[At some point, he gives up in his attempt to sit up, what with Yennefer pressing down into his eking wound, her reprimand, and the pain radiating from where the wolf had sunk its jaw into his middle. All he can see, then, is her face an angle, the curve of her jawline and how it tenses with every word spoken. Thancred had demanded the aid of magic, and he can see every minute change in her expression, the desperate attempt at focus as she presses down against his wound, the lost look in her eyes as she tells him, definitively, that she can't.
Stephen realizes, almost blearily, that this comes as no surprise to him. During their journey, he had felt no inkling of magic from her, not even in passing. It had been reasonable to think that she was keeping it tamped down for a reason he couldn't understand, but he knows now that was a grand assumption on his part. For someone as powerful as Yennefer, to not have felt even a whiff of magical energy from her was odd -- how obvious it should've been, but so readily overlooked with his mind at the task before them.
Before he knows it, the fury of a fight comes to an end, met with only the quietly retreating footfalls of the remaining wolves disappearing into the woods. He hisses in a breath, seeing the silhouette of Thancred now standing over him instead.]
It's all right... It'll be fine. We don't need magic-- not for this.
[A vague and piteous reassurance, but a part of it is for Yennefer's sake. He'll be fine; the pain is damnable, and this bleeding is staining his clothing and Yennefer's coat, but he's familiar enough with the human body to know when he's really in danger, and when a wound needs to be cleaned and tended to before real danger sets in.]
Just keep pressure on it. We have some- some basic medical supplies in our saddlebags. Someone's going to have to clean me up and suture me together. Infection is what worries me for now.
[Not blood loss. No vital organs have been torn into. When his body is not fighting off a state of dazed shock, then he may be able to use his own healing magic to speed up the process; but for now, he needs an old-fashioned first-aid kit to get him through this, and a steady pair of hands.]
no subject
Stephen realizes, almost blearily, that this comes as no surprise to him. During their journey, he had felt no inkling of magic from her, not even in passing. It had been reasonable to think that she was keeping it tamped down for a reason he couldn't understand, but he knows now that was a grand assumption on his part. For someone as powerful as Yennefer, to not have felt even a whiff of magical energy from her was odd -- how obvious it should've been, but so readily overlooked with his mind at the task before them.
Before he knows it, the fury of a fight comes to an end, met with only the quietly retreating footfalls of the remaining wolves disappearing into the woods. He hisses in a breath, seeing the silhouette of Thancred now standing over him instead.]
It's all right... It'll be fine. We don't need magic-- not for this.
[A vague and piteous reassurance, but a part of it is for Yennefer's sake. He'll be fine; the pain is damnable, and this bleeding is staining his clothing and Yennefer's coat, but he's familiar enough with the human body to know when he's really in danger, and when a wound needs to be cleaned and tended to before real danger sets in.]
Just keep pressure on it. We have some- some basic medical supplies in our saddlebags. Someone's going to have to clean me up and suture me together. Infection is what worries me for now.
[Not blood loss. No vital organs have been torn into. When his body is not fighting off a state of dazed shock, then he may be able to use his own healing magic to speed up the process; but for now, he needs an old-fashioned first-aid kit to get him through this, and a steady pair of hands.]