don't let me drag you down here to my level

Gabriel de le Poer · 02-11-2010, 03:52 PM

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Word Count: 710. Backdated to the night of 1/5.

Gabriel had not waited for Halo. As soon as his sister had lost consciousness, he had responded. The shift to optime form had been quicker then expected, rushed along by the desperation that fueled his body. His hands had been gentle, as if he was moving a delicate piece of glass, and found that Rikka’s dead weight was not half what he expected. If this was due to the adrenaline coursing through his blood, he welcomed it. By all accounts, Gabriel was strong—but his shoulder was weak and he was uncomfortable behaving on two legs. Still he did not think about this, only the wounded girl in his arms and what he was going to do when he hunted down the bastard that had done such a thing to her.

He made it, somehow, through the snow and the cold night, back to Inferni. While his den was not as welcoming as it had once been, it was enough to make his sister comfortable. Rikka was laid into his own bed, and the coy-wolf took the time to first light a fire, worried that the chilly air might do more harm to her then anything else. Besides that, he needed light to see the extent of her wounds. His jaw clenched, threatening to snap, when he saw the gashes along her hip line. Thankful she was unconscious, he examined them and was horrified by how deep they really were. It was as if Haku had been trying to tear her apart, which no doubt he was. What concerned him more then this though, was her arm. Something had obviously been done to it, given the fact it was torn asunder, and as his fingers lifted this to examine the room, Gabriel soon realized the extent was much more then a bite. It had been broken.

The break was high, and while he was unsure of how it happened, the Aquila knew that it needed tended to immediately. It was lucky she was asleep, because the militaristic medicine Gabriel knew was not merciful. He placed a section of his weight on her chest, then in one swift motion, reset the bone. Had she been awake, that might have driven her to unconsciousness. Satisfied that it would now heal properly, he left her to gather the medical supplies he needed—finding that his supplies had run low, he frowned. Still, the heavy gauze and singular first aid kit he had would be enough for Rikka now.

Gabriel cleaned her arm first, using disinfectant to wash the blood and dirt out of the wound. Though it looked nasty, he was unwilling to do anything more then apply a thick amount of medical gel and wrap it up. Given that her arm needed set, he did not wish to have to clean stitches and constantly move a healing bone. He used two branches to reinforce the area, tying this with cloth before wrapping the arm with the heavier, stronger material. Once her arm was covered, he used this same material to circle over her opposite shoulder, forming a would-be, backwards sling. This done, he moved to her hip.

Cleaning these wounds was much worse, given their depth, and it took all of his willpower to not think about hunting down Haku Soul and tearing him limb from limb. Of all the people to attack, he had gone after Rikka—Rikka who had never hurt anyone, and who would rather befriend a wolf then attack one. His hands were still, obeying the ancient training, and he threaded the needle quickly. The stitching itself did not take long, closing the deep gashes and leaving in their place the blackened material to form ugly lines. Once finished, he took the extra time to wash the blood from her golden coat. His own was less than pristine and a trip into the cold air outside, and the snow, took care of this.

Once finished, the Aquila returned to his den, grabbed one of the bottles that were stored in the back of his room, and settled down near the fire. He did not drink much, but a few mouthfuls of the whiskey was enough to settle his nerves, chasing the fury away and dulling it with warmth.

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