Bright yellow sunlight shone through the windows. Geralt felt it touching his closed lids and his eyes working to moderate it. He frowned. There was a palm on his sternum moving in small circles and a pleasant voice talking to him persuasively. Still, he had no desire to leave the tranquility of his sleep. All he wanted was for the person to stop, because if they continued, he knew he would wake up. The pressure on his chest intensified and made him feel uncomfortable. It annoyed him.
"Please, Geralt of Rivia, I need you to wake up or Nenneke will kill me."
Geralt grunted. His brain was able to comprehend the words, so it meant it was too late. Too late to shut the pain off. His eyes snapped open and scanned the unfamiliar surroundings and the unfamiliar woman on his bed through the blurriness. Then a swift wave of increasing pain struck him, and his breathing sped up.
"You are okay," the woman said.
Geralt's lids closed tightly as his pupils took more than usually to react to the light. When they opened again, green, apologetic eyes stared back at him. His face cringed, not even the appealing look of his company made his suffering any better. But he recognized the woman as Rhimi and calmed down. Events of the previous night came back in a set of bloody pictures.
"I am sorry, I already let you sleep longer than Nenneke instructed."
Geralt wanted to curse, but his throat was dry. She seemed to read that and reached for water.
"Here."
A surge of humiliation ran through him as she held the flask for him and had to support his head. After the involuntary awakening, he had not yet gathered enough strength to do that simple task by himself. He could hardly find the will to try. His fast mutant healing hasn't been as effective as he had hoped for. Maybe he really reached beyond what even witchers were built to endure.
He drank a few sips and although his thirst had not been fully quenched yet, he refused to drink more and pulled away, letting his head fall on the pillow. His throat felt better, on the other hand, his head started spinning.
"You seem in a lot of pain."
"A sharp one, aren't you?" Geralt was annoyed by the discomfort and pain, and when he was annoyed, he was rude.
The girl hummed and she slightly smiled, missing any hint of offense in her expression. It Deepened his annoyance.
"What?"
"Nenneke said you might be… ill-mannered."
Geralt rolled his eyes.
"Here, this will ease your pain," she said and placed a small vial into his left hand. "Drink it slowly. While it is supposed to stop pain, it burns your throat when you drink it."
That was nothing new for the witcher. He was used to these paradoxes. Witcher potions were everything but pleasant to drink.
"Hmm," Geralt said his thanks, sounding grumpy still.
The girl stood up and let him enjoy the contents of the vial in privacy. Geralt looked at the vial. With a single thought that it could dull the ever-present pain and having no intention of slowly torturing his throat and stomach, he gulped it down. Fast.
Fuck, he would say, if he could. If he didn't know better, he would think it was poison. The coughing it caused was unstoppable. Rhimi jumped to his side in a second and held out the water flask. The water fixed it, but he dropped out on the bed and closed his tearful eyes.
"Please, just don't go back to sleep yet."
"Hardly-" Geralt rasped. "After this."
"I did warn you," Rhimi said with a smooth smile on her lips. "I need to redress your wounds. And refresh the salve on them. Then, if you are still hardly able to fall asleep, I am to feed you with broth. To help replenish your blood supply. And raw beef, if you can keep all that down, that is."
"I'd rather lick iron than eat raw meat."
"That wouldn't really help," Rhimi said with obvious amusement. "It is not that disgusting as it sounds, you'll see."
Geralt gave her hasty shrug and regretted it immediately as the dull ache in his shoulder changed into acute stabs of sharp needles.
"Fuck," Geralt swore and reached for the throbbing shoulder as if to ease it down. It surprised him. He had no idea the shoulder was in such bad shape. Even moving his arm turned into uttermost discomfort.
"Don't move your arm, you will make it worse," the girl furrowed her brow and placed her hand on him, stopping his stubborn attempts to move further.
"Hmm," Geralt grumbled and shot her a look as if it was her fault.
"I can tie the arm to your chest if you wish," Rhimi offered, uncertain. "It could help."
"You are not tying anything to anything," Geralt retorted. "Fuck," he cursed again, as the intense pain took long to lessen. He tried to massage it but to no avail.
"I am sorry."
He softened his expression. She showed first signs of despair from his ire, and he felt bad. Although, he had no idea what she was sorry for. Probably an ordinary woman-like deception. Even so, he was probably the one to say sorry. Her manners were polite, she had innocent eyes, could have been well-born. A young, skillful student of healing arts under mother Nenneke, doing her best to help him. He certainly wasn't going to apologize. The shoulder made him anxious, and it clouded his mind.
He needed Nenneke. To assure him his shoulder will be fine, and he wasn't comfortable to share his worry with Rhimi. He was almost ready to ask where the priestess was and when she was coming back, but Geralt swallowed it. Not only would he sound like a child whining for his mother, but also it would have been disrespectful towards the student, and he already gave her a hard time. Nenneke would come sooner or later.
Geralt slowed down his breathing, finally having control over the pain. Rhimi stared at him with prepared bandages and the salve, obviously gathering her courage. Geralt forced an innocuous expression onto his face and nodded at her.
"Please, can you turn on your side? I'll redress the shoulder first."
"Sure."
He let her pull the blanket down to his waist and with difficulty turned. It was a relief, not to lie on his back. When Rhimi took off the sticky dressing from his back, the fresh air on his hot skin was surprisingly pleasant too. The whole area around the shoulder felt like it was on fire.
"I will do my best to make it as pain free as possible."
"Hmm." Geralt knew that was bullshit. He had found out a long time ago that cleaning and redressing wounds wasn't pain free, no matter how the healer tried. The purpose of that sentence was to prepare him for pain, not the opposite.
And he was right. The thick, honey-based salve was glued to his skin and the student was thorough when getting rid of it.
"How does it look?" Geralt asked.
"Like an arrow wound," she quipped.
"Honestly."
"You think it was a lie?"
Geralt growled. He knew she was teasing him, and he probably deserved it. "Just tell me, please."
"It looks… swollen and red. It's hot. Worse than yesterday. But that's what a normal wound looks like after just a few hours of healing."
"A witcher's body is not normal. It should heal faster."
"Well, I don't know much about witchers. But don't forget you have lost half a gallon of blood, you haven't eaten or slept in the last few days. You've been under a lot of stress. It all affects the healing process. And your body has more than one injury to deal with."
What Rhimi said did make sense, yet the witcher stayed skeptical. It didn't feel right. He wanted to oppose her, but she started removing the old salve directly from the hole the arrow shaft left there, and he had to force his body not to pull away.
"I see no signs of inflammation," Rhimi said.
Geralt only released a shaky breath as she finally stopped touching him.
"It will hurt now; this new salve stings and I need to get it as far as I can."
With a sequence of hisses and involuntary muscle clenching, the back of his shoulder was soon freshly greased and wrapped. The wound on his lower back followed. She was quicker this time, but it hurt no less.
"This cut," Rhimi said, referring to the one that was inflicted by the howler, and gently brushed the forming scar, "is almost healed. I can see what you mean by healing faster. I'll leave it unbound. You can lie on your back."
Geralt reluctantly put his throbbing back on the mattress with only a little delayed obedience and gritted teeth. The girl glanced at him, a hint of blush on her cheeks and meekly set to work on his chest. Geralt let her work without looking directly at her hands and started scanning the room.
"Where are my clothes?" he asked. He recalled his shirt turned into a bloody rag. His armor met similar faith, but at least his pants could have been certainly salvaged. There was only one hole in them. He wouldn't have minded the hole at all. It was still better than nothing. And right now, there was nothing on him except the blanket.
"You won't be needing them for quite some time," the girl replied and after receiving an astonished glare from the witcher, she quickly added, "not my words."
That was surely a crappy jest from Nenneke. Was he supposed to walk around naked? He didn't even see his saddle bags, where he kept a spare set of clothes.
"My swords?"
"I'm afraid you won't need them even longer. Nenneke took everything away. I am sorry."
"Hm. And where is she?"
"She went to bed a few hours ago. She was here with you the whole night," Rhimi said and moved lower on the bed to clean the wound on his belly.
That meant he was stuck under the blanket till Nenneke came and he had a chance to persuade her to give him back his things. Geralt let out a groan. Combination of his frustration and the discomfort from the sticky linen being taken off his skin. He looked down at the wound and grimaced at the redness around. The last thing he needed was to succumb to infection. It would make Nenneke angry all over again.
"Was she mad?" Geralt asked, suddenly unsure. He did remember the moment of conciliation they shared during the night, but his night was full of an eldritch blend of dreams. He couldn't be sure.
Rhimi shrugged. "Just the usual herself."
The witcher raised his eyebrows, wanting her to elaborate.
"She was tired and… sad. Not mad. I think she cares about you deeply."
"Hmm." Geralt cringed faintly and suppressed a wince as the healing salve stung. The last he wanted was to make Nenneke sad. In fact, it was worse than mad. He let Rhimi finish dressing his stomach in silence.
Rhimi pulled the blanket up over his chest and sat lower again on the bed to tend to his leg. It turned out to be the most unpleasant and she struggled with it. Her fingers not quite shaky, but unsure even so, grasped at a piece of cloth that was stuffed deep in the wound. She released the cloth before she could pull it out.
"You will want to take some deep breaths now."
The witcher cast an unsure look at her.
"You didn't like this even when unconscious."
"Just do what needs to be done."
Geralt let his head fall back and curled the palm of his good hand around the blanket, hoping that it would be enough to hold onto when she started tugging at the cloth. It was barely enough. All his toes curled too, but he kept the leg in place until the cloth was fully out.
"Are you going to put it back-"
"Yes," Rhimi nodded. "I am sorry."
"Stop apologizing." Geralt grunted. "Just make it quick."
The girl tried, she was so gentle, but quick it was not. His subtle flinches during the cleaning did not help and he could barely control the leg when she started stuffing a new piece of cloth soaked with the stinging balm into the wound.
When she was done, both were a little out of breath. The girl then washed her bloody hands and wrapped a bandage around it.
"Well," Rhimi sighed. "I should do this in three hours again."
There was a small grimace on Geralt's face, and he was glad she turned and didn't see it. He already felt pathetic enough.
"That's alright. It was like a breeze."
Rhimi snorted. "Surely."
Having all the unpleasantries behind him, the witcher relaxed. The pain caused by the redressing slowly eased down into a bearable throb and he could let some of his attention be paid to something else then holding back flinches and groans.
He watched Rhimi to clean up and start boiling the broth she mentioned earlier. The smell filled the room and although he didn't feel like eating anything, he was determined to do everything in his power to get better. All he wanted was to be back on his feet, so anything the priestess asked for or demanded, he would follow like a docile patient. Except one thing.
He braced himself with one deep breath, grasped the blanket and put one leg down from the bed. Then started raising his body up.
Rhimi stopped him straight away.
"No, no no," she repeated even as she ran towards him, patting him back to lie down. "You are not allowed to leave the room, or the bed!"
Geralt resisted. He grabbed her by the wrist and gently put her hand away. "I ne-"
"Don't try to make your troubles worse! Or mine." She didn't let him finish and raised her voice.
He sighed, resigned, but didn't lie back down.
"I need to piss," he said angrily.
"Then I'll bring you a chamber pot," she blinked. "You'll have to do it over here."
Geralt's stare was sinister. Having to piss in his bed in a room with a young pretty girl didn't sit well with his morals.
"I'll turn."
Geralt's glare deepened but she wasn't giving up.
"Fine," he said through his teeth. If he had to be honest with himself, he had started feeling dizzy as he sat up. Maybe using the pot was less humiliating than passing out naked while emptying his bladder.
She handed him the wooden bucket, stepped several paces away and turned. Geralt only hoped that she felt more embarrassed than him when the sound of trickling liquid broke the silence.
Rhimi cleared her throat.
"Nenneke told me to check…" she said sheepishly, keeping her back to him. "Is there blood in your piss?"
"No," Geralt replied vigorously.
"You know I still need to check."
That was for thinking it could be less humiliating. But Geralt pushed it away. Medically, it did make sense, and she was, after all, a medical student.
"By all means, please yourself," he said when he finished and placed the bucket next to the bed. He felt delighted when she faced him, and her cheeks were red as cherry. As he expected, she avoided his eyes, took the pot and carried it out of the room.
"Satisfied?" he asked, already flat on the bed, when she returned.
"Very," she grinned at his smug face. "Now just stay in bed and let's eat some broth."
Rhimi served two bowls and they ate the soup together. Geralt convinced her to put additional pillows behind his back, so he could save at least some of his dignity and feed himself without her help. Several mouthfuls made his belly churn and even though he did feel hungry, he rather set the soup aside than risking his stomach would go empty again. Then she brought the raw beef.
He expected his stomach to turn, but when he glanced into the bowl, it didn't look bad at all. The meat was minced and smelled after spices, so despite it being raw meat, it gave the impression of expertly prepared meal. And a tasty one. Pleasant secrets of Melitele temple.
The student didn't eat the meat with him. She sat on a chair next to the bed and just watched him eat with perusal. To his surprise, Geralt didn't mind, he had become quite unbothered by her. Maybe even comfortable with her flippant company. And she was, indeed, an appealing one.
"You were right, it wasn't disgusting," he said when he had enough to feel tired and heavy from it.
She only smiled faintly and took the rest of the beef away. She came back with a book, sat on the chair again and opened it.
"You can go back to sleep now. Until I wake you up again."
Geralt was tired, but when he closed his eyes, the world started spinning and he had to open them again. He hoped it was only the pain killing potion he drank that caused it. Some pain killing herbs had dizziness as a side effect. Especially when mixed with head injuries. Nenneke had always told him that.
"What is the trouble Nenneke has with you?" Geralt asked. Maybe a small conversation could divert his thoughts from throwing all the precious food up.
"What do you mean?" Rhimi said not looking away from her book.
"You said I should not worsen your troubles. And she was quite hard on you too yesterday. What's the deal?"
"She is like that, you know," Rhimi waved him off, but Geralt saw her lip twitch.
"No, it's something more," he pressed on.
The girl sighed and looked at him, her cheeks flushed.
"I told her she's a deceitful bitch."
Geralt raised his eyebrows. So much for being polite.
"Why?"
"You should sleep, not listen to my ranting."
"Please, indulge me." The world was still spinning, and her smooth voice was indeed helping.
"Well," Rhimi sighed and leaned on her chair. "I came to the temple because my older sister died during childbirth. Since then, I have wanted to become a midwife, so I wouldn't ever have to feel so helpless as when… But instead, Nenneke allowed me to study only the arts of healing. She would say: you are too affected by your loss. She basically discredited me…"
Rhimi shrugged to shake the anger rising in her off.
"She also said that if I prove myself as a healer, she will let me attend deliveries. And I did. Yesterday, I was supposed to help a mother I used to know. But then you were expected to come and Nenneke wanted me to watch the gate while the labor was in progress. You were nowhere to be seen, but she still chased me away when I begged her to stay… So, I told her that."
Geralt had to suppress a chuckle. As she put it, the story was sad as well as diverting. "I was expected to come injured, and as you said yourself, Nenneke cares about me. She trusted you."
Rhimi snorted. "The only reason she wanted me at the gate is because I am tall and strong. Witcher-friendly. And in the end, you arrived five hours later, so I think she deserved a bit of my anger. I did apologize right away though."
Geralt laughed through his nose. The girl was young and rakish, late in her teens and she would soon learn that apology never fixed anything with Nenneke. Only acts did. Geralt learned that a long time ago.
"So why aren't you angry with me? It is my fault."
"It is not," Rhimi said with conviction. "Besides, you are quite a charmer with those white hair, amber eyes, broad chest and heroic complex. And I learned a lot of new things, not every day we have arrow shots in the infirmary. We've got to seek the positives in unfortunate situations that fall upon us."
Geralt scoffed. "I wonder what could possibly be positive about my current situation."
"That's for you to find out. But I can see two things at least, without even thinking too hard."
"Shouldn't it be three? It is always three."
Rhimi chuckled.
"Not going to share, huh?"
"No. Now go back to sleep and try not to be such a sorehead when you wake up."
"My head is actually sore."
The student smiled and returned to her reading. Geralt then closed his eyes and waited for the sleep to save him from the wobbly world.
I hope you liked my OC Rhimi (inspired by Iola from the books, but this girl unfortunately took vow of silence, so I could not use her, because dialogues are fun.) I do enjoy creating medical staff OCs, they are easy to write and it adds to the comfort part nicely. To assure you, this stays gen, there is no romance intended.