except you, my love.

how the fuck do you trim reblogs for replies nowadays

"Never said you didn't," she mumbles under her breath, moving to push herself up into a sitting position on the bed, something that took a bit more effort than she'd like. Any attempt at being helped up is met with a quiet push as she settles herself into an upright position.

As overbearing as it is right now, Anna can't really fault him for the heightened level of concern – she did just collapse in the middle of town, after all. It almost came out of nowhere, like it tends to when the Exsphere attached to her decides to take a little bit more of her than it should, and it wasn't long after she felt the telltale aura that she, briefly, lost consciousness. So, naturally, they came straight back to the inn they were at before any more attention could be drawn to them.

A tourniquet is a last resort; it causes more pain the original injury and cuts off the blood supply to the limb underneath. It should only be used in extreme circumstances to prevent a person bleeding out.

This, he knows. It’s been drummed into him by every medical professional who has ever endeavoured to refresh his memory of field medicine/first aid.

It’s one thing to know it. It’s another to experience it.

Unhelpfully, his body jerks as it’s pulled taut. Mortifyingly, he can’t quite stifle a grunt of pain. He looks away from her, head hanging to the side as he takes a moment to catch his breath and banish the shame. One of those things is more difficult than the other.

Anna is looking at him. Her voice seems further than it should, further than he wants. She’s blurred, fuzzy around the edges. He wishes that she wasn’t. She isn’t smiling either. He wishes that she was. She seems to be looking at him the kind of grim expression he no doubt deserves.

Perhaps if he closes his eyes…

No. He knows better. Anna deserves better. Yes, Anna. Whom he was supposed to be assisting. Anna, who has just asked him a question.

What next?

Stop the bleeding. Stop the bleeding. He’ll be fine. But he’s not entirely sure how to keep it stopped without healing artes and those seem far away right now. Also forbidden.

What next? Well, if he had two arms, life would be much better.

Still panting, he takes hold of the belt at its base and gives it an extra tug.

Gritting his teeth, he tries to squint Anna’s face into focus. “Thanks…Sorry you had to…”

He trails off, shifting his damaged arm and extricating it fully from the bloodied cloak. “Can you wrap this? I’ve got… another belt… if it needs it.”

She presses down on his leg as he jerks, trying to keep it as still as possible while keeping the belt taut. Once she’s satisfied it’ll hold, she relents the control of belt to him.

Anna lets out a short laugh as he apologizes, shaking her head as she moves to get a better angle for his arm. “Nothing to be sorry about.” Another dig through the pack and she gets bandages out, along with that lemon gel that she had slipped back in. 

She takes his arm, gently moving it while still giving him quiet apologies because she knows that has to hurt. She starts using the bandage, trying to pull it tight enough that it gives enough pressure to where they shouldn’t need his other belt, but not so bad that he can’t move with it on.

“It’s kind of funny, how much this is making me realize how much we’ve really depended on your... uh, abilities until now,” Anna muses, her gaze staying down as she wraps the bandage. “Really missing them right now, actually.” She realizes the concept is even more amusing, in a dark way, given how she used to have a strong aversion to the idea of using them in the first place, back when she first came out of the ranch.

Something makes him hold his breath as she reaches around him. She’s warm, he realises suddenly. And she’s looking at him expectantly.

He automatically releases the pressure to accept the belt, only to realise the moment that he does and a fresh spurt of blood escapes with the sudden loss of pressure that oh, yes, he can’t do that. Not unless he asks her to apply the pressure. But that’s his job; his hands are already a bloodied mess, his arms more capable of pushing down as hard he knows it needs to be done.

Which means…

He’s going to have to let her put it on. And she shouldn’t have to. Not for his mistake. No doubt he’s made the situation uncomfortable enough for her already - first by failing at the one job he had and now by asking her to tighten a tourniquet around his upper thigh.

He winces, slumping back more against the logs behind him. He allows himself only a moment to catch his breath before using his damaged arm to shift his cloak as much as he’s able to without disturbing the wad of fabric over his thigh.

He’s right - it’s high. He’s no longer entirely certain whether he’d taken the blow to the arm first and then smashed it into his own side or if it had happened the other way around. Truthfully, he only recalled panic, pain and a shocked woman’s face - not Anna’s - as he took the blow for her.

But it seems to have glanced off his hip and his arm before finding a fleshier home in his thigh. That’s priority. The hip wound is superficial, his waterskin having taken the brunt of it.

The arm he can’t even consider yet. It throbs uselessly at his side.

Oh, yes, the question.

“High,” he replies, blinking her face into focus. It’s getting difficult to see her in any clear detail and his heart sinks at this. “Two-three fingers above. Pull hard. Once it’s on, I’ll… I’ll take over.”

Kratos gets a nod in reply from her as she leans over him, her brow furrowed in concentration as she stares at the wound. Right, a few fingers above, pull hard. It’s pretty simple instructions, and she’s been around far worse between the ranch and all their travels for her to really be squeamish about just how bad it is (that growing pit in her stomach notwithstanding, but she can’t think about that right now, not when Kratos is hurt like this).

And from all that experience, Anna knows letting him apply pressure on it himself is not going to work for long, so she moves, looping the belt around the width of his thigh and threading it through the buckle as close to the skin as it’ll let her. Once it’s flush, and she’s at least kind of sure it’s not going to pinch anywhere, she pulls the strap in the opposite direction. It’s times like this that she might be grateful for the Exsphere embedded in her, as she pulls as hard as she can against the strain of the belt.

Dumbly, he smiles when she follows his instruction. He’s still smiling like he hasn’t a care when the hand slaps down on top of his, applying additional pressure and reminding him not to let up his own.

Sucking in a breath, Kratos tries to bat her hand away and grab at it so he can be certain it is in fact healed. But his one good hand is occupied and pressurised and trying to move the other just reminds him that it too is injured and slick with blood.

“Anna-” he pants “-is it? Did it - did the cuts close? Cross contamination, you don’t want…”

He shivers. He doesn’t have the breath to express it. He doesn’t have the time to explain that his magic doesn’t come from his angelic abilities - the ones that he can’t quite recall how to access because he would very much like to feel no pain right now - that might help him to think about… about…

Cross contamination, yes. Aionis levels in his blood shouldn’t be high enough to harmful but then… he’s not sure. He can’t think.

There is a gel in his face.

He turns it away.

“No, I’ve got-to stop the bleeding first. No point.” He tries to press down harder. There’s nothing he can do for his arm. It requires two hands, more pressure. Maybe even…

“Can you - do you think you can undo my belts?”

She lets out a sigh, nodding in response to his questioning. “Yes, they’re healed over. I’m not going to get dirt in my cuts.” It seems kind of late to be asking about that, given that they’re on the ground – as far as she knows, he’s the one they have to worry about anything getting in the open wound. But, again, with how much he’s focusing on her and not him, it’s just better to placate him as they try and get this bleeding to stop.

Anna pauses, the gel still in her hand as she waits an extra few seconds for him to take it. But, it doesn’t seem like that’s happening, as he comes up with the idea to... 

“What?” It takes her a second for her brain to catch up with what he’s asking for and why he’s asking it, shaking her head for a second once it clicks. “Y-Yeah, I can. Hang on.” She pulls her hand off his and slips the gel back in the bag, shifting to the side so she can get a better grasp of one of the belt buckles at his waist. It takes a second of fumbling, but she gets the belt undone, reaching around him gently with a quiet sorry as she takes it off.