idv-ask-huntsman

[idv-ask-huntsman]

He snorted at the idea of the revolver, opting to sit down next to her on the bench.

“Hm. Somehow I doubt that it would do much more good.”

Even if that statement originated from a place of frustration over the helplessness they all seemed to have in this manor, hatred for the near invincibility of these ‘hunters’… he found a sliver of amusement from the pain this stranger shared with him. There was a sort of irony to it that he couldn’t place.

“These rules are probably just to mock us. Whatever witchcraft they use in these games, it’s powerful enough to change practically everything about reality.”

“But I don’t know if it’s comforting to see that humans are still the same. No one here works together unless it’s to get themselves out of here.”

Listening to this woman’s complaints, it didn’t seem like she was much better. But that was to be expected. She was human as well.

The Consigliere was sitting on a bench in the Manor's garden. She looked absolutely wrecked(and tired), her braided hair a mess and the stains on her clothes proved this. The hat she wears was by her side, somewhat smudged with dirt. The way that she was presenting herself, it looked as if she suffered a major loss, and someone blamed her for it.

“Rough game?”

Killian broke the silence in the garden that looked to have been hanging here for a while before he had entered the greenhouse.

His intention had been to come out here to mostly get out of the manor. To go somewhere a little more like the home he was used to. Inside the main building, it was filled with people instead of animals, and he still hadn’t adjusted to it.

At least this area reminded him of the greenery of the forest.

But the girl sitting here stuck out like a sore thumb. And of course, he spoke to her. She was here, after all. Even if he was used to the one-sided conversations he’d have with creatures that understand naught a word he said, he still enjoyed talking.

Besides, with the rough shape she seemed to be in, at least she’d have an interesting story to tell.

[ @idv-asktheconsigliere ]

[idv-ask-huntsman]

“No need. It’s been bloodied before. I know how to clean it.”

Killian couldn’t help but stare for a moment at the pitiful sight Aesop made, choking on his own blood as it bubbled up in his throat and seeped out of his mouth.

Out of what could’ve been morbid curiosity, or perhaps something worse, he reached out and swiped his hand through the fresh blood.

Blood was blood. But the pain of someone that did you no wrong was admittedly much harder to watch than a living thing that needed to die, or he wanted to die.

He took a hold of the handle protruding from the embalmer’s chest, putting his other hand against the man’s shoulder for leverage, and yanked it out. And the blood seemed to come pouring out even faster from the wound, with such velocity that it splattered onto him.

“You have to take the knife out for the blood loss to kill you in seconds instead of minutes.”

(A man in gray stars at the man from afar, he seems to be eyeing his fur “coat”)

(Idv-ask-the-man-in-gray)

(PS. YAS NEW OC BLOG ❤️)

Killian turned around with velocity after feeling someone’s eyes on him. Considering his livelihood, the act of silent watching only meant one thing to him: the stalking of one’s prey.

But instead of a predator, the only thing he found was a man that didn’t look to be much of a threat to him.

“Hey! It’s not a good idea to sneak up on someone like that, yeah?”

“Seriously, if I was an amateur I could’ve skewered you by now.” He chuckled at that, even though such a statement wasn’t the most appropriate thing to find amusing…

“So is there a reason you were staring at my back~?”

[idv-ask-huntsman]

He didn’t flinch at the way the grave keeper drove the needle through his own finger, as if he hadn’t been on the ground sobbing as he’d been stitched up mere moments before. An attempt at intimidation to salvage his dignity, or a mistake borne out of his obvious contempt?

His own hands were still covered in the other man’s blood as well, along with the herbs he’d used. It had long since soaked into his gloves, but had now began to dry. The metallic smell corrupting the formerly pleasant scent of the crushed leaves. But it wasn’t the first time his hands were covered in blood.

Killian simply scoffed at the command he was given.

It was audacious of the man to believe he could tell him what to do. Especially with dirt still covering his face. He would give him that, at the very least.

“Think whatever you will. I was only trying to help.”

He had nothing to prove to this man, or anyone else at this manor, for that matter. He didn’t come here for any of them.

And the grave keeper seemed to already have decided that he was deserving of his scorn. Even before he’d held him down and forcefully stitched him. For what reason, he didn’t know.

It was an absurd thought, but it was almost as though he simply looked at him and knew exactly what he was. That he considered intentionally hurting him with the needle, and that he would’ve gotten satisfaction from it.

Someone small, who enjoyed making other living beings smaller than himself, ever since he was a child. Someone born that way, pathetically trying and failing to squirm his way out of that birthright.

He took a step forward, to begrudgingly work alongside the grave keeper to decode the machine. But before he did, he couldn’t help but notice the shovel left on the ground.

Killian remembered how desperately the grave keeper clutched to it before when he came to him, only for it to be left on the ground. He picked it up. At least to have the decency to give another’s tool of their trade back to them.

“You dropped this.”

Stumbling forward, staggering, even, the gravekeeper grabbed onto the cipher's edge, to catch himself. He slumped down, against the box, hissing a breath in to catch it.

The gash across his back bled through the smock and shawl, sticking the fabric to his skin. It darkened the fabric broadly; a miracle, it was, that he'd gotten away.

He hastily tried to pull himself back up, using the shovel as a makeshift cane, but his hands were awfully shaky, the handle of it trembled with his weight, threatening to snap.

He looked up, towards the huntsman, as if expecting.. anything.

Any sort of sympathy.

[@mausoleum-letterbox

ALSO S SO SO SO NICE TO SEE A NEW OC BLOG. YR ARTS SO RAD OMG]

The cipher machine came to a stop. That man was looking at him like a wounded animal. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened to him.

“Shit, that’s bad.”

Killian didn’t ask questions, he didn’t want to know. Instead he left his side of the cipher to tend to the other survivor.

“Stay down, I need to treat that.”

While he did bring an arm around him to offer some support, it was more accurate to say that he manhandled the grave keeper so his back was facing him and he had a better view of the wound.

He didn’t think he could pack this. If only he had one of those needles his brother used and some string, he could temporarily stitch the gash back together.

The only thing he could think of was a makeshift bandage, so he grabbed the wrap he’d put around his wrist and started to unwind it.

[idv-ask-huntsman]

“Hey, don’t—!”

He reached out, as though to grab the knife back from the embalmer, but it had already been done.

Of course he was no stranger to blood, gore, you name it. He practically killed for a living after all. And he enjoyed it. It was something he struggled with. But it was undeniably… disturbing to watch someone plunge your knife into their own heart. And to… speak so calmly about it moments after.

He lowered his hand, not taking his eyes away from the blade buried in the other man’s chest.

“So, I guess you weren’t joking then…”

It was either that or he’d finally snapped from being here for who knows how long before he’d arrived.

And as much existential dread he was filled with by the idea that even death wasn’t an escape from this place, it was also relieving in a way.

Undeniably if this man actually died, from his own hunting knife nonetheless, he’d be the one blamed.

“But next time you feel compelled to stab yourself, do it with your own knife, okay? If you did die, the people here would peg me as a murderer.”

(A man in gray stars at the man from afar, he seems to be eyeing his fur “coat”)

(Idv-ask-the-man-in-gray)

(PS. YAS NEW OC BLOG ❤️)

Killian turned around with velocity after feeling someone’s eyes on him. Considering his livelihood, the act of silent watching only meant one thing to him: the stalking of one’s prey.

But instead of a predator, the only thing he found was a man that didn’t look to be much of a threat to him.

“Hey! It’s not a good idea to sneak up on someone like that, yeah?”

“Seriously, if I was an amateur I could’ve skewered you by now.” He chuckled at that, even though such a statement wasn’t the most appropriate thing to find amusing…

“So is there a reason you were staring at my back~?”

[idv-ask-huntsman]

He rose an eyebrow at her, walking up to the bench and standing in front of her.

“Well, it’s not as though I was there. You might want to recount to me how you got your ass handed to you.”

Up close she was even more of a mess. The rocket chair certainly was not kind to her when it ‘escorted’ her back to the manor. But like many of the others here, she definitely seemed foreign to him from the way she dressed to the way she talked.

He couldn’t quite place what her specialty was from looking at her. Everyone here seemed to have one.

“Not that I can’t take a general guess, seeing how these games go. Tch.”

The Consigliere was sitting on a bench in the Manor's garden. She looked absolutely wrecked(and tired), her braided hair a mess and the stains on her clothes proved this. The hat she wears was by her side, somewhat smudged with dirt. The way that she was presenting herself, it looked as if she suffered a major loss, and someone blamed her for it.

“Rough game?”

Killian broke the silence in the garden that looked to have been hanging here for a while before he had entered the greenhouse.

His intention had been to come out here to mostly get out of the manor. To go somewhere a little more like the home he was used to. Inside the main building, it was filled with people instead of animals, and he still hadn’t adjusted to it.

At least this area reminded him of the greenery of the forest.

But the girl sitting here stuck out like a sore thumb. And of course, he spoke to her. She was here, after all. Even if he was used to the one-sided conversations he’d have with creatures that understand naught a word he said, he still enjoyed talking.

Besides, with the rough shape she seemed to be in, at least she’d have an interesting story to tell.

[ @idv-asktheconsigliere ]

[idv-ask-huntsman]

The Teacher huffed lightly, trekking through the manor after a particularly rough match. At least the survivors has still scored a victory, alas. She had been the one who the hunter focused on for a majority of the match. At least the match had ended and she was back in the manor.

She closed her eyes for a brief moment, letting out a sigh, but in that fleeting moment of distraction she bumped into the huntsman.

(ask-the-teacher-idv)

There was a game finished recently. He could tell by the subtle rise of activity in their side of the manor, as well as one or two faces appearing again after being gone for a couple hours.

Despite that, he found himself simply wandering the halls. Speaking under his breath and looking out the windows as he passed them.

“Oh—”

When he turned the corner, he naturally didn’t expect for a woman to suddenly walk into him with her eyes closed.

“Careful, you don’t want to get hurt.”

He put his hands on her shoulders and pulled back, getting a good look at her now that her eyes were open once again.

She was recognizable, though he knew he hadn’t spoken to her yet. And she didn’t seem to be hurt, at least by their impact, just a bit surprised.

“Hey, weren’t you one of those people that were in last game? I hope you didn’t have your eyes closed during that, too.”

Meaning it as a joke, he allowed himself a small smile.

[ @ask-the-teacher-idv ]

[idv-ask-huntsman]

“Ahah… I thought so.”

He laughed again, but weakly. The embalmer may have agreed, but the way he did so wasn’t exactly reassuring.

“… You’ve never seen a hunting knife before?”

He leaned into the change of topic, if only to alleviate his own discomfort.

Taking the knife out from where it was sheathed in his belt, he flipped it around in his hand so he held the blade, and offered it to Aesop handle-first.

The sound coming from the other’s box down was strange, but he decided to think nothing of it, at least for now. This man was very different from many of the people he’d known, and hadn’t shown any malice yet.

(A man in gray stars at the man from afar, he seems to be eyeing his fur “coat”)

(Idv-ask-the-man-in-gray)

(PS. YAS NEW OC BLOG ❤️)

Killian turned around with velocity after feeling someone’s eyes on him. Considering his livelihood, the act of silent watching only meant one thing to him: the stalking of one’s prey.

But instead of a predator, the only thing he found was a man that didn’t look to be much of a threat to him.

“Hey! It’s not a good idea to sneak up on someone like that, yeah?”

“Seriously, if I was an amateur I could’ve skewered you by now.” He chuckled at that, even though such a statement wasn’t the most appropriate thing to find amusing…

“So is there a reason you were staring at my back~?”

[idv-ask-huntsman]

The Consigliere was sitting on a bench in the Manor's garden. She looked absolutely wrecked(and tired), her braided hair a mess and the stains on her clothes proved this. The hat she wears was by her side, somewhat smudged with dirt. The way that she was presenting herself, it looked as if she suffered a major loss, and someone blamed her for it.

“Rough game?”

Killian broke the silence in the garden that looked to have been hanging here for a while before he had entered the greenhouse.

His intention had been to come out here to mostly get out of the manor. To go somewhere a little more like the home he was used to. Inside the main building, it was filled with people instead of animals, and he still hadn’t adjusted to it.

At least this area reminded him of the greenery of the forest.

But the girl sitting here stuck out like a sore thumb. And of course, he spoke to her. She was here, after all. Even if he was used to the one-sided conversations he’d have with creatures that understand naught a word he said, he still enjoyed talking.

Besides, with the rough shape she seemed to be in, at least she’d have an interesting story to tell.

[ @idv-asktheconsigliere ]

[idv-ask-huntsman]

“Well… I guessed I was deceived once they forced me to start playing these games, but…”

He forced a laugh.

“Oh, I understand, you’re messing with me. I poked fun at you so now you’re returning the favor? There’s no way that whoever’s in charge of this manor can simply… bring us back once we die or escape in one of their games.”

The embalmer certainly didn’t seem to be one to make jokes, even only knowing him for such a short time, but the idea was ridiculous.

“We can all get out of here.”

He then paused, sighing and slowly letting go of Aesop’s wrists.

“Just don’t touch my neck.”

(A man in gray stars at the man from afar, he seems to be eyeing his fur “coat”)

(Idv-ask-the-man-in-gray)

(PS. YAS NEW OC BLOG ❤️)

Killian turned around with velocity after feeling someone’s eyes on him. Considering his livelihood, the act of silent watching only meant one thing to him: the stalking of one’s prey.

But instead of a predator, the only thing he found was a man that didn’t look to be much of a threat to him.

“Hey! It’s not a good idea to sneak up on someone like that, yeah?”

“Seriously, if I was an amateur I could’ve skewered you by now.” He chuckled at that, even though such a statement wasn’t the most appropriate thing to find amusing…

“So is there a reason you were staring at my back~?”

[idv-ask-huntsman]

His smile faded, the words taking their time to sink in.

“What do you mean… death isn’t permanent here..?”

He flinched back once Aesop’s hands were on his neck. But after the initial shock he grabbed his wrists and pushed them off of him. Away from his scar.

“Don’t touch that.”

(A man in gray stars at the man from afar, he seems to be eyeing his fur “coat”)

(Idv-ask-the-man-in-gray)

(PS. YAS NEW OC BLOG ❤️)

Killian turned around with velocity after feeling someone’s eyes on him. Considering his livelihood, the act of silent watching only meant one thing to him: the stalking of one’s prey.

But instead of a predator, the only thing he found was a man that didn’t look to be much of a threat to him.

“Hey! It’s not a good idea to sneak up on someone like that, yeah?”

“Seriously, if I was an amateur I could’ve skewered you by now.” He chuckled at that, even though such a statement wasn’t the most appropriate thing to find amusing…

“So is there a reason you were staring at my back~?”

[idv-ask-huntsman]

His eyes widened at the statement initially, but he allowed himself to laugh sheepishly, crossing his arms.

“I see, Aesop… I didn’t realize you had so little faith in me.”

He didn’t truly take any offense to the idea, seeing how the self proclaimed embalmer barely knew him. But in a way, that only made it stranger that he had any concerns about the possibility of his death.

“I’m not dying yet, trust me.”

Perhaps he just really liked his work… a very plausible idea concerning his own brother’s enjoyment of dealing with the dead, in his own way. Even Reagan had some level of bias toward the animals he stuffed, however. The ones they kept were special to them.

First time for him to meet someone that liked dead things even more than his brother, he supposed.

(A man in gray stars at the man from afar, he seems to be eyeing his fur “coat”)

(Idv-ask-the-man-in-gray)

(PS. YAS NEW OC BLOG ❤️)

Killian turned around with velocity after feeling someone’s eyes on him. Considering his livelihood, the act of silent watching only meant one thing to him: the stalking of one’s prey.

But instead of a predator, the only thing he found was a man that didn’t look to be much of a threat to him.

“Hey! It’s not a good idea to sneak up on someone like that, yeah?”

“Seriously, if I was an amateur I could’ve skewered you by now.” He chuckled at that, even though such a statement wasn’t the most appropriate thing to find amusing…

“So is there a reason you were staring at my back~?”

[idv-ask-huntsman]

As he predicted, the way the injured man writhed and bucked was weak. Enough to force him to pause after taking the needle from his hand, but not enough to break free.

The grave keeper was a large man however, and brute force like this alone likely wouldn’t have worked at full health. He may have to watch his back, as it would be no surprise to him if the man’s disdain toward him continued after his recovery.

Sticking the needle through his skin once again, one dark part of him was tempted to plunge the needle deeper. To make the process more painful if only to make himself feel better.

But that would disappoint his foster father.

So he treated it no different than how he would stitch anyone else, and the needle pierced though the amount of skin as was appropriate. The ‘hunter’ would be a better target for his anger, he had to remind himself.

He paused once more when the grave keeper came to a still. Then continued the suture again when he began to cry. He couldn’t help but think it was pathetic, to act like this simply of the painful nature of the process.

The way there man beneath him shook with each sob was a hindrance, but at least he was no longer struggling. He could afford to move a little quicker, seeing how much time was lost on this already.

Once the wound was closed with the string, he bit off the excess with his teeth, and finally lifted his knee off of the other man’s back. Despite his small show of restraint earlier, he couldn’t help but apply a little too much pressure to the back of the man’s neck as he got back up, pushing his face into the dirt.

“There. That wasn’t so hard.”

He sighed after getting back to his feet. The comment was mostly to himself this time, as he assumed the grave keeper would remain unresponsive.

Stumbling forward, staggering, even, the gravekeeper grabbed onto the cipher's edge, to catch himself. He slumped down, against the box, hissing a breath in to catch it.

The gash across his back bled through the smock and shawl, sticking the fabric to his skin. It darkened the fabric broadly; a miracle, it was, that he'd gotten away.

He hastily tried to pull himself back up, using the shovel as a makeshift cane, but his hands were awfully shaky, the handle of it trembled with his weight, threatening to snap.

He looked up, towards the huntsman, as if expecting.. anything.

Any sort of sympathy.

[@mausoleum-letterbox

ALSO S SO SO SO NICE TO SEE A NEW OC BLOG. YR ARTS SO RAD OMG]

The cipher machine came to a stop. That man was looking at him like a wounded animal. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened to him.

“Shit, that’s bad.”

Killian didn’t ask questions, he didn’t want to know. Instead he left his side of the cipher to tend to the other survivor.

“Stay down, I need to treat that.”

While he did bring an arm around him to offer some support, it was more accurate to say that he manhandled the grave keeper so his back was facing him and he had a better view of the wound.

He didn’t think he could pack this. If only he had one of those needles his brother used and some string, he could temporarily stitch the gash back together.

The only thing he could think of was a makeshift bandage, so he grabbed the wrap he’d put around his wrist and started to unwind it.

[idv-ask-huntsman]

So... what type of survivor are you?

“Type? Can’t say that I know what you mean exactly, but I focus on getting people off of those rocket chairs and helping them get away.”

He cracked his knuckles as he thought for a moment. It seemed to be the obvious job for him, dealing with the ‘hunter.’ Making their job as difficult as possible with his defiance. And protecting his… team, for lack of a better word.

“I know how to handle animals and people that think they’re the predator in the situation. And that kind of stuff makes more sense to me than the cipher machines, anyway.”

Even when forced into this position, he was still a huntsman himself. He knew the what it was to pursue, and therefore knew their opponent.

“If the ‘hunter’ wants to get to their ‘prey,’ they’ll have to go through me.”

[idv-ask-huntsman]

“Memorizing? What is there that needs to be memorized? I think you could recognize me without all of this if you really needed me.”

It amused him to be pet, smiling at the gesture. It was true that the mantle had been dirtied during its lifetime, but it was well-loved, just as much as the hound the fur belonged to was loved when he was alive.

“Hey, and you still haven’t told me who you are. Unless you’re just dodging the question because you don’t have a name.”

He allowed himself to smirk, despite it only being a half-joke. It wouldn’t surprise him, especially after losing his own former surname.

(A man in gray stars at the man from afar, he seems to be eyeing his fur “coat”)

(Idv-ask-the-man-in-gray)

(PS. YAS NEW OC BLOG ❤️)

Killian turned around with velocity after feeling someone’s eyes on him. Considering his livelihood, the act of silent watching only meant one thing to him: the stalking of one’s prey.

But instead of a predator, the only thing he found was a man that didn’t look to be much of a threat to him.

“Hey! It’s not a good idea to sneak up on someone like that, yeah?”

“Seriously, if I was an amateur I could’ve skewered you by now.” He chuckled at that, even though such a statement wasn’t the most appropriate thing to find amusing…

“So is there a reason you were staring at my back~?”

[idv-ask-huntsman]

So there was a hidden needle in the tin. The moment he saw the tool pulled out of the lid, he felt conned. Played to look like a fool, and… frustrated. He bared his teeth.

There was no use in talking to this man. It was clear he was being ignored. And it seemed the grave keeper didn’t want to give him any information he needed anyway, from the way he didn’t bother to tell him of the tool in the tin that was handed to him. Either that, or the man was just as empty headed as those people from his own hometown.

But perhaps that was too harsh of a comparison…

No. He didn’t care. Already at his wits’ end with this humiliating situation, he shoved the rabbit fur back into his belt. Nothing was ever simple when it came to people.

But despite that, he still planned to heal this man whether he wanted it or not. It was ludicrous to watch his pathetic attempt to stitch his back closed by himself. And the others with them didn’t deserve to be damned to stay here any longer because of this nonsense.

He would have to make good on his previous promise, it seemed.

Grabbing the wrist of the other man to still the needle with one hand, and grabbing the back of the man’s neck with the other, it was the same way he would restrain an animal that was trying to attack him while he treated its wound. He began to push him face first back to the ground, only so he could pin him down with a knee, placed below the wound so he could still get to it.

The grave keeper didn’t seem like he was in any position to put up a good struggle. Which was the entire reason why this needed to happen, and hopefully would make the ordeal easier.

Stumbling forward, staggering, even, the gravekeeper grabbed onto the cipher's edge, to catch himself. He slumped down, against the box, hissing a breath in to catch it.

The gash across his back bled through the smock and shawl, sticking the fabric to his skin. It darkened the fabric broadly; a miracle, it was, that he'd gotten away.

He hastily tried to pull himself back up, using the shovel as a makeshift cane, but his hands were awfully shaky, the handle of it trembled with his weight, threatening to snap.

He looked up, towards the huntsman, as if expecting.. anything.

Any sort of sympathy.

[@mausoleum-letterbox

ALSO S SO SO SO NICE TO SEE A NEW OC BLOG. YR ARTS SO RAD OMG]

The cipher machine came to a stop. That man was looking at him like a wounded animal. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened to him.

“Shit, that’s bad.”

Killian didn’t ask questions, he didn’t want to know. Instead he left his side of the cipher to tend to the other survivor.

“Stay down, I need to treat that.”

While he did bring an arm around him to offer some support, it was more accurate to say that he manhandled the grave keeper so his back was facing him and he had a better view of the wound.

He didn’t think he could pack this. If only he had one of those needles his brother used and some string, he could temporarily stitch the gash back together.

The only thing he could think of was a makeshift bandage, so he grabbed the wrap he’d put around his wrist and started to unwind it.

[idv-ask-huntsman]

“Hey!”

Killian could care less that the tin was taken from him. He was more offended by his pelt being spit onto the ground. Covered in dirt, blood, saliva, and left there as though it were something to be abandoned.

He retrieved the rabbit pelt from the ground, cradling it in his bloodstained hands as though the precious animal it came from were still alive. He looked up once more to return the glare that the grave keeper had given him.

“Do you want to bleed out!? I don’t have time for you to back out just because it stings!”

His previous attempt to be quiet was forgotten. He was only trying to help. But that didn’t seem to matter to the grave keeper. To him, the man was only reacting to the pain, like an animal would.

Except Killian found it possible to forgive animals for their resistance when he tried to help them. They didn’t understand that the suffering was necessary to heal.

How regrettable it was to allow the sweet memory in this pelt to be sullied by an ungrateful stranger’s blood and tears.

“Don’t make me do this the hard way. If you act like a wild animal, I’ll treat you like one.”

Stumbling forward, staggering, even, the gravekeeper grabbed onto the cipher's edge, to catch himself. He slumped down, against the box, hissing a breath in to catch it.

The gash across his back bled through the smock and shawl, sticking the fabric to his skin. It darkened the fabric broadly; a miracle, it was, that he'd gotten away.

He hastily tried to pull himself back up, using the shovel as a makeshift cane, but his hands were awfully shaky, the handle of it trembled with his weight, threatening to snap.

He looked up, towards the huntsman, as if expecting.. anything.

Any sort of sympathy.

[@mausoleum-letterbox

ALSO S SO SO SO NICE TO SEE A NEW OC BLOG. YR ARTS SO RAD OMG]

The cipher machine came to a stop. That man was looking at him like a wounded animal. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened to him.

“Shit, that’s bad.”

Killian didn’t ask questions, he didn’t want to know. Instead he left his side of the cipher to tend to the other survivor.

“Stay down, I need to treat that.”

While he did bring an arm around him to offer some support, it was more accurate to say that he manhandled the grave keeper so his back was facing him and he had a better view of the wound.

He didn’t think he could pack this. If only he had one of those needles his brother used and some string, he could temporarily stitch the gash back together.

The only thing he could think of was a makeshift bandage, so he grabbed the wrap he’d put around his wrist and started to unwind it.

[idv-ask-huntsman]

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