A Sharp Scratch

It was strange, how easy it was to get into a routine again. Then again, with something like the infirmary, Isla hadn't exactly had to go far to make it feel like home. Injured people just tended to turn up there. In the weeks since their arrival in Caido, however, she'd succeeded in cleaning the place up and making it comfortable and warm, had recruited a few other medics and healers and had begun to build a respository of equipment, medicines and tools. It didn't feel quite as urgent as when they had first been dropped here. That explained, then, the rather sleepy atmosphere in the infirmary as dusk fell. Isla had done her rounds and had taken stock of everything, and now she was sitting in her study taking notes. All of the medical texts she had seen so far were either in terrible condition or in another language, and Isla was trying to fix that. So she was keeping a log of herbs and their properties, in the hope that it might survive if and when they moved on. Isla the flesh is weak

Practically growing up in the army, fighting that never ending war that seemed to rage on in Northwind meant that Kaladin picked up a thing or two. He was far from being a medical professional but you didn't last long on the front lines if you didn't learn how to tie a tourniquet or how to do a quick suture of a wound.

Since arriving in this new world the young man had kept mostly to himself, which also meant that when he got hurt or sick he treated it himself. Bumps and bruises were easy, what had happened to currently wasn't.

After their failed attempt at exploring the ruins Kaladin had decided that perhaps going solo to explore would prove more fruitful. Sure it meant less firepower in a fight but it also meant less of a chance at getting seen by anything. Well, at least that was what he had told himself. Kal wasn't quite sure what had attacked him, even with the lantern he had brought with him this time the lighting was still poor in the deeper levels. It was vaguely animal shaped yet much stronger then any animal he had come across.

It hadn't been a tough fight, at least not for the beast. Kaladin now hobbled over to the local healers hut, his one remaining human arm drenched in blood, his chest a criss-cross of torn flesh. His breathing was labored yet other then a few grimaces here and there he made no acknowledgement of his sorry state. He had heard that the woman who ran this clinic or hospital or whatever they wanted to call it had been a northhavener, he didn't recall ever meeting the woman personally but had heard she was at least competent.

Pushing his way in with out preamble he sat at the nearest open table, telling one of the attendants to fetch the head physician.

Isla had almost expected to be interrupted as she worked in the study - it was quiet, it was getting dark and nothing horrific had happened today. It was only a matter of time, really; so when the attendant rushed in to get her, speaking of a blood and torn flesh and the young man who was covered in both, she was half on her feet by the time they even got through the door. Thanking them and advising them to prepare one of the treatment rooms, Isla exited the study and hurried through the ward on quick, silent steps. When she arrived in the waiting area to find the young man at the table, her blue eyes widened a fraction. Clearing her throat, she approached the table to lean down beside him and save him having to move around too much. "I hardly need to ask if you are the one my colleague spoke about," she said, smiling weakly. "My name is Isla. Are you able to stand and walk? There's a treatment room that will be much better suited to looking at you." She would save the questions about what had happened until she was able to take real stock of the injuries. Isla the flesh is weak

It wasn't long before an attractive young blonde woman to make her way from the back to see him. He supposed that the apprentices or whomever they were weren't use to seeing a man turned to ribbons come strolling into their shop.

She spoke softly and her smile was her attempt at being encouraging despite the mess that had suddenly plopped into her lap. "Well, I walked all the way here just fine. I'm sure I can manage walking into the other room." His typically gruff voice came out in a raspy whisper as he forced himself back up to his feet. Another small intake of breath, another quick grimace of pain. His right arm made a 'lead the way' gesture, the metal winking in the candlelight.

"Hopefully you're as good a healer as rumors suggest, I didn't fancy my chances if I tried doing something myself." He said hobbling along to the room she would lead him too.

(Un)fortunately for Isla, she was all too used to seeing a man turned to ribbons in her time, but never had one strolled into the infirmary and seated himself at a table quite so casually. Rather than pander to him, she merely nodded and rose to her feet again as he confirmed he could walk - as he got up she was able to observe him, at least. They headed to the treatment room and Isla watched the way he breathed and the way he moved, making preliminary assessments on his injuries, their severity and their treatment. (She noted, as well, the metallic twinkle of his arm, but stored her questions away for later). "Take a seat, if you would." She nodded to the bed set up at one side of the room, closing the door behind them and making sure she had the appropriate tools and equipment. She smirked at his comment, shrugging and approaching with a warm cloth soaked in a solution that would probably sting like all hells, but would clean the blood away and make sure everything was sterile. "I wasn't aware that I had a reputation, rumour or no rumour," she remarked. "This will sting, but I doubt it will hurt more than you already are. Can you tell me what happened?" Isla the flesh is weak

Isla lead him to one of the small rooms off a main hallway. Despite what the room had likely seen in its day it looked clean and well organized, various medical instruments gleaming in their drawers. He made his way to the small bed in the corner and with a ragged cough he plopped himself down on it.

He shifted himself to allow better access to the wounds in his arm and attempted a chuckle, though it came out more as a watery gurgle. " what's a little more pain to go along with what I'm already dealing with?" He asked though still would inadvertently hiss in pain once she started to clean the wound.

At her questioning he shrugged the metallic arm, "just fancied a stroll in the ruins, turns out there are some big an nasties down there that don't like it when you go nosing about. " he nodded at his wounds, "left me a bit of a parting gift as I made my way back up to the surface. Hope you're not Squeamish doctor." He said before breaking out in a racking cough.

"I wouldn't be a very good doctor if I were squeamish," she murmured with a smirk, leaning in close to clean his arm up with quick, precise dabs of the cloth, revealing the extent of the still sluggishly bleeding lacerations. "And please, feel free to call me Isla. Everyone else does..." Pausing to examine him further, she narrowed her eyes and straightened up again as he coughed. She didn't like the sound of his chest at all - the wounds there must have been deep to cause internal problems. "For your arm, a few of the cuts will need sutures but some I can dress and they'll close up themselves. The rest of you, though..." Isla arched an eyebrow and stood back from him so she could get fresh cloth to clean him up. "Can you take a few deep breaths for me?" she asked, wanting to figure out the extent of his injuries before she commited to fixing up his arm. Isla the flesh is weak

Kaladin nodded at her comment "true I suppose. Then again some of the doctors we had on the front lines during the war seemed to faint at the mere thought of blood." He looked thoughtful for a moment, despite the blood still welling out of various wounds. " then again, all those boys had been conscripted into the medical core so it isn't such a surprise that they had been terrible at it."

He watched as Isla dabbed at the cuts on his arm while assessing him. She was attractive, with long blonde hair and a lightly tanned complexion. "How's a pretty lass such as yourself come to wading elbow deep in other people's guts? Surely some pretentious nobleman would have tried snatching you up by now?" Kaladin asked before another series of coughs interrupted him again.

Once they had subsided he lifted the metal arm to whip the blood and spittle from his mouth. He chuckled as she gave her preliminary assessment "the rest of me is a bit more royally fucked, I didn't need to come to a doctor to tell me that." He said though for once his tone was good natured, perhaps it was the alcohol he had drank to help dull the pain and keep him from passing out. "I need to know if you can fix me" he took a deep breath several times pain flaring each time he inhaled. "Bugger that hurts" He said wincing.

"Luckily I wasn't one of them," Isla remarked with a smile to Kaladin. She'd been on the front lines, blood and gore and all, and the war had been kind to precisely nobody. She managed a quiet laugh as she continued to look him over, the medic shrugging her shoulders. "Family business," she explained. "I imagine there were noblemen enough vying for my attention before I left for the battlefield. But some things are more important." Like stopping him from bleeding everywhere, figuring out what was wrong and saving his life. She listened closely to both his chest and his words as he complied with her instructions, a soft frown on her face. "I can fix you," she said with an air of easy confidence. "But I'll need you to stay in the infirmary overnight at the very least. And you might want to be asleep for everything I need to do." In fact, it would be easier if he was. Isla straightened up again and turned to her tools, taking out a generous wad of gauze and bandages so she could wrap up his arm while she dealt with the more serious injuries. Once she was done, she nodded to the bed. "Lay down, if you would?" Isla the flesh is weak