74 Ymiden 721 - The Old Ruins
Calendar event: “Outlanders, Redux”
Continued from here
Continued from here
The younger Druid remained mystified over what she had just witnessed and she missed what the other Druid said. Her mind was a jumble of questions and hypotheticals as she tried to make sense of it all that she jerked when Sivnne’s words finally got through to her.
“Can you stitch, Monk?”
Their dark eyes met once more - Visna’s permanently narrowed - and, instead of admitting incompetence, the Namdalen chose to let those questions heave forth. “Was it a salve? A balm?”
“This man’s thigh needs to-”
“What was it?” Visna’s words were a heated hiss, eyes narrowed and intense. A furrow formed between her dark brows before her face pinched as she shut her eyes tight and shook her head, huffing out mirthless laugh through her irritated nose, “No. You know what? What does it matter?” her voice rose, the irony of Sivnne’s questions finally leaving her feeling utterly delirious, “Why don’t you just do,” she lifted one small and bloodied hand from the Outlander’s leg and gestured vaguely over his body as she held the other Druid’s gaze, “whatever the fuck it was you just did.”
Sivnne remained composed as she tugged a small vial from the collection of items that she had heaped onto the ground bits before and uncorked it, effectively ignoring Visna’s tirade. She eased the red-haired man’s head up enough to help him nurse a portion of the vial down then held it out to the younger Druid, her arm outstretched over the man’s body.
Visna remained rooted where she sat on her knees, incensed, weight still leaning into the hand that remained on the Outlander’s thigh, her other hand now still at her own hip. Her eyes burned into the other Druid throughout her ministrations as her narrow jaw clenched and slid forward.
“It’s a mild sedative and pain killer,” Sivnne stated simply after a beat had passed with no response. There was no inkling she registered Visna’s ire, still calm and composed and bent on ignoring the bevvy of questions the younger woman had lobbed at her. “The others may need it,” she gave the vial a tiny shake and sent an exaggerated sidelong glance to the Druids working on another casualty over her shoulder, the motion causing her head to canter ever so slightly.
“Go.” She said with finality, the word was punctuated by the rise of her thick brows.
Visna snatched the vial into her palm, scowled, and rose gracelessly with another huff. Muttering angrily about wasting time on the pathetic Outlander, she gathered the lower half of her Aesir robes in her free hand and stepped over the man as a final display of disrespect.
She spat her next words out like a curse, “The spirits take him.” Then, unspoken, ‘and you, too.’ Whether she truly meant the latter was irrelevant - she was bothered enough to feel it at the time and that’s all that currently mattered to her.
“Can you stitch, Monk?”
Their dark eyes met once more - Visna’s permanently narrowed - and, instead of admitting incompetence, the Namdalen chose to let those questions heave forth. “Was it a salve? A balm?”
“This man’s thigh needs to-”
“What was it?” Visna’s words were a heated hiss, eyes narrowed and intense. A furrow formed between her dark brows before her face pinched as she shut her eyes tight and shook her head, huffing out mirthless laugh through her irritated nose, “No. You know what? What does it matter?” her voice rose, the irony of Sivnne’s questions finally leaving her feeling utterly delirious, “Why don’t you just do,” she lifted one small and bloodied hand from the Outlander’s leg and gestured vaguely over his body as she held the other Druid’s gaze, “whatever the fuck it was you just did.”
Sivnne remained composed as she tugged a small vial from the collection of items that she had heaped onto the ground bits before and uncorked it, effectively ignoring Visna’s tirade. She eased the red-haired man’s head up enough to help him nurse a portion of the vial down then held it out to the younger Druid, her arm outstretched over the man’s body.
Visna remained rooted where she sat on her knees, incensed, weight still leaning into the hand that remained on the Outlander’s thigh, her other hand now still at her own hip. Her eyes burned into the other Druid throughout her ministrations as her narrow jaw clenched and slid forward.
“It’s a mild sedative and pain killer,” Sivnne stated simply after a beat had passed with no response. There was no inkling she registered Visna’s ire, still calm and composed and bent on ignoring the bevvy of questions the younger woman had lobbed at her. “The others may need it,” she gave the vial a tiny shake and sent an exaggerated sidelong glance to the Druids working on another casualty over her shoulder, the motion causing her head to canter ever so slightly.
“Go.” She said with finality, the word was punctuated by the rise of her thick brows.
Visna snatched the vial into her palm, scowled, and rose gracelessly with another huff. Muttering angrily about wasting time on the pathetic Outlander, she gathered the lower half of her Aesir robes in her free hand and stepped over the man as a final display of disrespect.
She spat her next words out like a curse, “The spirits take him.” Then, unspoken, ‘and you, too.’ Whether she truly meant the latter was irrelevant - she was bothered enough to feel it at the time and that’s all that currently mattered to her.