Murdock couldn’t help the brief tut that escaped his lips. “You’ve been here a month and only now have you come to see the Yellows?” he asked, but it wasn’t really his place to judge and as far as messed up people went, this lad was pretty low on the list. He wasn’t imagining his dead wife wherever he went, Danos had that going for him. The Dedicated was all done with the cleaning, it didn’t take all that long for his practiced hands to clean the area up. “Course, there’s plenty of things a Drin’far’ji can do to make himself useful here. They do have classes on herbs and the like.” Not that Murdock knew much about them, he didn’t care for what plants you shoved down your throat to stop a swelling in three days, when someone could simply use Saidin.
“The Yellows here will know more than your Wisdom. There’ll be some poultice or other that can help you but that’s really not my area of expertise.” The man was honest, “I know the people who are though. Let’s get you Healed up and see what else we can do, hrmmm?”
It ought to have been ever so simple, the Healing. Murdock had Healed worse, and he was pretty sure that this was one of those instances where he could sort out the man’s injuries, pass him off onto a Yellow and be on his merry way. The Dedicated hadn’t experienced any real issues with his Healing since his time as a Soldier, trying to Heal the birds he had broken the wings of.
Harming to Heal, came the thought as Murdock met Giselle’s eyes. Giselle’s disapproving eyes. She must have known what would happen before Murdock did.
It was like Healing, but at the same time it wasn’t. The threads Murdock weaved together would in the correct combination, be useful for Healing a bruise or other injury, but these were not intended to Heal as the man had initially thought. Just as his Healing skill came naturally to him, it seemed all it took was the correct circumstances, the correct body, and he could make real the daydreams he had sometimes carried with him like lead weights, heaviest when he was trying to Heal the birds. Healing them so hard that they died... it was like harming them. It was Rending, making worse what was supposed to get better. Murdock’s weave of Fire and Earth and Spirit laced into the wounds, but none of them improved. The bruises never faded, and the bleeding didn’t stop. Where the injury was supposed to abate and knit over as if it had never been, instead it only grew worse. The scars around the man’s shoulder were delightfully susceptible-
wait delightfully? That’s not delightful, so easy to rip the already ruined flesh instead of knitting it back together.
Murdock jolted upright and out of his channelling reverie when he saw the bleeding from the broken skin had begun with a vengeance, and none of the injuries he had intended on Healing had actually Healed.
That was me! he realised, mouth open momentarily as he looked at the Warder trainee. He ought to have been shocked, or at least looked alarmed, but Murdock was thoroughly stoic as he heaved himself to his feet and hailed down the nearest Yellow he could see. “We have a problem here.” Murdock was the problem.
He couldn’t wait to try it again.
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| OOC: Do let me know if anything needs changing. I'll keep the exact amount of damage taken to your discretion. |