(120-10-03) Bristles' Revenge
Details for Bristles' Revenge
Summary: Though he's dead, Bristles' gets some revenge on those who survived the killing of him.
Date: Turn of Vakarnis (10-03-120)
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It is not a pretty thing, what's happening to them on the first day after the accident. She's suffering, he's delirious and in fact probably going to need that mugwort with how he's sweating and the wounds are looking a bit pink around the edges in that unhealthy way. There were even a few times when he called out during the night for one of his men because he was too thirsty or hot. But when Eiris came in their stead he would smile to her warmly and talk about little things of no importance, just as if nothing had gone horribly wrong earlier.

She remains near over those next couple of days. Someone will certainly miss them and come looking at some point. But she boils mugwort with snow and creates poultices for him. Each day brings something new but when his fever finally breaks she prepares some of the boars with wild mashed tubers and slowly feeds him. Her hands are gentle, careful with dressing his wounds and at times she hums for him. By now the bodies are lined up, covered by a tent. She's spent time gathering firewood each day to make sure they stay warm. But at the moment she's holding his head in her lap and wipes his forehead and checking his wound from the angle she is at.

Eiris' presence always seems to be a calming and helpful influence even when he was in the thickest part of his fever. During the fever, he'd sometimes forget his manners, etiquette protocols and just give her little touches. Look too long at her, tell her things like she's the maid made flesh, sent to save him. There was even a time when he tried to hug her, even maybe kiss her, but his injury reminded him that hugging is painful and that aborted that.
The humming, most of all the humming has worked to soothe him when he's been in the most delirium. But he is starting to get better, slowly. The checking on the wound rests him from a troubled sleep and he reaches up to take her wrist. Not hard, at all, Just an instinct to need a bit of tenderness to help dull the pain. Ice blue eyes melt from a scowl from the pain into a soft gaze as he looks up at her from her lap. "Would you hum, please?" his voice craggy and whispery from his state, but under those crags, it is sweet and even perhaps affectionate.

Even though Eiris knew well that Ormund was taken with the fever, her hazel eyes softened when he spoke to her, her smile lingered longer than it should but she never allowed him that closeness, not for more than was needed to tend him. She had seen to herself, washed out her hair in a nearby stream and kept herself clean so she might not infect him.

Going still at his touch this time, Eiris fiery hair falls across her cheek. She smiles down at him, her expression softening further and she nods, "Yes..of course," she says, giving in to the Lord's wishes. Oh, the loss he must feel. She shifts closer, extends her leg and then gathers him against the soft flesh of her thigh buried beneath two layers of wool. It means she has close access to the wound and offers him touch and comfort should he need it.

She begins to hum softly, her voice carrying as a light smile touches her lips. The dressing continues, the wound finally starting to look normal, starting to heal. She presses new poultice to it. "Though I live not where I love.." she sings the chorus.

Ormund's fingers simply rest on top of the wrist that works at his bandages, it doesn't move so when she moves his fingers lightly drift. His eyes closed and he takes a deep breath. "That is easier now." He whispers, glad he can finally take a deep breath again without searing pain.

Even in his condition, he's gathered that her foot got quite frosty in his rescue and while she hums and sings his other arm lays over that leg and he feels her foot, giving it a bit of a message to test to see how she's doing. He knows if he asks she'll claim she is perfectly fine. But this way, though it's a bit forward and unknightly he knows he'll at least get to the truth of the matter.

The song ceases and Eiris goes utterly still, her lips parting as she looks from him to the foot that has remained partially numb from the experience. Her toes are worse but she has yet to lose them. Its just an adjustment. SHe barely registers his touch and so her foot barely moves her breath catching. She leans over and grasps at his hand, "My lord," she insists, her cheeks flushing.

His wound is nearly dressed, her other hand holding on to the edge of the bandage. "Please, my lord," she says and moves her foot. She can move it, she can bend it and a few toes wiggle - a few.

"mmhmm." He squints up at her. "Caught red toed. I believe you have not been entirely honest with me." He'll behave and hold still now though. "Use the boar fat. Slather it on and wrap it in bandages. You should be taking care of yourself. I believe some wise lady once told me that I must think of myself and not others so I can be healthy and make sure they can be continued to be cared for." The hand on her foot rests on his belly now. Those keen pale blue eyes still pierce up at her, but his lips twitch into hints of a suppressed smile. "I could be para-phrasing."

"My life is not so important as your own, my lord." She presses her lips to a firm line and looks aside, her hand coming back to work at the bandages to set them to rights,. "We are too far off the beaten track, we are likely going to have to go get help," she tells him and then adds, "Boars fat for everything, my lord. It would seem it's your cure all but it did nothing to stop the infection that began to spread," she points out. A low breath is exhaled and she shakes her head, quieting enough so she can hum for him again and then begin to sing, "Come to all ye maids that live at a distance, Many miles from offer your sway. Come to an assist this very moment to pass away some time…." Its the same song as before, continued as she looks down to him. His shoulder is treated but she does not draw away, that hazel gaze meeting his own.

The rather light scowl up at her for fibbing turns into an actual firm gaze. "What utter nonsense. You're a very intelligent maid, don't debase yourself like that again." Done with his scold, his gaze up at her softens. "Please. You are very important. Saved my life, numerous times in the last few days I'm sure. That aside you shouldn't think much of yourself. All life is precious." But then his love of boar fat is teased. "But I didn't bleed out, did I? It was a sealant, not a cure. It's also a good insulator and will keep your toes and feet warm and moist." His arms cross! Something he was unable to do yesterday in his huff. But then she starts to hum and that rather immediately soothes him. "Dirty play." He teases her in a whisper and then grows still and quiet to enjoy the song and not be rude and interrupt it again.

The teasing is something she is not used to, nor is his personality. She focuses on the song because it is familiar as she looks from him and then aside. She doesn't reply, looking down to his chest, her gaze hinging there as her voice lilts. She exhales slowly and then reaches out to touch his hair. Its an unconscious movement as her slender digits trail down through the curls atop his head. Another stroke follows and then she goes utterly still, the song faltering as her hand goes still. Eiris colors, her hand beginning to draw away and the song was forgotten. "I am a Flowers, my lord. I do not carry the true blood of nobles." That has her shifting, trying to ease him from her leg so his head does not hit the ground. "I have to go gather more firewood." Excuses quickly were given.

The stroking of his hair lulls him down completely and he almost looks asleep he is at such peace. But when she stops he stirs enough to show he's not completely asleep and he already misses the attention and the song. When her excuses are given and she starts to shift he sits up and supports himself there on his good arm. His commanding voice is crisp and stern, but it is fueled with fondness. "You will not speak such nonsense."

She is allowed to leave and he sips his mugwort tea. There might not be any more fever oddities, but the Mugwort tea doesn't exactly have Ormund quite himself either and he is soon limping out of the tent after her, Barefoot and in a cloak and britches. "You are clever, talented, beautiful and kind. Do you hear?" He is making a b-line right for her even if he's limping and his feet are cold already. "You are an exquisite woman and I will not tolerate such debasement of the woman that saved my life." He is passionate about this and his curls flop in front of his sternly drawn face as he commands her.

"I will not let you dishonor yourself so." He ignores the firewood in her arms as he tries to draw her up close to him by her biceps. All at once the sternness sheds and there is a vulnerability suddenly there and he begs, "Please."

Frozen. Eiris stands there, a few pieces in hand and when he crosses the snow in his bare feet, her worry is clear but his voice has her firmly in hand. Hazel eyes lift to his and as he takes her, she very nearly drops the wood on his feet but instead clutches them lest they tumble. "It is not dishonoring, my lord it is the only truth," she says. "My mother is a base born Northerner, nothing will change that," she points out and swallows, yet his one pleading word catches her.

Red brows furrow as her chin lifts to fully take him in. "Very well.." she says as if some sort of pledge to him about speaking further of her origins. "My lord, your feet, we need to get you back in.." it's at this point she turns slightly, shedding a load of wood to the side so she can grasp his hip and try to turn him back towards the tent. "There is no need for both of us to lose toes," she says.

Ormund is a bit wobbly but he gives a nod when she finally acquiesces. He is glad that's over with. His is glad to be going back in and all though once they get to the canopy where the ground isn't frozen he'll switch things up and scoop her up into a princess hold and limp her inside to one of the chairs. Any protest she makes receives a sound Shh! Once she's on the chair he kneels with only a slight grimace and slides her boots off.

"We need to work on your taking orders." He mutters and puts the boots on for himself and then goes to get his cure-all. He's a bit sweaty when he returns but his demeanor is resolute as he once more kneels and slathers her darkened toes with his favorite boar's fat. There is a bit of blood on his britches where the bandages are of his arrow wound, but he's ignoring it for the moment, and won't be moved by her to pay any attention to it until after she's cared for.

"This may hurt, or you may not feel a thing." He warns as he uses a brooch to prick at her toes to get some blood flowing through some of the worse areas of the frostbite. His ice-blue eyes filled with anything but ice as he looks up at her and uses the fat to smooth the working fingers over her foot to massage it and try to get her circulation going as best as it can. More and more fat is added and massaged in and he almost seems to be taking his time with all of it in order to prolong the care he's finally able to give her. But a warm pair of thick woolen socks has been set near-by for her once he's done.

To say that he's flustered her before with his touches, his words, the looks he gives her is pale in comparison to the lifting of her person into his arms and then the sudden devotion he pays her foot. "My lord," she bids of him, but her hand is there on his shoulder and she looks up to him and then to those curls and her finger lifts to brush one a tthe back of his neck. She quickly retracts her fingers and thus is faced with him seeing her foot.

At first, she struggles, reaching forward to try to stop him within the smaller toes and their color become apparent. Her big toe has made as it possibly as next two but the last two looks a fright. She stares at her own foot, ashamed perhaps as he tends to it and then suddenly pricks them. Nothing comes of the last two but the next three she jumps a little.

The longer he takes, the more color rises to her cheeks, ears, and neck, but there is a resignation to the task, her foot starting to intense a little with time. When he is finally done, she looks to her foot and then to him. "Thank you." She finally says. For it has happened and she cannot change that. Swallowing, she lifts a hand to tuck her long hair back behind her ear. "I need to gather firewood and your leg. We need to dress it again. Please…I beg you to rest. We are nearly at a point to take you home..to see to everything properly."

Ormund lifts up a finger with that gesture comes all the presence of the Lord of Oldtown. "If you even dare to undo all of my hard work. There will be consequences." He leans over to kiss the top of her head. He does so really without thought as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "It's just a tiny bit of blood. It will be fine. We will be fine and we will make it home. My men's lives were taken and we have the bounty of spare supplies now and we have been good to not squander them. But this also means that you will rest and take care of yourself as well. The stirrup will be agony if you don't."

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