SOLO // blooding | tw(gore)

[aine.]

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AINE NÍ BROIN
FLESHWEAVER
FAE DRUID
INFORMATION

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[div style="max-width: 360px; font-family: palatino; color: #2e8b57; text-align: left; padding-top: 8px; padding-left: 10px"]HOW DO YOU RUN FROM Y[color=#5d8e93]OUR OWN MIND?

"That won't be necessary," the petite fleshweaver called, ears flicking.  With urgency in her step, the deer-fox trotted over, pulling her satchel over her shoulders and setting it gently on the ground.  ".. 's good you brought it up," she added softly, pulling some vials of marigold poultice out.  Followed by a folded leaf, containing poppy seeds, which she promptly offered Jormungand for the pain.  "Here."

"'s a last resort.  If you're going to bleed out, sear the wound shut." Otherwise, she wouldn't suggest it.  Not only out of personal preference.  Searing or cauterizing hurt.  And came with some danger.  "But if you can... Manage it without burning your flesh.  Saves you a higher risk of infection... 'an... Pain."

Carefully, she tipped one of her vials over her hoof, moving forward to gently apply the marigold poultice over the wounds.

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