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Post by forgottenxthreat on Apr 24, 2010 11:10:29 GMT -5
River held her gaze across Gerand’s body and he nodded silently. River snatched the bucket of campfire water from behind him and quickly dipped his hands in, staining the water a light red. Then he flushed some over the wound. The water hit Gerand’s back and broke over it like a shoreline’s wave. The blood was momentarily forced away, but it was only milliseconds before it came flooding back up through him.
“Okay,” River said quietly, I need -”
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Post by kangaroo cry on Apr 24, 2010 11:21:10 GMT -5
But Raine already knew. She had silently retrieved the medipack when his back was turned, and held it up for him to take now. For once, it seemed their wills were harmonized. In her mind, she was thinking through what she would have to do next while waiting quietly for River to complete his part.
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Post by forgottenxthreat on Apr 24, 2010 11:47:48 GMT -5
But River didn’t need to finish the sentence. Raine’s hand was already extended to him with the first aid kit in it. He nodded silently to her and took the kit. He opened it hurriedly and found what he needed.
He took the pliers in his hands and bent over Gerand, scrutinizing the wound. He wiped it clean with the bloody rag of fabric, and then watched as the blood pulsed back out of it. At least his heart is still pumping, he thought analytically. With the pliers in his hand, River breathed in a deep breath and got to work.
The wound was a messy one. The bullet was not where River had hoped it would be- having taken a straight path, being right under the gaping hole. But it wasn’t. It looked like Gerand had actually jumped in front of Raine, because he was moving, and a little tilted when the bullet entered; It was to the side of the wound, deeply imbedded in his skin. River worked to be as gentle with the tool as he could. He had a steady hand. After a couple minutes, he pulled the pliers gingerly from his companion’s back with a bulky steel bullet in its teeth. The thing was massive and ugly. Like it was from another world. River let out a breath of worry as he looked back down at the wound. The blood was overwhelming and the flow wasn’t stopping. He would bleed to death out here. He ripped more cloth from his shirt and pushed it onto the wound with his whole body weight behind it, but the red liquid continued to seep through.
Staggered, River shook his head in despair, “I’ve never seen a wound draw so much blood. I don’t know how to stop this,” he said, sounding oddly lost. Black hair caked with blood from his hands hung in River’s eyes as he looked up at Raine, almost expectantly.
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Post by kangaroo cry on Apr 24, 2010 15:45:56 GMT -5
With calm, interested eyes, Raine watched her companion’s careful and determined hands dig through the dying flesh of Gerand’s back. She watched him unearth a bullet—a clunky thing, a toxic thing—and she watched him try in desperate fervor to stop his bleeding.
“I’ve never seen a wound draw so much blood. I don’t know how to stop this.” He muttered, and Raine barely recognized his voice because of the tone in it—the misplacement she heard from him.
She blinked slowly and felt the weight of River's eyes settle silently upon her shoulders. It was then that it dawned for her, and the fuzzy edge to her vision dissipated, the viscosity of time became fluid—and the death of Gerand became a real possibility.
She groped around for her amra and held onto it with her left hand, eyeing the sleek surface. She was doubtful now. She’d never done this before, hardly paid attention when she’d been told the details, the procedure. Would it work? Would this tiny killing device save Gerand?
And then, all at once, Raine cast aside her doubts. There was no place for them, no point to their existence. Useless. Instead, she began to focus her mind. She closed her eyes and recalled her task:
She was going to transfer the energy from the amra to Gerand. It was going to heal him.
Silently, she removed River’s shirt from the wound and placed her right hand on it, palm down, ignoring the blood pulsing from it. With eyes still closed, she gauged the deepness and severity of the wound.
The way amras work is all about energy. Continuously, every moment, they draw and pull energy from the environment, from all life. Shooting one uses a bit of that energy, and slowly the amra replaces it. Very slowly.
What Raine was about to do was psychological, almost. It was experimental. Unproven. Hopeful. It was an expedition of the mind. Only the highest members of the Rebellion had been included in the knowledge of the theory, and they had been reminded again and again the seriousness of it, and the likelihood of failure.
It was a process of will, she had been told. If your mind was powerful enough, focused enough, it could work.
Raine opened her eyes and met River’s. She meant to say something, but there was nothing to say. He had done his part. Now she must do hers.
She began. Closing her eyes, she focused on her breathing. It was constant, steady. She stayed here a minute, stayed with this breathing. And then she pried open her mind and reached out with it, stretching and locating the energy of the amra. With a vise-like grip, she held onto it. She was aware of the aching wound physically beneath her palm, and the energy her mind held onto—but unaware of a path to connect them. So she made a path of her own, visualized it; she put her finger behind the trigger of the amra. And with all these things on her mind at once—her breathing, the wound, the energy, the path that she had forged between them all—she pushed the trigger forward, in the direction she wanted Gerand’s healing and life to go. Forward.
There was a motion beneath her palm, a movement, a rippling, and Raine drew back. When she opened her eyes and glanced down, Gerand’s wound was no longer bleeding and had already scabbed over and was starting to form a light layer of scar tissue.
Raine exhaled and let the empty amra fall from her hand, only to realize she was shaking and drained. She exhaled again shakily and looked at the wound for a second time, a smile flitting across her face. “It worked.” She said to herself, disbelief and awe and satisfaction filling her. She had done it!
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