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[diejoubu]

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nursed back to health

[diejoubu]

Nursed Back to Health

• Comment with your character, preferences, preferred role, and any information you'd like to include.
• Your character has either been injured/sick and had to be taken in (possibly against their will) or has been the one to help somebody like the former. Through the mending process, the two characters in a thread have fallen in love - or at least grown closer and more affectionate.
• Reply to others.
• Thread.

for claude.

[avoidantly]

( really, she wants to say that she's only there because she has to be. as one of the only other witnesses to the incident--and even that is just the happenstance of bad luck, passing by the training ground, with no intention to join in or even consider breaking a sweat--it's practically required of her to accompany claude to the infirmary, because apparently they might have questions and apparently they need more help than they have readily available and apparently she's meant to put her hand over the wound and keep it from spilling blood everywhere in transit, something that makes her swallow in discomfort and put on a face of clear displeasure.

what kind of idiot practices like this, anyway? the mock battles are more meant for displays like this, though why he'd been dying to show off or hone his bowmanship or whatever he'd been after, in the middle of the school week, is anyone's guess. she doesn't have the time to question it.

rushed into the room as they are, it's only with a bit of cursory, minimal healing that they're left alone--the infirmary is bustling thanks to a recent stomachvirus going through the school, and the wound at claude's shoulder is "surprising superficial", which explains why the healer leaves them after a moment with a crisp, sharp pull of a curtain around the side of the bed. there are plenty of other beds like this, stretched out along the room, and this is the only bit of privacy they're given from them: hilda sits at the chair by the bedside, her hands splattered with blood; she holds them palms up in her lap, making a face down at them before she looks up at claude, expectant. )

Does it feel any better?

( maybe she's looking, hopefully, for her cue to leave: but even her laziness won't permit her to step out of the infirmary if he's not stable, or if he's in pain, or if there's something she can do about it. wandering, her gaze finds the bowl of cool water and cloth at the bedside table, and with a resigned sigh, she stands up, dips her fingers into the bowl and starts rubbing the blood off of them. )

Take off your shirt. I'll clean the blood, at least.

( it's the right thing to do, isn't it? though claude is likely going to have a field day with her asking it of him. )

[bowfaire]

(It's a new trick shot that he's working on. By shooting his arrow directly up into the air, he wonders if he can trick the enemy into thinking he'd blown his shot and come at him. By the time they get to him, the arrow would fall, hitting its target. He'd been testing angles, counting how long it took for each arrow to fall when a sudden gust of wind came and well... that's what he gets for not being careful. The arrow had blown off course and come at him. While he'd managed to dodge the worst of it, only hitting his shoulder, he'd also...

Tumbled right into the weapons rack, knocking over practice swords and lances and landing about as gracelessly as one would expect. It had been a mess. A complete and total mess and he tried to laugh it off when Hilda came over.

He's fine. It's fine. Did she see that? Wow, that was embarrassing. Don't tell anyone! Meanwhile, he'd just bled through his shirt and he couldn't seem to get it to stop. For a moment he'd wondered if the arrow had actually struck his neck but no... no, it's just his shoulder and it looks a lot worse than it really is.

They get to the infirmary and the nurse gives him a glance when she mentions the stomach virus going around.)

Hey, don't look at me... or do. I could use a hand.

(Said nurse is not amused and only sends them off to one of the beds while she tends to some Adrestian noble wailing in the back of the room.

It's just the two of them now and Claude tries to keep the mood light. He doesn't miss the blood on her hands and he grimaces for her. He half expects her to leave. This is definitely not something she should be responsible for and she's never liked to do more than what's absolutely necessary.)

My shoulder or my pride?

(Heh.

He reaches to touch the cut, fingers tracing the edge to see exactly how far it goes. Huh, a few more centimeters and his neck really would have been on the line. He could take care of himself and yet... Hilda is still here. Sticking around. Gee, she must be real worried, he thinks, and he can only make her feel better the only way he knows how--)

And here I thought you'd just drop me off and leave me on my own... How forward, Hilda.

(Of course he's going to tease her.)

[avoidantly]

( yes, it would be this exact moment where she absolutely regrets not just walking out of the infirmary and going back to--whatever it was she'd been doing, oh, she'd completely forgotten at this point. it's highly annoying that her thoughts are now turned to this idiot lying in a hospital bed of his own doing; it's not even like he'd been really in a battle, just practicing some dumb shot that he likely wouldn't get the hang of in time for any of the mock battles anyway, and so what's the point? just a waste of energy, as she sees it. normally she might rip right into him or at least give him the gracious disapproval of walking away, but: well, he really is injured, and it really is his blood on her hands, which is enough to have her furiously scrubbing a bit more at her fingers, trying desperately to rid every little line and ridge of the stain.

it's absurd to think about, anyway. the blood just makes her thoughts go to places more serious--but then, if he'd been in a real battle, there would be so much more of it, wouldn't there?

her lips press together, a slight inflation to her cheeks before she lets all the air out in a scoff. )

This is the last place I would get around to... doing whatever it is you're thinking of. Come on, I'm not going to take it off for you.

( her hands reach and wring out the cloth that's inside the basin; the water is cold and uncomfortable, which will bode well for claude and his silly wound, but it does make her hands feel a bit clammy. once she's certain it won't drip everywhere, she draws it out, holding it awkwardly between her fingers like she isn't quite sure how best to do this, even as she steps uncertainly close to his side. listen, no one ever said she had a great bedside manner. )

Well, do you want my help or not? Last offer, you know.