Sprout in the Cracks [Elijah/Remus]

[Elijah]

It was a terrible sound, the dreadful ring of a man who wailed in agony. Even through the thick wooden walls of a barn, the pained cries were enough to give the nearby townspeople a chill through their spines. Especially the young ones. One could only imagine how the sound would daunt even the bravest, hardened of men to hear it up close.

“I'm here, I'm here. Easy now...try to save your strength.”

Unfortunately for Elijah, he was one of the few to be in that position. He knelt before a man, propped up on a makeshift bed placed against the wall of the barn. Eli carried a bucket of water and a basket of bandages with a dry cloth atop of them, generously given by concerned townspeople from the village near the barn. Carefully, Elijah pulled the blanket off of the man's leg. He didn't even wince at the gruesome gash that had torn up the poor man's calf.

He'd...seen worse injuries in his time. Far more gruesome, far more cruel, and definitely more fatal. On top of that he'd seen injuries on a similar scale to this one many times over. Still, the discolouring around the wounded flesh was enough to make his stomach churn. Ordinarily only weapons tipped in some foul poison would leave a man's flesh looking like it had rotted in such a short span of time.

“I'm going to run some water over it with a cloth. Its been boiled, but its not too hot. Its preliminary cleaning.” Elijah spoke in a kind voice. He made sure to try and keep eye contact with the man, both to reassure him and to keep track on whether or not he was still conscious. The man's eyes had been shut tight to help him endure the pain, but he managed to open them to signal that he heard Elijah's voice. “I've got some for you to drink as well. You'll need it.”

Indeed, Elijah had also been given a tankard full of good water, which he had set next to the bandages and bucket. He lifted the tankard up and walked closer to where the man's head rested. Carefully, he brought the tankard to his lips and lightly poured water to man's lips. Eagerly the man drank it, as he balanced heavy breaths with borderline desperate gulps. “Tap the bed when you want me to stop.” Elijah stated, as he continued to allow the wounded man to drink.

After a few moments passed the man tapped the side of the bed, and Elijah pulled the tankard away. “Thank you...” The man's voice was hoarse and strained from his earlier screams. It was only a matter of time before his wound throbbed, and drew those same wails out from him once more.

Elijah gave the man a compassionate smile and nodded before he set the tankard down. As he moved to dab the cloth in the boiled water, a woman who had been attending to another wounded man had approached him from behind.

“I sent my daughter into town once more. We don't have any gifted healers here, but I want her to keep an eye out for anyone that could help.” She sounded tired, exasperated. "It gives her some time away from here, as well. No child should have to see wounds like this..." She had been running the barn as a makeshift infirmary since dawn, from what Elijah had heard. He'd only arrived a couple of hours before hand, the pained wailing enough for him to dismount the carriage that he had been traveling in and investigate.

Elijah didn't regret his decision at all. He was more than happy to help.

“And what about you?”

The brunette woman blinked at Elijah's question but gave no reply, so he continued; “You've been at it since the sun rose.”

“I'm...my sister is a member of the clergy. Nobody else in town knows enough to-”

Elijah shook his head as he began to dab the damp cloth against the wounded man's gash. “Even if only for an hour, ma'am, it'd be good for you to close your eyes. Get some rest. Send anyone willing and able in your place and I'll do my best to guide them. I'm no healer, but this isn't the first time I've had to clean and tend to wounds.”

The woman took a moment to let Elijah's words soak in, before she shook her head. “I appreciate that, and everything else you've done Elijah. But I'm fine, really. I'm just going to step out to...” She bit her lip before she continued. “Grab some flint, and a torch.”

Mhm. Boiled water alone wouldn't do for the wound this man had, or his wounded brother for that matter either. They were already infected and as far as Elijah knew, in the absence of a good staff and a better healer, heat and flame killed infection best. Before it spread and the poor man had to lose his entire leg. They couldn't let it come to that.

“All right. I'll be here, keeping an eye on them. Take care Mary.” Elijah spoke as the woman, Mary, left the barn in a hurry.

[Remus]

Lycia was starting to blend together for him. Tania had led to Khathlet, which had led to Araphen which had led to Laus which led to-wait, where was he? So much of Lycia looked like the exact same chunk of land, with the environment just blending between forests and hills and grassy forests and hills and slightly less grassy forests and hills and the occasional flatland stretch that he wasn't quite sure what really separated each territory. It was like a less barren Etruria landscape wise, and he wasn't entirely positive that he could understand the need to divide the territories like they had been. he'd just assumed each one was diverse in their own special ways geographically. As if Sacae had been divided into prefectures or provinces. That didn't stop the priests wanderings even if they were absent ones. With him simply trying to find a solid concentration of population so that he might have, for once, a good sense of direction and a good line of navigation to follow for once.

Such was not his luck as he was found wandering off the beaten path once more. A small town here. A village there, all off the main roads leading through Lycia's winding territories. Maybe the well networked inner structure of Etruria had just spoiled him over the years, and he'd have to acclimate to Lycia's less friendly navigation. Or...maybe he just sucked at navigating. That was possible too. Even so, the priest was sitting atop the small wagon pulled by the ever reliable steed Amelia and Owain had picked out from the beginning of their venture. Thusly named by the two, the steadfast charger Dragon-Hero-Horse was steadily pulling the priests cart as he traversed the small dirt path. Another small town his destination for the eve. The Priest clad in all too comfortable and familiar blue robes, the cloth of the faith and the symbols of the church not even remotely hidden. Thyrus was nestled between the crook of his legs and propped against his shoulder as he held the reigns slack in one hand.

At first all he heard was the steady canter of the steeds hooves and the churning of wheels on dirt and rock. The wooden grating of the wagon jostling from time to time. Then another sound began to draw his attention. As the distance shortened, the pained wails drew his notice. Had he been anyone else he might've tried to ignore it. Unfortunately for any semblance of privacy, he was Remus, and Remus meant helping in some long lost language he was sure; unable to ignore as he was it was in this direction that he began to guide the cart. Remus did not make any effort to tune out the sounds but instead tried to gauge them. The Priest moved closer and as he neared the barn, he tugged at the reigns to steady the horse, scrambling somewhat clumsily from the wagon with a slight stumble. Pulling his staff from it at the end of this gesture, he turned to lean against the barn door, wrapping at it with his pale knuckles a few times before quietly speaking up. Not one to barge in but instead gauge and try to respect any notion of privacy maintained by a closed door.

"Er...is everyone okay in there? It sounds as if a person or persons within are distressed. Might I be of assistance?"

[Elijah]

The agony that wracked both men seemed to have dulled for the moment. It came to them in waves, sometimes short and sometimes long. From what Elijah knew of medicine and injury, it could be the rot or venom or...whatever fetid touch left behind by their reanimated assailants, as it slowly spread through their leg. Most likely it was simple infection – even before the dead had begun to rise, no sane man strayed too close to a rotted corpse.

Either way they'd been through a great ordeal, and needed their rest - especially with what was to come next, if a proper healer could not be found. So Elijah had carefully backed away to the wall opposite the cots the men rested on. He had sat himself on an overturned bucket as he watched them carefully, ready to leap to their side should they need it.

Of course, even the silence had been deafening. Elijah felt good about what he was doing, yet worries and guilt nicked away within, at the deepest recesses of his mind, just sharply enough that he could not ignore it outright. What if, somewhere, Astraea suffered from a similar wound. With no healer, or anyone, to take care of her. They were possibilities Elijah did not focus on, but possibilities all the same.

Would it make a difference for him to abandon these people in need, though? When his daughter may or may not need him to search faster?

Only time would tell. That ate away at him the most.

"Er...is everyone okay in there? It sounds as if a person or persons within are distressed. Might I be of assistance?"

A knock at the barn doors had drawn him from his grim thoughts, though. A voice called out from beyond them, one that seemed curious and stated that they wished to assist. Had Mary found help? Or perhaps her daughter, Josephine, had found a priest to send instead. Elijah got to his feet and strode over to the barn doors. He gripped a latch and pulled one of the doors open wider and sure enough, he saw a young man of cloth on the other end.

“You may, father...or brother. Thank you.” Elijah smiled and stepped aside, so that the apparent priest could see the wounded. Personal details were secondary, so instead Elijah walked towards the two cots as he spoke. “These men were scarred by the claws of the undead. Neither of the wounds are fatal in of themselves, the one nearest to us has a gash on his leg and his brother next to him two slashes across his back. We fear that they'd grown infected, though, and...well, I'm hopeful you'll have a better alternative to what we were prepared to do.”

Cauterizing a wound was never pleasant for anyone involved.

“Please, I'd ask that you see their wounds and do what you can for them. I'm prepared to help however I can.”

[Remus]

"You may, father...or brother."

How long had it been since he'd heard that noise? The Priest quietly entered as the smiling man stepped aside. His gaze moving in self direction as he gazed to the wounded. The scent had given away the presence of injuries really. The human body wasn't known for it's pleasant fragrances when injured. Especially grievous wounds. It'd become something the Ilian campaign had well acquainted him with. His expression stained with worry as the priest saw two however, if not from the severeness of the wounds, but the source. It was no mystery that Lycia was burdened with an overwhelming presence of beasts and undead. A true horror. He'd encountered them enough to dislike them but not often enough to have suffered under their ever looming threat. To that end the priest felt a wave of sympathy wash over him and clutched Thyrus closer as he took longer strides to the two injured men. Quiet at first, while quickly glancing at the man who's leg had been severely injured. Inspecting it. Examining. Quietly he looked to the other man's twin gashes which had run the side length of his back.

Lacerations were both simple and complex. The depth made them difficult. The priest turned to the golden haired male who had let him in. Quietly lifting his left hand to gesture while he tried to guide and focus his thoughts. "It may be easiest, if we alternate. If I can lessen the wounds individually they will become easier to mend with additional ministrations and it won't take as much toll by either. From here, we'll need water. I'll start with this leg though.
I'll need someone to apply pressure above and beneath it so I can focus on just the wound without much motion." To this, his gaze drifted back to the leg. Lapis hair messily clinging to his forehead as he tried to collect his thoughts, expressions easily conveyed while he clutched his staff and inhaled sharply. Well. Time to get to work.

[Elijah]

Elijah watched quietly as the priest examined the two wounded men. He hadn't been panicked or stressed before, yet all the same he was relieved. Perhaps a bit too soon – the healer had yet to make any sort of determination regarding the welfare of the two men, but Elijah had always been optimistic. He preferred to believe that they could save these men and finally ease their agony. Once that was done...Eli would take it upon himself to clear the area of these fiends. Keep the town and its people safe, at least for a while.

But that was for later. For the moment the wounded brothers still needed his aid.

Having completed his inspections the priest was quick to lay out a plan. This was good, he got right to the point. Even if the wounds were not immediately fatal time was still of the essence. “I've got a bucket of boiled water. If we need more I should be able to send for more.” Mary had yet to return. Perhaps she'd taken up on his suggestion of rest. She truly needed it.

“As for pressure, I can manage that much.” Elijah walked close to the brother with the wounded leg. The one mistake he'd made is a failure in obtaining their names...there would be time for that. It helped to establish familiarity and humanize people when you were treating their wounds in some way. It could put their minds and hearts at ease, if only a little bit. For the moment Elijah placed his hands above and below the laceration. Again, this was not his first time applying pressure to a wound, and pray as he would it would surely not be his last.

“Whenever you're ready.” Elijah looked at the priest. Another name he didn't have yet.