[ that item could be useful in the trial, but to be honest? the trials feel like a sadistic way of wasting everyone's time to Fiora. In any case, she's trying to spark a fire now. She misses having all her functions in times like these. ]
Sorry. I wish I could be more help, but I'm not a healer.
You'd better be joking. You've got half a usable hand at best right now, and you've got a great big hole right next to your heart! Do you have any idea how serious this is? I thought you might die!
[ oop! it finally catches. there is now a small fire!! ]
[ crestfallen, she looks at his hands - she can easily recall how both of them were stripped near to the bone. She can't argue in good faith that he could save it. Even so... ]
What will you do? Your other hand's just as bad...
Still! Rufus, you can't just chop off your hand...! Why don't we ask someone to use one of their healing items on you? There has to be someone who'll be willing, right?
[ it sounds abhorrent to her, the idea of replacing a body part so easily - maybe it's because she's lost all of her own. But, clearly, Rufus doesn't feel the same way. Her face falls as her gaze lands on the gruesome remnants of his hand, and she goes quiet for a few moments. ]
... You're sure this is what you want to do? [ a beat. she looks up at him, eyes wide and serious. ] Completely sure? You can't go back.
[He has no such attachment to his flesh. It wouldn't be the first time he's lost a part of his body, either. Sooner or later, this hand will die and take the rest of his arm with it; it's better to get rid of it before it becomes a burden.]
[ a few weeks ago, she would have taken issue with that statement; knowing what she does now, though, it's a bit more poignant. He really is completely focused on what he has to do. Fiora presses her lips into a thin line; then, solemnly, she places a hand on the hilt of one of her blades, drawing it out carefully. ]
... Okay. [ a pause. ] Can you do it? Or... do you need me to?
[ she does! it's heavier than it looks; fiora is pretty strong. at his other request, she nods grimly. ]
Um... I've never done it before - cauterizing a wound like this, [ she admits, quietly unsheathing the second dagger and holding it over the flame. If she screws up, she'll feel worse than she already does about all of this. ]
[But first, he sets the dagger down to apply that tourniquet. He ties it tightly above his wrist, ignoring how his left hand flares in pain, then lays his right hand against an elevated piece of debris and looks at Fiora.]
. . . Please remember that this was my idea.
[She'll have no part in this self-inflicted bloodshed.
Enough time has elapsed for the blade in Fiora's possession to absorb the fire's heat. Rufus takes up the dagger she's loaned him, braces himself, and swings it down without hesitation. There's a sharp clang as the golden blade cuts through connective tissue and strikes stone, severing his mangled hand from his wrist.
Fiora's dagger clatters onto the ground. Expression twisting into one of pain, Rufus hunches over his bloody wrist and lets out a strangled grunt.]
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Start the fire already.]
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I don't understand how something like that is even possible... Where did you go?
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[ at the mention of Dorothy, her expression darkens a little, clearly pained, but she moves on. ]
... Did you find anything? Another note? At least tell me it was worth it.
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Not worth it at all...
[ that item could be useful in the trial, but to be honest? the trials feel like a sadistic way of wasting everyone's time to Fiora. In any case, she's trying to spark a fire now. She misses having all her functions in times like these. ]
Sorry. I wish I could be more help, but I'm not a healer.
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I don't need a healer.
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You'd better be joking. You've got half a usable hand at best right now, and you've got a great big hole right next to your heart! Do you have any idea how serious this is? I thought you might die!
[ oop! it finally catches. there is now a small fire!! ]
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[His gaze snaps from the fire to Fiora.]
Is your dagger with you?
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[ and her name is Fiora. In any case, she does. ]
... I do. Both of them, actually. When my team did well last week, the second one suddenly showed up. [ they're both in their holsters! ]
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May I use them?
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What are you planning?
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[ she can't help but repeat it, shocked. ]
You've got to be joking! You'll bleed out on the spot!
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[ crestfallen, she looks at his hands - she can easily recall how both of them were stripped near to the bone. She can't argue in good faith that he could save it. Even so... ]
What will you do? Your other hand's just as bad...
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This one is a prosthesis. It doesn't require skin to function.
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[ somewhat pleadingly. ]
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[Off the dressing goes. He looks down at the muscles of his palm and then up at Fiora. Something like this isn't worth a healing item.]
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... You're sure this is what you want to do? [ a beat. she looks up at him, eyes wide and serious. ] Completely sure? You can't go back.
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There's nothing money can't fix.
[He has no such attachment to his flesh. It wouldn't be the first time he's lost a part of his body, either. Sooner or later, this hand will die and take the rest of his arm with it; it's better to get rid of it before it becomes a burden.]
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... Okay. [ a pause. ] Can you do it? Or... do you need me to?
[ she will, if she has to. ]
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[He's beholden to her enough by using her weapons. His left hand lifts to accept the blade, should she give it up to him.]
The other dagger will need to be heated against the fire.
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Um... I've never done it before - cauterizing a wound like this, [ she admits, quietly unsheathing the second dagger and holding it over the flame. If she screws up, she'll feel worse than she already does about all of this. ]
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[But first, he sets the dagger down to apply that tourniquet. He ties it tightly above his wrist, ignoring how his left hand flares in pain, then lays his right hand against an elevated piece of debris and looks at Fiora.]
. . . Please remember that this was my idea.
[She'll have no part in this self-inflicted bloodshed.
Enough time has elapsed for the blade in Fiora's possession to absorb the fire's heat. Rufus takes up the dagger she's loaned him, braces himself, and swings it down without hesitation. There's a sharp clang as the golden blade cuts through connective tissue and strikes stone, severing his mangled hand from his wrist.
Fiora's dagger clatters onto the ground. Expression twisting into one of pain, Rufus hunches over his bloody wrist and lets out a strangled grunt.]
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