Snippet #2811829

Despite her strong resolve, eventually Eilin did react vocally. Her strangled cry of pain caused Sverre's heart to clench painfully, worry in his cool eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm almost done Eilin, hold on..." he said as he worked.

Despite knowing Eilin's lack of patience, the man was still startled when she yanked the shaft free as soon as he told her it was safe to do so. The painful cry was even worse than the last one, and it took considerable effort to not try and give her a soothing hug. He had to be mindful of the injury.

"Easy. Let me clean it first, ok?" Sverre grabbed one of the wash cloths and folded it several times before pressing it to the wound as it started to bleed again. He felt a small bubble of relief that it wasn't gushing or spraying. Not a fatal shot at least.

He kept steady pressure on her shoulder for roughly two to three minutes before cautiously pulling the cloth away. Placing the bloody cloth aside, he dipped the next one in the bowl of warm water, wringing out the excess moisture. Tentatively, he dabbed as gingerly as he could around the wound, cleaning it as best he knew how.

Eilin's voice was weak when she spoke, causing the demons brows to furrow slightly. She sounded sure, but she was clearly not well. "Shhh. Don't force yourself." He began. Glancing at his friend's face, he mentally took note of her features in a new light. Yes. This was definitely her, just grown up. He found himself thinking she had aged well. Her head rolled to the side, and yet her hair clung to her skin from the sweat. He'd have to get a cool cloth in a few minutes. Without even thinking about it, Sverre brushed aside her bangs and loose strands of hair as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"That may be so...but I think I'm gonna fetch the local doc just the same. You look like you could use one." Sverre replied, his tone suggesting that he wasn't going to take 'no' as an answer.