The Doctor Is In ((OPEN!))

[Stryker]

The good doctor Azryel Asmodeus Ashworth Black had left the bones and preserved organs at home; the complete skeletons of nearly every woodland creature he'd come across hanging up somewhere in his summer home – in fact, he had the bones of a bat hanging from the ceiling of his bedroom because he'd run out of vacant spots in the rest of his house. The living room, as always, would remain untouched; no organs, no bones, no gruesome, grizzled remains, no dirty shovels and filthy sacks that had once carried something anywhere to be found. The living room was the 'face' of his house; it kept up the appearance that he was just a normal woodland creature with no ill intentions towards anyone. Anyone meant to move beyond the almost eerily neat living room would have only a 50% chance of leaving the house through the same door they'd come in. With the sight of Salamandastron coming into view, the army doctor resisted the urge to sigh aloud; somehow, he'd much rather dissect the hares here than talk to them. At least it'd be more interesting. He really didn't care for the chatter, the formalities, the stuffy soldiers and ranked officers strutting about like it was their sworn duty to parade about like bloated ducks. As if suddenly remembering he was supposed to be one of those bloated ducks, Azryel's cold gray eyes glanced down to look upon his black uniform, silently checking it for wrinkles or anything to error his otherwise pristine appearance.
Before starting the long trek here from Mossflower Wood, Azryel had been exceptionally careful about his looks, making sure to appear as though his sanity were intact, as though he didn't have a house full of remains and remnants of things that had once been living.
The rapier at his left side made him feel strangely lopsided, and he didn't like it; eager to trade in a weapon he'd never use for a scalpel he'd use all the time, Azryel's stride lengthened, his ears twitching as he caught the sounds all around him.

Narrowing his dark eyes, the psychopathic hare quickly rifled through his list of cardboard emotions to find out which one he'd need for this visit, the image of a young buck filling up his line of sight as he approached the mountain stronghold. Deciding that he had no real reason to smile, Azryel settled for politeness covering up the weary, defensive nature of a cornered animal.
Oh how he hated coming back to this mountain.[/size]

[Romulus]

Cordin stood near the shoreline, working on his throwing aim. He'd much rather be training than throwing stones to an imaginary point in the tossing waves, but his mother had complained that his so-called 'obsession' with training was become unhealthy. So to ease her grief, the young hare had taken to throwing rocks. He did need to work on his aim, after all. He could throw pretty decently, but he'd learned to throw knives, not stones.

He finally stopped after depleting the myriad of stones within a radius of three feet all the way around him, and made to move to a different spot further back from the sea. It was then he noticed the tall hare walking in his direction. Sprinting towards the newcomer and leaping onto a boulder, the younger hare gave a smirk when he identified the crazy, antisocial Doctor Black. Oh, this would be fun.

"Mornin' Doc," Cordin called, hopping down from the boulder and ambling up to the older hare. "I say, yore lookin' bright as a bloomin' storm cloud t'day, sirrah! Let me be the flippin' first t' welcome ye back, wot?" Grinning like a march hare, Cordin Dorchester loved to pick on other beasts who hated speaking with others. He knew full well Doctor Black despised social interaction. Which only made Cordin enjoy this exchange all the more.

[Stryker]

Sprinting towards the newcomer and leaping onto a boulder, the younger hare gave a smirk when he identified the crazy, antisocial Doctor Black. Oh, this would be fun.

"Mornin' Doc," Cordin called, hopping down from the boulder and ambling up to the older hare. "I say, yore lookin' bright as a bloomin' storm cloud t'day, sirrah! Let me be the flippin' first t' welcome ye back, wot?" Grinning like a march hare, Cordin Dorchester loved to pick on other beasts who hated speaking with others. He knew full well Doctor Black despised social interaction. Which only made Cordin enjoy this exchange all the more.

"Good Morning," replied Azryel mechanically, recognizing Cordin by his distinguishing physical characteristics more than anything else -- in fact, he couldn't really remember the young buck's name, but the face wasn't one he'd easily forget. Obsessed with training, Cordin was a muscular youngster, angled features, prominent brows, golden eyes, taller than average, probably a little on the heavier side for a hare despite being quite lean in appearance.
"Oh yes, now I remember you. Shark boy, was it?" Spoke the doctor dryly, intending to sidestep the agitating hare without much more conversation -- but he was a bit curious about the boy's condition after a few years. Was he still as heavily scarred as he'd been the last time the doctor had seen him? Even if Azryel had not been the one to treat him, he couldn't resist his medical-loving brain from contemplating whether or not Cordin had had more damage done to him than the infirmary keepers had noticed.
Bah.
That was just like him, to doubt the work of others and trust only in his own. As arrogant as he was antisocial, Azryel eyed the grin Cordin was giving him -- facts already pouring in the longer he looked. Four inscisors, two peg teeth, 6 upper premolars, 4 lower premolars, 6 upper and 6 lower molars. All accounted for. He was certainly an odd fellow, to notice how many teeth a creature had rather than feel anything in response to a growl, grimace or a grin as wide as Cordin's.[/size]

[Tracy]

It was one of her running mornings, so Ripley was dressed down in her light cotton running clothes. She was barefoot except for rough linen bandages that she kept wrapped around and under the middle of her feet for support. She ran distance twice a week, and sprinted another two days. Today was a distance run.

She’d already made her run a good while down the beach, and was now on her return run to the mountain. She passed two officers who were chatting a bit further inshore, but ignored them as she went by. This was her time, not having to talk to or be beholden to anyone. Although she spent a lot of time away from Salamandastron on her scout missions, sometimes that just wasn’t enough. Ripley had a flighty, antsy personality that couldn’t be contained in one place for long.

She was nearing the end of her run, and every part of her body could feel it. Looking forward to getting inside and cleaning up, she was thinking just now how nice a cold cup of water would taste. Distracted just for that split second, she missed the small jagged rock half-buried in the sand. By the time she noticed it, it was buried in the bottom of her foot. Letting out a string of curses, she hopped about on her good paw as she reached down to lift her foot and get a look. It was deep.

Knowing her body would punish her for stopping without her cool-down stretches, Ripley eased herself to a seated position, inspecting her foot. Suddenly, a stinging jolt ripped through her foot and she sucked in a sharp breath. Her feet were a little damp from running on the hard—packed sand by the water, and some of the salty water dripped into her fresh wound. Letting the initial jolt of pain subside, she tried to get another look at the pebble. It was too deep, and the area around it was sandy, and she was afraid of getting it infected if she tried to dig it out.

Ripley sighed and sat there, weighing her options as her gaze went up and down the shore.

[Romulus]

"Oh yes, now I remember you. Shark boy, was it?" Spoke the doctor dryly, intending to sidestep the agitating hare without much more conversation -- but he was a bit curious about the boy's condition after a few years.

Cordin's smile wavered slightly. How had anybeast remembered that idiotic nickname? Raising an eyebrow, the young hare nodded slowly, one ear dropping to half-mast as he replied, "Aye, that was me. Bloody beast left me with quite the teeth marks, wot? Think the flippin' brute'll ever come back for me, Doc?"

Chuckling to himself, Cordin casually gripped the sides of his upturned collar, wondering how much more Doctor Black remember about him. "I say, ol' chap," he said, suddenly struck with a memory. "Didja know we've got two bloomin' rabbits enlisted in the forces, wot? Bloody rabbits! Sweet things, they are, too, wot, wot? I dare say one's got her pretty heart set on becomin' a jolly ol' general someday."

He knew, with the utmost certainty, that Azryel would not care in the slightest about the rabbits, except maybe to dissect them. Cordin would not allow anything of the sort, of course, he just liked to irritate the older hare with meaningless small talk. Besides, it took the young hare's mind off the endless hour he'd spent chucking stones at the sea. What a boring task! There was sixty minutes he was never getting back.

[Stryker]

Cordin's smile wavered slightly. How had anybeast remembered that idiotic nickname? Raising an eyebrow, the young hare nodded slowly, one ear dropping to half-mast as he replied, "Aye, that was me. Bloody beast left me with quite the teeth marks, wot? Think the flippin' brute'll ever come back for me, Doc?"

Hopefully. Though Azryel, keeping the scorn out of his tone for as long as he could -- but the next couple of lines uttered by that grinning fool in a uniform really rubbed him the wrong way.

Chuckling to himself, Cordin casually gripped the sides of his upturned collar, wondering how much more Doctor Black remember about him. "I say, ol' chap," he said, suddenly struck with a memory. "Didja know we've got two bloomin' rabbits enlisted in the forces, wot? Bloody rabbits! Sweet things, they are, too, wot, wot? I dare say one's got her pretty heart set on becomin' a jolly ol' general someday."

"Normally I wouldn't humor you with a response, boy, but I don't think you'd understand what the silence meant -- so I'll spell it out for you." Such useless idle chatter! "I don't give a rat's tail whether or not two rabbits join the Long Patrol, so kindly refrain from telling me things that are not medical related or do not affect me in any--" Cutting himself off, Azryel stopped walking, did a stiff about turn, and locked his eyes upon the direction the cursing had come from. His keen ears picking up a sharp, painful intake of breath, Azryel made a bee-line for what he soon saw to be a hare resting upon the sand -- her pretty features wreathed in discomfort.
Azryel gave Ripley Contarelle a brief nod for a greeting -- habit -- before rolling up his sleeves, his heavy medical bag hitting the sand next to him. Crouching down, Azryel didn't think to introduce himself as his paws were soon at her ankle, holding her footpaw up as he got a closer look at her wound.
More than a 1/4th of an inch deep, she'll need stitches. Glancing around and seeing that Cordin was still hovering about like an oversized vulture, Azryel barked out orders in his terse, no-nonsense voice. "You, shark boy, get the canteen out of my bag, find a stream or river and fill it up. Be quick about it!" watching him for only a second more, Azryel soon glanced back at Ripley. "Do you have anything against needles?"
He needed to know whether or not he'd be holding her down for this next part.

((XD it's sad that this is FUN for him.))

[Tracy]

Ripley was looking the other direction when the black-clad hare suddenly appeared before her. Violet eyes blinked, then she tilted a black-tipped ear in greeting. “Oh! Hel-“ she looked startled when the hare suddenly dropped his bag and knelt down beside her. “-lo,” she finished awkwardly, with a suspicious look crossing her face. The haremaid was about to explain her predicament when the hare went thoughtlessly for her foot, grabbing her ankle.

She pulled back instinctually, scrambling back a little as she gave him a look of disbelief. “Um, how about dinner first, Captain Come On.” She frowned a little as she held her injured footpaw, eyeing him with distrust. Ripley knew everyone, and she definitely knew this hare. She knew he was a doctor, but still, she knew about him, which was not comforting in the least. “I was jus’ hopin’ you might be ab-“

"Do you have anything against needles?"

“I beg your pardon?!” Ripley’s voice elevated in panic. “No no, look how close we are to the mountain, jus’ a paw to help me back there would be appreciated, thank you so much.”

[Romulus]

"You, shark boy, get the canteen out of my bag, find a stream or river and fill it up. Be quick about it!"

Cordin stared at the doctor blankly for a moment before rushing over and digging into the bag. He flashed a smile at Ripley as his paws felt for the canteen, grimacing when a sharp stray scalpel nicked his wrist. "Morning, Ripley," he greeted. "Enjoy your run?" He knew she did a lot of running in the mornings. Of course, he didn't know her schedule, but he secretly admired her dedication to staying in shape. And he sort of envied her speed. He'd never been a good runner.

After hearing the haremaid's protests against Azryel's actions, the young buck removed his paws from the bag, rubbing his bleeding wrist. "Er, I say, Doc," he began. "I bloody well think she's right about that. Best t' blinkin' well get her inside, doncha know? I can help, wot?"

Moving beside Ripley, he offered another grin. "Black really flippin' ain't his color, doncha think, m'gel?" he asked amiably, winking at the doctor. "I'd say a bloomin' dandelion yellow'd look nicer with that bloody face, eh, wot? Lemme help ye there, Rip. Mind if I call ye that?" He offered a strong paw (the one that wasn't bleeding), and waggled his ears comically to lighten the mood.

[Stryker]

She pulled back instinctually, scrambling back a little as she gave him a look of disbelief. “Um, how about dinner first, Captain Come On.” She frowned a little as she held her injured footpaw, eyeing him with distrust. Ripley knew everyone, and she definitely knew this hare. She knew he was a doctor, but still, she knew about him, which was not comforting in the least. “I was jus’ hopin’ you might be ab-“

"Do you have anything against needles?"

“I beg your pardon?!” Ripley’s voice elevated in panic. “No no, look how close we are to the mountain, jus’ a paw to help me back there would be appreciated, thank you so much.”

Azryel rolled his eyes.Oh yes, let's do exactly as she says, because she studied medicine a lot longer than I have and has treated an umpteenth amount of wounds. Amateurs.[/font]

"Er, I say, Doc," he began. "I bloody well think she's right about that. Best t' blinkin' well get her inside, doncha know? I can help, wot?"

Moving beside Ripley, he offered another grin. "Black really flippin' ain't his color, doncha think, m'gel?" he asked amiably, winking at the doctor. "I'd say a bloomin' dandelion yellow'd look nicer with that bloody face, eh, wot? Lemme help ye there, Rip. Mind if I call ye that?" He offered a strong paw (the one that wasn't bleeding), and waggled his ears comically to lighten the mood.

"So you'd rather waste time discussing my uniform color than getting water like I asked you to? The mountain is still a good distance awa--" like lightning the doctor's tone changed as he saw Cordin offering the young haremaid a paw. "Get back, Corporal, unless you don't plan on keeping that paw." His tone was scathing; standing up, the impatient, cold doctor pointed in the direction of what he faintly remembered to be a stream, his eyes never leaving Cordin's. "If I have to make it an order, Corporal, I will. Go. Get. The. Water."
Turning his back to them coldly, the doctor's paws were busy as he removed a myriad of items from his black bag -- a pair of small sized forceps, medical twine, bandages, a syringe and a small jar of some kind of clear solution, and a small pair of medical scissors.[/size]

[Romulus]

"Get back, Corporal, unless you don't plan on keeping that paw."

Cordin reeled back slightly, withdrawing his paw as his ears dropped back behind his head. His eyes flicking back down to Ripley, the young hare casually wiped his bloody wrist again. Touchy old hare, wasn't he? Holding up both paws, Cordin kept his expression neutral. This was apparently more serious than it first appeared . . .

"If I have to make it an order, Corporal, I will. Go. Get. The. Water."

"Al-bloody-right, sirrah," Cordin replied, leaning down and snatching the canteen out of the bag. (Thankfully, it had been revealed when Azryel had removed some of his implements.) "Don't get yore flippin' knickers inna twist, wot?" he muttered as he bolted towards the nearby stream. Filling up the canteen in less than a minute, he replaced the cap and jogged back, shaking his burning wrist.

He resisted the urge to throw the full canteen at the irritable older hare when he arrived, his ears still laid back against his head. Dropping to a crouch, he glimpsed Ripley's wound for the first time. Oh, it was pretty bad . . . He handed the canteen to Azryel curtly, his grin returning slightly. "Wot happened, Rip?" he asked casually, holding his wrist. "Couldn't jolly well see th' flamin' rock in yore way, wot?" He nodded sagely. "Happens t' the blinkin' best of us."

[Tracy]

"Enjoy your run?"

Ripley turned slowly toward the corporal, her eyes darkening. “Gods, I might actually have to kill you!” she sputtered. Enjoyed her run?! Oh yeah, greatest run. Getting a rock shoved hallway through her foot and now this psychotic hare was forcing medical treatment upon her, who could ask for more?

Even so, Cordin was offering her help back to the mountain. That surprised her, and it showed on her face. But before she could thank him and take him up on the on the offer, the doctor was yelling at him. Ripley sat there for a moment, biting her bottom lip and silently praying that Cordin would have it in him to ignore the other hare. But after a tense moment, Cordin relented and went about doing the lieutenant’s bidding.

Damn it.

Ripley was about to lodge a new complaint when Azryel started pulling out his medical tools.

“Ohhh,” Ripley murmured, paws going over her eyes as she slowly just laid down on her back. She thought she was going to be sick. Her overwhelming fatigue was winning this battle. Not only had she’d just run for a couple hours, but she’d denied her muscles their cool-down stretches. After that she usually collapsed, spread-eagled, on the floor of her room for ten or fifteen minutes before getting cleaned up. Well, she could at least oblige her body that much. She was already gross, sweaty and injured, what did a little sand matter now?

The runner could only lay there, paws over her eyes as Cordin did his best to comfort her with chatter. She mumbled a little, utterly incoherent through her paws. This was not going to be a good day.

[Stryker]

He resisted the urge to throw the full canteen at the irritable older hare when he arrived, his ears still laid back against his head. Dropping to a crouch, he glimpsed Ripley's wound for the first time. Oh, it was pretty bad . . . He handed the canteen to Azryel curtly, his grin returning slightly. "Wot happened, Rip?" he asked casually, holding his wrist. "Couldn't jolly well see th' flamin' rock in yore way, wot?" He nodded sagely. "Happens t' the blinkin' best of us."

Taking the canteen from Cordin wordlessly, Azryel's eyes flashed up to Ripley as she chose to lie down -- which certainly made his job much easier, and despite Azryel already hating the sound of Shark-Boy's voice, having Cordin talk with Ripley was going to distract her from the pain. Kneeling in front of Ripley, the doctor rested her footpaw on the knee that lay in the sand, gray eyes focused as he detached himself from his surroundings to better focus on that pebble. Taking the forceps, the small tweezer tips closed around the outside of the pebble that protruded from the haremaid's foot, Azryel removing it sharply. Trying to wriggle the damn thing out would only cause more damage in the long run -- and besides, the wound, unlike Cordin's cut, hadn't been a clean one. It was jagged and dirty, and he knew for certain he'd have to cut some skin (and fur) away in order for it to heal properly. Now that the bloody pebble was out of her foot, Azryel set the tweezers in his bag (along with the pebble) and uncapped the canteen with his mouth, holding her footpaw off of his knee by the ankle.
Splashing the cool stream water onto her foot, Azryel kept a tight grip to keep her from squirming, giving it a thorough cleansing before he would start working on stitches. Glancing up at Cordin suddenly, the doctor addressed him in an almost robotic tone. "Keep your wrist elevated, and give me your shirt."

Obviously he needed something to dry the haremaid's foot, and he certainly wouldn't be using his own clothes to do the job. Besides, he didn't like Cordin very much, and any chance to make him less comfortable was a chance Azryel wouldn't be missing. While the lieutenant waited for Cordin to do as he'd instructed, Azryel began pouring a solution onto a cotton swab, further cleaning Ripley's wound with the stingy concoction, her footpaw braced upon his knee again. Reaching up to Cordin, Azryel held out a solution-soaked cotton swab to Cordin as well, silently indicating that he should probably take care of that cut on his wrist before it gets infected.

[Romulus]

Cordin cringed as the doctor worked, wondering how in Hell's teeth somebeast could stand doing stuff like that all day, every day. It was needed, of course, but it was also disgusting. Oh, well, at least Cordin didn't faint at the sight of blood like some of the other young leverets.

"Keep your wrist elevated, and give me your shirt."

"Wot?" Cordin once again stared blankly at Azryel, processing the older hare's words. Glancing down at Ripley's wound again, he wondered what on earth the doctor would need his shirt for! To bandage it up? . . . Oh, gods . . . His ears flattening once more, the young corporal slowly unbuttoned his uniform and shrugged it off. Handing the red garment to Black, he held his wrist with the inside facing up, both elbows leaning on his knees.

With his shirt off, the jagged scars down Cordin's right side were clearly visible against his tanned fur. Removing his shirt did not bother him in the slightest. In fact, he felt cooler like this, with the sea breeze blowing against his fur. He didn't like flaunting his scars like some trophy, but he wasn't uncomfortable about them. He was more concerned about that green tint creeping into Ripley's cheeks. "I say, Rip, d'ye feel sick?" he asked, laying his not-bleeding paw on her shoulder as he knelt beside the hare maid.

[Tracy]

Ripley did her best not to move her foot while the doctor worked; more in horror of this whole process hurting more than trying to be an amiable patient. She jolted and gave a cry of pain when Azryel yanked out the pebble, sitting up slightly to look over at him. Her breath came in short, pained gasps but she laid back down again, paws back over her face. Instead of thinking about what the hare was doing with her foot, the runner instead turned her focus on her breathing. Slow, deep breaths.

Her paws also did the task of masking her tears of pain. Slow, deep breaths. She gave a small jolt again, gasping as the stinging liquid soaked over her foot. Slow, deep breaths. Getting her breathing under control, she adjusted her paws, throwing her arms over her eyes instead, giving her mouth and nose room for deep breathing. Feeling the touch on her shoulder, she parted her arms momentarily to glance over at Cordin.

Where’d his shirt go? She sat up a bit and saw it in the doctor’s paws. Great. Ripley had verbally attacked Cordin’s girlfriend… TWICE. And now the hare was literally giving her the shirt off his back. Sighing and trying to ignore the twinge of guilt that was creeping into her gut, she gently laid her head back down on the sand.

"I say, Rip, d'ye feel sick?"

“Oh no, never been better,” she answered, despising the weak timbre of her voice.

[Stryker]

"Wot?" Cordin once again stared blankly at Azryel, processing the older hare's words. Glancing down at Ripley's wound again, he wondered what on earth the doctor would need his shirt for! To bandage it up? . . . Oh, gods . . . His ears flattening once more, the young corporal slowly unbuttoned his uniform and shrugged it off. Handing the red garment to Black, he held his wrist with the inside facing up, both elbows leaning on his knees.

Now with Cordin's shirt in paw, Azryel used it to wipe the blood, remaining sand and water from Ripley's foot, carelessly tossing it next to Cordin, the garment forgotten as soon as it had left his paw. Reaching for the little bottle of solution and the syringe he'd brought up, Azryel unscrewed the cap, stuck the needle in, and carefully drew the numbing agent into the vial-like instrument, momentarily distracted by mention of Ripley possibly being sick. Ill was she? What on earth for? A bit of blood and a jolt of pain here or there, Azryel snorted, expecting a member of the Long Patrol to be a bit stronger than that. Oh well. It wasn't her fault she was born the squeamish type. Injecting the syringe into the base of Ripley's footpaw, he watched the solution slowly exit the chamber, the numbing agent a fast-acting one. By happenstance, the doctor's eyes fell to the label hugging the bottle the solution had come in.

Azryel Asmodeus Ashworth Black froze.

Vipera Berus. Said the label.

Azryel closed his eyes, willing his heart to stop beating so loudly and his chest to keep from suddenly tightening, his breath hitching for just a moment. Please tell me I did not just accidentally inject adder venom into the haremaid's foot. That had to be wrong. Yes, he carried adder venom with him, but he was never stupid enough to mistake adder venom for a numbing agent or any other kind of clear soluable. No. This isn't right. I don't make mistakes, especially not one of this magnitude. Slowly, Azryel's breathing returned to normal, the doctor distancing himself from the momentary fear that had seized his heart in a vice grip; reaching for his bag with a steady paw, Azryel pulled it over, rummaging through it until he found a similar container. He had never been a very religious hare before, but he was one for all of two seconds as he stared at the bright red label on the second bottle, labeled Vipera Berus just like the last one.
Silly me. He thought with a noticeable amount of relief; His normal bottles of non-toxic things were usually labeled blue, which meant that the bottle with the plain white label had been an old one, and he must've been too distracted to re-label it before packing up his things this morning...

Azryel ran his arm across his forehead, noticing he had begun to sweat in the few seconds of torturous terror he'd been forced to endure. For a moment there, Azryel had thought he'd lost his job.
And the haremaid, of course, but that wasn't that important. Hares died all the time.

[Romulus]

Cordin's expression went sour as his shirt was roughly tossed back to him. He didn't necessarily care about the garment itself as much as Black's callousness. Who spit in Azryel's lunch, hmm? But Ripley was a more pressing matter, and as she muttered her discomfort (sarcastically, as usual), Cordin ignored the doctor for the moment.

"Aye, because cynicism fixes bloody well everythin' don't it, Rip, m'gel?" he replied amiably, rubbing the solution-soaked cloth on his wrist. Wincing with the sting, he finished quickly and laid both the rag and his shirt in his lap. "If ye need to empty yore gut, then flamin' well empty it. Won't do ye any jolly good lyin' there all blinkin' miserable, wot?" He'd never much cared for Ripley's sarcastic tongue, but he knew he was prone to that kind of joking, as well. It was why he hadn't joined in that insult war between her and Sola a few mornings ago.

"But don't ye worry," he went on, more encouragingly this time. "Doc's gonna get ye all fixed . . . up . . ." He trailed off as he noticed the sudden flash of horror that crossed Azryel's features. That was not a good look to see on a doctor's face.

"F--!" Cordin bit his lip so hard it nearly bled as Black frantically compared the two labels. What was written on them, the young hare couldn't tell, but if Black was that pale, it couldn't be good. However, Azryel seemed to calm down after a moment. Trying to relax as well, Cordin realized he had just ripped one of the sleeves off his shirt before an ill-timed curse. He glanced down at Ripley again, trying not to look like he had just been panicking as much as Black.

[Tracy]

Ripley continued to lay there, more relaxed since the numbing agent took effect. She was the only hare in the situation who hadn’t just suffered a panic attack because she had no idea what mistake was almost made. Still, the way she’d treated her body after distance running was coming back to bite her. Continuing her deep breaths, her black-tipped ears tilted a bit as Cordin began to speak again.

"Aye, because cynicism fixes bloody well everythin' don't it, Rip, m'gel?"

The haremaid forcefully elected not to reply to that statement. Sure, sarcasm was a problem of hers, but she thought this was a completely appropriate time. But she was still feeling guilty and she was hardly about to lash out at the hare who’d stuck around her to help her.

"If ye need to empty yore gut, then flamin' well empty it. Won't do ye any jolly good lyin' there all blinkin' miserable, wot?"

“Cordin,” Ripley started without uncovering her eyes. Her voice was soft, level, composed, along with her calming breaths. “Please please… don’t talk t’me about… ‘emptying my gut.’” She visibly swallowed, it made her sick just to say it. “I haven’t even eaten t’day. It’s just a side effect from the running…”

"Doc's gonna get ye all fixed . . . up . . ."

Ripley didn’t take his tone into consideration, in fact was doing her best not to pay attention to the conversation. Besides, she could feel the anesthetic start to work, so she had no reason to think anything had gone awry. She momentarily thougth to ask Azryel if he was almost done, but she realized it didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to be jumping to her paws and running back to Salamandastron anytime soon regardless.

[Stryker]

"F--!" Cordin bit his lip so hard it nearly bled as Black frantically compared the two labels. What was written on them, the young hare couldn't tell, but if Black was that pale, it couldn't be good. However, Azryel seemed to calm down after a moment.

Ripley didn’t take his tone into consideration, in fact was doing her best not to pay attention to the conversation. Besides, she could feel the anesthetic start to work, so she had no reason to think anything had gone awry. She momentarily thougth to ask Azryel if he was almost done, but she realized it didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to be jumping to her paws and running back to Salamandastron anytime soon regardless.

The doctor glanced in Cordin's direction, the color returning to his gaunt, haughty features, watching him stifle quite an ungentlemanly curse from fouling the air right in front of the poor haremaid. Azryel almost smiled pityingly. Concern. He never quite understood it, especially when it applied to feeling concern for other living things. Allowing his focus to return to the haremaid's foot, the doctor got back to work; first, he cleaned up the jagged edges of the small wound in Ripley's foot by cutting off the torn, tattered skin and trimming back the fur. Next, without much room for hesitation, Azryel threaded a surgical needle and began stitching up the haremaid's foot, the sutures neat and perfect, years upon years of practice yielding to such excellent results. With ten stitches in all, keeping the wound closed and preventing it from scaring, and a thick gause wrap covering her footpaw to prevent the stitches from being torn out, the doctor finally stood up.

"It's done, but you won't be walking on that footpaw until you've completely healed, least of all running." Glancing over at Cordin, he was quite inclined to put the younger hare to much better use than standing around and telling Ripley to throw up if she 'bally well felt like it'.
"The numbing agent in her foot will take about half an hour to wear off properly, so she'll need to be carried back to the mountain," glancing at the greenish-looking haremaid, the doctor was all business, as if what could've been a catastrophy had never even happened.
"Once the numbing wears off," explained Azryel, "You're going to have an extremely sore footpaw, so I'd ask Ms. Wavebob for some pain medication as soon as you get to the mountain, and take a few days to rest properly. Running or walking on that foot will only slow you down in the long haul."
Having said everything he needed to, Azryel began packing up his supplies, almost humming a tuneless song as he went. Well now, Cordin certainly hadn't brightened his mood, but Ripley definitely had. Even the scare with the adder venom had been fun. Perhaps returning to Salamandastron wouldn't be a complete disaster.

[Romulus]

"The numbing agent in her foot will take about half an hour to wear off properly, so she'll need to be carried back to the mountain," glancing at the greenish-looking haremaid, the doctor was all business, as if what could've been a catastrophy had never even happened.

Cordin shot Black a look that could have broken a mirror. Seriously, what was this hare's problem? Snorting quietly, the young buck returned his attention to Ripley. "Sorry, gel," he murmured. "Was tryin' t' jolly well help ye. Didn't blinkin' work, so I guess I'll flamin' shut up, then, eh, wot?"

Throwing his bloodied shirt over his shoulder, he gently looped an arm under Ripley's neck and shoulders, and his other arm under her knees. "Ready, m'gel?" he smiled gently. In one fluid (and as gentle as possible) motion, he swept her off the ground, carrying her easily in his strong arms. She didn't weigh a thing, did she?

Preparing himself for the worst, Cordin started slowly for Salamandastron. It really wasn't that long of a distance, but he wanted to make sure he didn't jostle Ripley everywhere by walking too fast. His pace was steady and smooth, and he tried not to stumble in the shifting sands. He'd almost forgot about Black until he heard the tuneless song.

"Oi, Doc," the young hare called back, stopping for a brief moment. "I know I'm not ye bloody favorite creature, but d'ye mind stickin' close in case poor Ripley gets bloomin' well worse, wot?" It was a bit of a walk up those stairs to the Infirmary. Anything could happen, and even a crazed doctor was better than no doctor at all.

[Tracy]

"It's done, but you won't be walking on that footpaw until you've completely healed, least of all running."

Ripley was silent and stone-faced at that announcement, although Azryel may as well have just torn her heart out and stepped all over it. She was to leave on assignment in two days, and she’d been looking forward to it for awhile. She’d pretty much been looking forward to leaving for it the minute she came home from her last trip. She knew the Long Patrol wouldn’t begrudge her for not being able to go, mostly because they knew it was hurting Ripley more than it was hurting them. It tortured her to know some other scout (undoubtedly someone far less skilled than herself) was going to get her assignment.

"The numbing agent in her foot will take about half an hour to wear off properly, so she'll need to be carried back to the mountain.”

As events transpired, Ripley was aware she was going to be carried back to the mountain, but that didn’t stop her from still reacting to the news. She threw her paws over her eyes, shook her head, and actually gave a wry snort of laughter. She was pathetic. However, she didn’t say anything; she could at least give Cordin that much; some reprieve from her sarcastic retorts, all of them dancing like hot sparks on the tip on her tongue.

"Ready, m'gel?"

The haremaid’s morning of humiliation wasn’t quite complete though, as Cordin knelt to pick her up. She didn’t respond to his question. Whatever reply she could muster would be bitter or angry or sarcastic. Or she might just end up bursting into tears, she wasn’t really sure. Ripley slid her arms around the corporal’s neck when he picked her up, preferring not to just be a dead weight despite how easily he seemed to handle her.

Still feeling a little lightheaded and queasy – she really needed something to eat – she turned and put her forehead against his shoulder, trying to counteract the weird feeling of being carried. Also it served to hide her face, which she was sure was some mixture of misery and abject humiliation. “Y’don’t have to tread so careful, I’m not made of glass. My foot doesn’t even hurt.” She was mumbling, but she was certainly close enough to the hare’s ears for him to hear. “Actually, I don’t even feel it,” she said with a wry laugh.

“Cordin,” Ripley started awkwardly. She wanted to say ‘Thank-you’ but was finding it harder than it should have been. “Er. I don’t need t’go to the infirmary, jus’ to my room.” Nice Ripley, you’re the worst. “I want t’get cleaned up, I’ll find a way over to see the infirmary keeper in a bit.” Well, probably not. A couple months ago she’d broken a finger kickboxing. Her brother had helped her splint it and she’d totally avoided the infirmary.