Blood Cw - Tumblr Posts
One layer challenge except it wasn't a challenge I was just losing it
A few funnies that came up while writing a fic about Kurashiki & Klim fambly shenanigans pre-decision game
(*not all of these feature in the fic but I missed them :3)
when she walks away and pulls your hand you’ll follow her without a thought. you always would. whether it’s your sister ahead of you or her ghost
🎶Now Playing - 999 Week 2022
(Compilation of all my pieces for last year's @999week!)
Hm.... Do you hear something?
Look at the details I put into this thang
fandom sleeping on the most toxic yuri pairing in the entire series simply because they never spoke in canon smh
”Rise and live again. As my fist of vengeance. As my Moon Knight.”
Hello, Moon Knight Nation. How we feelin tonight?
so, in case you couldn’t tell, MK autism has taken ahold of me, and I’m about to make it everyone’s problem.
Bonus 👇
My baby girls (Jake Lockley fan art coming soon, probably)
she is having a little fun
when i drew this i imagined this was his reaction to gordon shooting him in the head like 7 times
I had a mental image of Gabriel just sitting there, chilling, reading The Bible or something, one arm stretched to the side and V1 holding his forearm like a burger and gnawing on his veins like some messed up mix of Gollum and mosquito, ever since I picked up on The Gay™
THIS is what a good marriage looks like
⚠️ TW ⚠️
0/2300$
Abusive relationship victim! I'm in need of help.
Cashapp $Lexxjunio28
PayPal [email protected] link
Re-uploading this because of my account errors. please help me get a bump!
I escaped a abusive relationship, if y’all don’t know I left with just a suit case & my 5 y.o! these pictures were pictures are proof of why I finally left, I posted this because I badly need help with money for a hotel. I'll be staying in hotels till the women’s shelter calls me saying they have room for me. I been struggling hard with things I need for me and my son.
I have no family parents are in prison been in prison since I was a baby my mother got out 2 weeks ago but she’s not doing well she has a mind of a baby so she can’t help..I started my period & I need tampons & money for groceries for me and my son things to eat maybe like noodles, ravioli, and things like this can I get a little help?
I get my FOODSTAMPS on the 8th. I do have cashapp & paypal. I have no job here because my ex fiance never let me out without him! Thank y’all so much. Please no rude comments there’s already enough going on.
Percy!! If you are so inclined can you draw us an Annalise ❤️❤️❤️❤️
lesbian vampires let's go 🩸
some of my vamps from over the years as a halloween treat 🩸🦇🩸
so like i remembered i had a pixel art program on my pc during class today so here’s a bit of a wip that i’m working on. i’m not too good at digital art yet, especially rendering and shading but i’m trying my best you know?
Day 7/50:
₊✩‧₊˚౨ Ada and Eve ৎ˚₊✩‧₊
I wrote a fic!!! But it's short & dumb lol. Also language isn't eng (it is ru). But here you can have it 🩸🩸🩸. Check tags before reading
He was moving fast, quick, small conversations when warranted, taking care of resetting bones, wrapping injuries, even picking up a needle to sew together the worse cuts or holes. His hands were bloody after almost every patient, and someone, seeing the work he was doing, had begun to bring him bowls of water. He had graciously accepted, washing his hands between patients, using fresh water and bandages to wipe away blood from open wounds, all the while his easy smile never leaving his face, even as heat pressed in from the bodies, the groans of pain sometimes rose to new levels, and his fingers grew tired from stitching and wrapping.
He couldn't explain it in simple words, but this was something he was used to.
Travelling alone, injuries happened. And without a doctor or healer nearby, he had to take care of himself. He had learned from necessity the skills he used, book knowledge only getting him so far. But now, here, when it wasn't him, he felt less sure, and more connected to the injured than usual. It didn't slow him, but he showed a bit more compassion than he normally would, and the many thank you's he received was enough to keep him driving to help the next.
By the time the more minor injuries were taken care of, he was exhausted, mentally and physically, the last bowl of bloody water beside him as his hands dripped into them, finally taking up a towel and drying them, sitting back on a stool and letting out a deep breath, head pressed to the wall behind him as his ears stood flicked forward, keeping them from being crushed under his skull. He listened, thought, considered, remembering what he had seen, how he had watched Cyra heal a disembowelment, knit together flesh and bones like it was nothing, her magic incredible. She had done it again and again, and he could only imagine that the standing healer was even more tired than he was.
He turned his gaze up towards her, tilting his head to look, bearing with rolling onto his sensitive ear as his gaze flicked up and down her white garments, the rolled up sleeves, marveling at how when her aether waned, she had chosen to get her hands dirty too. He watched her standing there, pale, drained, but proud, and his tail flicked with admiration, before he rose slowly and moved to stand beside her, looking out over the injured, almost all stable enough to recover.
Slowly, he pointed, to a man he stitched up a hold through his shoulder, murmuring, "Arrow." Then to another, a ragged hole in his stomach, thinner on the back than the front. "Spear." And another, a small, profusely bleeding hole that had taken packing, pressure, and finally a few stitches. "Bullet." His hand dropped, and he looked over them all again, remembering the faces of those he had helped, their complaints, and now their bandaged bodies, breathing in slowly and letting his breath hiss through his nose. "This wasn't a Blue-Back attack..."
His eyes fell to the feather in his quiver, standing tall against the back wall, and he let his gaze travel along it, before his blue eyed gaze found hers. "Feels kind of...pointless to have hunted it down now when I could have--should have--helped with whatever battle they were in."
There was more to this than just a savage attack by a territorial beast. Some of the wounded had the brutality of a battle between men, some could have been passed off as a rampant pack...but all of them were far worse for wear. It was just a quick observation, and she made a note to speak to the Grand Marshall about it later. Healers of all skill level and profession had come to assist in the efforts, and the way they frantically flitted around the room was telling of the amount Cyra estimated they lost when returning home.
Her attention had been commanded by a weakly moaning man in the far back of the infirmary. The blanket of red that coated him and those surrounding him called to her for assistance. In a moment she was at the bedside, taking in all the gore. She only had one spell that could help, but there was a chance she might need it before long. Cyra needed to make her judgement call quickly, or the disemboweled man would surely die. She took a second to glance around the room, taking in the severity of all of the injuries with a single look.
It can be done. She reassured herself. The healer bid the others step back. She didn't want a single risk of any ounce missing her target. The stone on the staff glowed bright for a moment, magic trailed into her opened hand. The glowing ball flickered for a moment, before it burst, spinning around the dying man and disappearing into him. Benediction was one hell of a life-saver. But it's potency had to be limited due to it's incredibly high cost. Cyra had trained for this, working towards expanding her already deep well of Aether. If she was going to save everyone she could, she needed an ocean of energy housed within. The umbrella healing wind that she had cast earlier had taken just as much as this single target, and just like that she had felt the strain already.
Not all could be fully mended, but most would be brought back from the brink. If she couldn't handle the aetheric load, she had knowledge that could at least help aid in their care. The snap of a bone being shifted back into place behind her warranted a flick of the ear in it's direction. The lurch of a stomach, and the patient getting sick from the pain and the sensation caught her attention for only a second. She needed to watch carefully as her current patient's wounds had begun healing at a rapid pace. Not everything was back to normal for him, though at the very least his intestines no longer sat draped along his sides. This was manageable for the others there. She needed to move on to the next.
The work was hard, as it always was. It was hard to see people suffering at the hands of others. Some had lost fingers. A man or two missing an eye that she could not replace. All she could do was seal the wound to prevent infection. Blood loss was the most widely presented problem across the board, and all she could do was seal up a few here and there before having to rely on bandages, salves, and ointments to help with stitches and burns.
It had taken hours to get through them all. Most were not fully stable, but a majority of them would live through this. If infection didn't take them, they would continue on with their lives.
At the end of it all, Cyra had stood at the front of the room. Observing for any more urgent matters that needed to be cared for as the nurses kept up their hard work. At some point the healer had put up her staff, electing to roll up her sleeves and help without the aid of her waning Aether. She had used enough. Her already grey skin had paled in the display of effort that she had worn proudly on her face. Another job well done, but still...their suffering had been brought on by something more complex than a rampaging flock of ziz.
Watching this made Bryn's entire body crawl with utter hatred for those who stood next to him.
The Garlean uniform he wore felt as suffocating as the gas that filled the chamber the blue Miqo'te was trapped in, his silver eyes gleaming with anger and utter distaste as the gas filled the chamber, the thin, malnourished, and weak cat girl weakly beating against the glass. It was cruel, unusual, and it made the Hyur male feel gross. Like something was clinging to him he could never get rid of.
She collapsed back against the back wall as Bryn shifted, his boots thumping against the floor, turning towards the lead scientist, his eyes harsh as he reached up and shifted his Garlean soldier's hat, his short cropped black hair itching with his discomfort, but he couldn't show it. He had to stay his anger, and his disgust, had to play along. His mouth opened, about to ask something, anything, to try and figure out what was going on, when that horrible screech of nails on glass, his hands clenching as his eyes flicked back to the tube like container, his teeth grinding at the sound as he finally turned back towards the other two men with him, this time, to the Commander.
"All of this, just to make them more...obedient?" The last word stuck in his throat, nearly growled out, but he kept his expression neutral, reactions to her, not to the Commander or scientist, the smartly dressed leader of the Castrum eyeing Bryn for a moment before answering.
"No, not just obedience. Listen, Sergeant, and you might learn something." Like always, the Commander was dismissive, uninterested, more focused on the experiment, the future of the Garlean army, than his subordinate. And for once, the Sergeant was pleased that he did. Turning back, his six fulm frame strained his Garlean coat as he crossed his arms, staring at the poor Miqo'te as she struggled, and the scientist began to speak.
Cellular structure. It was more, it was way more than just obedience. It was so much more than anything he had expected, had received warnings about. No, this far surpassed that and left him shuddering with concern. The implications...the gas, if used outside of the Castrum, as a weapon... This could be worse than anything the Garlean's had thought to use against Eorzea. There was no way he could explain the pure relief that they had thought to use it like this, rather than as an agent on the field. Perhaps it wasn't possible to do that, the concentration of the gas too light in an open area, or some other reason, but the fact that it was only used here...
A blessing in disguise.
And he hated the fact that he had to think that way.
He saw the lead scientist looking over, and he could only manage a terse nod, before he focused back on Cyra and--
She was choking. She couldn't breath. His eyes went wide, taking a step forward, and then forcing himself to stop. He couldn't, Twelve damnit all! He could not do a single thing, it would help neither of them, and likely get them both killed. But watching her choke, claw at her throat, the way the scientist and the Commander both looked pleased at the way she suffered, he could feel his own throat closing up, his own body struggling, and his breath coming in a little faster, on the verge of feeling sick enough to be sick. She was turning into something else, into something feral, angry, full of rage as she went through whatever torture the gas caused, and he shifted on his feet again. And his mind...it began to wander.
To anything but here.
To anything but he convulsing woman in a tube that he had to watch in order to keep his cover. Fangs growing, body writhing, everything working to make her even more deadly as he shivered again, but this time, for a totally different reason. Phantom fur stood up on his body, his eyes glowed, and his hands clenched tight, the feeling of becoming something you didn't want, that you feared, that was dangerous and deadly all too familiar as he whispered out, "What have you done...?"
He didn't want an answer. He didn't get one. Instead he was greeted with the sight of Cyra clawing through her neck, his eyes going wide as blood poured from the wound, and he let out a cry of concern. It only grew worse, the Miqo'te clawing at her arms, blood running down her arms, painting the confined tube with it, as he started after the scientist, and then whipped around to the Commander.
He was pale. The Commander was pale with shock. He was staring at the Miqo'te, shaking, his lips whispering something over and over, something like "no", as Bryn grabbed him by his coat and shook him. "Shut it down!" His voice was a roar, of anger, of disbelief, of fear. And the Commander could only stare back and stammer incoherently back.
"I-I can't!"
"What do you mean you can't?!" He shook the man again, easily, the burly sniper's eyes flaring with utter rage, and the Commander looked fearful for a new reason.
"I only a-approved it! After it was approved, it's all in his hands!" The finger was pointed towards the lead scientist, the same scientist who was shouting at the glass and doing nothing, Bryn dropping the Commander and whipping around towards him.
"SHUT IT DOWN!" He knew, just like they did, that if she died, it would be an issue, for them all, especially for them. And if he didn't shut it down right now and get her to a medic, Bryn was going to kill them both. Personally and slowly. Mission be damned.
Preestablished plot and story starter for @musesofawolf (Bryn)
The chemical that filtered into the tank had burned her throat, her lungs, and left her with a choking cough. She curled her hand into a fist, weakly raising to strike the glass only to smack it with a gentle thud. She knew it was useless, but the fear that shocked her brain forced her to do anything to return to untainted air. The second growl had a bit more volume to it as her chest heaved with the effort. Tilting her head back had her falling into the opposite side of the tank with a metallic thump as her head slapped the surface. She winced, feeling the pain radiate from the point of contact as her vision filled with an explosion of color. One clawed hand clutched at her throat as the gas continued to filter into her sealed space.
The panic writ on her face had been clear even if she couldn't keep her sight focused on the group that stood before the containment unit. With quivering limbs that required so much work just to move, she leaned herself back into the glass with another thud as her head struck it again. Rather than beat at it with her fist, she tried digging her sharpened fingers into the hard surface. All it had done was create an insufferable screech that left her reeling. Her eyes began to burn as the chemical mist had filled most of the bottom of the tank where she had sat.
"This is the second step. I'll spare you the proper terminology," the man held his hands (and clipboard) behind his back as he answered. "This, gas, is what we use to alter the cellular structure of the subject. The compound in the bag was designed to allow the body to more willingly accept the changes that happen over the course of the next ten minutes. The speed at which the change happens can be painful, and without the liquid compound...the gas would kill the subject." He hummed.
The man rocked on his heels ever so slightly as he turned his eye just enough to see the two men standing at his side, appreciating his work. He grinned as he watched the creature in the tube succumb to the pain of the chemical that had nearly filled the tank entirely.
Cyra could see spots in her vision as the lower oxygen had put her dangerously close to passing out. The burning and choking air had her pulling on the skin of her neck with those pointed fingers nearly breaking the surface of the skin around her throat. She let out a louder scream, another wordless cry for the agony to end before she could feel the growing ache in her bones as their poison began to permeate her body. She closed her eyes tight as the gas had begun to burn in her blurred vision. That was when the unquenchable fear had rippled through her. The instinct to survive had begun to win out over all other emotions, and trade that fear for anger and wrath. The bristling of her fur had the Garlean scientist humming with delight.
Oh how he adored watching that primal need take over all rational thought in his many previous attempts to secure her survival. The way his subjects writhed, and lashed out at the container had always sent a pleasured chill down his spine. But to see it happening to his magnum opus was beyond being just a treat. He unwrapped his arms from behind his back, pulling the clipboard securely into his arm, and taking the pen from his pocket to begin scribbling notes.
The Miqo'te's gasping breaths had now been laced with low rumbles as the monster they were making her become began clawing its way to the surface. Her last moments of rational thought had been filled with the hope that if she squeezed her own throat hard enough, that the burning air would stop. Anything to stop the harsh air from covering her in the shroud of anguish that came with every breath.
She gagged, feeling the pressure of her hand on her own neck tighten as the chemical hiss ceased, and sealed the vents to the tube. Every minute, they would reopen to allow for a short flow of oxygen before cycling in more of the transformative gas. Pain pulsed through her skin. She felt it radiate out from her chest as every single fiber of her being began shifting. She felt the bones in her face shift and change to further alter the shape of those already dangerous fangs that lined her jaw. Strangled cries escaped between the suffocating gasps as her body convulsed in response to the overwhelming sting that flitted across her body. No longer did her movements feel weak or hindered by that sedative. With the pain of that invisible chemical, her reactions were nothing more than an animalistic need to survive.
"Centrus lux Primus...you have certainly outdone yourself this time." The scientist whispered to himself in awe as he watched the writhing body in the container. He glanced at his watch with a grin before turning his attention back to the show.
Cyra felt her ribcage tremble with each slowing gasp, tears spilling from her closed eyes as the searing heat under her skin rose with every painful shift of her limbs. In that fear of death, her body shook with a nearly electric reaction. The sharpened fingers around her throat jerked with that tremor, digging the growing point of her finger into the flesh on the back of her neck. Her shoulders flexed, dragging that natural knife around to the front, splitting skin and muscle alike as it sliced with ease. The girl hadn't even realized that the warmth that washed over her left side had been the blood that now poured freely from the vicious wound.
In another quaking convulsion, her bloodied claws caught the flesh on the outside of her other arm, dragging seeping paths through her flesh as the pained flailing body painted the interior of the container with red. The scientist, Centrus, felt his face grow pale as the life of his subject began pooling inside the airtight unit. He knew the risk this experiment posed. At the same time, he knew what would happen to him if it failed.
"No, no-no!" He shouted as he slammed his hands on the exterior of the glass. "What are you doing?!"
He continued to yell in shock and anger at the woman behind the glass. Her movements had begun to still.
voidtouched-blue--[Prior]
After that initial shuddered gasp of air, hazy vision had once again returned to her. Though the scene had been too blurred to recognize one shape from another, she felt that her eyelids had been resting open for the entirety of the time she had been dead. She still could not move her limbs, or respond to those muffled questions that frantically passed between the bodies gathered around her. After a painful amount of seconds had passed, she took a second trembling breath and closed her eyes. Cyra coughed, spitting out the blood that had pooled into her lungs from the gaping wound around her neck. She would live, but just barely.
He had grabbed the scientist, the rage palpable on his face, his eyes dancing with so much anger that they glowed a dangerous silver, sparing no bit of strength as he shook the light, un-warred man, the blasted Garlean barely seeming to understand at first until it clicked, and he was moving, Bryn dropping him and striding towards the tube that trapped Cyra, kept her from help, left her alone, weak, and bleeding.
He was there just in time to see her reach out and claw at the glass, his hand pressing against it, as if trying to reach her through the glass, his eyes on hers as he growled out under his breath, hoping she could read his lips. "Hang on. Almost there. Just hang on!"
And her answer was for blood to bubble out of her lips.
Her arms were torn to shreds, her neck just as bad, that life giving substance pouring from the wounds, leaving her weaker and weaker as he slammed a fist against the glass in anger. What went wrong? What the hell happened!? She had done it, yes, but no one willingly tried to claw out their throat and arms. Not someone with fire in their belly, ready to fight. No, this was a reaction, to the gas, the pain, something in it had drove her to this! And the person who had authorized it...who had given him the mission to teach her, protect her, and now was taking it away.
He could see her life bleeding from her eyes, see the way she was fading, fast, drip drip down the drain, We bleed a lot, don't be afraid to use that. No she was dying dying dying, right in front of them, heartbeat slowing and arms weak, barely leaning against the glass as he blue fur was covered in red, his fist slamming against the glass again and--
He spun, and is if he took a step and then just teleported the rest of the way, he was at the Commander's throat, a hand around it, slamming him back against a wall, the Commander squirming in his grasp, choking, until that icy, steel cold voice slid over his ears, Bryn's entire visage dripping danger. "You better hope, Commander, start praying, that she lives. Because if she does not, if I am unable to finish my mission, I will personally request the honor to execute you." He leaned closer, his voice a whisper, as he hissed out, "You put her in my care, and I take that seriously, sir. And you hurting her--"
He heard the click, the hiss, the opening of the chamber, and he dropped the Commander and was there in a second, clawing at the door, trying to swing it open and--a burst of energy, of aether, of *something*, surprising him, jolting back, then back at it again, swinging it open as he yelled, "Bandages! NOW!" He didn't have to wait long, one of those scared helpers shoving them at him, the Commander behind them coughing, grasping his throat, as Bryn pressed the bandages to her neck, her arms...
She wasn't bleeding...he had missed her eyes closing, her body going slack, the lack of breath and blood, but suddenly, he was acutely aware of it, that signs of life had left her. The bleeding gone, somehow, someway, his hands darted to her chest, ripping through the pitiful rags she wore, one hand darting to her neck, holding two fingers there, feeling...
No pulse.
His hands were over her chest, overlapping, and with his palms, he began. Short, sharp presses down against her chest, over her heart, her ribs cracking under the force he used, wincing at the sound, but not stopping. Forcing her heart to beat. And confirming, that somehow, she wasn't bleeding. But he couldn't stop to wonder how. Couldn't slow. Going, going, going, under his breath whispering, "No you don't, you don't get to die. You don't get to die here."
27.
28.
29.
30-
She gasped, she breathed, she sucked in a gasp of air and the dread that had built up turned in relief, and he let out a gasp of his own. She was alive. She was alive.
His hands lifted from her chest, shaking, bloodied, sticky. Wiping them on his uniform, he looked up and growled at one of the assistants, his voice that deadly calm that left no questioning it. "She needs water, a cloth to clean her with, and clothes. Get them. Now."
She was alive. How many had not returned? How many had failed to recover? Succumbed to their wounds? How many had bled out under the very hands still coated with her blood?
At least this way, you will have a fighting chance. To save yourself. Or save someone else.
He slung off his coat, his Garlean uniform, and drapes it over her, hiding her bloodied and broken body, rising slowly, hands still shaking slightly, blaming the chill of the Castrum now that he just had an undershirt on his top half, shuddering softly as he glanced at the Commander, and Centrus, and the assistants, lifting his head slightly, before he spoke firmly to the man still on his hands and knees, recovering from Bryn's hand around his throat, "If you want her to live, to actually learn anything, never do this again."
voidtouched-blue--[Prior]
"Enough! I don't care who does it, but one of you help me! Hold her down so I can finish stitching her back up again." The man turned to look at the commotion by the door. His words had been spat out as venom to halt the conflict and complete the task at hand. Cyra's only response to his added voice in the chaos, was to lurch toward him with a growl. Her tail whipping out to slap at his side while he swatted back at the tufted appendage to keep it from contaminating his tools.
︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
He barely remembered the moments between setting where he was going, and heading there, his heavy boots thumping against the ground and metal, turning away from the exit they had taken the other day, then up a flight of stairs, down the hallway, and rapidly towards a set of white painted double doors, his rifle ready, his eyes gleaming, prepared for anything.
And then he heard her scream.
He was through the door in a flash, the doors flying open and slamming against the walls, the hinges whining in protest, as Bryn saw the soldier turn, yell, and take a step towards him, and then think better of it, the rifle in Bryn's hands half lowered as if ready to bring to bear and shoot, the Garlean man still standing in front of Cyra and the medicus, prepared to stop the supposed threat to the doctor and the Commander's prized possession. Bryn's focus though was on Cyra, on the young woman on the table, blood dripping down her back, squirming in pain and anger, the monitors hooked up to her, the man over her, how she was restrained, arms and legs pulling against the restraints, but unable to move, to pull away, to pull away from the garbed and ready doctor, the silver eyes of the soldier flashing as he felt his teeth grit and he growled out at the soldier in his way, "Step aside. No-"
But he never finished it, the guard turning towards the medicus, his angry yell and order surprising them both, but it was Bryn who reacted quicker, recognizing that it was a mending procedure, the needle, the twine, the classic preparation of a stitching, and he knew that Cyra would be less than pleased about it.
And in one moment, the soldier found himself the proud new owner of a rifle, and Bryn was by the blue Miqo'te's side, grabbing her shoulder and holding it tight, so her back was bared to the medicus, and her face was forced to look at him, his eyes narrowed slightly as he nodded to the medicus, voice low and steady. "Quickly. She's stronger than she looks."
It was true, but his grip was stronger, and he had the advantage of looking into her eyes, seeing her anger, fear, and hatred. He knew with where he was standing, restraints or not, that he was now the target, and that was something he could handle, holding her gaze as one hand held her chin, the other on her shoulder, keeping her focused on him as he shook his head at her, warning her not to move. "It's going to hurt, but your wound is too deep to leave untreated. Stay. Still."
It wasn't like she was going to listen to him, but he had to say it anyways, hoping that maybe, she would listen to him, to a familiar face, if she even remembered him. He had no idea what she remembered after such an experience, if she recognized his face, his voice, or how she viewed him after he had just...watched.
But he could at least try.
voidtouched-blue--[Prior]
"Good, good...Keep it still...I'm almost done." The medicus was swift to comment on the rather cruel method of the soldier to keep her obedient. Despite all her wiggling and writhing, the man was able to work well enough to repair the torn sutures. Though, his job hadn't been quite finished. There was still the damage wrought by a careless hand that left a slow but steady bloom of red from the gash on her neck spilling onto the white fabric of the bed. It wasn't enough to leave her dying, but enough cause for repair. "Good as it can be," he glanced at the other two. "I need to examine the one on her neck. Turn it towards me, and do keep it still. I'm sure I don't need to warn you twice what could happen if you don't."
︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
He could see the anger in her eyes, in the way she whipped her head around, trying to get her muzzled teeth into his hand, and unable to as he held her firm, kept her from moving too much, letting the doctor finish the necessary work on her back.
It wasn't easy, without hurting her, the pressure he had to apply to her jaw to keep her head steady enough to make his muscles flex and the Hyur to grunt with exertion as he pressed her head down into the pillow. Normally, he would not have grabbed her by the chin, or anyone really, too easy to get bit, to lose his grip, but with her muzzled, he had better control, especially with a hand on her shoulder and arm to keep her from jerking around as stitches were inserted into her shoulders and back.
What concerned him the most though was the lack of recognition in her gaze. There was no pause, no understanding, just pure, feral anger and hate, and his silver eyes hardened with...sadness. That was what he felt. The tightening in his chest and the crinkle of his eyes, it was painful sadness that he was still viewed as a threat, that he had not yet convinced her to trust him. If only he didn't have a role he had to play, if only he could actually show her...
His gaze flicked to the soldier who he had nearly laid out earlier as he approached, his eyes flickering back to a neutral, uninterested gaze as he let out a huff of air at the advice, almost involuntarily flinching as the soldier just grabbed Cyra's ear and yanked it back, pressing her to the pillow. And her little cry almost had his hand jerking to help her, to give her the chance to swipe at the offending arm and elbow, even as the claws came dangerously close to his arm too. Still, the best he could do, was to shift his hand, palming her cheek and neck, pressing her down into the pillow now that she was better situated to be held down, nodding to the soldier and saying, "I've got her now, she won't move her head like this. Thanks."
And then winced, immediately following it, claws sinking into the arm holding her shoulders still, cutting straight through the cloth of the jacket, into his arms, wet, red blood running down his arm as he gritted his teeth and refused to move his hand, letting her take her pound of flesh as he held her tighter, feeling his fingers press into skin harder, tighter, indenting the blue fur as he grunted with mild pain.
It. Not her, not them, just it. Keep it still. And all Bryn could do was do exactly that, with claws in his arm, his hands holding her down, and his mind running a million malms a minute. He wanted to put the medicus on the short list of people he wanted dead, but he was just doing his job. The soldier beside him though...the way he treated her was enough to make his blood boil, enough to warrant a spot on the list, especially because he knew that if those claws had found the soldier and not his arm, the punishment would have been swift and brutal. There would have been no gritting and bearing with it like Bryn was.
He glanced at the medicus as he finished his work, nodding in agreement as the man ordered them to turn her, and he used his arm on her shoulder to turn her carefully, over, onto her other side so the doctor could get a look at her wound, grunting as her claws shifted in his arm until he had her positioned for the medicus to continue his work, muttering, "Hurry up."