Busted Knuckles (Nigel & Keelan)
Keelan was no stranger to pain. As a child, they broken their leg after being forced into dance lessons with their little sister. They’d broken their jaw at a dance, once, after falling face-first into a table. The nurse said it was a miracle that they didn’t have a scar lining from their bottom jaw all the way to the bridge of their nose. Consistently, Keys was busting their knuckles against machinery inside of car engines, and against blacksmithing tools.
Despite all of their practice in unintentionally harming themselves, they’d never learned to heal themselves properly. Which was probably for the best, seeing that if they set their bones wrong they’d be screwed. So when one of key’s coworkers accidentally dropped the carjack on both their hands while trying to lift the machine onto a large jack, Keys knew exactly what to do.
Keelan ingested a numbing potion that they’d brewed regularly for such occasions, leaving just a casual feeling of heat over their deeply bruised and bleeding knuckles. They’d been dropped off by the coworker, unable to use their hands, at St. Mungo’s, and walked in. Even though they’d only been in town a few weeks, the welcome witch greeted them by name and directed them towards the urgent care section. Keys walked a few feet before encountering a soft-blonde with a steel jawline, folding their hands protectively while approaching the healer.
“Hey, I uh, I was directed over here.” Keys cleared their throat and looked down at their feet for a moment. “Can you fix my hands?”
@nigel-twycross
