Hex 01

Siri was a healer out of sight of another sapient being, which ranked her usefulness with that of a butter soupdish. The chilly midday found her partway between Monais and Versham and a few hours' jog from either, following an old logging trail that had become the main thoroughfare.

The dark-haired young woman wore a smock coat, breeches and a heavy hooded cloak, which she appreciated in this weather. A bag was slung over one shoulder, its contents sufficiently well-organised that nothing clinked or scraped. Her shoes... well, she'd need new ones before the winter came on in earnest.

Only because she was thoroughly unobserved, Siri was alternately humming and singing the Carol of the Flowers as she walked. One could deduce from those words Siri did know that she had asked someone to marry her while the dogwood flowered, whereupon their various adventures had continued until snowdrops the next year.

Along a bend in the road she finally came in sight of another sapient being. This particular specimen was semi-reclined against a tree -- and the remains of three others were sprawled on the ground directly around the being and the tree. No steamy breath came out of those three, but the fourth -- yes.

They were all, dead or alive, dressed properly for winter, although the one by the tree had a few possibly strange details to... her. There were things such as the light grey, partially painted and obviously partially metallic item clutched in her right hand; the grey hair poking out from under a crimson bandanna and over a young (dry-skinned) face; the emblem on the breastplate poking from under her grey greatcoat, just where something had popped a few buttons. A bit of blood had trickled down the side of her face from a cut just next to her eye: there were darker areas and more or less apparent cuts in the coat, too.

Helmine sent a glare toward her fellow sapient the moment she noticed Siri. It was a warning, not a plea for help. The way her gloved left hand squeezed around a long dagger suggested the same. Helmine intended to get up and leave on her own soon... enough. Soon. Yes.

All right then.

There was no point asking what had happened here. No point whatsoever, and it wasn't her business. She wasn't coming within stabbing range, or, well, whatever the other thing was that the woman held. (Some kind of midwestern nunchuck?)

Siri stopped by the nearest of the three fallen, the one furthest from Helmine. The bag slithered off her shoulder, directed by a calf to land where Siri wanted it. She crouched, turned the face so it was visible -- nobody she knew, unsurprisingly -- and took stock.

"A thief?" Helmine asked and half-closed... nonono, narrowed her eyes. She had no idea what the girl was doing with that bitch of a witch. At least Helmine had proven a private theory -- magic users could brag as much as they wanted, but apparently a bullet in the throat stopped them all the same.

She started gathering her wits and herself, using the 'nunchuck' as an improvised crutch or cane to get up. Halfway up she turned the dagger in her hand. Was it snowing or were those tiny stars in her eyes? Aw, shit.

"Me?" Siri asked, touching the throat wound, apparently unmindful of blood. Too deep and too late for her to help. "You've got some nerve." She glanced at the other bodies. None looked like they would move again, but she would make sure.

Siri drew breath when the other woman stood up, but she didn't move away yet.

This was not going to work. Helmine sat back down, chuckling hoarsely. "Cry some more," the foreigner muttered, glaring at Siri from under grey eyebrows."

Siri did check the others, finding their injuries similarly unequivocal. No need to check pulses. She closed the eyes. She took out a small white envelope from her kit, ripped it open with her teeth and cleaned her hands with the tiny folded square of cloth inside. The red cloth and packaging went back into a different, outside pocket.

After that she stood for a moment, shoulder strap held in both hands, looking down at the bag. Then back at Helmine.

"If I come near you, will you attack me?" she asked.

Helmine narrowed her eyes again. She had been watching silently, and looked thoroughly unhappy and a little out of it. A hint of confusion crept up, making the expression on her pale face even more sullen. The language barrier manifested again. "What?"

Siri sighed. She was growing more concerned. Confusion, evident weakness... and she couldn't be sure about those cuts without taking that armour off.

She said, "I am a doctor. May I look at you?"

"You mad?" Helmine snapped with sudden clarity, suddenly extremely amused. "A doctor? A thief? Which?" She squeezed the rifle -- or she tried to, anyway. In that split second she forgot all about her amusement and the so-called 'doctor' and turned to instead stare at her right arm. The half-elf tried moving her fingers. Her wrist moved, but the fingers didn't. Awwww, shit.

"Stop calling me a th..." Siri trailed off. "Is your hand hurt?"

"Oh for the love of..." she muttered in her native tongue. Helmine completely ignored the woman, laying the dagger next to herself and prying her fingers loose off the rifle. This wasn't happening. How was she going to do anything, now? Her fingers barely moved even when she used her other hand to twist and turn them. There was no tension, anyway, but...

Tilting her head for a better look, Siri remarked "I can try to help you or I can leave. Your choice."

The bag was shouldered and her arms were folded.

Helmine looked remarkably more uncertain now. She looked up at Siri, then at her hand. After a moment passed the half-elf sniffed out and put the long dagger back into its scabbard. "Thank you," she said both angrily and confusedly, punching the ground with the offending hand. What was it with her hand? She hadn't even heard of something like this happening -- her right shoulder hadn't even been scratched unlike her left one.

She dumped the bag, and this time the bottles inside it did clink. Siri first looked, not at the hand at all, but at Helmine's head. Finding nothing but a cut by one eye, which had finished bleeding, she tried to assess the other cuts. The chest thingy and the overcoat, while undoubtedly having served their purpose in minimising these, were in the way now.

She took Helmine's right hand gently. "You can't move it? Can you feel this?" She pinched the pad of the index finger.

The left shoulder was cut; it wasn't serious, especially not judging by the way she had handled the dagger. The left arm had another cut just below the elbow on the inside, too, if the blood and tear on the coat was any indication. The same was true for the right outer thigh. The knuckles of both hands were raw, but nothing quite... explained the hand.

Helmine stared at it. "Can't." The shock didn't last much longer: the half-elf turned a devastating glare at the one with the punctured throat. She couldn't quite come up with the words this time. Her anger was just too thick and bright.

"How about here?" Siri asked, moving upwards. She intended to continue until she'd mapped the numb area.

She looked up in time to notice the object of Helmine's ire. "Did she do something suspicious? Anything that looked like poison or magic? Any of them?"

There was no entry wound on the hand or lower arm -- she'd been very attentive there -- and no venom she'd heard of started affecting the extremities when introduced elsewhere. The second possibility... wasn't ideal. She'd suggest dressing the injuries shortly, providing the numbness wasn't spreading.

The patient didn't respond verbally, but tensed slightly when Siri pinched her wrist. Essentially the entire hand was one numb, unmoving lump of flesh, bone and sinew. Helmine yanked the hand away the moment she felt the pinch, rubbing it with feelings of despair and anger.

"She is a witch, a common failure," Helmine said sullenly. The insult was a direct translation of one that wouldn't quite have gotten someone in a fight on her homeworld -- but almost. "And very suspicious. Show you, but... can't."

As it happened, it was "witch" that drew a reaction from Siri. This took the form of a sharp sniff.

Her voice, however, was even.

The healer pointed at the thigh wound, it being the closest. "First I want to treat these cuts. Then I'll look for signs of magic in the hand. I need the coat off, if you please."

Helmine didn't understand every word. She did the math instead, muttering something under her breath as she unbuttoned the remaining buttons of the coat (it had been closed, after all, before someone had tried to cut her across the chest) and slipped out of it. What she had underneath were dark blue and white clothes that mixed wool, rough fabric and a bit of soft leather. The cuts on her left arm were a bit more prominent -- in fact, the shoulder wound was a bit deeper than Helmine had expected (she gave the shoulder a look that said as much as "iiiinteresting").

Without any more comments, Helmine leaned her head against the tree and stared at the so-called doctor. A weak, smirk appeared on her face. The sharp sniff of Siri's had told a tale of its own to Helmine.