Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.
The Blacksmith rushed into his workshop, panting with exhaustion. He'd rushed all this way-! What a long journey it had been. His legs were trembling. Even with his power, it had been difficult to get here in one swift rush.
How long had it been-? Hours? At the very least, he thought. He'd kept as much pressure as he could on the little fox's wounds, and Forgraves hadn't slipped back into a chrysalis--yet. Perhaps it was the Blacksmith's very magic keeping him teetering at the edge, rather than plunging off.
Robe rustled as he carefully laid Forgraves down, nestling him into a bed of leather and cloth intended as wrappings for weaponry and tools. Water was retrieved--a bucketful, intended for the forge. "Are you awake, little one?" he tried, quietly. He offered a handful of the water, uncertain.
Could he wash these wounds? Would Forgraves be able to drink, even a little bit? At least there was leather, here, for bandaging--and canvas strips to tie it off. At least he had plants he could use--he had grown them himself, the thriving gardens outside all the work of his own hands. He knew the properties of some--could they be used to help the little healer?
Had the Blacksmith known what the stolen bag had been for, perhaps he'd have given chase. The very thing stolen could have helped Forgraves heal. But he didn't know what it was that had prompted Pelt's attack; he only knew that blood slicked his hands, and he didn't know if the fox would make it.
@Forgraves
Content Warning
This post contains potentially sensitive material:
Action. Thought. "Speech."
Forgraves had, unsurprisingly, passed out at some point during the journey. apparently, blood loss makes someone incredibly fatigued! who knew? he did, now! he had nonetheless clung to the blacksmith, the ever-present need for comfort in times of distress unrepressing itself for a time.
Forgraves awoke at some point when they had arrived in leo, body overheating, although not awake enough to make it terribly obvious.
once they had made it into the forge, he had stirred, eyes blinking open. everything was just a little hazy, unable to focus on any specific thing. he wasn't exactly sure how much blood he had lost, blacksmith having tried to keep some of it at bay probably helped, but his leg was still slick with it and it was hard to even see the actual injury beneath what had dried, what had clotted and what hadn't. some that had likely been pulled away when blacksmith had made way for some fresh blood to continue its flow, although at a slower pace. it hurt like hell, and he couldn't help the pained whine that crawled out of his throat. a quick flex of the muscle had him muffling a scream.
he looked around, flinching ever slightly when met with the blacksmith's hand. his mouth felt dry, leaning forward to drink. the fox was quite obviously not meant for such strain, even as a child he'd never felt the need to even run much, terribly out of practice and already slightly lethargic from the complete lack of sleep for the past several days. it had all crashed on top of him with an ear-shattering bang, in the figurative sense of course, and he was completely devoid of energy.
he wheezed, "th-thank you.." he said, weakly. wasn't all of this supposed to be his job? in his head pelt hadn't even gotten hold of him that long. he just hoped she didn't break anything, though its likely, it definitely feels like she did, though he doesn't think theres much he can equate the pain to.
he looked around the forge. had.. had the blacksmith really carried him all the way here..?
"You are welcome," came the soft voice. Then a cloth was being wet, and water prepared.
There was only a moment's hesitation as the Blacksmith realized he'd be ruining a good number of the leather scraps, this way--by pouring water, and bloodied no less, among them. But it was only a moment's, as he quickly gauged Forgraves to be by far the more important of the two things.
"You were... attacked," he offered, in case the fox had forgotten. "I do not know... why. I am sorry." Sincere regret laced his voice. They had come--all of them--to help him; and now this one was badly wounded, and for what..? "There is much... I must do to fix it. This may... sting, a little," he murmured. One hand briefly offered a reassuring brace to Forgrave's shoulders; then he was doing his best to wash the wound.
Water was poured down, slowly, and in a warm trickle; the cloth was swept down in an attempt to wipe the worst of the blood away. He couldn't see how bad it was, just yet, and he couldn't just bandage up blood-clotted fur like this. As he worked, he sought something to use to distract the little fox. "Do you need... more water?" he asked; "or... anything else at all?"
@Forgraves
Content Warning
This post contains potentially sensitive material:
Action. Thought. "Speech."
Forgraves had not, indeed, forgotten, but he appreciated the thought behind the reminder nonetheless.
"i-it's okay, really..." he rasped, coughing, wincing at the pain. " 's my fault for not being fast enough. or just letting her have the bag."
he hissed, grinding his teeth at the pain. the water washed away most of the blood, the injury finally becoming easier to see, though his fur was still stained. it was... horrific, really. its a miracle the thing that still attached. it would've been worse had pelt herself pulled at it, but she'd let go, forgraves having been doing most of the desperate pulling and tugging out of raw fear. where pelt had actually bit forgraves had gone deep. scarily so, and torn downward onto the lower parts of his leg, and the leg itself was quite possibly dislocated, hanging limply. in short, it was fucking gross, and also looked like it hurt. it did.
Forgraves himself was trying his hardest not to look, so he took to simply asking the blacksmith. "is it... bad..?" he asked, glancing over to him. he ignored the blacksmiths question, on total accident. its possible he either didn't have an answer or just didn't hear him. he couldn't really... form thoughts.
The Blacksmith's form shifted away, moving to set the bucket down, to rinse the cloth of its blood.
Would Forgraves recognize the place, now-? The piles of carefully-stacked tools, the gemstones glinting here and there, the ember glow of the hot forge?
The Blacksmith paused but a moment in his work. "...It did not... seem like your fault," he observed, a tad confused. And as he went back to the leg, he considered Forgraves's question.
How to answer it-? He felt bad being bluntly honest, but the tact needed to address such a question gently was a little beyond him. "Yes," he said, "at least, I think so. But we can fix it."
The worst of the blood had been gradually washed away, and then the cloth was set aside. Another was brought to dab it as dry as he could manage, though there was little he could do if it continued to bleed. Gentle fingers attempted to probe the leg.
It was broken, he thought; or dislocated. And as soft as his touch was, it would undoubtedly hurt.
He sat back, and pondered what to do next. "I can try to... bandage this leg. But I am no... true medic. I think it may be broken. It will need... time," he said. And if it were dislocated-? He wasn't too sure on the fox's anatomy. On how to fix it, without potentially making it worse.
Who would know? Isra, perhaps? Or Astraea?
"Do you know any... medics?" he asked, softly, unaware of the irony of the fox's own goals.
@Forgraves
Action. Thought. "Speech."
he didn't comment, on that first bit. he's still not entirely used to people being so.. understanding. it'd be nice in any other circumstance. right now it just left him thoughtful.
he frowned. he figured it was bad, and it definitely DID hurt when blacksmith moved to dry it. it felt like all the nerves in his lower half were on fire. god, his teeth hurt with how much he was having to grind them, trying to atleast not bite his tongue. yknow, when all those cycles ago he considered just cutting it off he didn't mean it literally. he might now. feels like less trouble.
as he tried to ignore the pain, he looked back up at the blacksmith. "thats.. alright. i really do appreciate you trying, anyway.. feel f-free to try whatever, though.." he breathed.
he almost laughed, at the last question. a pitiful, self-deprecating laugh. "i'm supposed to BE a medic. but nothing i can do would work here, even if i had the stuff required for my usual practice. if anything it'd just make me numb." he said. he paused, sighing. "forgive me, i'm not... i'm not t-rying to be-" he said, cut-off mid sentence with a yelp when his leg decided to spasm in response to the contact. he took a deep breathe, "not trying to be so... negative."
he thought. he DID know a medic, but would he be anywhere near leo...? "i... i know one. he uses magic, is better at this than i am... but i wouldn't where he is exactly, closest location i could give you is canis, but thats atleast a cave and a tunnel or two away... Oliver was his name, i think..? he sighed.
Oliver really was a better medic than him. the whole magic thing really did do wonders in an emergency, especially when you didn't have anything else. Forgraves didn't even know the craft he swore was easier very well, he still needed that accursed flask to do anything, because he was too much a coward to try anything else. that dog... bird... he knew better. damn his thoughts got sad. maybe he should work on that.
for a moment, he hoped astoria wasn't looking for him. he told her he'd be back before she knew it. he'd be back before the day was done, because she was worried about him. and now he's not sure if he'll even be able to leave the forge tomorrow. or the next day.
The Blacksmith considered. "We can... try to make it... back to Canis, yes. But-... I will need to bind this... so the bleeding stops." Or--stayed stopped, really.
His mind was racing over what he did know. Warmth, hydration. "I do not know... what more, either. ...Brace yourself," he added, grimly.
Cloth was lifted: stretches of it, fingers turning to attempt to gently wrap this around the fox's wounded leg. Could he bind it, without damaging it-? How long would it take to get to Canis..? "Canis is only... a cave and another... away. We can... go, once this is bound, but... You should drink more water, first," he suggested--and the bucket was pushed a little closer.
@Forgraves
Action. Thought. "Speech."
he nodded. he'd rather stop bleeding, too, really. but he really didn't want to impose, Blacksmith was so busy last he saw him, and only today did what he was so busy for begin. not even an hour after did he have to haul forgraves to the forge so kindly. a walk to canis after all that...? thats already through ursa and a tunnel, not including the walk out of leo.
"shouldn't you rest too..?" he asked. "not that im against going, just... we barely just got here and... you carried me the whole way, didn't you?" . worry was clear in his stone, also possibly an amount of guilt. the blacksmith didn't HAVE to do any of this, and to so quickly offer to go all the way to canis to see someone he wasn't even sure was there was an offer he'd feel terrible accepting without making sure the blacksmith wasn't about to pass out himself. "only one of us is big enough to carry the other if one passes out, you know?" he joked, though it wasn't really meant to gauge a reaction.
he hissed, his leg protesting loudly as being moved at all, having to fight back another half-sob half-scream, whimpering pathetically. "i hate this." he said simply through gritted teeth.
saying nothing else, he leaned forward to get another drink of water before he cried himself dry.
Scraps of cloth were pressed in, tightened, tied. He winced at the poor fox's cry, and apologized quietly. "I am... sorry. If you like... we can both rest... I need only... an hour? Perhaps. And then... we can seek your healer?" he suggested.
The forge was warm--hot, in fact--but the Blacksmith, uncertain, lifted a bit more cloth to gently cover Forgraves. The bucket was nudged to remain near the fox's face. "Unless... you want something... else?" he asked, unsure.
@Forgraves
Action. Thought. "Speech."
he nodded. "i-it's okay! i'll live, probably!" he squeaked.
he laid his head back down. "yeah, r-rest... thank you, either way... you didn't have to help, and you did, so... thank you. i think finding oliver might be my best bet anyway... so i don't just lose a leg. that'd suck."
he sighed. he really, REALLY hoped tori wasn't worried too much about him.