Arc 716, Ashan
Gaping wounds dripped teardrops of sanguine death across dry sand and with every passing hour a new patient would be closer to the end of their journey in this world. War rose upon the horizon of Nashaki, the borderlands troops were training harder than ever and the restless brutality that festered in their hearts had become clear.
Seated to the side of another doctor’s wisdom Uiyaejn gently poured a small trickle of water into the freshly cut wound of a soldier. Battle worn and scarred for his loyalty to his people, the Raskitheical lay against the linen laden bed, starring up at her with its deep amber eyes.
Locked within his gaze she could feel the aged hold of his old soul seep into her own, intense with curiosity “Look after me well,” he muttered, settling back to rest against the soft sheets.
“Twenty-one, prepare the bandages and watch me while I stitch the wound. Ivera will be making you do this soon, learn,” a tired voice called from behind her. It belonged to overseer Mi’lyn, a serious woman with long greying blonde hair and features that were once considered by many to be beautiful, were now hidden beneath the crease lines born from the weight of her burdens and an ugly scar that ran across her face.
Flesh gave way to the whiskey coated needle that weaved between Mi’lyn’s fingertips, twisting and turning until the trail of thread clung to either side of the gaping hole torn in the Raskitheical’s body and bound it together.
“This method of stitching is what we call the interrupted stitch, it is the simplest form of a suture,” Mi’lyn chipped in, in an attempt to teach the assistant while she maintained her focus upon the patient “Do you see the placing between the stitches? When stitching a continuous wound, the length of the suture should be at least four times the length of the wound. You must be sure to leave a small space between each one and keep the thread another small distance away from the wounds edge. We’re hoping that when weaved together the skin will fold upward and start to heal.”
Uiyaejn followed every graceful motion, her eyes tracing each fine line where the needle pierced through the limp meat of the soldier’s humanoid body and each suture was woven with pinpoint accuracy, almost perfectly in line with one another.
“How do you know the distance?” Uiyaejn asked.
“Practice,” the elder healer replied and turned to beckon Uiyaejn over “Come here, if the gentleman doesn’t mind you can give it a go as long as you do everything I say.”
Sceptical of her decision the Raskitheical opened his eyes to look at Mi’lyn with a long cool stare “Aasss long aasss ssshe isss under your care, Doctor. We need more good doctorsss,” the soldier replied with softness that Uiyaejn had never seen in one of his kind before.
Gaping wounds dripped teardrops of sanguine death across dry sand and with every passing hour a new patient would be closer to the end of their journey in this world. War rose upon the horizon of Nashaki, the borderlands troops were training harder than ever and the restless brutality that festered in their hearts had become clear.
Seated to the side of another doctor’s wisdom Uiyaejn gently poured a small trickle of water into the freshly cut wound of a soldier. Battle worn and scarred for his loyalty to his people, the Raskitheical lay against the linen laden bed, starring up at her with its deep amber eyes.
Locked within his gaze she could feel the aged hold of his old soul seep into her own, intense with curiosity “Look after me well,” he muttered, settling back to rest against the soft sheets.
“Twenty-one, prepare the bandages and watch me while I stitch the wound. Ivera will be making you do this soon, learn,” a tired voice called from behind her. It belonged to overseer Mi’lyn, a serious woman with long greying blonde hair and features that were once considered by many to be beautiful, were now hidden beneath the crease lines born from the weight of her burdens and an ugly scar that ran across her face.
Flesh gave way to the whiskey coated needle that weaved between Mi’lyn’s fingertips, twisting and turning until the trail of thread clung to either side of the gaping hole torn in the Raskitheical’s body and bound it together.
“This method of stitching is what we call the interrupted stitch, it is the simplest form of a suture,” Mi’lyn chipped in, in an attempt to teach the assistant while she maintained her focus upon the patient “Do you see the placing between the stitches? When stitching a continuous wound, the length of the suture should be at least four times the length of the wound. You must be sure to leave a small space between each one and keep the thread another small distance away from the wounds edge. We’re hoping that when weaved together the skin will fold upward and start to heal.”
Uiyaejn followed every graceful motion, her eyes tracing each fine line where the needle pierced through the limp meat of the soldier’s humanoid body and each suture was woven with pinpoint accuracy, almost perfectly in line with one another.
“How do you know the distance?” Uiyaejn asked.
“Practice,” the elder healer replied and turned to beckon Uiyaejn over “Come here, if the gentleman doesn’t mind you can give it a go as long as you do everything I say.”
Sceptical of her decision the Raskitheical opened his eyes to look at Mi’lyn with a long cool stare “Aasss long aasss ssshe isss under your care, Doctor. We need more good doctorsss,” the soldier replied with softness that Uiyaejn had never seen in one of his kind before.
