06-28-2017, 01:54 AM
Six Days Ago:
It was a long, tiresome walk back to the farm they left Appa at. By the time Aang and Lysandra made it, he was feeling ill. Though his wounds were bandaged, the bolts had done their damage, he had lost quite a bit of blood. As his soft soled shoes crunched along the gravel path, dawn had just broke and already the farmer Rowan was sitting on the porch.
The look on the man’s face was pleasant, until he noticed the red splotches upon the Avatar’s bandages. “ Emily! Emily, get out here!” His voice thundered in Aang’s ears, his head pounding away. It was hard to believe he could have that much blood rushing through his ears with how much he had left behind. The farmer ran out to greet him and Lysandra, but only briefly before he was taking Aang’s arm over his own shoulder to brace the man.
Emily almost burst through the door, but the moment she saw Aang’s bloodied bandages, she vanished back into the house. By the time the farmer, Lysandra and the Avatar made it to the door, she was setting up hot water, rags and fresh bandages next to the couch. Aang even noticed she had draped a fresh sheet across it, to keep it clean. It would seem injuries were common place here.
“Alright now, just relax an’ try not to squirm… My wife’s no Dalaran healer, but she’s perty good with a needle and thread.” The farmer chuckled as he laid Aang on the couch, trying to lighten the monk’s spirits. He even showed a mark across the back of his wrist, reaching almost up to his elbow. “Horse bucked while I was cut’n a long strap off a fresh saddle. Damn near took m’arm off.”
“Sounds like it hurt…”
“Tch… Whined like a baby, he did… Wasn’t much deeper than a hair, didn’t even need stitches, but he kept groanin’ that he’d bleed out if I didn’t, then cursed the day I was born when I did!” Emily swats her husband lightly before taking a rag and dipping it in hot water. “Go get yer stash, dear. It’ll help stave off infection.”
The man laughed as he turned on his heels. “Infection and a bit of th’ pain.”
“Miss, if you like, there is extra breakfast in the kitchen. We’ll have our friend here join you in just a moment.” Lysandra had been almost leaning over the woman’s shoulder to watch her work. Even Aang was a bit unsettled by the woman’s hovering. Pursed lips, Lysandra silently nodded and exeunt the room. “Looks like she’s carryin’ a few extra burd’ns, if ya know what I mean…”
Aang tries to look over the back of the couch, but Emily quickly stops the monk’s twisting about. “She doesn’t look any bigger… She’s probably lost weight with all the walking, she mentioned how active she’s been lately…” Emily gave the oblivious man a look before shaking her head. She would let him figure out in his own time.
Rowan returned, carrying a rather large jar of clear liquid. It looked almost like water, but with the cap off he could almost smell the sharpness of it. “’Ere ya go lad, take a swig, it’ll ‘elp the stitch’n go by.”
To Emily’s disapproval, Rowan handed the jar to Aang first. At just a sniff he could tell this was some pretty stout alcohol. “Uh… no thanks… I don’t drink.” Emily quickly accepted the jar, giving her husband a look. She clearly suspected as much of the monk. Rowan only shrugged. “It’s fine, really, I’ve had to deal with more than a few injuries before. I’m sure I can take it.”
That did not stop the farmer’s wife from handing the Avatar a wrapped up rag to bite down on. Her instructions were just that, before she started cleaning the wound with the alcohol. His arm was on fire. It was not literally on fire, but this hurt more than any fireball he had ever taken – and that was quite a few. It hurt so much he tilted his head back and roared a mighty flume and rattled the house with earth tremors.
“WAIT! I changed my mind!” She had only cleaned one of the holes in his leg before the Monk was ready to toss a few drinks back. Again Emily was bothered as she handed Aang the jaw. He sat up against her best wishes and tilted the jar back. One swig and he was hacking up a lung. How can people DRINK this? Two swigs and his eyes watered. Is this even safe?! Three swigs and he was done. It was worse than breathing fire, because every breath IN burned more than every breath out.
Mal did took the jar back and continued pouring a little more than a few drops on each wound. He did not hear sizzling, but he was positive that the flesh was igniting on contact. The pain washed over his body like an all-encompassing lightning bolt. The fight against Ozai did not burn this much. Then again, maybe this was just a blood-deprived brain and exhaustion talking?
The thought of exhaustion was only on his mind as the world started moving away from him. A fire burned in his belly and in his nostrils, but his flesh felt cold. An unwilling and fitful sleep eventually claimed him.
It was a long, tiresome walk back to the farm they left Appa at. By the time Aang and Lysandra made it, he was feeling ill. Though his wounds were bandaged, the bolts had done their damage, he had lost quite a bit of blood. As his soft soled shoes crunched along the gravel path, dawn had just broke and already the farmer Rowan was sitting on the porch.
The look on the man’s face was pleasant, until he noticed the red splotches upon the Avatar’s bandages. “ Emily! Emily, get out here!” His voice thundered in Aang’s ears, his head pounding away. It was hard to believe he could have that much blood rushing through his ears with how much he had left behind. The farmer ran out to greet him and Lysandra, but only briefly before he was taking Aang’s arm over his own shoulder to brace the man.
Emily almost burst through the door, but the moment she saw Aang’s bloodied bandages, she vanished back into the house. By the time the farmer, Lysandra and the Avatar made it to the door, she was setting up hot water, rags and fresh bandages next to the couch. Aang even noticed she had draped a fresh sheet across it, to keep it clean. It would seem injuries were common place here.
“Alright now, just relax an’ try not to squirm… My wife’s no Dalaran healer, but she’s perty good with a needle and thread.” The farmer chuckled as he laid Aang on the couch, trying to lighten the monk’s spirits. He even showed a mark across the back of his wrist, reaching almost up to his elbow. “Horse bucked while I was cut’n a long strap off a fresh saddle. Damn near took m’arm off.”
“Sounds like it hurt…”
“Tch… Whined like a baby, he did… Wasn’t much deeper than a hair, didn’t even need stitches, but he kept groanin’ that he’d bleed out if I didn’t, then cursed the day I was born when I did!” Emily swats her husband lightly before taking a rag and dipping it in hot water. “Go get yer stash, dear. It’ll help stave off infection.”
The man laughed as he turned on his heels. “Infection and a bit of th’ pain.”
“Miss, if you like, there is extra breakfast in the kitchen. We’ll have our friend here join you in just a moment.” Lysandra had been almost leaning over the woman’s shoulder to watch her work. Even Aang was a bit unsettled by the woman’s hovering. Pursed lips, Lysandra silently nodded and exeunt the room. “Looks like she’s carryin’ a few extra burd’ns, if ya know what I mean…”
Aang tries to look over the back of the couch, but Emily quickly stops the monk’s twisting about. “She doesn’t look any bigger… She’s probably lost weight with all the walking, she mentioned how active she’s been lately…” Emily gave the oblivious man a look before shaking her head. She would let him figure out in his own time.
Rowan returned, carrying a rather large jar of clear liquid. It looked almost like water, but with the cap off he could almost smell the sharpness of it. “’Ere ya go lad, take a swig, it’ll ‘elp the stitch’n go by.”
To Emily’s disapproval, Rowan handed the jar to Aang first. At just a sniff he could tell this was some pretty stout alcohol. “Uh… no thanks… I don’t drink.” Emily quickly accepted the jar, giving her husband a look. She clearly suspected as much of the monk. Rowan only shrugged. “It’s fine, really, I’ve had to deal with more than a few injuries before. I’m sure I can take it.”
That did not stop the farmer’s wife from handing the Avatar a wrapped up rag to bite down on. Her instructions were just that, before she started cleaning the wound with the alcohol. His arm was on fire. It was not literally on fire, but this hurt more than any fireball he had ever taken – and that was quite a few. It hurt so much he tilted his head back and roared a mighty flume and rattled the house with earth tremors.
“WAIT! I changed my mind!” She had only cleaned one of the holes in his leg before the Monk was ready to toss a few drinks back. Again Emily was bothered as she handed Aang the jaw. He sat up against her best wishes and tilted the jar back. One swig and he was hacking up a lung. How can people DRINK this? Two swigs and his eyes watered. Is this even safe?! Three swigs and he was done. It was worse than breathing fire, because every breath IN burned more than every breath out.
Mal did took the jar back and continued pouring a little more than a few drops on each wound. He did not hear sizzling, but he was positive that the flesh was igniting on contact. The pain washed over his body like an all-encompassing lightning bolt. The fight against Ozai did not burn this much. Then again, maybe this was just a blood-deprived brain and exhaustion talking?
The thought of exhaustion was only on his mind as the world started moving away from him. A fire burned in his belly and in his nostrils, but his flesh felt cold. An unwilling and fitful sleep eventually claimed him.
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