Solo [Job Thread]All Roughed Up

[Claire Lexi'lya]

6th Bell | 72nd of Spring

“There’s a man here to see you.” Claire blinked as she stared at the woman in front of her. The whole day had been a series of small mishaps. No one had been seriously injured as of yet, and she spent less than half a bell on each patient that had wandered in. It seemed both a blessing and a curse given that her head just couldn’t wrap around anything she tried to focus on. The Kelvic considered her job to be a part of her just as much as her Kelvic nature. But no matter how many times she closed her eyes, took a breath, and forced herself to zone back into her work—her mind just failed to follow her lead.

The raptor knew what was wrong of course. She had hoped that a good nights sleep would have given her some kind of clarity, or at the very least leave her feeling better. Claire had managed to do the very thing that had nagged her for weeks—tell Rhodri the truth. Everything had come out the day before, and even though the manner in which everything fell down inside, she considered it a good sign because he had said he would make a decision. The moment she had stepped out of the tower felt like the world fell off her shoulders and mountains of emotions replaced it. But she had slept despite the unease of not knowing what the Eypharian would do next.

It appeared, however, that her mind wasn’t likely to give up the multitude of possibilities of just how things could end for her.

The endless thoughts drifting through her mind left her unfocused and more than once the Kelvic found herself having to start even the most simple tasks over. Luckily she had better control when it came down to actually caring for people because she wasn’t sure if she could have handled making a major mistake even with the easiest of fixes. Not to mention her job would have been on the line. At present she was more than happy to just assist in folding spare sheets and clean cloths—it was nearly impossible to truly mess up that job. The very words that a man was presently looking for her nearly made her drop the cotton twisted in her hands. For a moment—just a tick—she thought perhaps he had made a decision.

“He says he’s your brother?”

And just as quickly as the hope popped into her chest it faded. The man calling himself her brother was here? Claire couldn’t help the frown that pulled at her mouth as she put the cloth down and crossed her arms over her chest. Tristan had been half the reason she had run into Rhodri in the first place the day before. He had been following her for nearly the entire season, but he had never dared to come into the medical center before.

“He looks like someone roughed him up pretty good. He’s in the room on the far right.” The woman seemed to recognize the look on her face as ‘not happy’ and was going to take her chance to flee before Claire could actually refuse to see him. Not that she was going to… she was kind of curious actually. Tristan seemed like the kind of guy to stay away from trouble. Who roughed him up sparked a curiosity she hadn’t felt all day.

Plus, it wasn’t exactly kind to leave her so called brother alone in a room in pain… no matter how annoying he was.

Word Count :

592

Common | Isur

[Claire Lexi'lya]

It had to be at least ten chimes that Claire lingered outside the door. Her past face to face with Tristan had left her rather confused, and that was putting it mildly. She had gone from the last of her family to apparently just the youngest. The very idea her father had sired a family away from her mother was mind boggling, though not entirely impossible. Ophelia had never actually stated how long she had been bonded with her father and Claire herself wasn’t sure just how old her father was supposed to be—had he survived.

But to believe this man was her brother seemed impossible as well. There were a million questions that he refused to answer, or just repeated the same answer. He followed her heavier than her own shadow, yet hated to make the small talk. Really, he seemed fond of saying nothing at all except how she should be living her life. What she could and couldn’t do, and that wasn’t bound to stop. The Kelvic had little doubt the moment she stepped into the room her so called brother would make his opinions very clear.

With a heavy sigh, Claire closed her chocolate eyes for just a few ticks before pushing the heavy door open. The sight that met her eyes wasn’t what she expected. Tristan was a young man—dark eyes and hair just like hers—probably around twenty or so. There was a tan to his skin the last time she saw him and purposefully unkempt short hair. The raptor could even see some rather striking features that mirrored hers. They had a similar nose and eyes… it would be so very easy for her to accept he might very well be her half brother.

But the man in front of her did not resemble the one that she had cornered in the conservatory. His face was deeply bruised, with a rather nasty looking split high across his right cheekbone from the bottom of his eye sloping towards his temple. Just the way he leaned against the exam table, hunched off to the left and curling around his arm, told her that he was favoring it. Both his hands were cradled to his chest and just covered out of her sight. It was somewhat alarming; it had been a while since she had viewed these kind of injuries. Nearly an entire season actually.

“Just what did you do?” Claire groaned out loud, her hands finding her hips as she approached Tristan. As if he just noticed she had entered, he let out a weak chuckle and tried to straighten up. There was a grotesque way his left shoulder twisted that Claire recognized as dislocated. It obviously pained him too, because as he tried to adjust his entire face scrunched in pain and he let out a rather painful hiss between his teeth. “Just who did you get on the bad side on?”

A wheezing chuckle escaped him as he set his eyes on her. Luckily the cut didn’t swell beneath his eye, and he seemed to track her just fine. “Who do you think did this?” Claire couldn’t help but furrow her brow in confusion. Was she supposed to know? She had seen him the previous day and he had been fully intact—and following her. “I don’t play guessing games, Tristan.” The Kelvic’s voice was deadpan as she finally reached out to gently touch the wound beneath his face. It was deep, likely to need stitches, but it wasn’t going to be the first wound to attend to.

“It was your six armed brute little sister.”

Word count :

620

Common | Isur

[Claire Lexi'lya]

“Rhodri?”

The Kelvic purposefully ignored the insinuation of a family in favor of the words that came before it. As far as she understood the two had never crossed paths before. When the two had time to meet, much less give a beating to each other, really failed to make sense to her. Tristan seemed to realize this as she scrutinized him. He held up his hands—or tried to—and let out a small yelp of pain in the process. In doing so Claire witnessed further damage to him. Several fingers were bruised, one bending off to the left on his right hand. Claire let out an exasperated gasp, jaw slightly hanging open as she lifted her eyes to see his.

“I tried to reset most of them. This one is being a little stubborn.” He had the gall to sound sheepish. The Kelvic let her jaw snap shut audibly, gritting her teeth in an attempt to keep herself in line. There was very little that annoyed her more than someone trying to do her job, and probably doing it wrong. So instead Claire allowed herself focus on the damage. Just from what was visible his shoulder would have to come first, followed by resetting his finger. His face would have to be last as she would need to reopen the crusted over wound to clean it effectively and actually sew it shut. There could also be various other wounds she wasn't able to see beneath his clothing to add to the list.

“Let's get your shirt off so I can see your shoulder.” Tristan frowned slightly, seemingly unpleased about something but didn't argue. Using his good shoulder he worked the bottom of his shirt up and slid his arm out of the sleeve. Claire had to carefully assist him however when it came to working the shirt around his injured shoulder. She wanted him moving it little as possible, so she maneuvered the sleeve slowly to avoid pulling on his arm.

The bone protruding slightly from his skin told Claire that his arm had been out of its socket for some time. “And do I want to know when you had time to pick a fight with Rhodri?” Her brother scowled, looking at his own shoulder with a sharp inhale—it probably jolt the dislocation made with every movement from his neck. “After you left the tower. He's a rather violent brute.” Claire stared at Tristan for a moment before she felt a mild flush come to her face. The way the two of them had argued… well, it wasn't one of her finest moments.

“I don't remember seeing you in the tower.” Her voice was carefully kept neutral as she used her right hand to grip his wrist, and her left to grab a hold of the humerus just along his ribs. “This is going to hurt, pull your shoulders back.” Tristan frowned but did as requested, hissing a pained breath out his teeth. Moving the hand from his humerus to his elbow, Claire slowly rotated his arm from across his chest until it laid directly in front of him. She took a moment to let him catch his breath. “Breath. The tenser you are the harder it is and the more pain you'll get.”

The Kelvic continued to rotate the arm to left and outward until she could feel resistance to the motion. Tristan was breathing heavily but didn't make a sound otherwise. The hard part was next—the moment that would give him quite of bit of pain. Taking a deep breath herself, Claire mentally counted to three in her head before moving the humerus upwards towards the socket, taking care to make sure the arm did not leave the side of his ribs. She tried to keep movement fluid. Too fast and she could just make the injury worse—too slow and she'd be adding unnecessary pain. The snap that followed as the joint fell back into place was never a pleasant sound but told her that she met her mark.

As did the numerous curses strung from her brother's mouth.

Word count :

697

Common | Isur

[Claire Lexi'lya]

“Gods I forgot how much that hurts!” Tristan ground out. It didn't honestly surprise her that this might not have been the first time he had received such an injury. Once the bone was back in proper place, however, Claire did not simply release his arm. She carefully rotated it back to the center of his chest, patting it delicately. “Keep it there, you need a sling.” The Kelvic moved from his side to lean momentarily out the door, requesting that a nurse bring her some fabric to fashion into a sling for him, as well as some hot water and cleaning cloth for his face. As she turned to face Tristan she could very easily see he had something to say… something he had been likely holding in.

“Just say it already.” The girl half expected her brother to retreat and deny her claim. Instead, his face took on a stormy look, refusing to face her for nearly a chime before settling back on her. “He’s going to kill you.” Claire couldn’t help but raise her brow at his words. The nurse returned in that moment, however, handing her the fabrics and bucket before leaving once again. Claire took a deep breath and shook her head. She carefully adjusted the fabric into a triangle shape and approached Tristan’s side.

“He hasn’t laid a hand on me.” Which was mostly true. In any sort of violence, the Eypharian had not laid a hand on her. In other terms—well she had been more than willing to allow him. But the glare her brother leveled her with indicated that wasn’t what he meant. Claire ignored the look, for the time being, winding the large section beneath his arm and hefting the fabric to hold the weight of his arm across his opposite shoulder. All the while her ‘brother’ kept his gaze on her face. Tying a knot with the ends of the fabric with a sharp tug, the raptor moved from his shoulder to his hand. Her eyes scanned the bruised fingers and fell on the dislocated one.

“You know what I meant Claire. If you bond with him, he’ll kill you. Just like how your mother died.” The mention of her mother brought an instant stiffness to her muscles. She had no idea how he knew, that the bond had claimed her mother’s life. But the gentleness in which he spoke the words made it impossible to truly be angry at him. Swallowing the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat, the Kelvic took a deep breath and shook her head. “That’s my problem. Not yours.”

Tristan snorted, letting her lift his hand and examine his finger. Fingers were always easier to reset in her opinion. Grasping the finger carefully, she pulled the digit ever so slightly away from the joint—just enough to help the bone align properly. Her brother let out another low curse from pain, shutting his eyes as his face scrunched. It took only a moment to rotate the digit and let it fall back into place. Drawing a deep breath, Claire let her hands cover his one and let her gnosis take over. The bruises and sore muscles beneath healed, though there would likely be some damage remaining to the muscles. If nothing else it would help relieve some of the pain.

“You are my sister. It’s my problem.” Claire sighed, looking up at Tristan’s eyes. There was truth lingering there—as well as a secret. He was hiding something, but he seemed to truly believe that who she bonded with was his problem. Shaking her head the Kelvic sighed and gently squeezed his hand before fetching the bucket to rest it on the table next to him. Dabbing one end of the cloth into the steaming hot water, Claire carefully brushed the wet end across the blood encrusted wound on his face.

Word count :

660

Common | Isur

[Claire Lexi'lya]

It took a time to loosen the dried blood from his skin, even more so from the actual wound. The fact that he hadn’t at least tried to clean out the cut was irritating enough, but she knew once the clotted blood was removed from his face she would have bleeding to contend with. While the wound itself wasn’t life threatening, facial wounds always seemed to bleed the worst. They never seemed to stem and Claire could only wonder just how long it took for this wound to crust over to begin with. As she gently wiped at his face, the nurse stepped in one more time with a needle and catgut thread to suture his face with. The tension in the room must have been rather obvious because she lingered for several chimes just watching the two of them as if she expected violence.

Tristan simply glared at the far wall while she focused on his face. Every now and then she must have caught the wound wrong because his face would twinge and wince before settling back into the stony expression. The silence suited her just fine, though the longer it went on it seemed his back became more rigid. Part of her was sure he was waiting for the nurse to retreat before he continued his tirade about the issues surrounding the Eypharian. The hot water did its job though as the dried blood came free from the wound and the Kelvic found fresh blood welling up beneath the cloth.

The cut was a mere two inches or so across his cheek, something that would only require about three well-placed stitches to fully close. The face, however, was a hard place to numb. There were little things like the lavender salve that might relieve some of the pain, but Claire knew it might just be better to get it over with and add the salve afterward. ”Could you get some of the lavender salve? I’ll need just a little for his face after I’m done.” The request was low, aimed at the nurse. She looked resistant at first to leave them alone, but after several ticks she nodded and left the room. Claire turned her eyes to the needle as attempted to string the catgut through the small hole in the needle.

”You have no idea how mad father would be if he found out about the Eypharian.” The words were low—angry—though his gaze remained locked on the wall. Claire narrowed her eyes slightly at him at the insinuation that, once again, anyone had any say over her life other than herself. ”You make it sound like he’s alive.” The Kelvic kept her voice calm and even, despite the fact that her stomach turned upside down at the mention of her father and what he have might wanted for her life. Tristan’s eyes shot to hers for a moment—some kind of emotion passing through them quickly—before he frowned and returned his gaze away from her.

He was certainly hiding something but seemed intent on keeping it to himself.

Rolling her eyes, the girl let out a sigh and leaned closer to his face. Dabbing the cloth across his skin to remove the fresh blood she brought her left hand up to his cheek. ”This is going to hurt but try not to move. It will make the stitches uneven.” When he didn’t respond Claire brought her right hand up to help line the skin up and gently pressed the needle into his skin with her left. The face was much harder to work with than the rest of the body—there wasn’t much muscle and fat to work with. If she prodded to deeply with the needle she would end up hitting bone or making the stitches wildly uneven. As it was her skill with the needle wasn’t great, he would certainly have some scarring later.

Word count :

648

Common | Isur

[Claire Lexi'lya]

She could feel under her fingertips the strain of his facial muscles just trying to remain still. There was no doubt that this was painful, especially given how close to his eye the cut was. Claire was actually impressed that he managed to keep still, though she was aware that his fingers were moving—clenching and squirming in an attempt to keep still everywhere else. Luckily she was becoming more adept at sutures and given the small cut it didn’t take long for her to work the first stitch through one side of the wound to the other. She did not rush the process, doing her best to take her time. No matter how annoyed she was with the man, she wanted no part in majorly scarring his face.

Once the catgut was through the Kelvic released the thread and pulled the needle away so that she could gently tie it to the base of his skin. The raptor was careful to ensure she pulled it tight enough to bring the skin together, but not so tight that the skin folded under the pressure. Using small scissors she cut the excess thread and gently patted his skin with the wet cloth. Tristan let out a stuttered breath and Claire risked glancing his eyes for a moment before reaching for another length of catgut. ”Take a moment to move your face if you’d like. The next two should come a little faster now.” He didn’t respond but took the moment to groan and flex his face just slightly. The stitch strained a little but held without tearing.

Claire was right too. The next stitch moved through both sides of his skin quickly and was easier to draw closed when she threw the knot. The last stitch she ensured was properly spaced like the other two, though she took her time in drawing the skin together. It would certainly scar, but if she had done her job well enough it would be a simple white line rather than a jagged piece of flesh if he had not had it tended to at all. ”Just… promise me you won’t bond with him. He’s a bad choice.” The words were soft and pulled Claire away from her inspection back to his eyes. He looked like he was pleading… as if he could understand just how the bond worked in the first place.

The Kelvic, however, was quite sure that the bond wasn’t something that just happened at random. There was something about the Eypharian, about her, that meshed—even if the two of them argued endlessly and were entirely capable of driving the other completely mad. It wasn’t as if the bond had just plucked him from the air because she had found him wounded on the street. If that had been the case then she would have found someone else to bond with a long time ago. ”You don’t get to ask that of me.”

His glare returned as the nurse entered. The woman handed her the jar of salve, but before she could even open the jar Tristan leaped up from the table. Grabbing his shirt, he whirled on her and pointed the hand of his good arm in her face. ”Things will go more smoothly if you just stayed away from him. His pride will either get you killed or remove the very thing you wish from him. You're a pet, a slave, and that’s all he’ll see you as.” Claire felt her temper rise, but before she could open her mouth he turned and marched out the door. His words seemed to bounce around her head… as if she wasn’t already confused.

”Are you alright?” The hand of the nurse landed on her shoulder and Claire shook her head for a moment in an attempt to clear her mind. If this was what having family was like she wasn’t so sure she missed much growing up. Looking at the nurse she gave a small nod before moving to help the woman clean up the room. The day had just started—there was too much to be done and Tristan wasn’t allowed to take up all her thoughts. After all the brute was doing a fair job of doing that himself.

Word count :

707

Common | Isur

[Grim Ravenwood]

Your Grade

Skills:
Medicine: 3
Observation: 2
Socialization: 1
Sewing: 1

Lores:
Self: Let me do my job
Tristan: Does not like Rhodri
A bond is not something that happens at random

Grader's Comments:
Don't forget to delete your post from the request thread. If there is any issue with your grades, drop dead by my graveyard and bury me a pm. Enjoy your grades while you can, they are to die for.

As always, Death guide you healer~
Grim