Day 063: Death Of Pants
Summary: In the wake of the Fall of the Mountain, Galle treats Luther's leg wound.
Date: 1 August, 2016
Related: None directly.
Luther Galle 

Outside Mount Weather
There's a big door, and some rocks, and some trees.
63 Days After Landing

Mount Weather has fallen. Trikru Warriors, Skaikru Guard, and Skaikru militia have begun streaming out from within, many of them… too many of them… seeking a healer of one sort of another on their way out. Luther is hobbling along, his arm around the shoulder of another warrior. His face is drawn and tight, blood trailing from a neat hole in his left thigh with every step. The woman he's leaning on guides him over to the healers even as he protests that he doesn't need a healer, "…No, no, I'm fine, Ingta. Really. Just wrap it up, give me five minutes, and I'll be ready to roll. In the hay or anywhere else."

Galle has been tending to wounded as they filter out — Skaikru, Trikru, it matters not to her. She has seen much blood from both clans, and it is obvious from the deep stains on her clothing — pants and a leather tunic instead of the normal flowing gown she chooses. Her black hair has been woven back and tied into a rough knot, keeping it away from her face as she works. She looks up from finishing tying off the bandage around a young Skaikru's thigh when she hears Luther's griping words. "Luther," she says, shaking her head. She murmurs something to the girl, and then she on her feet. "Take him to a bedroll," she instructs the other warrior with that no-room-for-argument tone. "What have you done?" She asks Luther, though her tone has a certain tired gentleness to it.

"A bedroll? I don't know if I can handle you both…" speaking of handling, Ingta is already leading Luther over to a bedroll, before he even knows what's happening, "…at least not until I get a little healing. The good kind." His eyebrows waggle in his pale, drawn face, and he winces sharply as the other Warrior helps lower him down to the roll. Galle's query causes him to snort, "I went into The Mountain, and all I got was this hole in my leg. A gun. It was firing very fast. The Maunon will not be firing anything else. Ever."

Galle disregards the poor attempts at flirting and seduction, chiding simply, "You will not get a proper niron with that technique. You will be lucky to attract the attention of a goat." Then she waves Ingta off once the man is settled down on the roll. She swoops down, immediately going for his leg once he explains what has happened. She feels along the leg carefully, and when she gets to where the fabric is most soaked she shakes her head. "Foolish, boy…" Though there is not much heat behind those words. She is already shaking her head. "I hope you do not fancy these pants, Luther kom Trikru." Because they are not going to be pants much longer. She draws out a short utility knife and begins to separate the seam, opening the pants wide from his hip down to the ankle hem.

<FS3> Luther rolls Resolve-1: Good Success. (6 4 4 4 8 3 8 6)

"I'm off my game. Something about getting shot in the leg." Luther tries to offer another smile, but it is washed away quickly when she probes his leg, "Ow. Ashes. That hurts." Drawing in a hiss of breath between his teeth, Luther leans back, "Trying to get into my… hey!" He lifts his head again as the first threads of the seam start to part, "You know… I would have taken them off."

Galle exposes the wound, and she begins to carefully look it over without touching it. Then she pours that black liquid over her hands before she starts to clean the wound with clean cloth and garlic tincture. She looks up at him vaguely as she works, pulling aside his fabric to reveal more of his thigh and hip. She starts to look for other wounds, but is satisfied by the lack of serious injury beyond the gunshot wound. She looks up at him at his protestations, and she smirks. "That would have required too much movement on your part."

"I'm very good at it though." Luther also has a scrape on his right cheek, bloodied knuckles on his left hand, and a couple of other cuts and bruises, but nothing worthy of concentrated attention, especially in comparison to the through-and-through piercing the outside of his left thigh. He studies her poking and prodding (otherwise known as cleaning), wincing here and there, hissing a few times, and then carefully shifting his hips to change how he is 'dressed.' "I match now. More or less."

"Hmph," is all Galle says to his comment of matching. She worries herself with his wound for now, but does look over to him with a slightly concerned expression. "The Mountain has fallen, then?" Her voice is soft, almost concerned. She continues to clear the wound, and then she looks around for her Second… but Silver is dealing with other wounded, so she looks back to Luther. She touches his shoulder gently. "I can apply fire, or you can wait to be stitched… tell me your preference." She waits, hand still on his shoulder, offering him grounding through her firm, calloused touch.

"It's done." Luther props himself up on his elbows, twisting his head to look back at the gaping door, "The only Maunon living are those who surrendered. We will have to weed out any who are innocent, if such exist beyond the children." The touch to his shoulder brings his head around again, the wounded warrior snorting softly at the question, "The fire is plenty good for me." He flashes a bright smile that is only a little tight around the corners, "No peeking while you're down there."

"As if you possess something I have not seen countless times before," Galle states coolly. Then she begins to roll to her feet, moving carefully to where several knives are burning hot in a well-kept fire. She wraps her hand in leather, extracts a blade, and then carefully steps back toward Luther. She begins to kneel, pausing to hand him a thick length of wood. By the bite marks already on it, he is not the first to be offered it. "Bite down… nod when you are ready."

<FS3> Luther rolls Resolve-3: Good Success. (5 1 8 7 6 8)

"Some common things are still extraordina — " And then there's leather-wrapped wood in his mouth, and the rest of his words are muffled. His hands turn down and grasp the bedroll, and he keeps mumbling and muffling against the biting stick, even as he nods his head. When the metal touches his skin, his head rocks back, and his muscles tense sharply. He doesn't scream, but his muffled words cease.

Galle is quick and precise, but the heated knife remains against his wounds until they are properly cauterized. Then she removes the knife, drops it into a near by bucket of water with a hiss and puff of steam, and returns immediately to the wounds to see that they are cooled with a press of a wet cloth. She looks over toward him, touching his dreadlocked head in a gentle caress — a momentary lapse of her stoic exterior to offer the warrior some comfort. "You can rest now, Luther…"

Luther spits out the tooth-marked leather and wood, slowly lowering himself down to the bedroll and raising his right knee, tucking his foot close to his ass. His breath comes quick, and sweat stands out on his brow. "So, when can I start back to Tondc? I'm pretty sure there's going to be the party to end all parties." He's… probably joking.

Galle offers him a clean, cool rag so that he can see to his forehead and face should he wish. The healer is quiet as she considers him with those clear, sharp blue eyes. Then she shakes her head slightly. "You will take care on that leg, Luther… you will need to go slow on the journey back… take a horse, if you can." She then sighs out a breath. "And I'm sure you can join in the celebration." Not that she will be able to.

Luther scoffs at the rag… and then promptly dabs off his forehead and wipes his face with it. You've got to make the effort to appear stoic and needful of nothing, after all. Looking up at her from beneath the cloth, he chuckles, "I can ride. I am not some foolish Warrior who insists his own two feet are good enough for him all the time." The sigh causes one eyebrow to arch up, and Luther dabs at the cut on his cheek with the cloth as he asks, "You think you'll be too busy here. Or wherever the wounded are collected."

"I do not celebrate until my village is healthy again… thriving, and rested." Galle begins to pack away the things she has used to tend to Luther, though she keeps her bandages out, and fetches the knife from the water. Her gaze shift to him, head tilted. "I am sure that those days are soon to come." She then nods firmly. "I should wrap that… and get you some new pants." She waits for him to adjust to become comfortable, and then she begins to wrap the leg, shoving aside the cloth of his pants — no matter what is revealed — so she can begin to wind the bandage around his thigh.

"So… never." Luther nods a little less-than-reassuringly at Galle's confidence, shifting to allow her better access to his leg, then shaking his head and sitting up, "Wait…" He grasps the seam of his pants, below where she sliced it, and just tears it open down to the hem, leaving them gaping wide. Sitting back again, he takes the time to adjust the cloth about his leg, and to cover the extraordinary bits of a type she has seen before, then nods again, "There. Yes, I will need some new pants. I do not think this fashion is very practical." As she binds the wound, he frowns thoughtfully, "My beliefs about the Skaikru have been…" he winces as she binds the newly-cauterized wounds, then continues, "…challenged. Their Guard are not poor warriors, although they trust their guns too much."

Galle frowns at Luther's less-than-reassuring assessment, but she allows it to roll off her shoulders. When he asks her to wait, she waits. Only when he has finished, and she gives him a slightly arched look, does she resume wrapping his leg. She is slower in her movements, taking the time to bind it properly while she speaks. "I will find you some new pants." Though she hesitates at his words, remaining silent for a few passes around his thigh. Then she shakes her head. "Every clan has something they put too much trust in…" She looks up to him. "Find one that you fancy then?" And her mouth twitches slightly.

Luther grins at the arched look, "What? It's easier than you sticking your hands down my pants to wrap my leg. Less fun," he hisses again… not her fault, just sensitive burns, "but easier." Gathering his dreadlocks behind his head, he lays back on the bedroll, letting his eyes close as she works on his leg. After a moment, he shifts his hips a little, and stretches his right leg most of the way out again a bit quickly. "One what, Galle? Something to put too much trust in? Women, definitely." Beat pause, "Or vegetables. I put a lot of trust in vegetables too."

Galle finishes, tying off the bandage. "I will not be sticking my hand down your pants for any other reasons." Then she begins to gather up a blanket, drawling it across his hip and thighs so that his wound can stay covered and his bare leg warm. She then glances down at him, expression oblique. "The Skaikru…" Then she shakes her head. "It seems each time a Trikru begins to compliment, it is because there's an interest there… I am merely asking if you have found one that sparks you."

Luther makes a face at that, "No. Not one in particular. Miss Missile makes things explode nicely, and Lionel kom Skaikru is amusing and not a total fool, and Asten kom Skaikru is a fine warrior, for a man with a gun. I have found that there are more than just children and short-pants-wearing giants who like to fight Makers among them, that is all." He snorts softly, then narrows his eyes, "Why, does your new Second spark you?"

"Mmph," Galle replies to his description of those he has worked with. Then she snorts more indignantly at his question. "She is too young… and attached to Wren kom Trikru." Which appears to be all the incentive she needs to not consider Silver anything more than her Second. "And I do not find any other Skaikru appealing." Then she touches his shoulder before she begins to haul to her feet. "Besides… I am content with my clan."

Luther chuckles at the response, nodding his agreement, "Of course, of course. Not many can compete with his hair. If you like that sort of thing." The big man nods slightly at the reassuring touch, even as he chuckles again, "What, all of them? Even I find some of our clan annoying from time to time."

Galle looks affronted then, looming over the warrior. "My duties to my clan are to see to their welfare… annoying or not, that is my calling." Then she gathers up the rest of her things. Her expression is stoic again. "You will come see me when you are back in Tondc. I will make sure you are healing properly." Because that is all Galle seems to do is look after the Tondc flock… and has since her houman died. "I will see that some pants are brought to you."

Luther holds up his hands in mock surrender at the looming healer, "Very well, very well. And thank you." And, because he's a child inside, and he can't help it, he adds, "I'll be sure to show you that I'm healed by the time Tondc manages a party, and drag you to it, even if I have to carry you over my shoulder to do it." It's teasing, not an actual threat… well… probably not.

Galle looks haughtily at Luther, one brow slightly arched. "We shall see," she says, tone fairly certain that Luther will not be hauling Galle over his shoulder to any such celebration. Then she starts to move away to see to the next patient.

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