(Short scenario: Arley and Larkspur)
With information being so restricted for her, medicine was one of the few things Arley got to learn growing up. Well, with supervision.
But as a result of her extensive knowledge on the topic, sheâs become somewhat of a âfield nurseâ for Blueberry Academy. Letting loose a bunch of teenagers into an artificial habitat filled with wild animals, one with no easily accessible human doctors and built in the middle of the ocean, wasnât the best idea on Director Cyranoâs part.
Swabbing a wound on Larkspurâs arm, Arley knew how much he hated skin-to-skin contact. So, trying to make this easier, she suggested letting him ramble. That way heâd be so distracted by his own talking that heâd think less about it.
Unfortunately for her, sheâs already regretting this decision. One, because any words she doesnât understand are messing up her focus; and two, while he had brought up a few names she didnât recognize, heâs actively talking shit about Carmine and Lacey for scolding him recently.
Larkspur flinches under the sting with a quiet hiss before continuing his incessant ranting. Particularly offended by this specific encounter, much to Arleyâs dismay.
Sheâd usually tune something like this out. After all, Blueberry Academy has plenty of stuck up trainers, or so sheâs experienced. Either complaining about other students or somehow finding the audacity to belittle her in the midst of stitching an injury.
But this is different, those are her friends. Larkspur knows how often they hang out together, and yet he has the gall to insult them right to her face. It makes her fingers twitch against the sopping cotton, its strong smelling chemicals hitting her nose harder than it would usually.
Suddenly, the chemicals are pressed harder on the wound against Larkspurâs arm and sends a surge of stinging pain right up to his neck. His free hand flies from his lap to his collarbone, the one captured by Arleyâs focus tensing up stiff.
âNo more talking.â The command is breathless, hiding the growing agitation in her chest. She loosens her pressure on the cotton and sets it into a crumpled tissue while Larkspur gives her an offended glare.
âDoes that mean youâre done!?â The boy moves away, loosely wrapping a hand around the opposing wrist. âBecause Iâm tired of your filthy hands being all over my arm.â He doesnât dare linger too close to where heâd been handled, not wanting to contaminate the rest of him.
Thereâs a soft clickâ Arley reopening the first aid kit sheâd set beside her. The clink of metal follows as she takes out a bandage tin.
âYes. You should be clean now.â She pulls the lid open and tilts the opening toward him. âPick a color.â
