Trinket merely watched as the man was tended to. She was not used to the sight of blood. It was curious. She watched the stitching process especially closely. She wondered what it felt like, having the needle pierce one's skin over and over again. It must have been an interesting sensation.
She had bled once before. She hadn't been stitched, however. It seemed like a curious experience to try.
Without word or expression, Trinket walked back to the restaurant. She took a steak knife from one of the tables. Walking back towards the healer, she raised the knife to her own head. Without a sound, without a flinch, without even so much as a tear in her eye, she sliced the sharp knife across her temple and forehead. The cut was deep, and blood started streaming down her face.
Trinket stood there, unmoving. The bloody knife dangled from one hand, her doll from the other. Blood dripped from her forehead over one eye, down her cheek, down her arm, and onto the doll, staining the doll's face red.
"I need stitches," Trinket said, her voice flat and emotionless.
She had bled once before. She hadn't been stitched, however. It seemed like a curious experience to try.
Without word or expression, Trinket walked back to the restaurant. She took a steak knife from one of the tables. Walking back towards the healer, she raised the knife to her own head. Without a sound, without a flinch, without even so much as a tear in her eye, she sliced the sharp knife across her temple and forehead. The cut was deep, and blood started streaming down her face.
Trinket stood there, unmoving. The bloody knife dangled from one hand, her doll from the other. Blood dripped from her forehead over one eye, down her cheek, down her arm, and onto the doll, staining the doll's face red.
"I need stitches," Trinket said, her voice flat and emotionless.
