Snippet #2811825

Sverre's musings about the arrowhead only confirmed her suspicion. It was difficult for her to place it, with dried blood now coating the tip, but she had been drawing the same conclusion right before he spoke. Still, it didn't prevent him receiving an eye roll and a soft "No shit..." in return as Eilin impatiently waited for the rest of the forsaken object to be removed. Unfortunately for her, her ever-so-helpful demon elected to take the long-way around the problem of removing the arrow carefully lest it leave any wooden shards behind in her shoulder. It was a move that severely irritated her. She simply wanted it done with. Yet the more logical side of her mind knew that Sverre was right and so she didn't give him too hard of a time as he secured the arrow and went at the back of it.

"Just... make it quick," was all she bit out. Her head was swimming, she felt like she got trampled on by an elephant, and the stabbing pain of the arrow being handled did not make the day any better. She idly wondered if under Sverre's bustling demeanor he was secretly enjoying this even as she held herself braced, breathing through the unyielding pain. It was like trying to breath through a wet rag, labored and heavy as all breath seemed to be sucked out of her.

The final snag of the tail of the arrow coming free shot a sharp pain into her, causing her to finally lose the battle with herself. She gave a short strangled cry, but did nothing more to stop him from doing what was needed. She only hoped that it was almost over.

That was when Sverre deemed his more careful shaping of the back of the arrow clean enough to be pulled through.

No sooner had the words left his lips than she had a hold of the splintered end in her own grasp, giving a firm tug to pull it through and free with such a pitiful cry that she hated herself for even being capable of making the noise. Later on, she would only hope that the strength it took to pull the thing out was enough to offset the weakness she felt in that moment.

Impatience. That had always been one of Eilin's star qualities when dealing with anything she didn't like even as a mere child. That much seemed to not have changed in the least.

As she eased back, her breath heaving to try and catch up to reality, she shakily allowed her muscles to begin relaxing. It was out. The rest would be easier to deal with. Physically, anyway.

"They botched it," she spoke weakly, tilting her head to try and shake some of the hair out of her face. In a way, she was glad it had hid the worst of her pained expressions, but she was sweating now and strands of hair were sticking to her forehead where she did not want it.

"The poison. It's meant to disorient. It was a bad batch," she clarified after a moment of gathering her breathing. "Not lethal." She just needed a good day's rest. How did she know this? Let us just say that she had been on the giving end of one of these black-market screw-ups before.

Another quality that had not changed since her childhood days? The remarkable way of how she could fall into a chat with Sverre as if no time had passed. This particular moment could be attributed to her weakened state and swimming mind, no doubt the huntress would be on her guard the moment she had enough rest.