abraxaslogs | [ CLOSED ] hands like skeleton bones

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[ CLOSED ] hands like skeleton bones

Who: Geralt + the Queen, Yennefer, Various
When: After Nov. 12
Where: Castle Thorne, Nott, Cadens
What: Geralt goes on an Adventure and has a great time
Warnings: Blood, violence, trauma

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Yeah, we don't have monsters or monster hunters.

[Nadine wipes away the last traces of oil and sets aside the used cloth. Now it's time to prepare for the stitches. Her hands are quick and practiced as she opens up a little wooden box and retrieves a slim, curved needle and some sort of fine, plant based fiber to thread it.]

I was just mentioning it because...I need to learn how to use some kind of weapon. The kind they have around here. I have some magic I've learned, but it's nothing that can help defend me or one of my people. Yet.

[ Geralt glances over his shoulder. His expression is thoughtful, a bit more alert than he was earlier. Nadine is not the first to tell him she's unfamiliar with a blade, which is what he assumes she means by the kind they have around here. He's offered his expertise only Amos and Sam—he doesn't intend to make it a common occurrence, nor will he teach anyone who happens to ask—but Nadine is a possibility. Her temperament has always been steady.

So are her hands, judging by that needle and thread. ]

I can teach you to kill with a weapon. If you only want to learn how to swing it, you'd be better off with a fencing instructor.

[ He's not seeking specifics, what she is or is not willing to do. Julie has not painted an especially peaceful picture of her world, and he's witnessed the aftermath of villages ravaged by war and plagues, fallen apart at the seams. Clean hands are a luxury he expects few to have, here or elsewhere. Certainly not here. He just wants her to know what she'll be getting by asking him. He was trained to do one specific thing. ]

Swinging a sword won't do me any good if I don't know how to swing it to defend myself.

[The fiber type thread is tied off and Nadine shifts her position, standing now to look over Geralt's back and decide where to start. The largest one. It looks...well, she doesn't want to think about what it looks like.]

I've had to...defend myself before. [She imagines he'll understand what she means with that phrasing.] I just need to be properly equipped and know what I'm doing here.

[Lacking an effective gun that she trusts. God she'd give a lot for a handgun.]

I'm going to start stitching you up. Do you want anything to bite down on?

[ He gets it. And it's all he needs to know. Geralt asks no further, just acknowledges the statement with a vague sound. ]

When you're ready, you know how to find me.

[ After he gets back. Provided he gets back. Apparently, Kaer Morhen is open for training after all these days. He tries not to think about it too much, the amount of people who have come by even if it's only a mere replica of the fortress. It doesn't bother him, exactly. Just...different. The place has been buried deep in the mountains for so long, inaccessible to all except a rare few.

He hesitates. No. He'll be all right. ] I'll make do.

If you're sure.

[Nadine's not going to argue with him or push it. Geralt knows what he can handle. She just nods and sets to work, bringing the open rends of skin together with one hand and suturing with the other. She tries to go quickly, while keeping the stitching as neat as possible. It's doubtful that Geralt will care, but she does.]

I'm going to do this as fast as I can. You're doing great. Just hang in there with me.

[She doesn't think as she speaks, offering a quiet litany of encouragement and assurances, trying to give him something besides the pain and discomfort to focus on. God, his back really is a mess. Cleaned, the wounds are more clear. But all she can do is stitch up the worst of them.]

Almost done, I promise. You're being so brave...

[Nadine's mouth is on autopilot, spitting out the same things she's said to dozens of children with skinned knees leaking tears over hydrogen peroxide.]

[ It's been awhile, in all honesty, since he's been this torn up. He's good at what he does; the scars that mark him are largely from his younger years, or the rare occasion he took a contract far beyond what he knows he should attempt, for his own reasons. (A certain princess cursed in a crypt comes to mind.)

Perhaps it should be ironic that it isn't some beast he fought that'll give him his new scars. Fitting, maybe.

He grips the bedframe and steadies himself while she works on him. Some of it is the pain, but some of it is that he's just tired. Sitting still takes effort, when someone's prodding at open pieces of your flesh—but at least her words do something, even if it's not exactly what she might mean them to, drawing a startled huff of a laugh out of him in between shallow breaths. ]

Is this part of the healing magic? [ Maybe if he held memories of a typical childhood, he might've joked about how much like his mother or an old teacher she sounds. (Except he does remember his mother, brief snippets of her; they're just things he'd rather not acknowledge.) Mostly, his only reference is watching other mothers with their own children. ]

[Nadine chuckles in turn, realizing.]

You're my first adult patient, actually. But you are very brave, so I stand by my words.

[Her fingers are beginning to cramp as she finishes the last stitch and ties off the last knot. It's not the prettiest of jobs, but the stitches are neat and the torn edges of skin are brought flush to heal together. Again she grabs a cloth to wet and wipe away the bits of blood and gore left from the stitching and nods.]

Alright, we just need to get fresh bandages on you and then I'll grab you some breakfast. I want you to eat and I want you to rest. Doctor's orders.

[ He makes another amused noise. Sometimes he isn't sure he'll ever be used to it, interacting with those who haven't any notion of what a Witcher is, who exist entirely outside the stories and rumours of his kind. Who will say these things to him with an odd sincerity. Who will sew him up without asking for anything in return.

His back is lit on fire by the time she's finished. He's almost hesitant to move, every inch of him unwilling. But he's no longer spilling blood out of open wounds, so that's an improvement. ]

I'm not going anywhere. [ There's a promise in those words. He can't, even if he were to want to. Julie had hauled him up those stairs and he's fairly certain he'll never make it down them on his own.

He pauses, before adding, ] Thank you.

You're welcome.

[As promised, Nadine brings a tray of food after she's finished bandaging Geralt back up with clean dressings. There are two sweet breakfast rolls, a hearty bowl of porridge, and a mug of juice. The tray is set beside the bed.]

Remember - eat and rest. And if you need anything, I'm just down the hall. I mean it.

[She emphasizes those words with a Look, then leaves Geralt to his breakfast and rest.]

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[ CLOSED ] hands like skeleton bones

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