Wrongly in Love

15- Just Another W-Girl in Love

"Nana, where did you put the antidote? I couldn't find it- It was there just a minute and I don't know where the hell had it gone-"

"Over there, Gwen. Near those shelves- labelled 'HEALTH POTIONS'- HARITH! Why do you keep peeking at the window! Get that f*cking ass right here and help us!"

"Calm DOWN! Estes and Miya are going to be here any second now. They have a stock."

"So what're you waiting for? Splendid guests we see everyday?!"

"THEY HAVE THEIR WHOLE STOCK OF BANDAGES, NANA! THESE GUYS ARE DEPLETING OUR SUPPLY!"

"WELL, JUST COME HERE AND HELP! It wouldn't kill you!"

It was complete chaos in the infirmary. Elves were feebly stirring, Leonins moaning in pain as miraculously uninjured servants rushed over to their aid. The sounds of glass vials crashing and breaking were constant. It was total pandemonium. But no one looked as panicked as Nana. She was twitching every second and barked orders at the other elves so much that she reduced a young elf boy to tears.

"NANA! Calm down!" Guinevere said exasperatedly, reaching out to comfort the young elf.

"How am I supposed to calm down when you guys keep littering your antidotes over the wrong places!" Nana replied, waving her hands frantically as she tried to find bandages. It was different from the cunning, mischievous Nana. "I can't find those freaking bandages- Oh t- No-"

"Nana, I know you're in a panic, but the rest of us are panicked too," Guinevere said soothingly as she rubbed ointment on a Leonin's arm. "That will soothe the pain- Well, as you see, we don't know if there's another attack. Or more hoods. We are taken down by the 'element of surprise'. That's what makes us terrified. But stay strong, Nana. You'll die of fright if you keep panicking over some rolled bandages."

Nana looked sadly at her palm. "Well, you've got a point," she said musingly as she brought out a crystal vial. "I hate being cranky and you know, haggard. I wonder why Alice and those Blood Minions keep destroying the good of Dawn. Evil and Crankiness just equals wrinkles. This is just so not me."

"Well, glad you understand," Guinevere said dully as she treated a patient's arm with ointment.

CRASH! The sound of a door banging loudly and Gusion stumbled in the infirmary, sinking in at a nearby chair.

"Gusion!" Guinevere gasped and reached out to check him. "What took you so long? Are you okay?"

By the looks of it, Gusion definitely was not. He had several gashes over his skin, scratches over his face, and his mouth was bleeding. His shirt was stained with blood, and the groan that issued from him as he felt the pain was so pitiful and horrible that Guinevere thought it ought not to be allowed.

"The Death Chanter rescued us all, you know! Shot those bastards in the head. You must be so lucky." Guinevere sighed. An elf overheard and cheered.

"Glory to the Death Chanter!" He squealed, punching a fist in the air.

Gusion almost asked what the Death Chanter's name was, but he resisted the urge.

Guinevere dabbed at the bleeding wounds. "Does it hurt?" She asked worriedly.

"No, I really, really feel great and relaxed," Gusion said sarcastically, laughing. "That damn ointment felt good as hell."

Guinevere hit him and he winced. "Ouch!"

"The Death Chanter shouldn't have rescued you. He was too kind." Guinevere said coldly as she took a vial of healing water. "I'm not going to endure your sarcastic jokes, Mister Paxley. All I'm saying is that if you feel alright, because that wound looks ordinary, but there are some wounds that are open forever. Never healing. Cursed. And some don't have symptoms."