damn her. damn his injuries. damn their healers that didn’t have the capacity to fix him. he HATED that they were resorting to the skypeople for help. they had survived without them for YEARS. there was no reason to start recruiting them now. his PRIDE was getting the best of him. the question was, which was more important - his self-regard or his self-preservation? it was CLEAR that this girl wasn’t giving up, that anya had given her an ultimatum. he assumed she wouldn’t be trying this hard if it didn’t somehow mutually benefit her. it would hurt him to give her the satisfaction of completing her task. if she didn’t, maybe his clan would take her prisoner, torture her. belomi would be granting her freedom. if he refused? then it would be at the expense of his own life.
the offer to merely look and not touch was an agreeable compromise. his weapon was still close to his side. if she made any move towards him, he could slice her hand off. maybe if she got a view of the full extent of his injuries, she could see that it was a lost cause, that he was DYING. her explanation DID make sense. he had thought burns would heal, but it was the infection that was weakening him. RELUCTANTLY, and keeping an eye on her throughout, he grabbed the hem of his shirt and slowly lifted it over his head. as she had guessed, the burn extended from his arm across the expanse of his back, marring skin covered with a few decorative tattoos & various scars to mark his kills.
❛ water did not help. our medicine helped with the pain, but it didn’t heal. ❜
she’s close enough now that she can SMELL the burns, can see the streaking red and black marking his skin, and it terrifies her. burns this severe needed to be monitored. the wounds would need constant care, they would need to be checked for infection a few times EACH day. did they really expect her to save him? or was anya setting her up for FAILURE so that killing her people wouldn’t leave any trace of a stain on her conscience? assuming she had a conscience.
a flinch twists her expression when the man shifts, FEAR coloring her eyes until he moves to expose the extent of his injuries. the GUILT that had been e d g i n g along her spine curled into her stomach. ----------------------------------this was her fault. she’d burned that village ( accident or not ) and injured this man who’d only been trying to save INNOCENTS.
❝ water wouldn’t help applied externally. you do need to stay hydrated though. do you feel FEVERISH? ❞ she takes another step forward, hands wringing in front of her, nervous energy she just wished she could use to properly examine him. there’s still a few feet between them, but she can see the CHILL raised over his skin, the dry CRACKS forming on chapped lips. she can see the answer to her question written all over him. ❝ from what I can see there’s’ some evidence of infection already present. ❞ she takes a deep breath.
❝ I CAN help you, if you let me. ❞