A sudden thud nearby drew his attention, and Desmond looked away from Asavvi and over his shoulder. Bright blue eyes widened at the sight of a young man on the ground and a woman bending over next to him with a name shouted from her lips. He didn’t know the man or the woman, but that hardly mattered.
The healer turned away from his conversation, trotting the short distance between himself and the unconscious man.
Desmond knelt down next to him, his fingers immediately looking for a pulse. Thankfully he found one. He looked at the woman, his energy calm though his heart was racing. He didn’t remember anyone collapsing at the last festival.
”Miss, please, keep his legs up,” the man directed, not even thinking at first about the fact that Vervain would have no idea who he was. If he wasn’t stopped, he would begin to loosen all of the clothing on Remi that could have been constricting, allowing for better blood flow.
He would place his finger under Remi’s nose, feeling for breath, then turn to the woman. ”Who’s Devrum? Can he bring him somewhere private?” The focused energy broke for just a moment, as he remembered himself. ”I’m Desmond. I’m, uh, a healer.” A doctor? No, but he absolutely knew what he was doing, especially on the fly like this.
desmond
Talk to the Moon, Heal the Soul
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