Lorielle quickly began sweeping handfuls of clean water over the man's arm, rinsing his skin numerous times. Â After a while of careful rinsing, she began using the sleeve of her tunic to soak in water and scrub the man's skin clean. Â The toxin was taking effect quickly, and in just a few moments, he would faint. Â If he wasn't treated soon, well, Lorielle wouldn't let that happen.
After rinsing and scrubbing his face clean as well, she ripped her satchel from her belt and dumped out its contents. Â The small book of her sketches, a needle and thread, a pouch of what sounded like coins, and two small vials. Â She scooped up one of the vials, removing the cork and grabbing Clavier's clean arm. Â She doused the skin with the antidote, rubbing it in all over his arm, up to his neck, and along the side of his face.
She leaned back and sighed, the heat taking its toll as well as the sudden amount of work she had to do. Â Her hair was falling from its braided halo, loose strands sticking to her face and neck. Â She regathered her meager belongings into her satchel, tying it back onto her belt. Â Then she stood up, scooping the man up from under his arms. Â She was not nearly strong enough to carry him, but she wanted to get him back into the caravan where he would be safer.
She began to drag him, being careful not to scratch him across the sand. Â She would pause in between pulling, catching her breath for the next bit if lugging. Â When she made it to the caravan, she was uncertain how to get him up and into a seat. Â Then she saw Tobias return, chocobo in hand. Â She could have sighed, relieved, but she was far too tired and worried.
"Tobias," she called out softly, her word coming out in a tired breath, "Could you help me lift him into the cart?" Â Her bright turquoise eyes looked different, as if the wild passion she had before was beginning to dim. Â She still had her hands beneath the man's arms, trying to be as gentle as possible while not letting go.
Then she noticed the blood trickling from behind the black-haired Hyur's hand. Â If she could catch a glimpse of what he had done to try and stop the bleeding, she would have possibly fainted.
"Tobias," she said again, but this time with extreme worry, and clear disappointment in herself. Â She should have stopped him and healed him before he went out searching for the chocobo. Â Now she feared what might be festering behind the soiled scrap of tunic he was using to shield it.
After rinsing and scrubbing his face clean as well, she ripped her satchel from her belt and dumped out its contents. Â The small book of her sketches, a needle and thread, a pouch of what sounded like coins, and two small vials. Â She scooped up one of the vials, removing the cork and grabbing Clavier's clean arm. Â She doused the skin with the antidote, rubbing it in all over his arm, up to his neck, and along the side of his face.
She leaned back and sighed, the heat taking its toll as well as the sudden amount of work she had to do. Â Her hair was falling from its braided halo, loose strands sticking to her face and neck. Â She regathered her meager belongings into her satchel, tying it back onto her belt. Â Then she stood up, scooping the man up from under his arms. Â She was not nearly strong enough to carry him, but she wanted to get him back into the caravan where he would be safer.
She began to drag him, being careful not to scratch him across the sand. Â She would pause in between pulling, catching her breath for the next bit if lugging. Â When she made it to the caravan, she was uncertain how to get him up and into a seat. Â Then she saw Tobias return, chocobo in hand. Â She could have sighed, relieved, but she was far too tired and worried.
"Tobias," she called out softly, her word coming out in a tired breath, "Could you help me lift him into the cart?" Â Her bright turquoise eyes looked different, as if the wild passion she had before was beginning to dim. Â She still had her hands beneath the man's arms, trying to be as gentle as possible while not letting go.
Then she noticed the blood trickling from behind the black-haired Hyur's hand. Â If she could catch a glimpse of what he had done to try and stop the bleeding, she would have possibly fainted.
"Tobias," she said again, but this time with extreme worry, and clear disappointment in herself. Â She should have stopped him and healed him before he went out searching for the chocobo. Â Now she feared what might be festering behind the soiled scrap of tunic he was using to shield it.
