#anadal

Yeni Merkez Bankası Başkanı Murat Çetinkaya kimdir? - Ekonomi Haberleri

He had been in the city for the morning, restlessly wandering and had run into Anadal. He still couldn't believe the redhead was back after so many years not being around, he'd missed him terribly and though he tried to be more cold, a little bit of a petty revenge...it failed miserably every time he saw just the bare hint of a grin or smirk, he'd missed his friend. 

That didn't mean it wasn't without problems, Anadal had mentioned a letter, Flynn had no idea what the other was talking about and he'd gotten so worked up he'd managed to knock himself into one of the migraines he seemed to be frequented with as of late. The pain killers he'd been given were few but this one had merited a precious vial, and he'd managed to limp home with only a dull throb in his temples to accompany him. 

Arriving home Dakkian was waiting for him, but their reunion was short lived when the stench hit him. Flynn had embraced his heightened senses along with everything else that came when he'd found out his true heritage, but one thing he hated admitting he could hone in on like a hound was blood...the scent permeated the house, thick and heavy, living and warm. His mouth watered for it before he could come back to himself. 

Immediately he grabbed the half-elf, looking him over, but the scent was further away, it wasn't his husband. Dakkian gave him a perplexed look but the brunette couldn't explain, focused on finding where the odor was coming from..had someone hurt themselves? He had a full house now, nearly ten other people lived with him at any one time, any of them could be injured and it was up to him to find them. "Blood." he managed to get out, before racing up the stairs, nostrils flaring as he turned left, away from their bedroom and down the hall towards the area Gentil and the others had claimed. 

They found him in a small puddle, paler now than ever, leg bleeding sluggishly from a hideous wound that tore open delicate flesh. Flynn dashed to the priest's side as Dakkian quickly turned to run back down the hall, by the time Flynn had moved the elf to the bed his husband had returned with a medical kit and towels, and Flynn was ever grateful at how quick his husband thought under stress...he'd only panicked and tried to wake Gentil with nothing in return. 

Dakkian set the med kit to the side, stroking over his husband's back soothingly before heading into the bathroom to get hot water. Flynn focused, gently starting to clean the wound, ears twitching as he zeroed in on the priest's weak heart beat.

"That's it Gen...just keep breathing." he said softly as he worked the wound carefully, a swipe of blood licked from his finger absently, licking his lips as he waited. "Not poisoned." Flynn said with a sigh of relief, grinning sheepishly up at the stern look Dakkian was giving him. "What? Easiest way to tell and he didn't die instantly!" "Don't do it again." Dakkian grumbled, before handing him more towels, opening the med kit and frowning. "Y'know how to stitch yeah?" "Well...leather, skins." Flynn frowned at the wound. "He's the one who can put delicate skin back together...I'll make him look terrible." 

"Better a weird scar on his leg than dead Flynn...you can help him, none of the others can get to him in time, come on love."  Dakkian gently encouraged, getting out thread and needle and candle. 

Flynn swallowed hard, but nodded as he took them all from the other, carefully sterilizing the needle like he'd watched Gentil do, focusing and holding the wound closed, slowly stitching it closed.  Dakkian leaned down, picking up the blade, frowning at it before looking back at Gentil and his husband. "Why Gen?" he asked into the air.