TRIG SH / SI — Chapter 3 & onwards have injury & healing scenes based on my knowledge of SH / SI.
Stendahl shoots up to his coach seat, for but a moment, and then is back with a traveller's tailoring kit, his thick coaching gloves, a horse-pick and something to drink. During that time DeeDee has doffed most of her upper kit and is casually leant against the coach-wheel; betimes he comes back. Dropping down besides DeeDee, Stendahl hands her the horse-pick, the handle of which she puts into her mouth. Stendahl sets his hands inside his gloves; DeeDee sets her hands to the wheel; he grips the sword-stub; she grips the coach-rim; he pulls hard; she groans soft — the sword-stub stays, stubbornly, scarily, stuck. White-faced and wet with sweat she shakes her head; speaks shakily:
« Actually, you're pulling me around; not the sword. Next time; try holding me down! »
Stendahl gives a grim nod; his face set in concentration and concern. They settle into the same stances as before but, this time, he brings his boot up to brace himself. The sole of his shoe sits square on her bare beltline. He takes hold of the half-sword and hauls back, hurtingly. His boot bears into her body, bearing her back until her back bites into the coach-bearer; the rim timber raises a rainbow of blood and bruises athwart her spine. The sole of his shoe sinks deep into DeeDee's stomach, as the strength of her body sinks under the agonising onslaught that is squeezing all of the air from out of her. With senses swimming from suffering, strain and air-starved lungs, DeeDee grips the gyre so hard it's a wonder that wood and bone don't break beneath the pressure. For a bit, Stendahl imagines that she's bit the horse-bit in two; as her teeth champ down, to choke down the screams that would otherwise escape her. In the end of it all it's impossible for her body to give way even an iota more — so the sword must move and move it does, laggingly and lurchingly, like a stallion struggling from a swamp. Last of all, when there's but a little length left within, DeeDee unclamps her hands from the coach-wheel and clasps hands with Stendahl ... so that, in symphony, they can slide the sword along and finally out, in a gout of bright blood.
Stendahl is swift to stem the tide and is there at her side, for then and for always. He forces his flagon against her lips and liquid lava flows through DeeDee; the spirits stealing away some of her pain. It's only a few drams, as the drama is still to come ... as he dumps the drink down over her deeply damaged body. It sinks deep and dips DeeDee in a forest-fire inferno; scorching and searing every scarlet seam stitched across her body ... setting them free from infection. Stendahl has set DeeDee free of her scarecrow clothes, so as to achieve the immolation, and now he tucks them together with his tailoring kit and the horse-bit, as he comes to sit by her. Doffing his great gloves, that have done their duty; Stendahl settles to more dextrous deeds, as he threads a needle with finest gut and gets to sewing the essentials back together again ... the flesh of the girl. White and silent, DeeDee digs her teeth deep in the horse-pick handle, as she holds herself as still as any statue; withholding every wince and whine. She will not shake ... not even as the tailor's torment traces tears down her face; she'll face this and aid her newfound ally in any way she can.
At this hour, her aid is for herself; it is true. The tide is sure to turn, though, at some time in the future. Stendahl has called her the Captain of their compact army and that's a compact she'll keep to. To be true to their aim too it falls out that they must needs be false as well. Stendahl can spin a story to set a smile on Sir John's face and be the noble's darling; despite the loss of the coach. To speak of ambush and affray; of deceit and duels; of highwaymen and handicaps; of sword-stabbing and sword-snapping is all but the truth. It will be an exciting enough truth that Sir John will count the cost of a coach and it's contents as small beer, besides the idea of an outlaw on his bier. Snakelaw might even see fit to fit-out Stendahl with a new sword; the driver daren't keep DeeDee's, for fear of questions raised. Indeed, the entire aftermath of the affair must have a muggy veil lowered over it: Stendahl is safest to claim confusion and a clout on the head, followed by darkness, as the denouement. He'll have the hillock on his head to prove it too; for both of their safety's sake DeeDee will deliver a blow to lie Stendahl down and deliver him from that lie.