Michael
**Panic was beginning to set in even fervently than before, from Mercy watching Horace's face droop from the weariness caused by his blood loss. She knew how badly she'd stabbed him, but truly didn't expect the wound to be anywhere near as lethal as it seemed to be. This realization stirred up her adrenaline, increased her heart rate and made her focus more, she had the ambition to save his life.**

"Stay with me! Please stay with me!" **She demanded loudly, as she went to heed to his instructions. Inspecting the box again, she didn't recognize anything. Whatever alcohol was, she could only discern a purple vial.** "Purple vial..." **Mercy echoed her thoughts in whispers, naming the items which she was gathering for him.** "Alcohol..." **There was a clear bottle of liquid with the same transparency as water, Mercy grabbed it and quickly opened the cork to take a whiff. The scent shocked her nostrils and she immediately knew it wasn't water. It had to be some sort of antiseptic chemical.**

"I-I got it. Here they are, are you ready? Sir?" **By the looks of it he was fading in an out of consciousness. With no experience in treating any other types of wounds other than superficial cuts, Mercy was acting off of her intuition, and Horace's orders in the order in which he told them. Alcohol, purple vial. Then she would stitch and wrap the wound shut.**

**With a gulp, Mercy poured a healthy amount of the alcohol over the wound; it's clean look and flow soon merged with the viscous blood leaking out of the incision. After, she set the bottle down and opened the purple vial, repeating the same process as the alcohol only this time she'd coat it with two fingers, gingerly spreading it. Finally, she took the needle and suture thread, and leaned in real close. The lighting in the room was rather poor so she had to narrow her eyes tightly.**

"Sorry... I know it hurts. I-I'm so sorry... Here goes. Okay? H-Here goes, stay with me. " ***Exhale.*** "I have almost no idea what I'm doing."

**It began slowly, the process of poking the macroscopic point of the needle through his soft flesh, bringing it through and through along with the thread. It sped up as Mercy got a feel for it though, by the time half the cut was stitched, she was a natural!** "Almost there, are you still with me? Sir?"
Mary
*After giving the girl his instructions, the elf would only prepare for what was to come next. A slight, weakened sigh escaping from his lips, only blocked by the dirtied cloth in his mouth. His gaze seemed to look passed Mercy, like she was no more than a part of the background. A blur amongst blurs, indistinct and unfamiliar. Horace would rest his head against the blood stained wall behind him, staring up against the ceiling. He wondered how this even happened for a moment... Recently, he'd taken very little damage thanks to his enhanced abilities... But this was certainly a wake up call. He'd grown comfortable with himself and lazy in general. His usual suspicions and cautious nature was no where to be found... For Christ sakes, he walked up to a the downed girl like an idiot and went and got himself stabbed! He let down his guard...! Too a lesser extent, this is almost like what happened those 9 years ago... An unexpected betrayal by the most unlikely person. Though, instead of childhood innocence blinding him, it was his own ego now... An ego that thought it a good idea to approach an enemy who could still be dangerous! How stupid... How arrogant... How... Disappointing. The elf, who had been staring at the cobweb filled celling of the inn truly loathed himself at this moment. Though, this wasn't exactly the time to be hating yourself, was it? Horace would soon be smacked across the face with this fact, as Mercy dumps the alcohol over the wound. The thief's hand instantly tense up as a reaction to the pain, a muffled scream like grunt escaping from his lips once more.*

*The disinfecting alcohol does its job, as the wound bubbles up slightly. Crudely burning away all the germs and grime that entered his wound. After a moment, the bubbling would slow and the foam would dissipate. The alcohol used to clean the wound which poured over whole and onto the floor. Revealing nothing but a slightly bloodied, but cleaner looking wound. Next would come the purple vial, filled with honey that served as an antiseptic. Its consistency was a bit more firm, clinging to the wound and covering it nicely. It seemed to halt the blood, if only a little at the moment. Horace would be grimacing intensely at this point, his expression reflecting his pain. Though he soon screams out, although muffled, as the she begins to stitch. The feeling of cloth moving through his flesh and sealing his insides was excruciating. The metal needle making slight puddles of blood with each piercing. Moving in and out of then skin, the thread would do its job, sealing the cut. Its lining zig zagging across the elf's skin like he was a doll that needed stitching. Though he still screamed and groaned with pain unlike a doll... The thief wouldn't respond to Mercy as she asked, his mouth sealed shut as it bit down of the rag. A crude anesthetic, but it was better than nothing at all. The elf wouldn't respond to Mercy with words, not that he could at the moment. Instead, he raises a fist, and violently yet weakly slams it against the wall. It seemed to be his way of telling her to continue and get this over with.*
Michael
**Mercy had slightly flinches at Horace raising a fist—Being mildly fearful of his rebuke for stabbing him in the first place, she half expected him to send the hand crashing forth onto her face in a fit of anger, which she wouldn't have blamed him for.** "Almost there..." **She croaked out in a flimsy voice, nervous and breaking from a stark guilt. Should he die, Mercy would be terribly afflicted with the throes of regret, and not only that, but the task of living with herself after taking an otherwise innocent soul. Her father would turn in his grave.**

**Nonetheless she continued, without further procrastination. The needle threaded what was left of the open wound and completely sealed it. Afterwards, Mercy dipped her mouth near the seal, picked the thread between her teeth and quickly gnawed it off. Job well done.** "Completed. Are you there?" **She inquired desperately. The needle is returned to the box, as is the alcohol and purple vial, all that was left to do was wrap the wound.**

**That wouldn't come immediately next however, for Mercy crawled forward and reached for Horace's face, worried about his state.** "Sir? Are you feeling better? Please don't die."