05-11-2010, 01:08 AM
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It was while he was getting to the ground that he heard Daisuke question about what they could do after the treatment was done—Snake was tired from all of this moving, so he replied, "I would like to rest, but you could find some more mint for later if you want." He had felt tired for the past few days—side effect of the wound perhaps, or more that he was just recovering sleep from what he had lost during the war. He hated to be a raincloud on Daisuke's parade (as Snake could guess from the wolf's wagging tail that he was getting fired up to go... somewhere), but the thought of getting up and walking again made his back hurt even more.
The coyote kept his olive eyes on the sky above as Daisuke made the poultice out of mint leaves, already focusing his mind. He knew where they were, the parts of his brain that would sense the pain from his side. He subjugated them, forcing them to be quiet. It was a skill that he had honed extensively, enough so that he scoffed slightly at Daisuke's forewarnings about the pain. He waved away the man's golden arm, knowing he wouldn't need it. His assertions were well-founded—as the wolf began to put the mixture onto the wound it did hurt, and pretty badly, but was nothing to the coyote. "I've been through much worse; it's nothing," he said sedately, his eyes foggy as he looked up at the sky. Part of him wanted to pull the bandanna over his eyes and take a nap, and then he remembered that he was in company.
He listened and logged away the instructions that the golden wolf gave him, but most of it seemed like superficial troubles that he would work around—and, if not, he surely had the advice. As for Daisuke coming to help him, Snake replied, "I can probably find the mint now, since I know what it smells like." He remembered how such comments usually deflated Daisuke's mood, so he added after a second's pause, "But I'll come and find you if I have any other questions."
The coyote half-tied the bandage around his torso while still lying down. Then he carefully pushed himself into a sitting position—he flinched at the sensation of his vertebrae popping as he did so. Once he was sitting comfortably he tied the bandage especially tight to keep the mint poultice against the wound, then he relaxed a little bit more. Out of habit he drew a cigarette from a box in his pocket, lighting it with a match (he had yet to find a working lighter) before looking at Daisuke out of the corner of one of his olive eyes. He gave a vague gesture, wondering if the wolf even smoked. Snake hadn't until a few months ago—now not doing so seemed outlandish.
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It was while he was getting to the ground that he heard Daisuke question about what they could do after the treatment was done—Snake was tired from all of this moving, so he replied, "I would like to rest, but you could find some more mint for later if you want." He had felt tired for the past few days—side effect of the wound perhaps, or more that he was just recovering sleep from what he had lost during the war. He hated to be a raincloud on Daisuke's parade (as Snake could guess from the wolf's wagging tail that he was getting fired up to go... somewhere), but the thought of getting up and walking again made his back hurt even more.
The coyote kept his olive eyes on the sky above as Daisuke made the poultice out of mint leaves, already focusing his mind. He knew where they were, the parts of his brain that would sense the pain from his side. He subjugated them, forcing them to be quiet. It was a skill that he had honed extensively, enough so that he scoffed slightly at Daisuke's forewarnings about the pain. He waved away the man's golden arm, knowing he wouldn't need it. His assertions were well-founded—as the wolf began to put the mixture onto the wound it did hurt, and pretty badly, but was nothing to the coyote. "I've been through much worse; it's nothing," he said sedately, his eyes foggy as he looked up at the sky. Part of him wanted to pull the bandanna over his eyes and take a nap, and then he remembered that he was in company.
He listened and logged away the instructions that the golden wolf gave him, but most of it seemed like superficial troubles that he would work around—and, if not, he surely had the advice. As for Daisuke coming to help him, Snake replied, "I can probably find the mint now, since I know what it smells like." He remembered how such comments usually deflated Daisuke's mood, so he added after a second's pause, "But I'll come and find you if I have any other questions."
The coyote half-tied the bandage around his torso while still lying down. Then he carefully pushed himself into a sitting position—he flinched at the sensation of his vertebrae popping as he did so. Once he was sitting comfortably he tied the bandage especially tight to keep the mint poultice against the wound, then he relaxed a little bit more. Out of habit he drew a cigarette from a box in his pocket, lighting it with a match (he had yet to find a working lighter) before looking at Daisuke out of the corner of one of his olive eyes. He gave a vague gesture, wondering if the wolf even smoked. Snake hadn't until a few months ago—now not doing so seemed outlandish.