Aubre
She/Her
26
February 17
Turffield
Demisexual
Pokémon Doctor
Civilian
I Still Believe, Inside of Me, There's Someone Not Unspoken. Someone Not So Broken.
I Need Healing (Mission)
POSTED ON Dec 31, 2022 1:04:10 GMT
The redhead stared at the bottom of the sink for a disproportionate amount of time. This continued until the water singed her hands as she layered on what felt like the 12th layer of soap. This isn’t helping, you moron. You’re just putting off the inevitable. Turn around. The self-depreciation managed to get shaking hands to shut down the faucet. These were lowered to her scrub pants and wiped off. Fingertips brushed the worn-out fabric, focusing on that texture instead of turning around. 10…9…8… Suddenly, a warm hand slipped into hers. A smile appeared as she turned to the Helioptile at her side. A shaky smile appeared on her face, the tears not due solely to fear. “Thanks, Al.” She grabbed the needle of antibiotics. A stitching kit was settled on the tray beside it. “I am sorry about the muzzle.” It wasn’t that she thought all dogs were vicious monsters, just her mind that did. Most dogs were wonderful, loyal companions. The tendency towards some time mindless obedience set her on edge. With one final breath, the doctor turned around. Instantly, the pounding heart gained momentum. It went from bongo drum to gong as her pupils shrank to pinpricks. A dark alley on a moonlit night. An unnerving, rubbery echo with every step. The dumpster’s edge as she slipped and fell in a panic, the feeling of burning and heat creeping up her neck. Then, came the snarl just before—ah, Al’s hand. She focused on the dryness of his claws against her skin. This got her to the table. There, she focused on the smoothness of the steel and the smell of antiseptic. Green eyes shifted to the Houndoom as her hand moved to gently manipulate the injury. She focused on the shade of the dog’s velvety fur as she nervously stroked his hip.Warm doggy, soft doggy, little ball of fur. Please don’t get up and rip my face off, sir. Though her voice trembled, she managed not to start sobbing. “It’s a clean cut, fortunately. I do not think it nicked anything major.” That was not to say that it hadn’t cut anything, just that the injury wasn’t as dire as it first seemed. The dampness of tears—of a puddle on her cheek. Concentrate. This isn’t an alley. From her pocket, she pulled out a spray bottle. Within it was a powerful, high-brand surface-numbing agent. This she spritzes over the afflicted in gasping little puffs. Just like the breath of a terrified teenager. 10…9….8… After giving that a moment to sink in, he grabbed two painkillers from her pocket. These, she injected. In moments, the pain faded to a tingly feeling, not unlike the mouth at the dentist. “Let me just give him a shot of antibiotics—” Look, see, it wasn’t even the same sex. That dog had been female. She’d even sported a pink collar. She took a deep breath, moving to soak up what blood she could. The next part required a clear line of sight. “--and, I’ll start—” Her voice dropped in volume. Stabbing the hellhound with a thick needle a few dozen times. “--fixing this.”
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