust, and its stock has been limited to one type of strong ale until today, when a shipment of West Hill brandy has finally arrived. The mood in the place is convivial in celebration of that, but there's still plenty of muttering, especially as the night drags on and the discontented get further into their cups.

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[ An elf in leather armor, no less. Well oiled and tended to but- armor. Not something many of those that aren't Dalish tend to wear but Zevran had been traveling alone and being safe is far more important than being covert.

Even so the hastily stitched slashes along one side are probably obvious once the healer finishes up with his current patient. Zevran does not mind waiting. ]

I am slightly punctured in one shoulder and slashed across the ribs. The wounds are about four hours old and I bandaged them as best I could, but... [ He shrugs- his good shoulder obviously- and begins disarming himself, creating a pile of an increasingly large number of daggers he'd had hidden on his person. ] I am no healer, as you can see. You will not be terribly scandalized if I simply strip down before you, I hope?

[Yes, armor. Bruce takes note of that quickly, and runs through a mental tally of possible scenarios. Armor more often than not usually meant 'fighter', so that helps to substantially prepare himself for what to do next.

The injuries, or at least what he sees of it so far, puts a reasonable credibility on what he has to do here.]

I'll look at them first. [He says, only blinking once to his credit at the growing pile of daggers as the elf takes them off him.

At the question, however, Bruce only gestures to a wooden stool nearby.] I can't look at your injures properly if you're covered. [That's about as close to a 'go ahead' as the elf is going to get. Bruce isn't a stranger to partial nudity, or even nudity in general - he has had to face that a lot in his time of being a surgeon.]

Do try not to swoon.

[ Ah, good. Some surgeons in Antiva protested having to see that much of an elf. A human, oh no, that is normal, but an elf?

They did not tend to make as much coin as those that did the job without complaining. It seems as though this man is much the same. A blessing. Disarming himself the rest of the way takes a matter of moments, more knives, the short swords, his belt with all it's pouches, poisons, and sundry. The armor comes next and now? Now he lets some of the tension he'd been shoving down for the day ease into his posture.

Here he can be vulnerable, if only for a moment.

He piles his effects to one side neatly and sits on the stool, stripping off the long shirt he'd worn for warmth with a great deal of care. Honestly? It may have been better to cut it off for the wincing at the stretch- and for Zevran to wince? Is no small thing. True to his word there are hastily applied bandages interrupting the flow of black lines traced into his skin in a winding expanse, bound about his ribs, around one shoulder Unbinding them would come next, but a moment to breathe seems reasonable. ]

[As the elf undresses himself Bruce rummages through his kit, getting out the necessary items. More likely than not he would have to redo the stitches, and that's never a pleasant experience.

Once he's taken out his equipment and laid them out Bruce turns his attention back to the elf, who's gotten out of his upper armor and clothes and true to his word, looks rather battered up.]

Where did you get these injuries? [He asks as eyes the bandages. They were a little too tightly bound, but he knows from experience that it was probably for the best. He'd have to do them properly later when he was done with the wound.]

On the road here, courtesy of bandits that will be troubling the travelers no longer. [ Despite the tense set of his shoulders he manages a quick grin, only the barest hint of something dangerous underneath. Otherwise he is a simple elf, approachable and utterly harmless.

Well.

Maybe not so harmless.

Moment of peace given he cuts the bandages away with yet another knife from- somewhere, and begins unwinding. The first few layers are fine but the further in he goes they become mottled with blood and the poultice he'd applied to ease the pain. The last few stick to his skin, blood and herbs forming a lovely if macabre glue. Brasca. The grin becomes a grimace as he steels himself and starts peeling the away from his shoulder slowly- a quick yank may reopen the wound.

The puncture itself is small but deep, dangerously close to the joint. Zevran repeats the entire procedure with his ribs, revealing more of his tattoos and two long, curving gashes along his right side- these are lightly inflamed despite the poultice, the skin reddened and tender to the touch. ]

I am going to have to find new armor. A pity, I was rather fond of that set.

[Bruce manages not to make a face at the sight of the wound - its not too bad from first glance, but he definitely will have to examine it closely to be certain.

He grabs a bottle of alcohol - most definitely not for drinking here - and hovers close to the elf, already taking the unwrapped bandages and carefully placing them aside (they're all going to a fire later).]

You can talk to the smith later once you're healed. [He returns somewhat dryly, preparing to pour the alcohol onto his injuries.] Lean to the left, if you would. What's your name?

Zevran, and yours?

[ It gives him something to focus on beyond the sting he knows is coming. Even so, he does not brace for it. If anything he goes liquid on the stool, moving as needed without a hint of pain or complaint.

Old habits die hard, after all. ]

Bruce. [Pause.] I'm going to pour it now.

[It's all the warning he gives before he goes ahead, tipping the bottle and letting the liquid pour over the wound to cleanse it. Bruce pulls back after several seconds once the most of the poultice is rinsed off, taking a clean rag after that to gently dab away the remainder, critically examining the wound as he does so.]

It's not very deep, but the inflammation is an issue. [Hums.] I'll have to redo the stitches for you so that the skin heals up properly, then apply something to ease the burn before bandaging it back for you. [He glances up to the puncture wound then.] I'll look at your shoulder later, so that you can stay still and not jostle anything.

[With all of that said Bruce glances back and grabs a small surgical knife specially fashioned for removal of stitches. He places a hand on Zevran's side, below his injuries, a silent request to stay still before he gets to removing the stitches as quickly as he can.]

Pour away.

[ It stings- of course it stings. That is because it works and like most flashes of pain he was long trained out of reacting to- Zevran doesn't flinch. Doesn't tense up. Doesn't twist away. He exhales a long, slow breath as though it was a particularly difficult knot Bruce was massaging away rather than what it truly is.

Crow training at it's finest. ]

Mm. I suppose the Elfroot for that particular poultice wasn't the freshest. 'By Orlesian' they said. 'It heals faster' they said. This is what I get for listening to farm hands.

[ Speaking of hands- Bruce's was large and warm and- normally a hand so close to an injury- even that of a healer, is cause for tension. Fear. But the touch is a slow, soothing warmth against what would be a tense and uncomfortable situation. Combined with Bruce's relative unassuming nature and the distinct lack of any large blades, it's enough for Zevran's mouth to run.

In Antivan, of course. ]

Spostare la mano un po 'a sinistra e un po' più basso e ti spingono oltre il mio braccio.

[Bruce manages a small snort, knowing full well than to trust peddlers at the side of the road for things like these. Medicinal things were always harder to make than it seemed - a fact Bruce knows all too well from personal experience.]

The one I'll be putting on will be more effective. [He remarks, continuing with his task of getting the old stitches out. He manages to to the last few ones before Zevran then starts to speak--and Bruce's Antivian isn't exactly the greatest, but its enough for him to get the gist of what he's saying.

He rather wishes he hadn't understood that.

To Bruce's credit, he only really pauses for half a second, blinking once, and then going on as if he hadn't heard anything at all. He gets the last of the stitches and then pulls away (pointedly removing his hand in the process). The remains of the stitches goes with the used bandages, and after taking a moment to wipe down his hands he gets a bottle and brings it over to Zevran.]

Drink this; it'll ease the pain while I do your stitches.

[ Alas, he is now bereft of that small comfort. He thinks nothing of it, the man is working and he is more than a little invested in not moving when he shouldn't or outwardly showing any pain. The draught he takes with good humor, lifting it in a toast to Bruce. ]

Per le mani costanti e gli occhi belli.

[ He drinks- it is no Antivan brandy but if it will help with the pain? He will take as much as recommended. ]

My thanks.

Just stay still until I'm done and it will be thanks enough.

[Not that he hasn't already been staying still, but, you know. Just so he remembers not to until he's finished.

Bruce goes to prepare what he needs to do the stitching while Zevran drinks down the potion - just a little something Bruce had made himself to dull the nerves for a while so that the pain can't be felt as intensely. (It also makes a decent sleeping draught when taken in more potent doses).

He returns quickly enough, needle and thread at the ready, taking the emptied bottle from Zevran and placing it aside.] I'm going to start now. The pain should be dulled, but try not to move as much as possible.

[With that said Bruce takes a moment to ensure that Zevran is alright, and then begins stitching up the wound.]

I shall be as still as a corpse- save for the breathing and the blinking.

[ That much he cannot help- well he could but not for as long as he used to. Playing dead is a valuable tactic for assassins- it's been some time since he needed to do that last.

As with all properly made potent potions, Zevran finds himself in a great deal less pain that he had coming in- and manages to relax even further. Without moving. For he is not to move. ]

Now that is a well made potion. You would not happen to sell these, would you? Much as I would like to not need them...trouble happens.

No, I don't.

[...well, unless he really needs the cash for something. Which is incredibly rare. Bruce usually tries to get by without selling things he's sure will get abused somehow.

Still, with that said...]

If you ever need it for something, let me know. I'll see what I can do.

[He says all this while working on his stitches, which is halfway done by now. Without any movement, his work is usually fairly easier.]

Mmmm, fair enough I suppose.

[ A responsible healer! How rare a thing. Zevran seems to have stumbled upon a unicorn, marvelous. ]

And suffer the benefit of your company a second time? I shall hold you to that.

You can always send a note to me instead.

[He replies, very dryly, and if he wasn't who he was Bruce might have tugged a bit hard on his next stitch. But he doesn't do any of that, of course, because he's a very responsible healer (tm).

Bruce finishes up with the last few stitches and ensures that it's tied well before cutting off the spare thread, then backing off to switch the items in hand.] Try to take in some deep breaths and make sure the stitches are in place. Tell me if you feel anything wrong.

A compliment, Bruce, though poorly worded. It has been a long day. [ He actually finds Bruce quite considerate- certainly charming in his own unassuming way. Quiet and capable is quite attractive to Zev- well.

Capable is. Quiet is a challenge. Both in one in a handsome man? Intriguing.

As bid he takes a few deep breaths, twisting oh so slightly to feel how much give the stitches permit. Not much seems to be the answer.]

I will not be playing contortionist until these are healed, I suppose. [ Another turn in the other direction, that is a bit better. Easier. ] To the best of my knowledge? All seems as it should.

Try not to ruin the stitches as much as possible. Redoing them is never pleasant.

[But he does seem sensible enough, so Bruce will leave the warning at that. He moves to take a container holding some poultice - again, of his own making.]

This will help alleviate the burn more effectively. [He says as he takes some onto his fingers and starts to apply it on the stitches methodically.] I'll give you some later to apply on your own when you change your bandages. You'll need to do it daily. When doesn't matter, but doing it before you sleep is the best time as that your body can heal properly.

No vigorous activity- I can manage that.

[ Mostly? Mostly. He will do his very best to not pop them- he'd had to sit through a second stitching once before which had all the blessings of the first and scolding on top of it.

Never again. ]

I think this may be the first poultice I've seen that doesn't smell aggressively of black tea and dog's breath. You are a man of many talents indeed.

It's just the result of trial and error.

[Many trials and errors. But Bruce appreciates the compliment for what it is.

He finishes applying the poultice and wipes away the excess on his hands with his rag. Then next comes the bandages, of which he has a substantial roll of.]

Your binding earlier was a bit too tight, just keep that in mind. Putting pressure it good, but not to the extent of cutting off your regular breathing. [He takes the end of the bandage and places it on Zevran's left side, keeping it there with his hand as he starts to bandage up the wound as professionally as possible.]

I was attempting not to bleed all over my leathers, and short on time. The caravan I joined for the last leg of the journey here was almost in view.

[ A bloody elf surrounded by dead bodies? Not something that would get him a ride. A scuffed up elf further down the road looking for a little help? Far more palatable for most humans. ]

But I will keep this in mind, thank you. I will be certain not to bind them too tightly. [ For his part Zevran neither says nor does anything ungentlemanly- he is in no pain and does not need the distraction.

Yet. ]

[Bruce doesn't care too much of the circumstances earlier - as long as he remembers, its all that matters.

A few more minutes and Bruce is done with the bandages, securing it at the end and giving it a faint tug to make sure it doesn't fall out. Everything looks in place, which is good enough for him.

He pulls back and wipes off his hands again.] You can sit straight now; I'll look at your shoulder and bandage that, too.

The shoulder is where I am most concerned, to be honest.

[ For all that he had been moving carefully, normally since he was wounded, anything so close to the joint was doubly dangerous. He turns enough to put the wound in Bruce's view, glaring at the mark. ]

The idiot couldn't even hold it properly, else I'd have bled out. Antivan Crows they were not. Still- I would rather not lose movement or sensation in my arm. I need it.

[Most people wouldn't like to lose their arm in any way, but Bruce refrains from saying that. It's obvious enough as it is.]

I'll look at it and see what I can do. [It's the best promise he can make - he's no professional, to be sure, but he's had some experience managing bad wounds. If anything, living out in Seheron has helped in furthering his knowledge of treating terrible injuries.

He takes the alcohol again and washes out the old poultice, dabbing it clean so that he can study the wound. It certainly looks rather bad, although the rudimentary treatment Zevran did stopped things from getting worse, so that's at least one good thing.

Bruce gets the usual equipment ready again as he speaks to Zevran.] The entry point is too small for me to be able to stitch it up, but it seems the bleeding's already stopped, so the skin should heal up naturally in time. The best I can do is to do the same like what I did with your other injury, but with another type of poultice instead. Would that be fine?

[ This close, the faint tension around Zevran's eyes is likely more obvious- he does not move or flinch or tense up but there's a subtle tightening of his jaw he swallows past. A distraction is required as there is a pike of fire more or less working it's way under his skin while Bruce cleans it out. Staring at the side of his face seems to work well enough.

Tanned skin, stubble, strong jaw, no real trace of an accent something seen with those that either speak many languages or lived close to dwarves- or near a large settlement of Qunari. Curious. ]

It is less the skin that worries me than what lies underneath. [ But if nothing can be done? Nothing can be done. ] If that is what you feel is best? That is what should be done.

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