RP:Healing a Stubborn Dog

Desparrow was wandering through the forest in a humanoid lycanthrope form, fur covering the entirety of his body in a thick black layer. Standing taller than the average man and with far greater bulk the elven lycan appeared to be injured; the frost bite in his left arm unseen under the fur and his leg had set wrong leaving him to hobble, dragging the right leg more than using it to actually step. Hot breath clouded in front of his face while his cerulean hues pierced the darkness as he found a place to rest or a healer that could help him. No member of his pack followed, or knew that he was heading towards his territory for he was still a good deal away which was good; Des did not want any of them to know the state their Alpha was in. Beyond these more severe injuries were a few still healilng bones but those should be covered naturally before the next match.

Sabrina was heading north from being lost here she finally found familiar ground and so here is where she had stopped to survey where she went wrong. She heard him coming, dragging and clumsy steps addressing keen ears before minty eyes scan the walk to find him. She wouldn't have recognized him in this form, not truly. Something about his gait triggered an alarm. Was she scared for him, or of him? An injury is an injury and it wouldn't be the first time she put herself in danger but she didn't know where Rohk was, he didn't feel near at all. She would approach him with caution. “Are you alright?” Clearly he was not, so the followup was produced before he could answer. “Let me help you.” She would reach out to brace his shoulder, he looked like he would fall; and while she could obviously not carry him she could at least ease his decent to the ground. She found herself scanning these woods for the rest of his pack, his kind did not tend to travel alone and for all she knew it was a trap.

Desparrow noticed Sabrina from a distance, both by sight and scent as he advanced upon her. His form stood taller than the healer but his gaze was gentle. Parting his jaw to reveal engorged incizors lining his mouth but also allowing a low gravelly voice to rise from his throat, one that isn't accustomed to speaking in this form but due to a curse, or a blessing whichever you would call it granted him the ability of speech however not very fluent. "No. Not okay. Damaged." he took her brace and allowed himself to lower and then lie on his back. "Been a while." the lycan then sighed, however appreciative that Sabrina was here and her healing powers were noteworthy.

She hadn't expected him to be quite so heavy, she figured his body composition to be less solid. It was something in his voice, his gaze... so many triggers. “Des?” She helps him to the ground. “What did you do?” She scans his form, recognizing the work of a Naga but not wanting to pin it on him just yet. She gets to work almost immediately, tending to the smaller wound first but it was difficult since the blood had stuck to his fur and clouded what it was that she could actually see. She moves to his leg, having seen his gait she knew the wound had already began to set a little off. She gives him a sympathetic look before twisting his leg hard to pop and crack a semi-healed socket and set his leg proper. Her gloves were on, so he was at least protected from all the things she felt rising within her, but that pain is not a pain for the faint or weary.

Desparrow laid there allowing the woman to do her work though when she asked if it was indeed him he simply made contact with her face to acknowledge her question. Xzavior was the result of the damage this time, but it wasn't as severe as it could have been at least. "Fight." if he could have grinned at that point he would of though against the twisting of his leg he let out a feral howl that ripped the night conveying his agony to the rest of the forest that could hear it. No tears but he did whimper for a good deal until the pain had faded, even against gritted teeth. The forstbite however was all that remained of the more serious injuries, since the blade had cut to the bone and spread its magic through him in that manner. Such was pointed to when he dragged it to rest over his chest, the area of flesh stiff and damaged.

Sabrina worked as fast as she could, his injuries were all partially set and she had no idea why he wouldn't have sent a raven, moments after this duel. She figured him angry with her; what memories she could muster were all out of order and the ones where she was being a bitch seem to recur in nearly all of them. She would save apologies for late, in the meantime she meant to keep as much weight off him as possible while she tried to work over his much larger form. The matted fur over his left arm raised some alarm- it appeared soft and slightly sloughing. “He froze you? Over a duel?” She clearly did not gather the concept of a duel otherwise she may have been less offended. The flesh here was on the verge of dying, some of it already had- normally a healer would have no choice but to remove the dead and dying flesh and hope for the best. This would not be the case today. She had dealt with frostbite before, it wasn't an easy fix- nor was it even reminiscent of painless. With gloves pulled off and tucked neatly in her belt she takes a thin dagger from its case along the hip of her hip-style duster. Des was a strong male, she was less timid in treating his injuries because if it. The tip of the blade is stuck into the flesh; an eighth of an inch, a quarter... nearing half. She was addressing how deep the dead tissues reached and it would be determined at the first indicator of pain response.

Desparrow had calmed down to the point of even breaths for now, and was far from angry for her behavior towards him was not without instigation. There was plenty of times where he could have been more considerate and kind to the woman. A nod was in response to her inquiry as to the frozen aspect of his flesh on the left arm, "During our fight." those words were not without labored pause in between, and he winced at the dagger digging in even if initially there was no pain. She would find however that she could go deep, almost right to the bone before he let out a grunt of effort to bite back another howl. That was the extent of the damage and for a good several inches in either direction from the epicenter of her blade. It was extensive but hopefully not reversible.

She ignored the initial wince, most people would do so in expecting to feel it and she had been versed enough to know the difference. When the second reaction hit she pulled back slightly and began to cut along the circumference of the injury. When complete the flesh would be pulled back and discarded. Mild infection created a slimy film between healthy tissue and damaged, this was cleaned thoroughly and she counted her luck that she would have the clean pieces of gauze to do so. She happened to be on a supply run anyways. With the muck wiped away with a narrow window of discomfort she began to work; thin fingers manipulating the flesh to grow outward to a healthy but underdeveloped state. His bulk would have to be reformed through physical reconditioning once she was finished. By the time the heal was near completion and the final epidermal layers twisted and merged to create the barrier between his inner tissues and the outside environment he would notice the fur that grew back lacked the raven tone to match the rest of him. The silver patch could not be helped, as the extent of the damage did not allow for it. She was visibly worn; having taken great care in creating a strong base for him to use immediately even if it was not at full par. She did not give the energy to renew his exhausted state but the pain and even the fever caused by infection would have taken its toll already. “Do you need more?” She was winded, and with good cause but if he needed more to get on with his travel she would give it willingly. He knew her disposition, surely he knew what she could offer; and most certainly he would know the cost on her petite form. Ara was a long walk from this place.

Desparrow growled as she cut the thin line between healthy and dead flesh, not at her but at the cost of the injury and the process of repairing it. The muscle loss was of no concern, he would deal with that when it came to it he just needed to be healed before the next round in this tournament which would bring him one step closer to victory and the testing of his growing powers. Sadly he had begun to realize that victory was difficult and the more he considered his moves and how to not entirely destroy his opponent the more difficult and less smooth his fighting became and so perhaps he would take an approach and force them to fend for themselves. When silver grew on his arm he didnt' mind it, just appraised it with slightly widened eyes. "No.. no more." he knew how much it cost her and it was obvious even now so any further healing he would leave to his natural processes since she had set up the base for what he needed to happen. "Thanks."

Sabrina had considered helping him up, but for now it seemed more comfortable to just sit on her knees for a moment longer. She rested her hands in her lap, not daring to grace so much as the grass as she would be unable to effectively control the flow and it was such a lush and pretty piece of forest. “Send the raven next time, meet me in Ara.” Something about being in that house made all of this easier than fighting the urges of draining the general outdoors. A siphon would have been less problematic but one must learn to test their limits. Desparrow knew much of this and in her eyes he seemed to have grown so much in such a small amount of time. She hoped he would listen, in the past she would have no doubts as his concern for her safety usually took precedence in any situation. “Don’t make me come looking for you.” It was a jest, a weak one that caused her to reach for her gloves at the sudden urgency to replace what she had lost she felt growing from within.