Snippet #2811815

The dark haired woman's sharp retort earned a frown and a roll of his eyes. "For someone who claims to not know me, you certainly have a lot of accusations and assumptions on who I am. Plus, the fact you seem to have magically figured out my name on the first try." He replied dryly. Adjusting his hands ever so carefully to ensure he still had a decent hold on their weapons as well as the sharp tongued huntress, he continued through the forest as the sun began to inch down towards the horizon.

As he carried her, Sverre noticed the woman looked considerably worse for wear than he had initially thought. "Idiot..." he muttered with a disbelieving shake of the head. She surely had a death wish if she dared venture out like this.


Managing to avoid the guards with almost alarming ease, Sverre finally reached the inn about an hour past sundown, give or take. He was spared opening the door, a patron heading out as he approached the door, causing a gasp from the man in question. "Thanks." He said as the stunned villager froze with the door still open.

The demon ignored the wondering gazes of the patrons currently downstairs, casting a glance for the bar maiden he had become acquainted with. Thankfully, he saw her carrying a pitcher of ale out for a rowdy group in the corner and managed to catch her eye as she passed.

"Oh my-"

"I'll be escorting the missus upstairs to my room. I know you're busy, but if you could spare a moment, I'd much appreciate a bowl of warm water and a wash rag. And maybe your help getting a doc in the morning if it isn't too much trouble" he interrupted, gracing the young woman with an apologetic smile.

"O-of course! Here, let me help you...and hold your horses Roland!"

Sverre was grateful to have the bar maid rush ahead of him and open his room, thus sparing him the need to adjust his hold or struggle more than he already was. "Thank you kindly, love. You've been such a great help since I came here." He said with a smile, all but dropping the weapons once he was two feet past the door. Finally he could put the woman down, being careful of her shoulder.

Once the bar maiden left, Sverre let out a long sigh, wiping the sweat from his brow. Even with the snow and beyond human strength and endurance, the trip back had been exhausting. She better not bitch at him for helping.

The huntress had drifted in and out of conciousness, and was currently passed out on his bed. Sverre shrugged off his cloak, then proceeded to slowly roll his 'patient' so she was partially on her side, good shoulder down. He bunched and tucked his cloak against the back of her torso, propping her up with the thick fabric so her back faced him and the injured shoulder was up and away from the bed. Next, he slowly undid the binding and padding he had used to stabilize the arrow in place. Now how was he to remove it?

Sverre looked at the woman's attire, trying to picture how on earth he'd get her shoulder exposed while removing as little clothing as possible. No matter how he looked, a solution did not present itself.

Oh.

Shit.

Letting out a sigh, he ran the fingers of one hand through his ebony hair, cursing under his breath. Dammit all, the only way he could even remotely imagine how to safely remove the arrow and tend to the wound with minimal disturbance would be to cut the fabric away. This was going to be fucking fantastic.

Groaning in frustration, Sverre took out a dagger as he slowly approached the huntress.

"Don't move or freak out on me. I'm gonna try and clean the wound. But I gotta see it first. No funny business, I just gotta cut it, you understand, right?" He warned, not sure if she was awake to hear him or not.

Not hearing any objection, Sverre took a deep breath and gripped the clothing, making sure to keep his hand in between the blade and the woman so he wouldn't cut her. Hesitating only a second, he gingerly held the fabric away from her skin and sliced the sleeve and collar open.

Despite the arrow and the drying blood he should have full focus on, Sverre instead froze as his gaze latched onto the woman's neck.

"E-Eilin?!" He stammered in disbelief, eyes wide and heart squeezing painfully in his chest. It couldn't be. She was dead. And yet...there was no way it could be anyone else...

On her neck was the hauntingly familiar tattoo his dearest friend had acquired as a child. A wolf- -her guardian symbol. He sat frozen, task momentarily forgotten. His hands shook even as he moved them away from her, not daring to believe it. Was he perhaps hallucinating? Projecting? He touched the tattoo with the index finger on his free hand, confirming this person was real. He drew it back, trembling even more now as realization washed over him.

What he had assumed was a cruel cosmic joke in the form of a look alike WAS actually his best friend. A friend he had until now believed to be dead.

"Eilin..."