Denen's hands were shaking as he reached into his bag for bandages. With bloody fingers, he held the little jar of oil up to Sama'el, silently asking for him to keep hold of it. He brushed the back of his hand across his brow, oblivious to the fact that his friend was calling for a priest, though he'd have been grateful to know. After all, he was only a novice, and these wounds were more than he'd ever faced before. He opted to tend to the wounds lining his abdomen, as they seemed the most severe. His face was pale, ashen almost, and his hands shook as he threaded the bone needle. His eyes were intense, focused. He was nervous, his emotions rushing, but it had to be tended to. Eldon couldn't be left with injuries open. He repeated his mental prayer to Rak'keli, pleading with her for guidance. He glanced up now and again, to be sure that Sam was keeping Eldon occupied, before he reached for the tiny jar of oils. They'd numb Eldon's skin and muscles where he intended to do his stitching, making it significantly less painful. The scent, too, was calming. He reached up, patting Sam's arm to get his attention, and then signed, "Rub this on the wound to his arm. It'll settle while I tend to these." He held the jar out to him, returning to his work once it was taken. Slowly, carefully, he went about stitches. |