Rot ━ Mal Oretsev ✓

020: SOMETHING TO REMEMBER ME BY

Thalia wakes with a jolt.

She doesn't know where she is, only that there is commotion bustling around her, and that she is in the very centre of it. She presses her hands to the ground below her, attempting to heave herself off of it, but a hand presses firmly onto her shoulder blade and keeps her planted on the ground.

"Stay down," they instruct. "I haven't fully healed you yet, you'll mess up the progress."

She groans, flopping backward onto what she now registers as a makeshift gurney, her head meeting the solid pillow beneath. The Healer continues their work, and Thalia lets out a choked sob at the feeling of sensation she has never been particularly fond of.

The Healer sighs frustratedly, "You must lay still, Thalia. You are only making this worse for yourself."

Truly, she is trying her best. But her body is in an immense bout of pain, and she feels as though every one of her bones has been snapped from the inside and she has been left with the sharpest parts lodged into her flesh.

She clamps a hand down onto the side of the gurney, squeezing it as tightly as she can manage. With her other hand, she digs in her fingernails to the skin of her palm, attempting to dull the pain emitting from her stomach region. But it doesn't dull, and Thalia cries out pathetically.

Finally, after what Thalia suspects is the worst healing she has ever been the recipient of is over, the Healer steps back and dusts their hands off, "Done."

Thalia tried to push herself up again, but once more, the Healer tuts as though they are scolding a misbehaving child and forces her back down, "You cannot move yet, you need to rest."

   "You need to back off," Thalia snarks, slapping the Healers hand away. She does not recognise the man, whose tawny hair and nimble fingers she has quickly come to despise, but can tell he is older from the aged lines on his face. "Seriously, dude. Get away from me."

He shoots her once last glare, but steps back. Thalia gives him a sarcastic smile, finally succeeding in the task of getting off of the gurney. The pain in her side, though palliated by the work of her new worst enemy, still stung as she lowered herself to the ground.

   "Go easy on it," the Healer advises.

   Thalia scowls, muttering to herself, "Go easy on yourself."

Examining her surroundings, Thalia comes to the realisation that she is (somehow) back at camp. This is indicated by the First Army soldiers wandering the grounds, and the Ultralight stationed near the edge of the camp. She does not know how she got back here or why, only the feeling of a knife plunging into her side, her head cracking against the ground, then the darkness.

Upon attempting to scrape a hand through her hair and sort the mess out, Thalia finds the now dried blood from her earlier fall. She cringes at the feeling, retracting her hand and wiping it down on her Kefta. She does not know how the knife infiltrated literal bulletproof material, but Thalia supposes it all has to do with who is wielding the weapon.

She limps her way toward the Grisha tent, pressing a hand against her wound. She really should have let the Healer polish off his work, but she's not going back now. Not when Snarky McSnark will applaud himself for having been right.

Thalia has already been stabbed, she doesn't need her ego bruised too.

She (somehow) manages to make it to the Grisha tent without collapsing, and practically stumbles through the doorway and onto the armchair that was usually occupied by Zoya. She sinks into it with a wince, leaning onto her side to try and lessen the pressure on her wound.