Roleplay

@Elubviq ((Quick clarifying question. Are we using present or past tense? Just want to make sure. ^-^))

Vincet stares at the man that drops from the tree, too weak to run away. A small part of him crowes that it had been right, and that it was another person that killed him.

He whimperes in pain as the man lifts him up, his head lolling to the side. His ears ring from the pain, but he can still hear what the other man said.

He nods, his fingers curling into the mat. He knew a couple of others, but English was his native language.

@socialbookworm ((ah.. I have a disgusyingly awful habit of using both. It doesn't matter to me, though :y ))

"Good.. Ah.. You should not die from arrow." Rusty, his english was. Then again, it had been years since he had spoken it. "I can get it out, but it may.. well, it will hurt." He didn't want to lie. He should expect pain. Arrows were awful. "Do you want to take it out, or me take it out?" His tongue was beginning to remember the language.

@Elubviq ((It's alright. I'm going to stick with past if that's alright. I'm more comfortable with it. ^-^))

The introvert closed his eyes. "You," he said, his voice cracking with pain. He didn't think that he had the willpower to be able to tear the sharp point back through his body again. He grit his teeth, gripping the mat tighter, trying to prepare himself for the pain.

@socialbookworm ((oke! :D) )

Calixto nods, retrieving a dry rag and setting it next to him. "Will hurt, but get better." He places a hand down around the area of the arrow's penetration, and grips it with his other. "Three. Two.." What was the english word for the next? Eh, whatever. He quickly yanks it out, tossing it to the side. He grabs the rag and presses it to the wound.

@Elubviq

A scream erupted through Vincet's mouth. His breathing turned harsh, and he squeeze his eyes shut. He was going to turn into a shut on rather than an introvert after this. Never again was he going to leave his home, and the warmth that it seemed to exuded. He tried to force his hands to relax from where they were gripped tight enough that they were starting to tingle.

@socialbookworm

He winced at the scream. "It will be okay, I promise." He rubs his shoulder gently. "You will have to stay a while to heal. I am sorry." This man couldn't go home for at least a week unless he wanted to die. "It will not be bad here."

@Elubviq

Vincet didn't reply, trying to control his breathing. When it no longer felt like each breath was a struggle and cause a new flare of pain in his injury, he nodded and asked, "My book?"

He knew it made him seem weird, and possibly more than a little troubled, but his books were what he gaurded and collected. They were his hoard and treasure, the things keeping him sane against the rest of the world.

@socialbookworm

"Book.." He thinks for a few seconds. Ah, he had a book with him, yes? "Do you want me to get it for you?" The rag was soaked in blood. He grabs another one, pressing it onto the same spot. Hopefully it would stop bleeding soon.

@Elubviq

"Please," Vincet croaked. He reached up, and pressed his own hands against the cloth. He hissed at the pain, and debated sitting up, bur decided against it. The movement could make the bleeding worse. He shifted slightly, wincing at the pain it caused, and shut his eyes again.

@socialbookworm

"Lie still, and you will stop bleeding. I promise I will be back." With that, he stands and exits his small home to search for that book. He followed the trail he had taken to get home, and soon enough, he found the book. There was some blood on the cover, but otherwised it seemed undamaged.

He picks up the book, tucks it under his arm, and walks back. "I found your book. You cannot read it until you feel better. I am sorry." He sets down the book next to him, and sits down. "How are you feeling?"