Closed Bottom of the Barrel (Devi)

[Collin Ashcroft]

Spring 75th, 516 AV
Main Gates District
Sunset

Disclaimer :

There is mature content in the beginning of this thread that some readers may find uncomfortable. This is your warning.

The evening had grown warmer during the few bells Collin had spent in the Rearing Stallion. It whispered of summer, and combined with his full stomach and light buzz, made him sleepy as he stepped outside. He bid farewell at the door to his drinking companions and turned down a side alley to head back to the dorms to catch a nap. The streets were busy with people bustling about their evening errands, but the alleys were relatively quiet--at least until he stopped to relieve himself on some old cobblestones.

He heard a scuffle, a sharp slap, and soft sobs muffled by a few garbled curses. Collin quickly finished his business and went to investigate. The noises were coming from behind a stack of crates tucked away behind the tavern. When he saw the source, his face twisted with disgust. There were two men who reeked of strong drink, and under one of them a young barmaid was pinned, her blouse ripped open and skirts tossed up. One of them had his trousers around his knees and was rubbing himself to get ready.

"She's a feisty one, aye?" The man snarled more than smiled, clearly impatient for his friend to get on with it. The girl looked defeated. Her cheek was bright with the welt of a slap and dirt was smeared across her face. Her hair had been yanked loose and lay tangled around her like the wings of a broken bird.

The only thing Collin could think about when he saw her from around the crates were his little sisters. Bile churned in his stomach and anger narrowed his focus on the man closest to him, the one still standing. He shoved a crate out of the way it smashed onto the cobbles, spilling apples underfoot. The man turned as the Squire lunged across the gap, his confused curse quickly cut off by Collin's fist slamming into his mouth.

He felt teeth cut his knuckles and the sting of it only made him angrier, but the man stumbled back and tripped over the fruit, landing splayed on his back. Seeing him lay there prone helped Collin rein himself in and remember his position. He gathered a deep breath through his nose and let it out as the other man scrambled to his feet.

"The fuck's yer problem, sonny? Gonna deny a man a poke?"

"Get up and get out of here." Collin ignored the blustering of the man and urged the victimized woman gently. "Go get yourself some help. Go!" She looked too terrified to move though and pressed herself against the wall, covering herself modestly with her torn shawl. It seemed the drunk didn't like being disregarded, because before Collin could try to duck away the man's meaty fist connected with his cheek. The force of it almost knocked him off his feet but he grabbed another crate for support.

"I'mma teach ye not to put yer nose where it don't belong." To prove how serious he really was, he picked up an old wine bottle and smashed the bottom off, creating a makeshift weapon. The glass shards glinted with a terrible sharpness and the Squire cursed himself for leaving his dagger in his room.

"You don't want to do this," Collin warned, rubbing his cheek. It was starting to swell immediately and was tender to the touch. The Squire wasn't being cocky; he was sure the drunk could rip him open from nose to navel with that bottle. It was the consequences the man would face if he did. Right now he was facing time in the Tank with his buddy, maybe a short stretch in the mines, but if he went through with what Collin knew he was wanting to do, he might as well sign his his name on the execution list.

"Aye, I do." The man lept at him without hesitation, surprisingly coordinated for someone who reeked of drink.

[Collin Ashcroft]

When the bottle came down toward his face Collin grabbed the man's wrist in one hand and tried to break his grip with a few quick strikes to his elbow. With his arm outstretched like it was, the elbow became a weak point if hit from the opposite direction of its natural bend. Despite his attempts though the drunk held fast, seeming to just grow angrier with each blow. He snarled at the Squire and sent a sharp kick into his stomach. Collin doubled over and retched, spilling his full stomach all over their boots. Cursing with disgust the man stumbled back, shoving the Squire against the wall.

He gasped for breath and coughed, clearing his nose and throat of vomit. His eyes watered from the kick, but he could see the blur of his opponent lumbering back at him for another attack. He blinked rapidly to clear his vision and ducked fast as the bottle cut the air by his face. The best thing he could think to do was put distance between them, so he skirted the wall and kept his feet moving--until a pair of arms grabbed him from behind and wrapped around his chest, locking his arms at his sides.

Collin not only heard the satisfied laugh close to his ear but smelled it. The other one had woken up, it seemed. The assailant with the bottle was looking very pleased at this point, and sauntered closer to the subdued Squire wagging the fractured glass in the air.

"Ye don't feel so tough now do ye?"

"Not really, no," he grunted, finding it hard to speak with the other man's arms crushing him close.

"He ain't gonna kill ye," the man behind him assured. "Just gonna hurt ye."

"Thanks," the Squire wheezed, summoning as much sarcasm as possible. "I feel so much better."

They had the last laugh though. With a quick jerk the bottle pierced his side, biting into the flesh just below his last rib. One of the longer, thinner shards broke off and remained embedded as he yanked the glass out. The sickening yell that Collin cried sounded like the low wail of an animal. He was then unceremoniously dumped on the ground and kicked in the back of the head.

The sharp ringing in his ears and disorientation that followed drowned out the shouts that came from the end of the alley. As Collin tried to prop himself up against the wall, one of them tripped over his legs in an attempt to run and fell across his lap. The other man--the one with the bottle--threw the glass at the trio of Knights who had appeared, led by the woman they had assaulted. It seemed during their scuffle she had come to her senses and ran for help.

"Get down on your knees!" one of the Knights shouted, brandishing a deadly looking longsword. Collin tried to focus on the voices but it only made his head spin.

"Come on, ye shiny piss pots!" the drunk who remained standing screamed. "I'll cut ye like I cut him!" It was then that one of the Knights recognized Collin and hurried over, much to the distress of the drunk. He swung wildly at the Knight, thinking he was attacking, and knocked the man off his feet. Without hesitation one of the other two loosed an arrow down the alley and struck the man directly in the chest. He gasped in surprise, but it was more of a sucking sound through his wound. After a long moment, he collapsed dead on the cobbles.

The remaining man was sobbing and cowering against the crates, hands raised and head down. The archer pulled him to his feet and slapped him in irons.

"I'll take him to the Tank," she said, and then she was gone. The Knight who'd been knocked to the ground was on his knees in front of Collin in the next moment, pulling away his bloodied shirt to examine to shard of glass buried in his side.

"Just relax, Squire. We'll get you taken care of."

[Devi]

“Devi, remind me again why I agreed to this?” Devi grinned without looking her brother in the eye, linking her arm in his as they walked together. “Because you’ve remembered just how much fun having a newborn child and a sleep-deprived wife in your life is?” “And how does that result in our visiting a tavern?” He responded, his dark brows furrowed. Ronan fought to keep the amusement off of his face but he wasn’t very practiced at it. Devi always found that funny considering how often she got him into trouble with Mari. He was far too easily corrupted. “Lots of people visit taverns. It’s fun!” Ronan fixed her with a pointed stare. “Devi we don’t drink.” She let out a warm laugh, “Exactly. Ronan it’s the last place she’ll look!” He rolled his eyes at her, turning back to the pathway before them. She looked up at him and could almost hear the internal debate raging inside his head. Devi smiled at that. Mischievous he might be but her brother was responsible to his core. He would always find a way to do something the right way and at the moment she knew he was feeling guilty about taking a break from his responsibilities at home. She sighed, deeply and theatrically. “I promise I will have you back home before Mari’s head spontaneously combusts. Right now I’m just interested in making sure your head doesn’t do the same. What better way to do that than spend time with your favourite, adorable, ingenious little sister?” She schooled her face into sweet innocence before he turned back to regard her dubiously. It scored her a laugh and another eye roll before he responded. “Fine, Fine! Lead on oh magnificent one…” Devi led Ronan on with a little bounce in her step but before they had taken more than a few steps a loud and pained cry sounded from nearby. Brother and sister looked at each other, communicating more in a look than most people could in an entire conversation, and together they made a bee-line for the source of the sound. Devi rounded the corner of a slim alleyway and almost walked head-first into a walking suit of plate armour.

[Devi]

“Hold!” It demanded, grasping her painfully by the arm. Devi winced but didn’t respond immediately, taking the opportunity to sneak a look past the Knight to see the source of the commotion. It helped that Ronan reacted exactly as she knew he would. “Hey, take your hands off her!” Dangerous talk around the Knighthood but then Devi knew her brother was cool-headed enough not to push things. The knight did not let go of her but did swing his attention to the new threat. She let the words flow over her as she focused instead on the scene behind him. If there was one thing that Devi knew intimately it was the kind of tone a person adopted when they experienced extreme pain and shock. Immediately her eyes were drawn to another suit of armour, kneeling over a man on the floor. The man was pale, his hands shaking and grasping almost absently at his side, blood streaming thickly through his fingers. Her eyes scanned the extent of the stain and the rapidly forming pool beside him. Further down the alleyway she spotted another form lying still on the ground, the shaft of an arrow protruding from his chest. There was noise and movement further away but her mind assigned that as a low priority – noise and movement were generally indicators that whoever was causing them was not in immediate danger. Devi turned her attention back to the knight still holding her arm and fixed him with a piercing glare, interrupting him mid-sentence. “He’s bleeding out - let me through. I’m a doctor.” The man blinked at her through a plated visor, maintaining his damnable grip as he recovered and then responded. “This is not an area for civilians to be snooping around. Be on your way or I’ll have you dragged down to the Tank with that sorry excuse for a human.” He gestured further back into the alley as he spoke, making motions to push her away from him as he did so. Ronan stepped closer behind her, giving the knight cause for pause. Devi spoke quietly and calmly, damning whatever meathead was in this particular suit of armour with her expression. “Listen to me very closely. The man on the floor is bleeding out. Now. We can sit here whilst I explain to you exactly how I know he’s bleeding out, where he’s bleeding from and how I plan to help him but by the time I finish it’s likely that Dira will have had her way with him because she didn’t have an idiot in a tin-can standing in her way. Now, let go of my arm.” Devi was certain the knight wanted to drag her away for the ‘tin-can’ comment alone but a swift glance back at the bleeding man behind him supported her story and he finally, grudgingly, released her. She strode past him, Ronan at her heels whispering in her ear, “I love it when you do that.”

[Collin Ashcroft]

Time passed in a fog for Collin now. His fingers felt thick and clumsy and his head spun. His eyes hurt even in the dim shadows of the alley, but he blinked slowly and tried to focus when a pale face framed in red swam across his vision. The people around him might as well have been ghosts. What little attention he could muster was almost exclusively transfixed on the cold fire searing his side. The drop in temperature seemed to be spreading slowly through his bodies, starting in his fingers and toes and overcoming his hands and feet.

He felt suspended for a moment, lifted from the cobbles by Ronan and one of the Knights. When his feet took a little weight, his knees buckled. The Squire was a heavy load to carry, more so in his current state. They struggled a moment to shift his weight, each of them taking an arm over their shoulders. Between the two of them they had to half-drag him to the doctor's apartment.

Crimson stained his white shirt and was running down his leg, feeling strangely hot on his chilled skin. Sweat soaked the rest of his clothing and made his hair stick to his face. He was shivering by the time they crossed her doorway and set him down where she instructed. As they positioned him on his back and cut away his shirt, the peel of fabric from the wound made Collin yell out again.

Reflexively, and with what little strength he could muster, he kicked out at their wraith-like forms looming in his peripherals and then went suddenly still. The Knight quickly patted Collin's cheeks and felt his pulse, giving a sigh of relief when he found the flutter of a heartbeat.

"He's fainted is all."

[Devi]

“All the easier for us.” Devi responded, making a mental note to spend more time on the new numbing agent she had started work on recently. The call for it seemed only to increase now that she had recognised the need for it. Krolar paste would numb a little of the feeling but the herbal mixture was not strong enough to dull pain this potent. More often than not it was a mixture of herbal remedies and alcohol that presented the best solution, though she used the word ‘solution’ with a great deal of cynicism. Devi pulled a bucket close to the table and shifted some of the chairs away to give herself room. She handed Ronan a knife before bustling away to get some water, calling to him over her shoulder as she did so. “Ronan get the rest of that shirt cut away and throw the material into the bucket. Be careful not to jostle him.” Devi set some water in a bowl and pulled a glass jar from her shelves. Its lid was freed with a pop and Devi used the small spoon inside to scoop three measures into the water. It was ground Elentai root; people usually chewed the dried root to help prevent infections or resist disease. Devi didn’t see why those same properties wouldn’t aid in sterilising her hands and equipment. She dropped a few tools from her kit into the mixture, transported it to the table and then scrubbed her hands vigorously. Satisfied, she turned back to the table to see Ronan wiping his hands on a rag whilst Mr Idiot-in-a-Tin-Can himself carefully cleaned excess blood from around the wound. She raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. The knight finished, glancing up and meeting her expression with a snort. “I’ve seen the Healers at work enough times.” He responded simply. She nodded at him and then leaned closer to the wound to examine it briefly. Blood was oozing from it much slower now, the body’s natural defences acting quickly to congeal the liquid and help seal the breach. She described the containers for Krolar Paste and ground Azhiltu to Ronan, instructing him to find and bring them to her, together with a fresh supply of Ramie bandages, a vial of pure alcohol and a vial of precious Sundrya Water from her chest. “Ok, let’s get this glass out.” She looked at the knight assisting her, Ser Jonah as he then informed her, and asked him to hold her magnifying lens in place above the wound. There was a long sliver of the glass bottle extending from the breach, stopping more blood from seeping out. With the aid of the magnifying lens however she could see a number of tiny slivers glinting amidst the man’s flesh. They would need to be removed before she could remove the large piece and seal it all up. With steady hands she retrieved a pair of tweezers from the bowl of water and began extracting slivers of glass, dropping each into the waiting bucket as she did so.

[Devi]

In short time the small slivers of glass were cleared from the wound and only the larger one remained. Ronan had returned with the items she asked for and had set them at the end of the table. She caught Ser Jonah’s attention and nodded her head at the waiting items. “Take the dose of paste in that jar there and mix a spoonful of the powder into it. Ronan bring the vial and the alcohol to me now.” Both men set themselves to their tasks and Devi returned to her own. Carefully she pulled the last shard of glass from its berth with one hand and doused the area with alcohol with the other, sending a whisper to whichever Gods were listening that her patient was unconscious for it all. With the wound as clear as it was going to get she then doused the area with half of the Sundrya Water vial and set herself to stitching it shut. When it was mostly closed Devi applied the rest of the precious medicine, thinking that less of it would escape before she could completely seal it that way. By the time she had finished stitching Ser Jonah was at her side with the mixed paste and bandages. Devi cleaned her hands and dabbed at the closed wound, checking there were no spots still seeping blood. She probed at the man’s neck, feeling for his fluttering pulse and finding herself satisfied with it. “Okay,” She addressed Ser Jonah, “First you want to apply the paste in a thick layer over the stitched area.” He blinked at her, staring for a moment. Her lips twitched in amusement as she responded but she quickly curbed the expression back into a stern glare. “You were boasting of your skills as a medic before yes? I would think you’re ready to move on from cleaning wounds to dressing them.” Devi realised with a jolt that Versin had said almost the same words to her when she had first begun apprenticing to him. A wrenching pain followed the brief memory but she suppressed it. Now was not the time for such reminiscing. “A thick layer then – you want to completely obscure the stitches.” She instructed her new student. Devi watched as his face sunk into deep concentration, his hands complying with her instructions. “That’s it,” She encouraged, “Now neaten up the edges.” She prepared a wad of gauze and then handed it to him. “Press that against the wound, make sure it covers everything. Have you ever bandaged yourself?” She asked. Ser Jonah shook his head and she nodded at him, continuing, “You can practice another time with strips of material, it’s easy once you get the knack. Now watch closely.”

[Devi]

Slowly she wound the bandage over the wound and around the man’s torso, calling on Ronan to prop him up so she could reach all of the way around, and commentating on her actions as she did so. “It’s a lot easier when you have help.” She chuckled, thinking with excitement how close she was to being able to afford her clinic. She breathed deeply and stood back to examine their work. She called Ronan and Jonah over together, instructing them to carefully lift the man using the Ramie sheet draped over her table over onto one of her wide sofas where he would be more comfortable. “So he’ll recover?” Ser Jonah asked her. “Splendidly I should wager.” She responded cheerfully. “Now, the Sundrya Water I applied and the paste you added underneath the bandages should help him improve drastically over the next day.” Devi pulled a slip of paper from her desk and began making notations in her careful, elegant script. “I wouldn’t advise moving him until tomorrow at the least or you’ll risk tearing the stitches. With another dose of the water tomorrow and fresh bandages in-between he shouldn’t need them anymore by then.” She straightened up and passed the note to Ser Jonah. “I trust you can see this safely into the hands of his commanding officer?” The knight frowned down at the paper as he read. “I heard your comrade name him a squire,” She clarified, “Besides, I’m still cheaper than a healer.” Much as she still wasn’t wholly comfortable around the Knighthood, she could at least be satisfied that they spared no expense in caring for their own. The man nodded grudgingly and then left them. She turned to Ronan and smiled sheepishly. “So uh, how was your break from-” “Don’t even, Devi. I’m going home. I love you.” “You can’t tell me it wasn’t at least distracting.” She smiled at him. “Next time I think I’ll hide out with Nate for a while. No offence Dev but blood doesn’t excite me quite as much as it does you.” She batted at him as he headed for the door. “You know it’s phrases like that which gave me an odd reputation with our neighbours as a child.” He laughed, escaping her flailing arm and leaving her alone with her patient. Turning back to the suddenly quiet room Devi realised with a start that she didn’t even know the man’s name. She wandered over to her wardrobe, pulling out a blanket and fitting it over his unconscious form. He was still pale but appeared much better without smears of blood staining his skin. Devi perched on the edge of the sofa, curious about him now that the danger had passed. His skin was more tanned than the tone she recognised as native Syliran, his already blonde hair bleached slightly from days underneath the sun's rays. She could see the callouses and small scars she would expect from someone in his profession, dotted across his hands and arms, a few on his torso. As her eyes wandered across the lean muscle there she turned away abruptly, a little flush creeping into her cheeks. Perhaps her social skills really did need work. Devi stood and shook her head and massaged the back of her neck absently. She eyed the debris around her dining table, planning to clean everything thoroughly before setting to work at her desk. It was the perfect opportunity to continue working on the numbing agent and regardless, would be distracting work.

[Collin Ashcroft]

It would be close to a bell before Collin finally awoke. During the procedure he had rose in and out of a state of semi-consciousness, but only just so. He didn't remember anything clearly, but would recognize Demi's voice when he heard it clearly for the first time. The prickly sensation of her needle in his side had quickly sent him back to the dark. When Collin's eye's opened, he had to squint against the pounding in his head. His mouth was dry, he'd bit his tongue, and he quickly noticed a intense soreness throughout his body. He'd never been struck by a horse, but he assumed this was what it felt like.

The first thing he noticed after the initial shock of discomfort was that he was lying on his back, and a blanket was tucked around him. He was warm now, where he'd been chilled to the bone before falling unconscious. Warm enough to feel sticky, but when he shifted and tried to sit up, his side burned with a vengeance. He sucked in a sharp breath that only made it hurt more, and the Squire dropped back to the couch he'd been placed on. Collin glanced around, a little dizzy, and saw a familiar blur of auburn.

"Where am I?" His voice creaked slightly and he licked his lips. He was terribly thirsty. Getting stabbed really took it out of you. "Water?" He felt pitiful, and didn't look much better. Collin was disheveled and battered, lying on a stranger's couch in an unknown room. The Squire looked around when his head stopped pounding enough for him focus. Someone's home. The couch he was draped across seemed to be off to one side against a wall. Towards his feet there was what seemed to be a desk and hearth, and to his left, a dining area. He could make out a bed and some other furniture on the far end of the room.

Collin had no way of knowing the time, the District, and the two of them seemed to be alone. He surmised through the fog that she was some kind of doctor, seeing as how he'd been left here. A clumsy and clammy hand fluttered to his aching side and touched the edges of the bandages she'd administered. They were snug around his ribs, and wrapped up around one shoulder for security. His shirt was gone, and so were his boots.

"Did you do this?" He licked his lips and grimaced, feeling the swollen tender flesh left from being struck in the face. Suddenly he remembered. With a renewed energy he jerked, trying to sit up, but shouted again when his side stretched. His head knocked against the arm of the couch as he dropped back to the cushions beneath him, sullen and aching. It was going to be hard getting used to immobility. "I've never been stabbed before." He was speaking to her just as much as he was thinking aloud. "I don't recall much. The Knights came, didn't they? Then you showed up?"

[Devi]

Devi started a little at the hoarse words, absorbed as she had been in her work. She bustled quietly over to the sofa on which her patient lay, plucking a couple of extra cushions from the other as she did so. Her keen eyes picked out the bewilderment in his expression and then the sudden edge of panic. She flinched a little as he tried to sit up, just before she could reach him, and fell back in pain when he found his body couldn’t support him at the moment. “Easy now – you’re safe. Let me help you.” She reached an arm behind the man’s back and eased him up as gently as she could. Slight as she was it took a great deal of effort on her part to shift his torso that much. When he was elevated she fitted the cushions in place behind him to give him a little more support. Her eyes caught the signs of swelling on the side of his face and she peered a little closer to assess the damage. She began answering some of his questions as she did so. “Did I stab you or did I fix you up?” She asked, a little amusement quirking the corner of her lips up. “No to the first and yes to the second.” With light fingers she reached for his face, angling it to the side slightly so she could see better in the dim light emanating from the hearth. If there was one thing she despised about the stronghold, aside from the obvious lack of any kind of natural surroundings, it was the constant need to work by fire light. It was difficult to tell in the yellow glow but she could tell the skin was a little discoloured, whether flushed from the swelling or beginning to bruise. Perhaps a little of both, she mused. “And I’ve never been stabbed before either so I’m afraid I’m not in the best place to empathise.” Devi leaned back, pausing for a moment as possibilities ran through her mind. Coming to a decision she stood and returned to the hearth. She began pulling supplies from the shelves: a portion of bright orange turmeric powder in a small, sealed jar, a small bowl, a single dose of cooling salve and a mug. The mug and bowl she filled with water from her supply and she then began ferrying the items over to the low table beside the sofas. “I’m afraid I don’t have much more detail than you. By the time I showed up you were already bleeding onto the street, a few knights had already closed the passage off. Another gentleman appeared to have been killed with an arrow and a third was being dragged away, presumably to the Tank.” She settled beside him, holding the mug of water in one hand and reaching behind the man’s shoulders with her free arm, intending to help him drink a little. “You were bleeding too much to move you as far as the clinic in Soothing Waters and I didn’t have my kit with me, though I’m starting to think I shouldn’t leave the house without it… Regardless, the knights brought you here so I could treat you. This is my home.” After freeing her hands she turned her attention back to the salve on the table, mixing a portion of turmeric into it and turning it a yellowish orange colour. The salve itself should help to cool the flesh whilst turmeric supposedly held properties which would reduce the blood flow to the area, easing the inflammation. She rubbed a little between her fingers, feeling them tingle a little in response, so that she could test the consistency. Satisfied she used one hand to still the man’s face and the other to apply the salve, as gently as she could, to his swollen face. “Your companions named you ‘Squire’ but no more than that. What should I call you?” She could feel the heat emanating from his cheeks and made a mental note to check the swelling later. “My name’s Devi.” She added, a little belatedly.