A Surgeon's Hands

Part 2

As it turned out, many were arrested by the City Watch and many more were told to pay heavy fines for the broken propriety. Fay and Adelint were merely enjoying the quiet aftermath of the storm, wandering around the City in order to find a place to settle.

"So the Lieutenant walked in the cabin, his hair in disarray and his cravat all wrong. Turns out he beat the shit out of Summers." Giggled Adelint, far too amused about the otherwise composed Lieutenant's answer to the shove he received. Fay shook her head as they entered the Pig N Whistle, Connor always on their tail. They had barely few moments to settle on an empty table of the crowded tavern, before Summers and her betrothed, a Madame Simons, barged in and interrupting all hope of a silent night. Adelint stood with an eye roll and went to deal with them, giving Fay the opportunity to look over her shoulder, meeting the gaze of Connor, who looked away. She smirked, scanning the man mercilessly with her eyes, as if proving a point to the man, about how out of his league she was. Her pleased, smug expression was wiped clean off her face once she heard her name called by the blonde, beckoning her over and asking her to tend to Summers.

"Apparently the Wardog's outside and he is bathed in his own blood." Adelint explained, smiling awkwardly as if begging for a favour. The Surgeon's mate merely sighed and with a fluid, dismissive wave she shooed her. How could she deny those big, amber eyes, after all? Damn her to all hell.

She swore Adelint would squeal, judging by her expression and that wide smile. She skipped to the bloodied and beaten Lieutenant, smiling awfully pleasantly as she prepared to stitch him up, watching Fay and Connor disappear in the distance, following the two women.

"So Lieutenant…" she drawled amusedly, passing the thread through the needle's eye. "How come they all call you Wardog?" she continued, trying to distract the man from the sting of the anti-septic she applied to his bloodied, battered face.

His cocky grin was spoiled momentarily by a hiss of annoyance, but as always, he had a retort at the tip of his tongue. "Because of the three things I do well, Miss Sordelle."

Adelint begun the process of stitching, quirking a brow in silent question and nodding for him to continue.

"I fight like a damn dog. I bark orders...-"he interrupted himself, hissing as she tugged the torn flesh together. "..- and something not for your ladyship's ears." He finished, grinning faintly as to not disturb her working space that happened to be his face.

"Oh I assure you, my 'ladyship's' ears have heard quite the collection after leaving with men for a while. A ship full of sailors nonetheless." She said, cutting off the excess thread, dabbing the wound with antiseptic.

"With you on board, Miss Sordelle and this pair of—"he paused, looking back up at her face. "…Eyes… I bet there's 'seamen' everywhere." He hinted off, catching Adelint off guard, who started laughing hysterically, shoving him playfully.

After she saw the Lieutenant off, scolding him a bit more about his inappropriate humour that she actually enjoyed, she had this nagging, prickling feeling at the back of her neck that someone was watching her. She chose to ignore it, huffing and going back into the loud tavern, occupying her favourite spot. The table underneath the staircase, usually casting a shadow and provided her much needed shelter and anonymity.

A pair of badly dressed ragamuffins came in shortly after her, settling against the counter and looking around, as if looking for someone they could not find, ordering cheap grog. Adelint sunk further back in the shadows, her eyes trained on them as she listened to the loud couple, obliviously discussing something.

"…I am sure I tell you. She got me in jail and she was with Hawkins in the corner shop, that tailor." He urged his female companion. Adelint narrowed her eyes and realized who he was. That Duster fellow that tried to assault a random man, then she called the guards and they imprisoned him. Her eyes shifted to the woman, her matted, raven hair caught hastily in a ponytail. She was dressed in red rags and dragged some bedraggled flip-flops that served as shoes. Her state was at least sorry and a pang of guilt crossed her features, her image similar to what she used to be a few days prior.

"So, wot ye propose we do, Dusty?" she said, sipping her cheap grog, her voice carrying a distinct Gilnean accent and the hoarseness of tobacco and other substance abuse. "Kill 'im?" she inquired, earning a shrug from Duster.

Adelint tensed and silently rose from her chair, sneaking away unnoticed from their untrained, inebriated ears.

"I dunno, Hawkins." He shrugged and Adelint froze, her head snapping to look over her shoulder. Black hair, evergreen, emerald eyes, Gilnean. 'Oh no.' she thought and made for the exit, rushing off to the narrow pathway close to the tavern, waiting patiently until they came out and crossed the street. They were tipsy, to say the least. She chose the right moment, stalking forth and ever so expertly bumping into them, nearly knocking the woman off balance.

"Watch it you wench!" the female Hawkins shrieked at Adelint, the blonde relishing the change in their expression, upon noticing who she was and what she wore.

"Oh no. It's her!" said the female Hawkins, pointing at her in terror, backing away. Duster slowly pulled his seax from its sheathe, but a dagger was flung right next to his neck, gently bobbing up and down as it lodged into the wooden support beam.

"It is I indeed, miss Hawkins." Drawled Adelint, her narrowed eyes enough of a warning for the drunken man, who backed away.

"My name is Jyllian. Let's talk." The female said and Adelint followed her. As they stood in silence, Adelint took the time to study the female counterpart of her Captain closely, seeing how truly similar they were. Ebony hair that glimmered blue in the dim light those damned eyes.

"You have the same eyes as your brother." Adelint thought loudly, her voice silent, but enough to break the silence and the female's confident composure, sending her to an agitated state.

"That's the only thing." She retorted and glared back at the blonde. "What do you want?" she demanded, folding her arms.

"That's a rich tone, Miss Hawkins. Seeing how you openly suggested you kill your own brother. A Captain of the Alliance nonetheless." Adelint drawled, sending the girl in an even more defensive stance. She did not stop there and she twisted the dagger that were her words. "But now that you mention it, stay away of Hawkins. The real, non-embarrassing one, I mean."

Jyllian scowled and clenched her fists her face wrinkling into a grimace. "Why don't you go wear a pretty dress to impress his HIGHNESS instead of bothering me?" Jyllian hissed, and moved closer to Adelint.

The blonde smirked, as she realized that in her mirth and blind, verbal assault to the female Hawkins, she had missed her aggressive stance and the dagger by her side. She was helpless, her rapier far too ineffective from this distance and she had hurled her dagger as a warning to Duster. She had no time, no space and nobody near to save her. She had no choice but take the strike. 'Stupid woman. How do you manage?' She inwardly cursed herself, and then Jyllian closed the gap, drew her weapon and went for the hit. Thankfully a light sent dwarf groped her behind, the otherwise precise strike tearing across her ribcage, coaxing a pained gasp from Adelint and a lot of blood.

"Suffer and die well." Jyllian drawled, thinking her mortal strike had been landed. "Can't have a pretty little blonde going back to Will and telling on me." She hissed with venom in her voice, grabbing Duster and legging it.

Adelint cursed and blindly fumbled with her satchel, removing a vial of laudanum, some opium produced painkiller, consuming it and dulling the pain a bit. Just not quite enough. She dragged herself though the streets, her vision blurring dangerously at the blood loss, her knees buckling but she was determined to make it to the harbour. Curses flew at all directions as she left a bloody trail, manoeuvring the narrow streets for a faster way to reach the piers, her haemorrhage not lessening. She felt cold, sweat beaded on her brow and darkness begun edging about her vision before her knees gave in and she collapsed, a few meters before reaching the Defiance. A pained cry escaped her as she rolled over and looked at the starry sky, eyes barely open as she dreamt of rum, warmth and lilies. A chuckle escaped her as the image of the person that haunted her existence flashed before her eyes, realizing that these hands which took her life, were no ordinary hands.

Those were a surgeon's hands. And then, she surrendered to the darkness.

(I do not own anything recognizable, it is all Blizzard entertainment's property)