honey, there is no right way

Isla

The cries of alarm sound from the clinic just as Isla and Ever reach the street where it's located, on their way back from her lunch break. And the medic is dropping the bag with their groceries in it without a second thought (she'll apologise later, especially because they'll likely need to go shopping a second time now) to break into a run for the entrance to see about the commotion.

Blood speckles the cobblestones before the clinic, and one of her fellow medics is holding the door open for the last of four individuals who are being hauled inside, all of them very worse for wear. Between scorches, ice burns, stab wounds and what even looks like a bite from an Attuned shift, it's clear not only that this has been one hell of a scrap, but that healing water has already been used in as many places as possible.

"They came from Rae's Fingers," the other medic is telling her, even as other patients scatter towards the side of the waiting room to make further space on the ground to lay the bodies out. Swearing under her breath, Isla is already trying to take in the worst wounds to prioritise.

"We need all the healing water we have," she says hurriedly. "And someone needs to go and get some more."

I'll take a bruise, I know you're worth it
When you hit me, hit me hard