Beneath the Mire

[Kuzo]

It all happened so fast. Like nothing Irajah had ever seen before.

The bar had been quiet- slow night, off the beaten path. While she had not wanted to be in her stark rooms alone, a crowd hadn't been what she'd wanted either. It was enough, the quiet murmur of voices, simply knowing that the room was filled with living, breathing people, even if she wasn't looking to engage any of them.

Dressed in her typical fashion, the tunic with long flowing sleeves that went down to the middle of the backs of her hands and a high neck, Irajah had sipped at her drink (a house special called a Dantooine Sunrise) meditatively, tired but as content as she ever was these days.

Content, at least, until a dozen armed men had entered, guns blazing and shouting for someone (mercifully not her this time) to come quietly or everyone died.

Of course, if they kept firing weapons like that, everyone *would*.

Without even thinking about it, Irajah had ducked, scuttling behind the bar as the air filled with the sound of blasters- and then

*bzzztSNAP*ZOOOOOUUUM*

Hazel eyes opened wide as the sound of a lightsaber hit an undercurrent beneath the hail of blaster bolts, echoing in strange harmony with the more staccato energy weapons. She peered around the edge of the bar, taking in the scene of a single man ripping through the cadre of assailants, his weapon a brilliant blur as it slashed through the air. Not a bolt hit him as the men fell back, changing their direction of fire while the blue eyed man batted back red slices of light without missing a beat. Mercenaries fell, knocking over chairs, crashing in to tables. The sounds were almost deafening- especially once the screaming started.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught one of them, dropping his blaster and drawing a new weapon from his belt. He raised it, taking aim at the man's back.

"BEHIND YOU!"

Her warning came a moment too late. He started to turn a heartbeat too slowly. The sharp retort of the chemical slug thrower was in deep dissonance to the sounds of the skirmish thus far.

Two bullets slammed in to the lone remaining combatant. A grunt, a step back, and then he closed the distance at remarkable speed, decapitating the only man who'd managed to get a shot off on him.

The bar was silent for a moment, only the humming of the lightsaber to fill the morgue-like silence. The scant few patrons that had been there when everything exploded had fled out the back.

Slowly, with her hands out, Irajah stood, never taking her eyes off of the man who had just killed a dozen people. Perhaps she should have run. Perhaps she should have just let him die.

Die? Oh yes. She could already see from the way the blood was spurting in short bursts that one of the bullets had hit an artery. But she didn't do either of those two things.

"I'm unarmed. My name is Doctor Ven and I think you should sit down before you bleed to death."

[member="Ket Van-Derveld"]

 

[Ket Van-Derveld]

(( Musical selection for this post. Sets the mood, methinks. ))​

The weak poison in the slug worked it's way through his bloodstream as he stood there. His breathing was a bit labored as he watched the last of his would-be assassins fall to the floor like a pile of old rags. There was but one person still left standing, however. A female, dusky-hued hair and a wide eyed look of oddly-placed compassion. It took him by surprise just a bit as a hand moved over his neck, an spot near the top of the trapezious muscle. Blood, and a good amount at that. Wonderful, he thought quietly to himself. Bright sapphire blue eyes looked upon the small woman as she spoke to him.

He nodded lightly after what must have seemed an eternity. Her hands were moving into something he'd seen far too many times. A universal signal that she wanted no conflict with him. Smart. There was once a time he might have simply killed her where she stood before teasing death for the umpteenth time and surviving wounds which would kill lesser people. Yet, he'd reached a stage in his life, not just of age but of outlook, where he knew better. The young act so impulsively, not you, one of the voices whispered within his head. He was forced to agree with it. For now, he simply nodded in the affirmative to her suggestion, and sat down with a tired thud upon one of the still-upright carved wooden seats.

His simple, button up dress shirt of white cotton was stained with the blood of the men who lay at their feet, his worn leather pants showing no worse for wear. A few bits of blood and bone stuck to the tips of black leather boots, and he idly shook some off before he made eye contact once again.

"Doctor Ven. Doctor. In this dive? Tell me...who or what are you looking for, in a place like this?"

He motioned to his neck, as if to give her permission to do what needed to be done. But the look in his eyes was one of pure fear. Something that said if she screwed this up, she'd hit the floor lifeless before he did.

[member="Irajah Ven"]

 

[Kuzo]

It took long enough for him to respond that she wasn't sure if he'd heard her- or if he was just trying to decide to kill her too. Once he did though- She hesitated only a moment before reaching down and picking up her rucksack. Irajah never knew when she'd have to leave a place- a planet- in a hurry, and always traveled with the few things she couldn't part with. Right now though, the only thing that mattered was the med-kit.

She closed the distance in silence, evaluating his wounds even as she moved before putting the pack down and fishing around for the kit. Flipping that open, she turned back to the blue-eyed man, about to answer his question (at least in part).

But the look on his face, in his eyes, froze her for a moment. Hazel eyes locked with his for a moment, and there was fear reflected in her own gaze, yes, but also a calm determination. No one had ever looked at her that way- a look that promised death- she didn't recognize it from experience. But there is a deep animal part in us all that knows a threat when we see it.

Maybe, she'd made a mistake.

But she didn't turn away.

"It looks like the first shot went clean through," she said without addressing his question just yet, her eyes casting now to his upper arm. "But the second one is still inside," she nodded, indicating the slow pulsing of blood in the meat of his shoulder.

"I'm going to inject a clotting factor in to your arm first. It's going to sting like hell, but it'll slow the bleeding fast and allow me time to work on the other wound without you bleeding out."

She explained each step because doing so kept her calm. But also so that he knew exactly what she was doing- which would hopefully avoid any potential misunderstandings in a moment when none could be afforded.

Though her attention was on [member="Ket Van-Derveld"] , she was keenly aware of the dead bodies surrounding them.

Choosing a wide syringe from her kit, she filled it with the solution. A heartbeat pause and then, she showed him the bottle. Instinct deeper than practice indicated this was a great idea. She could feel sweat beading at the nape of her neck, but ignored it.

"And I'm here in this 'dive' because it beats being alone in my head," she said, offering a wan smile. It was the truth. It also left things out, but she wasn't about to offer what plans she was making to a stranger who could kill a dozen people in under 90 seconds. And besides, she had a job to do first.

She injected the clotting factor in a swift, efficient motion. If the blood he was dripping on her white tunic bothered her, it didn't show.

 

[Ket Van-Derveld]

[member="Irajah Ven"]

((Sorry for the delay!))

"Just do what must be done, Doctor."

And almost as soon as the needle penetrated flesh and his eyes slammed shut, he could feel the burn of the clotting agent. It had been decades since he needed a proper doctor, and the familiar burn of her medicine was almost like a throwback to his teenage years. Being fixed up by uncaring droids whose only program was to get you better no matter the method. The Sith were a violent group even to their own. Always been that way. Yet what struck the Lupine was how dedicated this young woman was to her chosen craft. He could see in her the fear she posessed, yet she did not shirk from her responsibility as a healer. Commendable, you know; the many voices agreed with one another in a rare moment of true clarity. All he could focus on was the pain, until she next spoke, and her words brought forth his undivided attention.

"Alone in your head? My dear Doctor, what I would not give, what sacrifice I would make to have but a moment's solace from the voices that plague my mind."

In that one, singular moment, a smile creaked across his lips, genuine and heartfelt.

 

[Kuzo]

She counted in her head, watching the as the flow of blood from his arm slowed and then stopped. Faster than she expected it to- faster than it has any right to. Interesting.

"Alone in your head? My dear Doctor, what I would not give, what sacrifice I would make to have but a moment's solace from the voices that plague my mind."

Hazel eyes flicked up at him for a moment when he said that, then back down to the job she was doing.

"That sounds like a problem for a different type of doctor," she said, but there was a hint of amusement in her voice, which would take the potential sting out of it.

"Okay. I'll sew this up in a minute. But first I need to get the slug out of your shoulder." She shifted around behind him, then frowned. "I'm going to cut off your shirt. I can't have you move your arm around enough to take it off, it might restart the bleed there and it will for certain increase the rate of the bleed here. Once I do that, I'll work fast to remove the slug and inject the clotting factor here- but I'll have to repair the artery itself before I can close up the wound."

She paused, tilting her head slightly.

"I get the feeling I don't need to tell you this will hurt like hell. I'll inject something first to numb the area a little, but it will only do so much"

​[member="Ket Van-Derveld"]