Reign/Rain Of Glory [Day2;Fight] HoBa vs. Pandora

--- filler post as Lulu is away so I'm going to take over and filler...(redundancy) ---

(Damaris, knife)
[dice=200+2000]
[8.0]

Shayde was about to swing his hammer above his head again and attempt to kill the beast but as Damaris lashed out with her knife, she landed a deep cut on the mutt and it dropped dead. He let his hammer stay above his head, taking deep breaths. His hammer eventually lowered to the ground when he realized that the dead mutt was in fact, not getting up. He dropped to his knees, finally giving into his exhaustion. Fighting for your life. It was quite a physically and emotionally exhorting thing, and Shayde wasn't sure he would be able to do it ever again. But The Games demanded it and Shayde would go out with a bang. No one would forget his death. No one.

But his death wasn't here yet. No. There was still another battle to fight. Injuries. Shayde looked himself over. He had a small cut on his bicep, and his cheek was stinging a little bit, but he realized that his injuries were minimal and that he would be okay. In fact, he felt as if his wounds were already beginning to heal, even though he knew that couldn't be true. But then he looked to Damaris. Her injuries were much more extensive than his and very deep wounds. There was alot of blood on the ground, blood that wasn't his. It was either the mutant hound or Damaris's. None, except perhaps a few drops, were his. He was lucky to have not been targeted by the mutt. His ally had been unfortunate. He moved closer to her, looking closer at her gashes.

"Uhh ... You, um, --- Let me help."

Shayde wasn't exactly sure of what to do with absolutely no supplies but he had to try something. He unzipped his coat and flinched as the cold air met his turtleneck shirt. It was so brittle out, and yet he was about to tear strips of his undergarment apart for an ally that would most likely kill him later anyways. But as he tore away parts of his turtleneck and exposed his bare skin to the freezing cold temperatures, he wasn't thinking of later, but of now. Right now, Damaris was hurt. No matter what she said, no matter how much she would most likely try to deny it, she was hurt. Badly. So as he wrapped some of her injuries up, trying to make her more comfortable, trying to stop the bleeding, trying to save her, he ignored the thought of her slicing his throat when he was sleeping or even killing him right now as he tried to help her. It won't happen ...

Shayde was beginning to worry though. Until now he hadn't realized how much of the blood was hers. He silently wondered if she was worth helping. Would she die in a few hours anyway? Would she still try to kill him or was she now dependent on him? He couldn't help but wonder if their roles in the alliance had switched around. Maybe he would finally get to know the real Damaris. Or maybe not. But either way, he was helping her to survive, even if only a little, and he wasn't going to let himself regret it. There was nothing to regret and there would be nothing to regret. She was his friend, not his enemy. Shayde felt himself try to smile at his work, but couldn't muster anything. No feelings, except possibly sympathy, were entering his mind. He couldn't think of what to say to her. So, he said nothing.

Instead, he walked over to the mutt laying dead and motionless in the snow. The scene around him was peaceful and quiet once more and he felt himself take a deep breath of the cold air. The smell of irony, salty, and tangy blood was in the air, and he could taste it on his tongue. He hated it. He could've thrown up if it weren't for his will to appear strong in front of the cameras that were sure to be surrounding him now. Why was other people's misery so entertaining to people? The animal lay with its mouth gaping open, blood still staining it's teeth and muzzle. He picked up his hammer and beat its sharp teeth out of its skull. He rolled the bloodied object in his hand. If it dare use such a weapon on him, he would dare to use it as a weapon on others.

He wiped the bloodied tooth of in the snow around him. It stained it an ominous red. It made him shiver, realizing whose it was. No, not his. Hers. He almost cursed aloud at himself ofr wiping the blood away. He should be thankful to this blood. This blood was in the veins of his ally, who in this battle, had most likely saved his life. This blood had kept his blood in his body. He stopped trying to clean off the fang and slid it up his sleeve. Perhaps this would keep him safer than the hammer had. Or perhaps Damaris's life. He stood. It was time to leave this bloodied battlefield of horror. Onto a new one. And eventually the ultimate goal. Home.


(Shayde uses First-Aid on Damaris Benson.)