#whumpember alt4

[sylvanfreckles]

Day 11: Accidental Injury (Alt 4)

Part 11 of Deck the Hells

Fandom: Critical Role Rating: T Warnings: Broken bones

Summary: Her arm twisted over the rim of the well and something gave with a terrible crack. (Read on AO3)

...

Imogen wrapped the rope more securely around her forearm and braced her feet against the side of the well. She told herself she had the easy part—she was just holding the (admittedly heavy) bucket. Ashton, on the other side of the well, was supporting Orym’s weight as the halfling scraped up samples of moss and fungi that were growing on the walls of the well and loading them into the bucket.

Their contact in Yios was always willing to pay good money for any samples they could take from the dilapidated structures in and around the Gloomed Jungles. The elderly orc, who reminded them all of Lord Eshteross, just a little bit, had expressed a particular interest in moss and fungi, which was why Orym was sixteen feet down the well scraping weird purple mushrooms off the crumbling stonework.

“Doing okay down there?” she called mentally. They still had a few more minutes of contact left, so his reply came easily.

“Plenty of the purple stuff,” Orym said in her head. “Stonework down here is pretty loose. I can get some soil, too.”

“Ask him if he’s found any bones,” Ashton called. They shrugged when Imogen shot them a look. “Creepy abandoned well in a creepy abandoned settlement…there’s probably bones.”

“Damnit.” Orym’s voice echoed up in her head. “Tell Ash the rope’s stuck.”

“He says the rope’s stuck,” Imogen repeated. When Ashton shot her a look she shrugged back.

Ashton let out a dramatic sigh and tugged on the rope. Their brow creased in a frown when it didn’t budge, and they tugged again.

“Hang on, it’s caught on a cross beam. Tell them to hold on.”

“Ashton?” Imogen raised her voice to be heard over their muttered cursing. “Now Orym says—”

“Got it!” Ashton gave another vicious pull and the rope snapped free. Imogen heard Orym’s muted cry of shock before a heavy weight suddenly wrenched at her arm.

She yelped as she was tugged toward the well, managing to drop to her knees before she could be pulled into it. Her arm twisted over the rim of the well and something gave with a terrible crack. Pain sparked through her vision, her stomach clenched, and the rope slipped through her numb fingers.

“Fuck it all!” Ashton was already by her side, leaning over her to snag the rope before it could slip away. “You good?” they asked, hand on her back.

“I don’t…I don’t know,” Imogen stammered. Her arm was pulsing, twisting in red-hot pain.

Ashton swore. They looped one arm around her waist and half-turned to move her away from the well so they could focus on hauling Orym out. “Letters! We got a problem!”

Imogen curled around her arm, panting into the faded grass. Something was terribly, horribly wrong. Bruises were already blossoming up and down her forearm, and her thumb stuck out at a weird angle. From elbow to fingertip everything was just agony, and if she tried to move the pain spiked all the way to her shoulder.

“Oh dear! Oh, Imogen!” The creak of metal announced Fresh Cut Grass’s arrival at her side. “Oh, your poor arm.”

“Can you,” she gasped. “Can you…heal it?”

“I’ll try. Can I see?”

She nodded, though she couldn’t hold back a cry of pain when they very gently probed at the disfigured joint. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Ashton pulling Orym out of the well, along with the bucket.

She knew what had happened. When his rope snapped, Orym had grabbed onto the bucket rather than risk the fall to the unknown depths of the well.

That didn’t make her arm any less broken.

“I can heal this, but I need to set it first,” Fresh Cut Grass announced. “Want me to get Laudna?”

Imogen shook her head, not wanting to trouble her friend with this, but Launda was already running toward them.

“What happened?” Laudna demanded. She sat down and gently pulled Imogen’s head into her lap. “Who did this?”

“I think it was an accident,” Fresh Cut Grass began.

“I don’t care! Who hurt you, darling?” Laudna leaned over Imogen, her dark hair hiding their faces from the world around them.

Imogen managed a trembling smile and brushed Laudna’s cheek with the fingers of her good hand. “It really was an accident,” she promised. Then FCG touched something on her wrist, and she groaned as pain lanced up to her shoulder and turned her face toward Laudna, away from her mangled arm.

“My poor girl,” Laudna crooned. She gently ran her fingers through Imogen’s hair, curling around her to keep her steady as Fresh Cut Grass prodded at her injury. “Don’t worry. We’ll fix your arm up in no time.”

“I’m gonna need—Ashton!” Fresh Cut Grass leaned away from them to wave down their friend. “I need your help?”

Imogen whimpered and burrowed closer to Laudna. The pain was setting off that migraine that always seemed to wait at the back of her mind, looking for the right moment to be unleashed. She barely heard them talking—something about Ashton setting her arm while FCG cast the spell—and tried to focus on Laudna’s soothing voice.

“I’m so sorry,” Orym said from somewhere nearby. Imogen didn’t want to look up, but she reached out with her good hand and flailed around until the halfling caught it.

“Just an accident,” she choked out.

“Yeah, but…”

“If you don’t accept her forgiveness, you’ll never have mine,” Laudna announced. Imogen had to smile at her friend’s logic. If Imogen was determined to forgive whoever caused the accident, then in Laudna’s book they should count themselves forgiven and be grateful.

“Mostly that bucket,” Imogen added faintly. “Weighs…more than you.”

“Yeah, probably,” Orym agreed. He squeezed her hand gently before shifting it back to Laudna’s.

The crunch of footsteps signaled Ashton’s return. “Okay, we ready for this?” they asked, crouching down and resting a hand on Imogen’s good shoulder. She nodded as Laudna took her hand and tucked her head against Laudna’s side.

Ashton took hold of her arm at the elbow and wrist and Imogen bit back another moan of pain. Then they shifted and pulled and twisted and for a split-second the world was nothing but blinding, white pain…then the warmth of a healing spell flowed over and into her arm and washed the pain away.

She lay panting in Laudna’s lap as Fresh Cut Grass gently manipulated her arm and shunted a little more healing into it. “Thank you, FCG,” she whispered.

“You should probably rest it the rest of the day,” they replied. “Here, let me get you something to wrap it up in.”

She nodded, though they didn’t see it as they were already off on their errand. Imogen let out a sigh and relaxed as Laudna ran a hand through her hair again. “Can I just stay here for a while?”

“Of course, darling,” Laudna replied. “Whatever you want.”