The door flies open after a boot finds the mark, unbolted this early in the eve, it swings open freely to whack against the wall, where chips and pockmarks line a wall of chased stone where so many other men had desperately done the same thing. It wasn't the fact people always wanted to create a sense of the drama, it's simply because trying to open a door while carrying a wounded person in both arms often proves close to an impossible task.
Amber torches and lanterns line the hall brightly, and there is much noise inside, mostly from healers at work or the few sick and maimed who find no solace in the poppy milk and herbs given to them. So much blood can be seen from the diminutive white figure draped in his arms. It soaks through the small holes of his studded brigandine, and he begins to feel it trickle through the mail hauberk underneath. It had taken him a long enough time to realize she had no tail, the thing that put him on edge around her, the horns and sharp teeth and long tail – more perhaps fae than demonic, though the peasants could never tell the difference. But now the tail is gone, and he doesn't want to know the how's or the why's, in fact, part of him feels he isn't sure he cares. But there's a voice in the back of his head, that irritating voice of the sad cripple of a coloured girl, speaking of innocence and care for those she held dear. What is she to him? A friend? An acquaintance? An employee? Whosoever she represents, she'll likely be dead soon without a healer to see her needs.
He moves down the hallway, droplets of blood forming a trail in his wake. A young girl dressed in the usual white gowns and cottons comes forward as he approaches a door, and it doesn't take her long to see the immediate problem at hand and note the great cuts and marks upon the pale white skin. The Rememdium is a place that hasn't been known to shy away creatures that are not human, and while the young girl, perhaps new, does look with trepidation at the odd looking creature, she is quick to remember her duties.
"Ser? Ser, what happened?"
"Found 'er this way, o'er on t' porch at t' pub."
"The Broken Dagger?"
"Aye."
"This way please ser, quickly."
She leads him down the hallway, making a right, then a left, to a small unattended room. "Here," she says, and the sheet draws back in a great flurry, thrown off, the thick wool-lined matting underneath to absorb the blood, cleaned and ready. He works carefully, gingerly. "Easy now," he says to the bloodied Nova, lowering her to the mattress. "Easy…. Easy… there y'go, luv." There is a great tearing sound while the young girl readies bandages from the very clean sheets she'd removed, and Serrus stoops over the bed, watching the white homunculus warily.
"Necklace... "Y'stay awake now. Stay awake." A hand reaches to bat against her cheek a few times. "Y'keep them eyes open, now."
The young girl works quickly, covering what she can. "Press here," she says, guiding his hand to the largest of the covered wounds, and her eyes cast up to him. "What happened?" she asks softly.
"Like I bloody told yer, I found 'er this way, lyin' on t' porch."
The young girl's eyes do not waver from the sellsword's firm expression, baby blues against dark browns, and there is a gleam of scepticism from the at Serrus' words, a look that doesn't waver.
"Don't you give me that bloody look, girl. Saint Aisa, don't you fuckin' dare. Where's them 'ealers? Where's Sera Mercy?"
"I'll fetch Ser Mitchell for you." The young girl steps back, her firm gaze unwavering, while the sellsword's expression could not have changed quicker, his eyes gleaming with ire.
"I didn't bloody well ask for Ser Mitchell, I asked for Sera Mercy."
"She… she's sleeping, ser, retired for the night—"
"WELL GO FUCKIN' WAKE HER UP, THEN!"
The young girl backs away a step, then is gone in a quick flurry of footsteps, unable to hide the flushed anger across her face as she makes her way back down the hallway, leaving Serrus holding a white sheet that's already drenched in a bright red pool.
"Neckl -- Nova. Stay awake, girl. Then 'ealers'll fix y'up, aye? Then y'can make me some more bolts. Pref'bly ones that'll bloody shoot straight."