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Post by kawaiideadpool on Jul 9, 2017 20:03:43 GMT -6
Idiots, the Lot of Ya.
Hawke | Barun.
kawaiideadpool | disturbedcoyote
Hawke has had it with the attitudes of the Raiders. When her most reoccurring patient, Barun, decides that he has had enough of her 'loving' care, Hawke takes it upon herself to chase him down and give him a piece of her mind. After all, that wound of his is more than just a scratch.
Time of Day: Mid-Day.
Timeline: Post Chapter III
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Post by kawaiideadpool on Jul 9, 2017 20:12:13 GMT -6
Hawke
War-Forged | Medic
Her wings feel as if they are to ruffle up in annoyance as she puffs her chest out- men. More specifically the Raiders. Her fourth patient of the day has taken it upon himself to nearly push her out of the way with her heavy built body as he practically screeches that he doesn't need her playing 'nurse' over him and that his deep wound is a-okay. She has half a mind to chase him down and demand that he sits still so she can piece together his gaping wound, but doesn't say anything. Instead, she hopes that his wound becomes infected in the next couple of days- then maybe, just maybe, he will respect her as a medical professional. Sticking her tongue out like a child, she watches as he disappears from her sight, "Idiot."
She barely has time to turn and gather her tools and other various things with the next unwilling patient make his way into her small tent- and by the look on his face, he is about as ecstatic to be here as the one before him. But this time, she recognizes the face. Barun. He's been in here a couple of times before, his scars are hard to miss- she has a quick thought of maybe if he got better care, he wouldn't be covered in them. She tries to smooth down her feathers as she cocks her head to the side, "Are you actually going to hang around long enough for me to fix you up?" She quizzes, raising an eyebrow up at him as she waits for his response- even though she is very aware that the answer will more than likely be no.
[WC: 282]
tags:disturbedcoyote
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Post by disturbedcoyote on Jul 10, 2017 14:16:14 GMT -6
Barun
War-Forged | Raider
“Captain… don’t fight us. It looks bad It needs to be stitched.” “The fuck it does…” The snarl was a deep rasp thick with anger that masked pain all too well. “For fuck's sake Barun…” His Quartermaster chided as he led the small band of stallions towards the medic’s tent. “Every time you get injured it’s like this… we have to herd you into that damn medic and force you to let her take care of you. If it were any other mare or situation you’d be relishing in a woman’s attention.” Barun snapped him an enraged look. “Look I’ll I’m saying is just let her do her job and you can be done with it all and can get back to the Ranger as soon as she’s ready to sail again. I can handle the supplying and shit. Kaia knows I’ve watched you go through the process a million damn times.” Barun did not speak further. Instead, he let the four stallions force him to head to the medic’s tent. There was nothing left he could do. They would fight him for the sake of keeping him alive. And even if Barun knew he could handle his own damn self he would at least let them think he would bend to their request. The second they left him alone he’d be out of that damned tent faster than he could draw steel and iron. He had no desire to be cared for like he was some child. Moreover the last time he let some woman patch his wounds… He shoved the idea from his mind and glares as he skulked forward. He didn’t answer the mare, somewhere he remembered her name but he didn’t care to try and dig it out of his mind. “Captain Barun needs a wound stitched, and don’t let him leave without it. He’s been on board ship for seven days without being able to properly care for it. We kept the edges fresh, cleaned and kept it bandaged but we had nothing sterile to stitch it closed with. It’s fairly deep.” His Quartermaster led the conversation as though he was in charge. This only garnered a look of rage from the Captain that caused the other three stallions to fall back. A slow sigh was given and his Quartermaster turned. “Captain… don’t fight her… please.” Barun gave an ungodly growl of a sound and like his crewmates, the Quartermaster took his cue to get out before the pirate lost his control on his temper. The fierce blue glare locked on that of the mare. For a moment he did not say anything as her question hung in the air before he came about a full half turn. The deep cut was now visible, a deep sword wound to his left shoulder that was both bloodied and raw. His coat was caked in the dried blood that had flowed from the wound and it was clear now he favored his other side in an attempt to avoid pain. “Go find someone else to play doctor with… it’s just a scratch. It will heal fine and I don’t need some mare tellin’ me otherwise.” The vicious snarl was spoken before he started out of the tent with intention of leaving her and her medical knowledge behind. --- POST: 1WORD COUNT: 550kawaiideadpool we row beneath the black flag |
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Post by kawaiideadpool on Jul 10, 2017 14:39:15 GMT -6
Hawke
War-Fogred | Medic
If looks could kill both would be dead on the floor at this point, cause Hawke was able to match his look of utter disgust with one of her own. Her stone cold face falters at the sight of his crew members- they all seemed concerned for him, and here was their captain looking as if he would rather go about with an infected wound than getting the proper care he needed for it. A drawn out groan slips by her lips when he doesn't answer her- what did she expect? That's the attitude she got from most of the Raiders that came into her tent. Most wouldn't even stand in her presence for this long, but she was sure that it was only the presence of his crew that kept him standing inside for as long as he has.
And just like she thought, as soon as the crew leaves their Captain in her care, he goes off on the same spill she gets from every other hard-headed mane. Oh, why couldn't they be more like the Valkyries? Her head snapped back at his words, a permanent grimace on her face as she listened to him spit out his words like some temperamental child. No good raiders, the thought rushes through her mind quickly as she watches him turn his back to her. "Just a scratch. I don't need you and your dumb life-saving medicine," She mocks his voice by lowering it a few levels, "Bloody idiots." This sharp pain shoots through her head, and this loud groan slips past her lips as she stalks out of her tent after him- her feathers are ruffled and her eye is twitching in this strange manner than it makes her look as if she's lost her mind.
"Hey!" It leaves her lips in a loud scream. Oh, she was sure even the gods could hear her yell after him. Hawke was sick and tired of being treated like she didn't spend all those years studying medicine and other herbal potions, and by Kaia, she wasn't going to let her another patient walk his merry little way out of her tent without getting a piece of her mind. "If you want to join the missing leg club, I will be more than happy to let your leg get infected!" She clinks her prosthetic on a nearby rock for added affect. Of course, she was being a little overdramatic, his wound wasn't that far gone that it would result in losing limbs or anything of the sort.
She's taken a few larger steps to get her body in position right in front of him- not like he would stop either way, but she wasn't going to let him go without a fight. Her eyebrows go down into a grimace as she pins her ears back against her neck, "Now get your ass back to my tent."
[WC: 486]
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Post by disturbedcoyote on Jul 11, 2017 13:58:07 GMT -6
Barun
War-Forged | Raider
Ears laced against his skull, pinned flat and hidden among the thick, beachy waves of umber hair. Rage and fire burned in those blue eyes, a storm raging within the blue hues and his face darkening like clouds on a storm-tossed sea. The canvas of his hide was pulled tight across his frame. Tightly coiled and wound sinew and muscles shifting with every step, a flowing work of scarred art. And even now he kept his weight off his leg. He hid the pain on his face but he could not hide the fact he was favoring the wounded leg. It was too much to put weight onto it if he wanted to keep the pain from showing on his face. But he was set in his ways. Determined to escape the mare and get free of any kind of care from her. It was not out of dislike of her but his past coming to eat at his mind anytime he let any mare near wounds he had received, no matter how bad. So to simply sum up the problem it was not the medic mare but his own stubborn pride and his experiences before her that were the heart of the problem. And thus he did not even look back when her words split the mid-day air. Other horses stopped in their tracks. They looked to the medic and watched her only to set eyes on the pirate who was ignoring her despite her intent on getting his attention. He kept moving. But the fact was he could not move at the speed he was accustomed to at the moment. She overtook him. And in a rage he snarled and snapped teeth at her, daring her to get closer than she was. What part of this don’t yeh fuckin’ get? I don’t need anyone takin’ care of me. I don’t give a damn who yeh are.” He snarled and pushed past her only to stumble slightly. His leg screamed and shot pain through his shoulder as the caked scab was split open. “Fuck…” It was barely a whisper, his ears pinned to his skull as he gathered himself and once more started moving. Pain shot through his shoulder and he pulled a tight firm grimace over his features and forced himself forward. The stumbling had perhaps been the mistake. The error that caused pain to rear its ugly head. It burned hot and blood was beginning to seep from the cracked scab. He pulled himself to a halt, ears pinned as he stood there. She was watching. Everyone was watching. An ungodly sound of displeasure broke from his chest and he once more came about a full one hundred and eighty degrees. “Let’s get thick fuckin’ over with.” He whispered not saying anything beyond that as he started back toward the tent, favoring the leg far more heavily now. He said nothing more. He was angry. Angry and in pain. And furthermore, humiliated about this whole situation. If he had been able to keep walking the other way he would have. But his body was objecting violently and even Barun, despite his stubborn streak, knew he was going to make the wound worse. At the very least he could get something for the pain. Some sort of potion or salve would be welcome. Damn this woman. He threw a look back over his shoulder, his glare still set on his face. He half wondered if it was her determination that really convinced him. Most didn’t try to fight him. Or maybe there was something else. He shoved the idea aside and kept moving, turning his attention forward once more.” --- POST: 2WORD COUNT: 610kawaiideadpool we row beneath the black flag |
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Post by kawaiideadpool on Jul 11, 2017 20:48:04 GMT -6
Hawke
War-Forged | Medic
There's a small moment that she feels a shocked expression wash across her face- she hadn't expected her attempts to even work. But she can attest her success to the fact that his leg looks to be hindering him more than he expected. She glances over at him, studying his scars that have probably been left over from his life at the sea, or that's what she is going to tell herself. Her own blue eyes clash with his and she finds herself darting her gaze away and down to his wound.
She lets out a soft cough to compose herself. Hawke quickly straightens out her back and returns her expression to that of a stone-cold poker face. "No need for all the cursing, Captain," She hums, watching as he limps on his bad leg. She had to give credit to him for trying to keep a brave face on- after all, from what she could see, his wound hadn't been given the best care and treatment. She rolls her shoulders back and wonders how they flushed his wound- surely that had some form of clean whatever on their ship. At the thought of germ-filled water washing through his wound made her shutter and she quickly tried to force back the thought.
There's a split second, just a tiny little second, she felt bad for the small smirk she felt creep onto her face as she watched him try to support his weight on his aching limb. Serves him right, she thinks as she fights back to chuckle that is resting on the tip of her tongue, just waiting to come out in a sudden outburst- but his submission to agreeing to let her poke and prod him with needle and thread was enough for her.
Watching him with an eyebrow raised up in wonder- she could never quite understand why the Raiders were so particular about the medics just trying to do their jobs when it came to patching them up after major battles or accidents. Blue eyes framed by deep brown feathers are watching him intently as she tries to size up what she is getting herself into by chasing him down. Barun, she knew his name- particularly because she had seen him a few times before and he was just as stubborn and hard headed as ever. "Come on, Barun," She hums, finding it a little bit more comforting to address others by their names- even if he wouldn't do the same for her, Hawke was too proud in herself to stoop down to a level like that. She taps her brown wing up against his good side, being rather mindful of his wound as she steps around him- not looking back over her shoulder as she takes small steps towards her small medical tent.
She listens to the soft clink of her prosthetic clicking up against various rocks with each step she took. Hawke half expects him to turn tail and try to run from her once again, but there's this little voice in the back of her head saying that she doesn't necessarily have to worry about that.
Not to mention he wouldn't get very far even if he tried.
WC: 537
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