#mezzy

Ezra just grits his teeth. “It’s fine.” A small chunk of his metal floats in front of her, shaping itself into what she needs. She plucks it out of the air, taking a bit of fire Dust to heat and sterilize it before waving it in the air to cool it off.

“Close your eyes,” she says, and he does. She hands him something, a piece of cloth he thinks, and he puts it between his teeth. They’ve done this before, if not often. “Alright, brace yourself. One… two…”

He doesn’t even hear her get to three, because the scalpel is already in his flesh and he just wants to scream, the cloth is muffling his voice anyway so he lets out a high-pitched pain-filled noise that barely sounds human to him. He is so acutely aware of the blade moving through his muscle, of the bullet sitting in his flesh, the visceral rooting pain of the tweezers digging to find something solid. His breathing is quick, shallow, and he sees black spots begin to dance around the corners of his eyes. Then the bullet moves, and he is overwhelmed with a combination of the agony of it moving out and the relief of having it gone. The cloth in his mouth is nearly torn in half, and he spits it out, taking deep breaths.

Carefully placing the bullet and the metal on the table, Mare pulls out something that looks like– a flask? He barely registers the meaning of this, too busy recovering from literally having a bullet pulled out of his shoulder. Mare, however, looks a little ashamed. “It’s, um, it’s for this reason,” she says as she unscrews the cap. “But it is going to hurt a lot. Again.” She offers her hand this time, not needing both of them; and he takes it, his own hand shaking. “Here we go.”

While still terrible, this pain is one he’s more familiar with, the cleansing overwhelming sting of antiseptics being applied. Of course, alcohol is still his least favorite of these; the tears that had built in his eyes spill freely now, and he squeezes her hand until the worst of it fades. When he looks, there are nail marks embedded in her skin that quickly fade as her aura washes over her; and then he sees her aura wash over him, and feels the pain begin to ease. She gives him a reassuring smile, and after about thirty seconds of aura transfer, drops his hand to examine his shoulder again. Sure enough, the muscle and skin is mostly knit together. Still tender, absolutely, but leagues better than just a couple of minutes ago.

Ezra lets out a deep sigh, taking his arm off the table. “Thanks, M. Dunno where I’d be without you.”

To his mild surprise, she pulls him into a tight hug, though she is careful to avoid his shoulder. “Please be more careful, Ezra. Your semblance doesn’t make you invulnerable to bullets.”