Day 050: Say No More
Summary: Sev tends to Britt after the Reaper scouting mission, and they both probably say more than they meant to.
Date: 7/19/16
Related: Follows Opening the Way
Sev Britt 

Trikru Camp
It's a camp.
Day 50

It's mid-evening by the time the warriors make their way back to camp, having trekked all the way back from Coesbur with wounded in tow. After reporting to Lexa on the mission status, Britt found Erson waiting for her outside of the commander's tent. After a brief exchange of words, the tall archer is scooping Britt up and carrying her over toward Sev's wagon. The reason is probably apparent - a bloody bandage wrapped around her lower right thigh - but Britt is not exactly thrilled by the arrangement. "I told you, I can walk." Her irritated protest might be heard as they approach. "Hobbling is not the same as walking," Erson counters flatly. "Stop being so stubborn."

There's smoke coming out the little rusted smokestack that's atop of Sev's wagon. Which means he must've gotten his cast-iron wood-burning stove to work. This would also explain why the pair of windows on each side and door are left open. For ventilation. And the breeze. Still summer, so it's still warm, but the nights do get slightly chilly out. Though the glow coming from inside does make it seem a little homey. So many that would explain why has no problems being on the road as much as he is. But he wasn't expecting company, causing him to poke his head out of the doorway, burning pipe in his hand. He only needs to see the fact that Britt is not walking under own power to figure out what's going on. He emerges fully, coming down the stair. "Bring her inside. Put her on the bed." he states simply, already starting to look her over.

Erson is a fair bit taller than Sev, so he has to duck a bit to avoid clonking his head as he carries Britt into the wagon. "Hey Sev," she calls to him. Sweat dampens her face and hair, and the strain of pain is etched on her features. But there don't seem to be any wounds that are too serious - just the leg and a shallow nick on the side of her stomach. Erson lays her down gently on the bed, sitting up with her back against the pillows or headboard or whatever's there.

The bed is one of those small foam mattresses that you would find a camper. Things last forever so long as you don't get them wet and let the mildew set in. No sheet, instead it's covered in wolf and deer furs. The pillow is also foam too. "Erson." Sev says by way of greeting, coming inside. There's enough room in the wagon for three people to move around, and he's grabbing the pot of water that he had been heating. "Get whatever clothes off her where she's injured. Or at the very least move the out of the way so I can work." The water is poured into a basin. Then he cracks open an ancient medical kit made out of plastic. Seems to be wear he keeps his smaller implements. Needles, cat gut made into thread, a pair of surgical metal forceps, tweezers, and a knife he reserves for healing stuff. It's all put into the basin, sterelizing them. Next he moves to a shelf, picking out two wooden containers, and then a glass phial of amber looking liquid. The last is handed to Erson. "Have her drink that." while he sets himself up, pulling over an old milk crate to sit next to bed. "What do we have."

Britt had taken her armor off before the ride back, so that's one less thing they have to worry about at least. A few hissed breaths escape her lips, wincing as Erson removes her boots and then her trousers. He slants her a concerned and somewhat apologetic look. He goes to help her with the shirt next, but she waves him off and does that herself. Her scars are testimony to how many times she's been tended to by healers over the years, so Britt doesn't seem to be at all self-conscious as she sits there in just undies and a homespun camisole sort of thing.

"Reaper with an axe," Erson explains, taking the vial and bringing it up to Britt's lips. She drinks it like a good little patient. The axe was slowed by her armor, so the cut on the thigh is not as deep as it might have been. But it's bruised all to hell, and her knee is swollen. It's her bad knee, bearing an old jagged scar across the outside edge that Sev probably hasn't seen before.

Seeing the worry on Erson's face, she touches his arm. "I'll be all right," she tells him softly. "Go and check on Kai for me?"

"You sure?" When she nods to assure him it's all right, he gives her shoulder a soft squeeze. Unless Sev seems to need him for anything, he'll head for the wagon's door.

There's a nod from Sev, already having an idea on what to do. The lack of clothing doesn't even register on the man's face. Seeing people naked or mostly naked is apart of the job for him. From healing wounds, to taking care of illness to delivering babies, he's likely done it all. "Alright." he nods at the description of the wound on her leg. Though he does spare a look at Erson. "She will be alright, I'll take care of her. If Kai needs to be looked at as well, send her my way." He won't stop the man if he moves off. Honestly, he works better when people aren't looking over his shoulder asking constant questions. A bottle is taken out of a box nearby. It's square shaped, unscrewing the lid. It's amber-colored. "This is going to sting." he tells her, taking one of his clothes that he likely washed at some point, soaking it on the liquid. There is a distinct smell of alcohol on it. Then he starts to carefully wipe at the wound, disinfecting it, keeping his other hand pressed on her leg incase she jerks. The rag is set aside, and he takes time to inspect the wound. "Skin damage. Minor cut into the muscle." He eyes the amount of bleeding, using a different cloth, this one clean to the excess off. That's set on the bed, within easy reach, now going to the basin, picking one of the needles he's used for these kind of things, and the cat gut thread, looping it through the eye of the needle. "Seems like I'm always patching you together." he states placidly.

Erson pauses at the door, meeting Sev's gaze for a moment. Though his concern is obvious, there's a measure of trust there as well. He nods once. "The Skaikru healer girl is looking after her, I think, but I'll check. I'll be back," he promises Britt. She offers him a strained smile, and then he's gone.

"Figured you didn't need him hovering and clucking like a mother hen," Britt murmurs once the other archer is gone. She does flinch a bit at the sting of cleaning, but she tries to hold still as best she can. Hearing his assessment, she nods. "Not too deep then? Good. Had to be the same damn leg though," she mumbles. The latter comment gets a weak smirk. "Occupational hazard."

"I don't. So thank you." Sev remarks, steady hands preparing the needle. "No, not as bad as it could. Didn't hit anything vital." Sadly, he has no numbing agent, but it's the stupidly rare healer that does. So she's going to feel it every time as he stitches. "I don't need to tell you that is not going to be pleasant." he states, holding the need in one hand, the other pressing on the skin just outside her wound. Then he pauses. That bottle he had used to clean the wound is handed to her. "Take a swig of this. You're going to need it." he adds "You keep this up and you're going to put permanently on the rear line. Didn't give you that bow so you can run around with a sword." he says, while at the same time making the first insertion with the needle. It's not the first time he's used it, but it's also not dull either. So it could probably hurt a lot more than it does. "You're alive, so that must mean whatever you were all doing was successful."

Britt accepts the bottle, taking a healthy swig. She braces herself and gives him a little nod that seems to say go ahead. And yeah… that really hurts. Britt tries her best not to squirm, but there's just a natural instinct to try and escape the pain that is hard to overcome. He'll probably have to hold her leg down to keep it still enough to stitch. She takes another drink from the bottle, her other hand digging into the furs with a death grip. "Bow's not much good when they get in your face." The reply is breathless and clipped, hissed through clenched teeth. "We succeeded. No one died." Bonus, then. "Kai was hurt badly."

Thankfully, Sev knows what he's doing. He doesn't looked rushed or panicked. He has the same flat-expression he always wears. Though perhaps at the moment it's a little more focused. In, then out. In, then out. The process is repeated as he stitches up her leg, other hand suddenly becoming like iron, griping her leg at the thigh and holding it down. Done this before plenty of times. "I know, was being facecious. Ah. Well, perhaps I'll see if there's anything I can do later. No death is good, it's what I like to hear." He does start to talk while he works, perhaps something to give her something else to think about. "Never told you about the building I saw while wandering the wastes in the Dead Zone. Half buried in sand, but surprisingly perserved. I found a woman there. No disfigurements. Said she was an exile, though she wouldn't say what clan she was apart of. That she was a 'treasure hunter' of sorts. There is a legend, she told me, of some vast trove of old world artifacts, still in perfect working condition. She said she had given up her life to find it."

"Thanks. She fought well. Earned her first mark." Even through the pain, Britt's pride and respect shines through. She falls quiet, then, conversation proving difficult as the stitching continues. A few soft whimpers escape, but for the most part she holds up stoically. His story seems to be a pleasant distraction. She listens and nods. "Your kind of place."

"We decided to work together, pooling our knowledge of what we knew of ruins." Sev says, continuing the work. Long enough gash to require a number of stitches. Make a pretty cool looking scar, probably. "Days we wandered the wastes together, occasionally find some ruined and toppled over building, laying on it's side. She was very strong willed, and for some time, we didn't quite trust each other. Knew rather little about the each other. She killed the man who raped her, she said that much. She had to run when it was discovered that he was the son of the village steheda. Told me I was first man she shared a bed with in three years." Setting the needle down, tying the ends off. "Eventually, we came across the building that been described. Some kind of tower, long since toppled over onto it's side. Lay down." he tells at the last, gesturing at the cut on her stomach. "We explored that ruin for a good month, and we did find the room we had both sought. Some kind of ancient vault from the appearence of it. We were able to get inside from another room. What was inside was not what either of us expected."

It'll fit right in with the other gnarly looking one just a little below it. Since most Grounder medics prefer cautery over stitching for whatever reason, it's a somewhat dubious distinction to have a pair of stitched-up wounds on the same damn leg. Fresh beads of sweat break out on Britt's face. "What was it?" she asks, at the story's cliffhanger. The bottle is brought up to her lips for another drink. Shame it doesn't work faster. She lets out a shaky breath when he finishes the leg, visibly relieved. She gingerly scoots downward, laying flat and moving her arm out of the way so he can see her stomach. "Just a scratch - can it do without the needle?" Indeed it's not as deep or long as the other one.

"Bodies." Sev says. The needle is dropped into the water, tinting it a little pinkish. "Turns out, it was a legend passed down from person to person. The treasure, was people. About fifty people. I guess the message was that these people were important enough to be 'treasured', perhaps trying to get a message out that they needed to be rescued. One that never came. A last act of desperation. Seal themselves in a vault while fire rained from the sky. There was a type of metal with in the vault with them. A yellowish color. Shaped like bricks. Far too heavy to carry back. It didn't seem to have much value. Talia was crushed however. She wanted to take something back to her village, perhaps in the hopes of being accepted by them." One of his wooden containers is opened, applying a generous portion of salve onto the stitched wound. Before he's finelly looking at the one on her stomach. "No, won't need that with this. Not deep enough. Flesh wound. Should heal on it's own. Needs to be cleaned and bandaged, that's all." But he thinks back. "Wish I knew what happened to her after we parted company. I hope she found peace, wherever she ended up."

'Bodies' was about the last thing Britt expected to hear from that story. "That's sad." Her breathing is still a little uneven, but getting back to normal now that the stitching is done. She takes one last swig from the bottle before tucking it into the crook of her elbow. "Sounds like you were fond of her. You never found anyone to share your travels with?" He gets a relieved nod when he says that the other wound doesn't need stitches. "You know, somehow the Skaikru became convinced that none of us know how to sew wounds. Thought it was some kind of valuable trade, to teach us."

"It wasn't what we were expecting. There was little we could do. Sometimes, you find things like that. Remains of those who came before." Sev actually gets a little quiet at that. Perhaps he's seen more of that than he ever tends to let on. Ruin wouldn't just be empty when you came across them. "I was, but. We both had things to do." he finally says, taking that damp, alochol soaked rag, cleaning out the second wound on her stomach. "It's not something I go looking for. Not many women want to spend their lives doing what I do. Going from one village to the next, getting lost in the wilds. It's no way to raise a family. No solidarity, no roots. I've been alone for a long time, Britt. I'm became used to it a long time ago. You find compassion in whatever arms will hold you, even if it only for a night because you have to hit the trail again the next day." Salve is applied to the other wound now, letting it sit. "Let that air dry for a little bit before I bandage it. Stitching. I don't know who told them that it's a lost art, but I assure it's not."

"Not lost, but not common either. Most of my wounds have been burned closed, not stitched. Like this one." Britt gestures toward the most recent still-healing scar on her cheek. She sinks back a little against the pillows. The way her eyes begin to take on a glassy-eyed look, it would appear that either the alcohol or the painkiller he gave her earlier has started to take effect. The strain on her face eases a bit. "It's strange, sometimes, to think of the old world. All that was destroyed." She watches him with a quiet sympathy when he speaks of being alone. "I know. All those years I roamed with the warband. No home, no village to call my own. So I know what you mean." She lets out a soft sigh. "Erson - he was the one I always came back to. But I never stayed."

"I learned it from my First, who already ancient by the time I came into his service. I don't know where he learned it from, but he said it was just as viable method of closing wounds, if done properly. He starts working on the bandage then, applying it to her stomach. "We sometimes forget what it was like before the clans. We seem so important now, but before, we pale in comparison. From what I've seen, what I know. Things were so much different. I sometimes wonder what I would be like if the old world had never ended. Who I would be." Then a shrug, perhaps not thinking on it too much. "I'm glad you have someone. Were a I better man, a smarter man, I would've thought to of perhaps traveled with you a bit longer." A pause, perhaps wondering how much he should say. "You…" he stops, instead continuing with, "Any man would be lucky to have you." And that's probably all she may ever get out of him, especially because he certainly knows she has someone. But there, maybe a twinge of…something? Regret? Regreat that maybe he didn't say something years ago when he likely had a better chance. "This is my life though. I don't think compansionship was written in my stars to have. Healing others, helping where I can. It's…it's enough." Though that last part he might be saying more for him than to her.

"Perhaps we would be like the Skaikru," Britt reasons, her forehead wrinkling. Perish the thought! "In many ways, I think the old world did not end the same for them as it did on the Ground. Their traditions, their technology." His tentative regret earns him a flattered little smile. "Well." She hesitates a moment, before a frank admission that is probably helped along by the alcohol. "If you had back then, I think I would've ended up in your bed for more than stitches." There's a brief smirk, but it fades to a more somber expression. "Now though… I don't know if I have him, truly. So much has come between us all these years. But other beds don't have the draw they once did."

"How could it, when everything they knew was from the old world? It's like they have been stuck in time. I don't pity them, but I do feel a little sorry for them. That what they thought wasn't what they expected. And they can't all be incompetent if you all came back alive." Sev remarks, starting to put stuff away, or at least to be clearned later. "You. Don't move. You're not leaving this bed for at least a night." That said, he tosses another peice of wood into his wood-burning stove since it was starting to die down. "I wanted to, but I didn't." he finally admits. She's opening the door on this one, though he's only going to say things up to a point. "Didn't want you to get the wrong idea. I respected you. You saved my life. And maybe I just didn't want to hurt you." Then he moves back over to her, adjusting the pillow behind her head slightly. "That's understandable. You have something. Maybe it's enough." Then rolls up a spare fur, picking up her wounded leg long enough to put under knee. Keep a steady bloodflow. "You know, I never thought I'd see you again."

"I pity them. Growing up in a metal box. No sky, no trees, no water. Rulers who would kill you for even the smallest crime. I would sooner face an Azgaeda warband than that." On the subject of them not being incompetent, she snorts. "They have more spirit than sense." Her voice is starting to get that almost sleepy sound of the drugged to it. She certainly doesn't seem eager to go anywhere, especially now that the pain in her leg has dulled. "I thought perhaps you had someone else," she mentions, after his admission, watching him bustle about. "Usually I am the one hurting people by leaving." There's a brief wince when he moves her leg, but then she settles into a more comfortable position. "Maybe. I hope so. But I have seen enough to know that love isn't always enough." She blows out a soft sigh there, before peering at his last remark. "Why's that?"

"They didn't know any better. That's not an excuse, it's simply a way of trying to understand. Watching. Observing. Try being the only Trikru in an entire Sankru village. To an extent, I understand how they feel. It is not the same, but there is a certianly something relatable." Sev replies, taking his seat back next to. Likely, he'll be keeping an eye on her tonight. Just how he operates when someone has been injured. Many sleepless nights watching patients. "I thought the same about you. I thought you had someone else. Beyond the other reason." There is the rare chuckle from the nomad. "Ironic. Neither of us made a move for thinking similar things." Gently, he pulls the bottle out of her arm. "I think you've had enough." he muses, capping it. Her question gets a headshake. "I don't know. Usually the people I value in my life tend to vanish after I realize how important they may of been. And I travel often enough that I'm never in the same place they are. A curse of the trade." Man, there's so much he'd like to say, but he just isn't saying it. "It can be, Britt. It can sustain a person if need be. Seen it enough. If nothing else, I think that's the one thing you deserve. Spend so much time looking over all these young warriors, you deserve something for yourself." He lets that hang in the air. "Sorry I never asked you when I had the chance. But no matter what, you're happy now. That's what counts."

"Well, chock that one up to a missed opportunity," Britt muses about their crossed signals, smirking faintly. The smirk turns to a more sympathetic look when he speaks of the people in his life vanishing. "Thanks. It's hard to be alone. I think you deserve more than that too. Who knows - maybe you'll run into your explorer girl again. Woman after your own heart." That thought, coupled with the talk about the Sankru, causes her lips to press together. "I've never been around other clans, really. Well, except the ones we've fought." She's rambling now, and those disjointed thoughts take her down a path she doesn't much care for. Probably best that he took the bottle away. "I didn't want to fight the Skaikru. They were just kids… scared kids, cast aside by their people, facing a war they didn't understand. I tried so hard to stop it," Britt looks up at him, that glassy green-eyed stare almost desperate to convince him. "But I failed, and then I killed them."

Sev opens his mouth. He's looking right at her, but then whatever he was saying doesn't come out intitially. "Maybe. I'm not holding my breath. All the good ones are taken currently. Though I do regret on that missed opportunities more than others." Though he's probably got a really short list to what he would consider 'good ones'. But then she's talking about something he did not expect to hear. "Britt…it's okay. You did your duty, and no one can say otherwise. I cannot…begin to think of how hard that must have been. But you did try, it may not seem like it matters much. It is okay to feel guilt in this situation. But you were not wrong for doing what you did. I believe you. You didn't fail. Had you failed, they would all be dead, and their Ark a smoking ruin with dead on both sides. We both know that. Some died, yes. And that is unfortunate. But you took them to the kruheda. In the end, you saved more lives. Lives that would've been lost. Had you not acted, had you not gotten them to Indra. They would all be dead. And they are alive because you helped them. We cannot…save everyone. I know that better than some. But if we can save some, then our actions have not been in vain." There's real humanity coming out of his voice now. Compassion that's rarely heard. "You are a good woman, Britt. I am so proud of you."

Britt is feeling no pain, thanks to that cocktail of whiskey and painkillers, and perhaps not as perceptive as she would normally be. Because really it shouldn't take a mind-reader to figure out what it is he's not saying. Nevertheless, that open-mouthed stare causes her to prompt. "What is it?" But then he's talking about the Skaikru, distracting her with those earnest words that sooth a different kind of wound. Her throat bobs visibly. Erson is the only man who's ever seen her cry, but some rapid blinking suggests that Sev was almost the second. Almost, but not quite. Too overcome to speak, she instead reaches for his hand. If he doesn't pull away, she'll give it a squeeze that reflects the grateful look she levels at him.

Sev does not pull away, letting her take his hand, and he squeezes it in return. "No matter what you might think, Britt. You saved their lives. And they may never know it. Some may. Kai and Fiona may be very aware of it, but I don't know either of them. But you do. You know what you did. They are alive because of you. And your actions. Nobody can take that away." He's trying so hard not to talk to her about things that shouldn't be talked about while she's under the influence. He sighs. Nobody has seen the wanderer this…animated. "I can't." he finally says. "The words I would speak would be improper. You are hurt, drunk, and your heart belongs to another. That last part the sticking point. I would be a dishonorable lout to say anything more. You are a valued friend. And I care a great deal about you. Your friendship means a great deal. I cannot say anything more." Then there's an look in his eyes. It's a door he won't open. She'll have to do that, if ever. It's one that may remain closed.

"Thank you." Whatever guilt Britt may still feel for her perceived failure, being reminded of the lives she did help to save is certainly a balm. But of course, even that is a credit she cannot claim alone. Many played a part. But then there's the rest, and her throat bobs again. "I hear you well enough, even if you don't say it. But you are no lout, Sev." She grimaces a bit, wondering what she should say. Feeling like she owes him an explanation, even though perhaps she doesn't. "My heart's belonged to him for fifteen years. But life came between us. My foolish choices. And there were others. Now, though… I don't know. He's here, and maybe things are different. Though we'll probably both die going up against the Mountain soon enough…" She sighs, rubbing her face with her free hand. The other still hasn't let go of his. "Maybe I'm the lout for saying all this."

"And you really expect me to say anything to get in the way of that?" Sev shakes his head. "No, I would not dare. Not place nor my right. As I've said, your happiness means a great deal. No, you have done nothing wrong with what you've said. Not going to infringe. You cannot help who you love." There's a nod to that. "You'll come back, even if I drag you back myself. You're far too stubborn to die now. Who would harp on the kids?" he offers. But he allows himself a fond look at her. "It would've been nice. But, you are a good friend, Britt. I'm just odd trader who found himself thinking about a particular redhead more often than he'd care to admit. Even if it was only a handful of days. But the important people, the special ones. They are usually the ones that impact the most." But he doesn't let go that hand either, even as his free pulls a fur blanket up over her. "Not going to think any differently of me, I hope."

"No, I know you wouldn't. You're an honorable man," Britt assures him. And if there's a part of her that wishes he would say or do more, she doesn't admit it. "Differently, maybe, but not less." A faint smile tugs at her lips there, briefly, and then she's adjusting her head on the pillow. "I'm very tired now. I think I should sleep before I say something even more foolish." Though it may be a little late to be worrying about that. "Thanks, Sev." His hand gets another squeeze.

"Good, that was the intention to get you to sleep." Sev remarks. He will nod at everything else. "You've said nothing foolish, Britt. And it's no problem. If this is the only way I get you in my bed, I suppose it will have to do." There's another squeeze to that hand before he finally lets go, pulling the blanket up a little more. "Rest now. Heal. I'll feel better when you're on your feet." At that, he gives her one last look. Then grabs another needle from his kit, this one made of bone, then another length of cat gut. Leaning over he grabs Britt's pants. He'll pass the time keeping an eye on her through the night by mending her pants. Put those stitching skills to decent use.

His words get another little smile. Britt watches him for a moment when he moves off, then she lets those heavy eyes close. Sleep doesn't always come easy for the troubled archer these days, but today the medicine knocks her right out into a dreamless slumber.

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