Snippet #1300018

Matt was apparently enough out of it that he couldn't hear her, for he did not respond immediately to her queries. Biting her bottom lip, Myr ventured over to Kain stack of supplies, sorting through what she needed with the aid of her sense of smell, really the most useful one in instances like these. Taking a couple containers of assorted salves for deadening pain and disinfecting, she straightened Matt's crumpled form so that she might decide if any of his limbs were broken.

It certainly appeared that someone had done a number on one of his arms, and she debated the relative merits of splints versus slings before deciding that what Kain was saying pointed to the need for mobility. A sling for now, then. Checking him over for other cuts or wounds that might be evidenced by tears in clothing, she slathered these in slaves before wrapping them with bandages. The fact that he was either not awake to help or too exhausted to made the task at times difficult, but she managed it. Using some excess bandage, she fashioned a makeshift sling to hopefully keep his arm away from further damage.

"There you go," she told him quietly, before next spotting Mark. "Ah, Mark; do you need me to look at that arm?" It was clear that the cut was fairly severe, and she knew that treating such a thing one-handed would not be easy.

Kain was tying up Shadow; she wasn't exactly certain how she felt about that. Obviously, it was a necessary precaution; it would not do to have him wake up and attempt to kill someone because whatever that Roda I'l Lousta was had not left him yet, but... he had not escaped without some injuries himself... or at least she thought he hadn't. It would be impossible to tell if any of that blood was his without looking more closely.

"So he's going to be okay, then? This... blood lust, it stops after a time?" Myr's expression was one of undisguised worry. Kain had seemed to imply that it would disappear, but she wanted to be sure. As for the implication that she needed to take care of herself, that could wait until everyone else was patched up. She knew well enough how to deal with her own injuries, and they were certainly less grave than Matt's predicament or Mark's arm. Still, she pulled an leaf from one of her pouches and chewed it, not fond of the bitter flavor, but then again painkillers rarely tasted pleasant.