Teraida awoke on the cot, his body betraying him as he felt himself being restrained. The sign of a true warrior, even unconscious, they are still deadly. When he realized what they were doing, he calmed himself down to his docile way. In his mind, fighting was the only way to survive, but not all fighting was physical. In his mind, he was ripping them apart in every scene that passed his eyes, but on the outside he laid silent. One of the healers stepped over him and looked over his wounds, a smile on his face."It's amazing that you could walk at all, young man. Your legs alone must be causing you such agony..." He said softly, looking them over, while teraida said nothing to him. He didn't even meet eyes with him, defiantly allowing them to heal him."Not much of a talker, huh? That's okay. Parents say I talked to much... Probably why I killed them in their sleep. I just hate the silence." He smirked as he prodded bleeder's rips, feeling the cracks. Teraida still made no movement, except his facial muscles tightening from the wave of agony that swept through his body.<br/><br/>The comment about the murder was freaky to be sure, but this man had been through much. He could tell that he just might have done it, but there wasn't anything he could do to stop him from killing him now. The healer laughed and moved to his nose, looking it over."Yea, You winners. Never freaked out about the travesty I have committed in my days, times sure have changed." On changed, he pushed on teraida's nose, re breaking it, then setting it right. Teraida shot up like he had just been stabbed in an artery, the healer's eyes flaring with delight seeing his pain."Ahhh, Finally a little jump. I do say for how weak you look, you got quite a threshold for pain." He cackled as he grabbed up a weird smelling liquid and placed it in the cut from the dirty blade. He laid there, waiting for the pain to subside, going deep into the folds of his mind, reliving the circumstances that brought him here. Starving, he stole from caravans, picked pockets of the wealthy, even bar brawls for money. He missed those times, full of freedom. If anyone knew better, they would think that the small tear that formed was from the pain of his injuries. They would be dead wrong.<br/><br/>As the healer finished, he smiled and handed him a cup full of a truly foul smelling liquid."Now drink this, and you will be in fighting shape by tomorrow morning..." He said with a smirk, teraida looking it over. It smelled like a cesspool, mixed with the sewers and old blood of past soldiers. He felt himself gagging at the thought of drinking such a mix, but did as he was told and took a rather large swig. The second it touched his tongue, his gag reflex flew into overdrive, him sitting up viciously and vomiting on the ground next to him. No matter the smell, it tasted worse. The healer only laughed and poured him another glass."Now now, you have to drink it. I made it myself, and it's rude to treat home made with such distaste." He laughed, teraida looking up with him, daggers flying from his eyes, if such a thing was possible. But once more held his nose and swallowed it down, keeping it down this time.<br/><br/>Once he was finished with the elixir of distaste, The healer undid his restraint and hit him in the stomach softly."No get some rest, and get a bath in the morning. And you should be fine. I look forward to your next match bleeder. Gives me plenty to do around here." He Smirked and stood, as two guards stepped over to him and smiled."Good match, Come on. Your room is over here. Teraida reluctantly stood on the marble floors, his legs still very shaky. The guard saw how weak he was, and laughed."Come on, Hero. All you have to do it make it to that room, and you can sleep until the sun is in high noon." Bleeder looked up to him, then calmly forced himself to his feet and began walking toward the room they had for him.<br/><br/>Once inside, They shut the door once more, him looking around to see a huge bed, with pillows, sheet's, and blankets fit for a king. It was the same basic layout as fay's room, though it had different patterns, and smelled of freshly cut wood. The windows were smaller, with tight bars, making escape impossible. The bath looked promising for his aching muscles, but he feared that the terrible concoction he drank would move from the water being pushed around, and he didn't feel the need to throw up again. Instead he forced his legs to move till he reached the bed, slowly climbed in and curled up under the covers. The sun was still high, but he didn't care. He needed sleep, and needed to heal. As he laid there in silence, he began to go over his plans to escape. He needed to continue winning, and not passing out from the fights so he could look around. He hoped his next fight would be a hell of a lot easiar. And it was going to be, considering he was already on the mend. He closed his eyes and waited patiently for the nights embrace, falling asleep peacefully. The next day was when the true battle started.