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.]
[ Kindness? From Rufus? She can hardly believe it. It's probably something she'll remember more after the fact, however; it's hard to concentrate on anything other than the violence being enacted. For all the fights she's been in, most of them have been against beasts or machines, and her comrades have never taken such a grievous injury. She doesn't have a stomach anymore, but she can still feel her guts twist at the sight, fear and sadness and revulsion all at once, yet she can't look away.
She hopes this was the right thing to do.
When he drops the blade, she moves at once, rushing over to his side with the brand-hot dagger carefully in hand. If only she knew how to do this herself -- it feels cruel making him do it -- but she'd only make things worse, surely... ]
[This is nothing. This has to be nothing compared to the time his arm was ripped off of his shoulder. It's just a hand. He can replace it. His body isn't that precious.
Yet pain rocks his anemic body as he reaches almost blindly for the heated dagger. He can't remember the last time he played with fire like this, but he knows by virtue of wielding blue flames that too much will do more harm than good. With a sharp intake of breath, he presses the blade against the wound for one, two seconds before withdrawing.
The smell of burning flesh briefly permeates the ruins. While he doesn't scream, he's unable to suppress another strangled cry upon searing the wound.
[ it hurts to see the stoic Rufus laid this low; this is probably the most emotion he's ever expressed in front of her, and the reason couldn't be worse. She can't even offer a hand for him to hold onto - the other one's almost as bad as the one he just severed. But she can't think about that now. Fiora puts a hand on his knee, trying to comfort, or, at the very least, distract him. ]
It's okay! It's okay. You did it. Bionis, you really did it... [ comfort, yes, but she can't entirely hide how shocked and horrified she is. ] Where are the bandages? I'll wrap that up, and -- and hopefully that's the end of it.
[His leg tenses under her touch. He breathes harshly through his nose, and it's his incredible tolerance for pain that has his turning his head in the direction of the supplies he's brought, all laid out on his coat. She needn't crowd him so.]
No. I can wrap myself up.
[She's not supposed to be involved in any of this, after all.
This time, he lowers her dagger purposely onto the floor before sitting himself upright with the cauterized stump still rested on the stone. He mishandled the first one. He makes a mental note to clean both blades once he's stable.]
Don't be ridiculous! You just cut your own hand off - the least I can do is help with this. Sit there.
[ the idea of him trying to bandage his ghoulish new injury with a prosthetic skeleton of a hand is too pathetic to allow. Besides, she's here. There's no reason for him to do it himself other than pure stubbornness. And while Fiora's well aware that he has that in abundance, she's got plenty of her own to push back against it. She pats his knee again, then gets up to grab the bandages, moving at a fast clip to get back to his side at once. ]
[He hates being indebted to anyone. Their minds are both made up, however, and Fiora is swifter. Rufus watches her with heavy breaths, as if expecting her to drop the supplies in front of him and let him do the work on his own.]
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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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She hopes this was the right thing to do.
When he drops the blade, she moves at once, rushing over to his side with the brand-hot dagger carefully in hand. If only she knew how to do this herself -- it feels cruel making him do it -- but she'd only make things worse, surely... ]
H-here - quick!
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Yet pain rocks his anemic body as he reaches almost blindly for the heated dagger. He can't remember the last time he played with fire like this, but he knows by virtue of wielding blue flames that too much will do more harm than good. With a sharp intake of breath, he presses the blade against the wound for one, two seconds before withdrawing.
The smell of burning flesh briefly permeates the ruins. While he doesn't scream, he's unable to suppress another strangled cry upon searing the wound.
Just like that, it's over.]
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It's okay! It's okay. You did it. Bionis, you really did it... [ comfort, yes, but she can't entirely hide how shocked and horrified she is. ] Where are the bandages? I'll wrap that up, and -- and hopefully that's the end of it.
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No. I can wrap myself up.
[She's not supposed to be involved in any of this, after all.
This time, he lowers her dagger purposely onto the floor before sitting himself upright with the cauterized stump still rested on the stone. He mishandled the first one. He makes a mental note to clean both blades once he's stable.]
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[ the idea of him trying to bandage his ghoulish new injury with a prosthetic skeleton of a hand is too pathetic to allow. Besides, she's here. There's no reason for him to do it himself other than pure stubbornness. And while Fiora's well aware that he has that in abundance, she's got plenty of her own to push back against it. She pats his knee again, then gets up to grab the bandages, moving at a fast clip to get back to his side at once. ]
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