"Beg your pardon, miss," he said. "It's a bit... er... awkward."
Laurelin noted his flustered appearance and raised an eyebrow in confusion.
"I...Did I say something wrong?" A puzzled look on her face. It might have taken her a couple of seconds, but she finally realized that he was probably uncomfortable with the location of his injuries. "Oh,right..."
She never thought about things like modesty when she had to heal someone. Nervously she scratched the back of her head and cleared her throat.
"I understand why you might be hesitant to accept my help, but if you don't tend to your wounds immediately, they will fester." She said in a serious tone, but tried her best not to sound too grimm. "Allow me at least to bandage your arm, it will make things easier for you. But I'd suggest you take care of your...Er...Lower injuries as soon as possible!"
"Aye," he agreed readily. "You don't have to tell me what happens if the rot sets in."
He hastily removed the armor from his arm and presented it for her inspection.
"Tear the sleeve off if you have to," he said, "but the armor stays on."
She's doing you a favor, jackass, he reminded himself. You could try being civil.
"I appreciate you helping me," he said more gently. "I can wash without help, but I had no idea how I was going to bandage this one-handed. And I don't want to get caught with my pants down, so to speak. Not when there's wolves or worse about."
He congratulated himself for the cleverness of his excuse. It was a lie, of course, but telling her the real reason would be worse than letting her see the brand. He only hoped her knowledge of wolves was less than that of a farmer's son. Even the wolves of the forest near Logerwold seldom ran in a pack this large, and most of them were dead. As for whatever killed Fuldors, they seemed to have been thorough. Unless they were looking for something, they would probably not be back.
Unless they were looking for something... or someone! The elf in the barn?
He cleared his throat and added, "At the risk of sounding ungrateful, we should probably make haste. I'd like to be well away from here come nightfall."
Laurelin nodded in agreement, and proceeded to tear his sleeve off.
"Don't worry about the wolves, they aren't coming back, she said with a knowing smirk.
"Can't say the same about whoever or whatever, killed these people though..."Her golden eyes narrowed, full of worry.
Laurelin however, didn’t overthink the reason Beldin was so defensive about removing his armour. She merely assumed that his embarrassment was to blame.
So she decided that pestering him with questions wouldn't be wise.
She approached him and took a closer look at his arm, the wounds on his wrist weren't that bad. Unlike the ones on his shoulder, although he didn't appear to have bitemarks on that area.
"It won't take more than a couple of minutes." She said calmly and opened her backpack. "The sooner we leave this place, the better."
She grabbed a clean rag and poured some water on it, she then patted his injuries carefully.
She caught herself thinking that humans aren't that different from the elvhen after all. For all she knew, they bled all the same.
When she finally finished cleaning the blood, she applied a thick green paste on each gash and scratch. "This will sting a little, but at least it will prevent infections so..."the corners of her lips turned up in an apologetic smile.
It didn't take her long to bandage his arm. After Creators know how many times she's been either mauled by angry animals or fell from a tree, dressing wounds was merely a routine for her.
"You are good to go." she said quietly.
{GM: Ordinarily, you'd have to make a Cunning(Healing) roll for this, but you're doing this from your phone that doesn't like rolling dice, so we'll use one of your die rolls from your pre-rolled list. The next die roll available is 10(Dragon Die=2), so your next roll, 10, plus your Cunning(3) means you're successful, and you heal Beldin for DragonDie(2) + Cunning(3)=5hp.}
The poultice stung, but it was a refreshing change from the raw ache of the torn flesh, and when it passed, the latter was less. He pulled his sleeve back down and buckled on the armor again. He was tempted to forgo the part that covered his bicep as the straps were tight against the bandages, but he reminded himself that the armor was the reason the muscle wasn't ripped off completely.
"Thank you," he said. "I appreciate the help."
... And the discretion, he added mentally. She probably did know he was hiding something. That look had been too smug for ignorance. But, as long as she didn't know what, he might continue to find himself welcome among them and welcome in Vintiver. He did not want to have to leave another village yards ahead of an angry mob.
Her ministrations had calmed him somewhat. She might be an elf, but there was nothing alien about the first aid she administered. It might have been one of his men patching him up... a thought which promptly brought a lump to his throat.
"Maybe I'd better give the other... parts... a quick seeing-to before they start to turn," he said. "Thank you again. You were very gentle."
"You are welcome."She said smiling
All her life, she was taught to fear and hate the Shemlen, the "quick children". But Laurelin has never been one to believe without knowing, without seeing.
After all, there was no such thing as quick-children anymore.
It was mostly due to her obsession with accuracy that she wouldn't use that word as often. Knowing it's true meaning, unlike most of her clan-mates.
"Yes, you should!" She nodded in agreement. "You can keep some of the poultices...The herbs I used in order to make them are particularly effective against infections."
And so she packed her backpack, and slowly walked away.
To his horror, he found himself watching her retreating form. His libido was not especially engaged at the moment - the threat of castration by wolf jaws will do that - but the fluidity of her movement was mesmerizing. If he could incorporate some of that grace into his fighting stance…
If he did incorporate her grace into his fighting stance, he would not be much use to anyone. His job was to be big and immobile, and his body was well suited to the task. Economy of motion would serve him better than lithe elven poses, and right now, it was both economical and prudent that he should wash his blighted crotch and muster whatever strength the Maker gave him to get back on his legs.
He thrust the remains of his sleeve in his pack and set about washing up. Who knew? He might yet be of use to someone this day.
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