[PRP] Red All Over [Nahm/Merry]

[prolixity]

Nahm winced away from the brief flare of light, throwing his sleeve up to keep the sharp burn from his eyes, ready to be irritable about the carelessness of the interruption. The sharp smell of fresh blood eeled across the room before he could say anything, and as the curtain fell back into place, plunging the room back into full darkness, the grue was on his feet and striding across to catch the chimera before she fell. "Who hurt you," he demanded, his voice a low growl, his words unusually defined and clipped.

Carefully he scooped her up. The faint firefly glow of his eyes tracked to each wound, and he adjusted his grip carefully to keep from jostling the injuries as he carried her over to his bed and put her down gently. "I'm going to bandage you," he told her. "I'm not good at fearhealing yet. If it's bad enough, I'll get someone." The scrape of a drawer opening sounded behind the head of the bed, and a shuffling and rustling indicated that he was getting something out.  

[prolixity]

A brief pause in the rustling, his hands stilled, before he moved again, returning to the bed with a wide, flat box in one hand. "Hunter," Nahm said thoughtfully. He set the box down and opened it, tore open a wrapped packet. The sharp smell of a cleanser washed out as he took out a wipe. He leaned over her, his nostrils flaring and his eyes narrowed, touched lightly at the injury sites with bared fingertips, claws carefully retracted as he examined what he could see. "Stomach's the worst? Let me see."

Long fingers curled around one of her wrists and tugged.  

[prolixity]

Nahm made a grumbling, thoughtful noise without words. As Merry moved her hands away from the wound he moved to wipe excess blood away, his eyes narrowing as he assessed it. "Guts aren't gonna fall out," he pronounced, and pressed a thick pad of clean gauze over it. "Hold that a minute."

Once she had put her hand back in place, he opened a small kit that he hadn't had to use in several years, checked the date on the contents, and once he'd satisfied himself that nothing was expired, took a needle out of a packet and deftly threaded it with a thick black thread. "When Ahm comes back, you tell him all of what happened," he directed, a request that shaded into almost a demand. "As much's you can remember, details, all of it. This is gonna hurt, you want something to bite?"  

[prolixity]

Nahm nodded and handed her what looked like it might have been part of a broom handle at some point, unevenly sliced on one side. "I'll make this fast." He looked at her face for a moment, then bent down to place a deliberate kiss on her forehead.

The job itself was done quickly, the few stitches slightly uneven-looking but sturdy. He was out of practice at the purely physical mechanics of mending, but they'd learned some time back that there were three means of dealing with deep slices like this: take the injured creature to a Fearhealer, treat it themselves, or finish the job off so the creature would reform whole. The first and third solutions required involving creeple who were very likely to report seriously out-of-line young grues to the Council, and the third suggestion was rarely if ever well-received by the injured party. So they'd learned to treat the sort of injuries that were difficult to pass off as accidental themselves. Claiming an interest in hobby-level mad science had been an easy way to acquire the necessary training for some of the more esoteric skills. Once he'd finished the stitching, Nahm placed a fresh gauze pad over the site and taped it in place. The tape would pull out fur when removed later, but fur was easier to regrow.

"That's done," he told Merry, and tended to the lesser injuries next, cleaning and bandaging with careful, efficient fingers.  

[prolixity]

"Finished," Nahm said after an unmeasurable space of time, and set the first aid box to the side, atop the dresser; he would see to cleaning and replacing supplies later. Something rattled softly. "Here," and he presented her with two unmarked tablets. "I'll get you something to drink."

When she had taken the tablets, he moved away to the small refrigerator the twins kept for their food, taking out a bottle of water, then dropping swiftly to one knee to fish out something small and fast-moving from behind the couch. When he returned to the bed to hand Merry the water bottle, Nahm held a squirming, hissing spariyder in his other hand. "Eating'll help you regenerate faster," he suggested, and sat down on the side of the bed, careful not to jostle her.  

[prolixity]

Nahm was gracious enough, at least, to snap the spariyder's neck before handing it over to be eaten. "Fresh is better for healing," he explained, and cupped her hand between his. "Y'want to borrow a robe to sleep in?" There was no inquiry as to whether she'd be staying; for one, she was far too wobbly to make it back to her own room without losing one or more of her bandages, and two, it would be much easier to guard her while she rested if she was here.  

[prolixity]

Nahm stretched over to the dresser and fished a pair of boxers out of one of the drawers. It was printed with a strategically placed smiley face, which probably meant that it belonged to Nahm; Ahm's taste in clothes tended to be slightly more dignified than his brother's. "Sit up a minute and I'll get the blanket off, got some blood on it," he suggested. "Course I will, and he'll be back in a couple hours probably, taking a test."

Beejoux