VX| a new plan

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The dim, utilitarian lamplight of the makeshift medical bay cast long, dancing shadows as "Shit," Daphne cursed, a raw, guttural sound torn from her throat.

Her knuckles were white as she gripped the worn edges of the cot, digging her nails into the rough fabric, as Toni, knuckles equally white, meticulously stitched the jagged wound on her left thigh. The metallic tang of antiseptic mingled with the musky scent of sweat and blood, a harsh perfume in the cramped space.

It had been chaos out there. Whilst the centaurs – those hulking, equine-bodied warriors with their bowstrings taut – made their thunderous appearance, Daphne had gotten distracted. Her gaze had drifted, caught by the sheer overwhelming force descending upon their position, and that momentary lapse had cost her dearly.

She didn't even know who it was, merely a flash of celestial bronze and dark clothing, but a Camp Half-Blood demigod had sliced her leg open, a deep, sickening gash that had buckled her knee. Luckily, Ethan, ever vigilant, had seen her fall, a blur of motion as he broke through the melee to haul her back to their hidden base with surprising speed.

Toni was no registered nurse, no white-coated professional with a soothing voice. Her expertise lay more in field-dressing combat wounds, the kind that needed to be closed now, with whatever was on hand, and with maximum efficiency. She was practical, precise, and utterly devoid of bedside manner. Her movements were swift, practiced, but heavy-handed.

"Stop moving, you idiot," Toni hissed, her voice a low growl, as she pulled a stitch agonizingly tight, eliciting another sharp intake of breath from Daphne. The needle glinted under the light, a miniature torture instrument. "If you had been concentrating on the fight instead of gawking, you wouldn't be sitting here in agony."

Hissing through clenched teeth, Daphne squeezed her eyes shut, pushing her fingernails into her palms with desperate force, trying to redirect the sharp, burning agony radiating from her leg. "I know, fuck! Are you trying to kill me, woman?" The question was half agony, half genuine accusation, her voice strained. Toni merely rolled her eyes, a soft, dry scoff escaping her lips, already threading the next stitch.

"You're lucky to have survived," she said coldly, her voice flat and devoid of any softening hint of concern, though the speed and care of her stitching belied the harsh words. "That blade nearly severed your foot, you imbecile. You'd be hopping around on one leg for the rest of your pathetic life."

"I don't even know who it was," grumbled the daughter of Hermes, her lower lip pushing out in a childish, frustrated pout, remnants of the pain still clinging to her voice.

She felt slighted, not just by the wound, but by the anonymity of her attacker. Toni, seemingly unaffected by Daphne's grumbling, pulled the thread even tighter, causing Daphne to squirm uncomfortably, a low groan escaping her as the edges of the wound knitted together under the brutal precision.

"Well, if you had your eyes open for two seconds, you'd probably know," Toni snarked back, a slight, almost imperceptible curl of her lip. She snipped the thread with a sharp click, the final stitch pulled.

Daphne let out a shuddering sigh of relief as Toni finally finished stitching and took a small step back. Carefully, testingly, the injured girl bent her leg at the knee. A dull throb, a persistent ache, was still present, but the searing, immediate pain had dulled to something far more bearable. She flexed her toes, wiggled her ankle. It worked.

Toni watched her, arms crossed over her chest, a faint flicker of satisfaction in her eyes. The wound was cleanly closed, the stitches neat and even. She might be gruff, but she was good.

"Try not to get more of your limbs cut off anytime soon," Toni advised, her tone dry as desert dust. "We don't exactly have any Apollo kids hanging around."

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