[So his shoulder hurt. That was a thing, that happened, and was still true, but that wasn't really Tavros's big problem right now. His arm was still on, after all, and he could move and feel his hands, and the bleeding was mostly being contained by tearing up his shirt. Which was already ruined. Kanaya would be annoyed. Again. But really, he was okay, and kind of wanted to help Redbird, only she didn't really seem to want him to right now
( ... )
[ She's already ducked in and out of the room at least three times since getting him to the couch, gathering supplies and forgetting things and grabbing more things. Finally she makes it back to the couch for good, plants herself next to him, and shoves the dogs away without a word. ]
Not yet.
[ Then she's starting in on the remains of his shirt, alternatively tearing and cutting to get it off of that bloody shoulder, and the couch be damned. And that silent, stern tension? Not going anywhere. ]
[He comforts them without a thought, sending them to curl up in front of the door and keep watch there. He can't make them understand what's happening, but he can encourage them to choose behavior that is natural to them and convenient to the household.
Which prevents him from noticing the scissors until she's already snipping away.]
Oh! Uhhh...
[There are a couple other bruises, brown against his gray skin, but they're superfluous, and a lot of them are old and fading anyway: the expected wear and tear of someone in regular training and active duty. His shoulder, however is more than a bit of a mess
( ... )
[ She ignores, of course, every injury that isn't the one she's focusing on. She sees it on her own body often enough, it's far from a cause for concern. Not like the current open wound situation, here. But at least it's easy to slide into a strictly professional mode, one that involves plastic gloves, a washcloth in warm water to see the extent of the damage, and a whole load of gauze.
...And it's strange, she can't help but notice, that the oddly colored blood doesn't detract any of the grimness, alarm, or guilt. It's not the color she's used to, but it's still blood, and this much blood is never good news. She gives commands in a quiet voice as she works, Lean forward and the like, speaking only when necessary. Small blessings, she figures, that it's a clean entry and exit.
She leans back again only when the wound is cleaned, bandaged, and wrapped, and it's with a low breath out.
Finally: ] I'll find you a healer. We got a couple around on the Network.
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Not yet.
[ Then she's starting in on the remains of his shirt, alternatively tearing and cutting to get it off of that bloody shoulder, and the couch be damned. And that silent, stern tension? Not going anywhere. ]
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Which prevents him from noticing the scissors until she's already snipping away.]
Oh! Uhhh...
[There are a couple other bruises, brown against his gray skin, but they're superfluous, and a lot of them are old and fading anyway: the expected wear and tear of someone in regular training and active duty. His shoulder, however is more than a bit of a mess ( ... )
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...And it's strange, she can't help but notice, that the oddly colored blood doesn't detract any of the grimness, alarm, or guilt. It's not the color she's used to, but it's still blood, and this much blood is never good news. She gives commands in a quiet voice as she works, Lean forward and the like, speaking only when necessary. Small blessings, she figures, that it's a clean entry and exit.
She leans back again only when the wound is cleaned, bandaged, and wrapped, and it's with a low breath out.
Finally: ] I'll find you a healer. We got a couple around on the Network.
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