07-28-2008, 02:12 PM
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A tired response was never good, but maybe he was making everything out worse than it seemed. Still, a lot of blood around didn't exactly rest easy with Laurel, it couldn't have been a good sign. No, it simply wasn't a good sign and his stomach felt like turning inside out at the thought of how once daylight came some odd handful of hours later, this area would look a mess. At least until the rain washed it all away. His hands moved just as quickly when it came to weaving as they did when he moved through a complex set of chords. A strong tourniquet made from grass would only do so much and only last so long, but he figured it would spare enough time for him to find some sort of replacement. A cloth of some sort, a rag, anything that would be a better fit.
“I'm going to help you, but I want you to keep talking to me,” if only it meant to give him peace of mind. “Where are you from?” Careful not to bump her broken arm, he threaded one end of the tourniquet behind her arm and grasped it when it wandered into view again, pulling it around. “What's your name?” From there he started to fasten it, pulling it tight as he could without fear of breaking the closely woven strands. Once he got her to stop bleeding like there was no tomorrow (which in her case there may have not anyway), Laurel figured maybe he could try and move her somewhere. Being out there in the open wasn't really in his best interest if her sister had attacked her.[/html]