Dragons, Dystopians, and Denial

She let out a choked sob, just short of a proper scream, but may as well have been. Her entire body tensed, and she felt her body twisting away, no matter how hard she tried to hold still. She clung to her tunic for dear life, desperate to keep herself pinned so she wouldn't hurt him.

Her left hand found Elias's ankle by accident, and she grasped to it more tightly than she meant to, trying to help keep herself pinned. It felt like an eternity passed, the bitter scent of burnt flesh overwhelming her, before he finally pulled the dagger away.

She was panting even harder now. Her chest rose and fell heavily, breaths coming in loud puffs. She couldn't be bothered to open her eyes.

"I'm done," he announced, seemingly to communicate every step with her, even if it was obvious. "Should I cauterize your arm too?"

"Fuck. No." She snarled. "Get off my arm. And stitch me up."

"Fair enough," Elias said, obeying. He let go of her arm and helped her unpeel her fingers around his ankle. "Do I need to, um... keep you down? For anything?"

"I can handle stitches," she muttered, yanking her right arm back from under herself. She clenched her fist, not even wanting to know how many different independent gashes there were. "Just do it."

Elias nodded, taking out the medical bag and then the needle and thread. He spent some moments threading it through the needle, and then held it close to her arm. "I'm going to start now," he said.

She clenched her teeth and let out a deep sigh. "Fine."

He nodded and firmly held her arm perched on his kneeled knee, scraping off the gauze and then starting. The needle punctered the end of the gash as he started to thread it. She inhaled sharply when the needle first entered her skin, then breathed out curses. But he didn't let the reactions bother him; he continued with a steady hand, stitching for some time until he reached the end of the gash. When finished, he cut the thread and then gently dabbed the drying blood on her arm.

"Finished," he announced. "You did good."

She finally opened her eyes. Her breathing was still labored and she was still covered in sweat, but she was starting to calm down after her side. She lifted her arm so she could inspect it. His stitches were more or less even, and straight enough that her scars probably wouldn't be too noticeable. She was surprised. "You too."

Elias smiled gently at her and then put away all the stitching supplies. "It's been a while since I did that, so I hope you can move okay. I can always redo it if it ever gets loose. Just let me know."

"The fuck you will." She closed her eyes. "I think I've had enough holes poked in me for today."

He gave her a long look. "Well, it's not like I'm a doctor. I can't tell you what to do. But I do want you to get well."

Jerica sighed, opening her eyes to look at him again. She was being a bitch. Again. Derik always told her she was too rude to the physicians, and that that was why they didn't even try to be gentle with her.

"It's not you," she said at last. "I just... can you..." She sighed again, already resentful in what she needed to ask him. "I need to get up."

"Of course," he said, putting all the medical supplies back in one container and then standing back up. He extended out an arm for her to take.

She took a deep breath and then grabbed his arm, scrambling to her feet with his help as he kept her steady. She pulled her arm away the instant she was to her feet... and then stumbled forward into him. She inhaled sharply again then muttered every combination of profanity that she could think of. "Sorry."

"That's okay," Elias said, trying to keep her steady with her shoulders until she was able to stand on her own.

She turned away from him and took a deep breath, entire body heaving from the exertion. She looked back at the corpse of the beast and raised a middle finger. "You fuck."

For a moment there, the two of them stared at the dead scorpion.

"That was rather rude of it to attack, wasn't it?" Elias dead-panned.

She laughed despite herself, but instantly groaned, clutching her side. "Stop it..." she snickered again, softer this time so it wouldn't hurt her. "Rude as fucccck if you ask me. Where's my...?"

She looked down at her sword with a sigh. It was going to be such a problem to bend down to retrieve it. But her only other option was to ask for help. She sighed again.

Elias seemed to study her in the brief pause. "What's wrong?" he asked.

She gestured vaguely at her sword, just in front of her toes. "It's so far away."

"Ah." He looked down at the sword with a hint of a smirk. "It appears so."

"You fuck." She repeated, turning her glare on him for a moment. He knew what she needed. And he wanted her to ask.

"I'll get it for you if you say please."

"Please stop being a fuck?"

"Hmmm," he said in thought. "Naw."

"Why am I not surprised." She hesitated, looking down at the sword as she tried to gauge whether it'd hurt her side worse to just bend down to get it than it would hurt her pride to have to ask for his help.

"Here, I'll show you so you can copy me," Elias continued to tease. He looked at her with a pout, arched eyebrows, and big eyes. "Please?" He then dropped the look, returning back with his smug face. "Like that. See? Not so bad."

"Might I remind you." She pointed at the beast. "I did that."

"And yet," he said dramatically, "you can't pick up the sword."

"You better hope I don't get my hands on it," she muttered, rolling her eyes.

He was grinning at this point. "You're making quite a case for me to retreive it. So motivational."

"It's my superpower, motivation," she answered flatly. She wasn't sure what emotion it was that she was feeling just then -- she was equal parts amused, annoyed, and in pain.