minor injury meme.

[estivates]

You or your meme partner has been hurt, but don't worry! This time around it's not that bad. You can still limp your way out of this mess.

INJURIES.
1. Sprain/strain. How did you screw up walking?
2. Broken bones. Simple fractures still hurt.
3. Cuts. Hopefully one of you has a sewing kit.
4. Burns. Location, location, location. Let's pray this one isn't on your ass.
5. Concussion. No, they're most likely not holding up fifteen fingers.
6. Other. I'm not a doctor.

HOW'D IT HAPPEN.
1. Stupidity. You did this to yourself.
2. Accident. Is an unintentional attack still an attack?
3. Attack. Don't lie, you deserved it.
4. Other. It's probably still your own fault.

WHERE'D IT HAPPEN.
1. Home. Did you remember to invest in a first aid kit?
2. School/Work. This should be excellent for getting you out of doing stuff!
3. Outdoors. Predators like the smell of blood. Clean up asap.
4. In the water. Hopefully there aren't any sharks!
5. Other. Like a hospital. That'd be handy.

Comments

[serves]

Uh--

[Eloquent as usual, and he looks like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He stupidly holds his bloody hand before him, not knowing what to do with it now that she's come and thrown off his plan to sneak out with his most confident "I'm busy, no time to talk" strides straight to the infirmary.

Busted.]

It's.... not as bad as it looks. Don't worry.

[Maybe it wasn't that bad forty-five minutes ago.]

[inquisitorialness]

[ He's at least conscious, and standing on his own two feet, but that doesn't stop the pang of fear that shoots through her like lightning as she moves to his side. ]

Why aren't you at the infirmary? Come on, the healers need to look at you.

[ She has questions - what happened? How deep? How long has he been walking around injured? But it's more important to get him in the care of a healer - which she isn't, only knows enough to be able to find elfroot when she needs it. She grips his elbow, ready to help him out and down the stairs if necessary, not even caring how it would look. ]

[serves]

I'm fine. The healers have their hands full with men worse off than me. Not to mention the newest refugees.

[He presses that bloody hand against his side. Might as well get his clothing coated on both inside and outside.]

[inquisitorialness]

[ She gives his elbow an impatient sort of squeeze. ] And if the Commander of the Inquisition's army gets an infection? What will we do then? Come on. [ She's not leaving without him. She's got that stubborn set to her jaw. ]

[serves]

I will go in my own time. [Annoyance creeps into his voice, gruff and rarely used with her, but the wound does hurt. Considerably.

He shoos her away. Or tries to, at least, teeth grit.]

[inquisitorialness]

[ Oh no. Nope. No way does he get to use that tone of voice with her. Not now of all times. Her spine straightens, her frown deepening. ]

Commander. Now. [ Her tone brooks no argument. ]

[serves]

[Cullen is stubborn. A bad trait when the other person in the room can also be stubborn.]

Are you ordering me to the infirmary?

[inquisitorialness]

[ If there is one thing Nadia Trevelyan never expected to be in a position to do, it was pull rank with the man she's - in love with.

But, like so many strange things lately, here they are. And she's suddenly less the concerned lover and more the stern Inquisitor. Which should probably answer his question. ]

If that's what it takes, yes.

[serves]

[He heaves one of his sighs--one that hitches suddenly because he's got a tear in his side. Ow. Cullen hisses.

Fine. She wins.]

Very well.

[... he waits for her to move. He can walk on his own.

Probably.]

[inquisitorialness]

[ He is so infuriatingly stubborn sometimes. She may be able to give the order, but she does at least feel obligated to let him try to walk himself down there. So she gives a sigh of her own and takes a few steps back.

She will stick close enough to help if it becomes necessary though. She has no idea how much blood he's lost, after all. What if he's lightheaded? What if he falls down the stairs? ]

[serves]

[The blood loss isn't much of an issue as the pain is. The moment he stands up straight he's doubling over again.]

Barbed arrows are going on the requisition list.

[Damn it all. It hadn't punctured deep, but the hole it left when removed did not like to be jostled at all once the adrenaline wore off.]

[inquisitorialness]

[ That stern attitude is gone again in an instant, and she's back to being a worried woman fussing over him, gripping his elbow, encouraging him to lean on her. ]

Later. Let's take care of this, first. Are you sure it wasn't poisoned?

[serves]

Certain. [Reluctantly, he leans on her, but is painfully mindful to give her too much of his weight.] I'm just--no longer as spry as I used to be.

[Maker, he's getting old.]

[inquisitorialness]

[ Nadia scoffs quietly, helping him down the stairs, heedless of any looks they might be getting, the Inquisitor helping her commander - sans armor, even! - to the infirmary.

It doesn't matter. She would do the same for any of the Inquisition's agents. ]

You're not old. Whoever it was just happened to get lucky before they died.

[ She didn't have to be there to know that much. ]

[serves]

Old enough. [He grunts. Ow, his side. Ow, his ego. He doesn't look anywhere but ahead, not wanting to see any of his men spotting him in this state.] You were probably--probably still being swaddled by the time I joined the templars.

[Okay, he might be exaggerating, but he needs to not think about the slow spread of wet and warm liquid slip down his side.]

[inquisitorialness]

[ At the forefront of her mind is him - making sure he can keep his balance, making sure he's not about to lose consciousness somehow, taking it one step at a time.

But if he needs something else to talk about, well, fine.

She's honestly never thought much about his age. ]

I was definitely out of swaddling clothes, you're not that old. [ She might've still been a toddler though. ]

[serves]

Damn whoever built all these stairs. [He's old. He has to lean onto her more the longer they're on the stairs because there's no way he can comfortable get down them.]

[inquisitorialness]

[ She can't help but shake her head a little at him. ] You could've gone straight to the infirmary and saved yourself all this trouble. You know the reports can wait.

[serves]

It wasn't bleeding this heavily. [But she's right. With all his experience, he should know better. He does know better. Through the pain, he manages to give her a sheepishly apologetic look.]

I'm sorry.

[inquisitorialness]

[ She sighs, finally reaching the bottom of the stairs with relief, the infirmary tents not far off, and she waves at a healer. ]

I'm just glad it's not worse. Why didn't you go right away? [ Her assumption was - to save face with his men, maybe to get his report written up. ]

[serves]

They come first. [Some got hit with a rain of arrows. Some were writhing in pain on the ground.]

This is far from life threatening. That I can swear to you.

[inquisitorialness]

[ She glances towards the infirmary tents, the smell of blood hanging from them, stronger now that there has been an influx of wounded. ] I understand. [ And she does - they are alike in that. She abhors the thought of others dying for her, even voluntarily. No matter how often Leliana reminds her the scouts and agents and spies know the risks, she feels every loss personally. In his position, she would've reacted the same way and she knows it. ]

You just - gave me a fright, that's all.

[serves]

Forgive me. [In a rare show of public affection, he brushes the fingers of his free hand against her cheek.] It won't happen again. You have my word.

[inquisitorialness]

[ The touch takes her a little by surprise - they're both careful about keeping a certain professional distance in public, to try and minimize the gossip. It's far from unwanted, of course, just - unusual. ]

Don't worry about it. [ They both know he can't promise not to come to harm. She wouldn't ask him to. But still - he's only been gone a few days and she sometimes felt like she needed to scream. ]

Is it like this for you every time? [ Every time she leaves. ]

[serves]

[He'll blame blood loss--or someone else's blood loss--if anyone dare bring this up to him.

Cullen gives her a grim smile.]

Every time. It's a wonder I haven't paced grooves into my floor from all that I do when you're gone.