With an eager huff, Rae took the fabric and quickly unrolled it as she hurried towards the door. She was equally glad to be of help and have something to busy herself with, and Ven could appreciate not having her hanging over him at the moment.
That relief was short-lived.
"Wait -- what?" He looked from the ball of fabric he'd been given, to the knife in her hand, to Terra herself. It took a couple heartbeats for it to click. "Wait--!" He tried to shift, about to pass it off and insist that he could deal with the injury as it was -- but even that small movement felt like hot iron was being twisted inside his leg. He bit back a cry, turning it into a growl, and only because he knew the enemy soldiers were still around.
Ven looked down at the exposed injury, a mess of blood and ragged skin. It looked -- and felt -- worse than any physical wound he'd ever received, which was hardly surprising. As it was now, he wouldn't be able to walk, at least not by himself. He had no idea if removing the bullet would help all that much, but he trusted Terra. Removing it certainly couldn't make his leg any more useless at this point, and he couldn't ask her to keep dragging him along. The clock was ticking and time wasn't on their side. As sheltered as he'd been for so long, he knew what would happen if the soldiers caught them unawares like this. They would die, no doubt about it.
Even with that logic in mind, Ven hesitated. This was new, too new, all of it -- the setting, the situation, the threat, this level of pain and the awful decision he had to make, and now--
He was scared, plain and simple. But he trusted Terra.
That was why, after a tense few seconds, Ven nodded stiffly. "O...kay." He sounded more confident than he felt, which wasn't much. As he said it, he quickly leaned back, gaze resolutely on the ceiling as he bit down into the fabric in his fist. He was barely aware of the bland taste.
blood cw for anyone who might be following aha.....
That relief was short-lived.
"Wait -- what?" He looked from the ball of fabric he'd been given, to the knife in her hand, to Terra herself. It took a couple heartbeats for it to click. "Wait--!" He tried to shift, about to pass it off and insist that he could deal with the injury as it was -- but even that small movement felt like hot iron was being twisted inside his leg. He bit back a cry, turning it into a growl, and only because he knew the enemy soldiers were still around.
Ven looked down at the exposed injury, a mess of blood and ragged skin. It looked -- and felt -- worse than any physical wound he'd ever received, which was hardly surprising. As it was now, he wouldn't be able to walk, at least not by himself. He had no idea if removing the bullet would help all that much, but he trusted Terra. Removing it certainly couldn't make his leg any more useless at this point, and he couldn't ask her to keep dragging him along. The clock was ticking and time wasn't on their side. As sheltered as he'd been for so long, he knew what would happen if the soldiers caught them unawares like this. They would die, no doubt about it.
Even with that logic in mind, Ven hesitated. This was new, too new, all of it -- the setting, the situation, the threat, this level of pain and the awful decision he had to make, and now--
He was scared, plain and simple. But he trusted Terra.
That was why, after a tense few seconds, Ven nodded stiffly. "O...kay." He sounded more confident than he felt, which wasn't much. As he said it, he quickly leaned back, gaze resolutely on the ceiling as he bit down into the fabric in his fist. He was barely aware of the bland taste.