Scene #1551: The Pain

Owner	Pose
Wally West	Drift was able to get away from the crazy Borgs and over to a safer place. A place full of evergreens and cooler weather. He was trying to track down that medic-- and possible she was trying to find him. Eventually though the speedster about tumbled over, as his body just-- well-- couldn't take any more. The wounds were bad, but some of the others have already healed on their own. The real reason he needed someone like her was for a few fractures and possible out of place shoulder. Due to his rapid healing these things not tended too could lead to serious trouble-- and him needing them realigned forcefully. So Drift now lays on the ground, out cold from passing out from exhaustion, pain, and well-- his body just about eating him alive.
Selaine Marette	Nature was the element of Conjurers, so Drift had lucked out in healer; the young woman navigates the dew dampened forest to step lightly out from behind a bristly pine. Hair hidden underneath a white cowl, the only notable factor is the rather artifical smear crookedly adorning each cheek. As if she was in a hurry. Stooping and folding back the voluminous sleeves of her robe, the medic twirls an ungainly length of wood between her fingertips. Ingrained are the basic lessons, calling upon them now to lightly tug upon the faint shimmer of aether she can feel like a warm spark of flame; never lingering long enough to scorch the hand that lightly clasps the fallen mercenary. A faint bluish energy thrums underneath her palm, soothing pain and stitching together flesh to achieve what his rapid healing could do, minus the personal drawbacks. Throughout her eyes are squarely shut, concentration eaten up with the task at hand.
Wally West	The warmth is perhaps what gets Drift's attention as he starts to rouse back to being awaken. His black suit is a mess really. Cuts here, cuts there, even a fear tears along some places. His mirror reflective visor even had a part missing out of it, showing part of his face. So while the healer focuses, Drift opens his eyes look at her. To examine her features beyond the robe and hood. He stays silent for a bit before he speaks up. "What is a lovely lady like yourself doing in a place like this...?"
Selaine Marette	A crease crumbles the serene otherworldliness the girl never quite achieved; complications in her hair wisping out from its supposedly secure pins. It is the colour of spring and combined with her patient laying on the charm it brings real pink to flush her pale face. Initially she jerks back in surprise, glow permeating her hand fading. To be renewed with vigor and not a little stiffness in the slender girl with her aristocratically pointed features. "Sparing you more pain. Did your opponent utilise an electric attack in addition to brute force?" Her voice crisp, carefully articulated.
Wally West	Drift watches her jump back and muses to himself silently, though he can easily be seen raising a brow. "Plasma, blades, grenades. All the fun stuff with all the pain." He winces a little, as he tries to get up, but just lays back down. "I think the explosion though knocked my shoulder out of sorts and may have a fracture rib cage bone.. lower.. I think." He looks at her. "But don't worry to much.. most of this stuff you may missed-- will be gone by tomorrow.."
Selaine Marette	Selaine Marette attempts to push him back, though her strength is feeble at best; solved moments later quiet satisfaction intermingled with another frown before she puts aside personal scruples to prod and press at his shoulder and chest using her fingers and thumb to appraise the damage. It is an impersonal act deftly carried out, followed by another wave of healing energy to set any fractures back into place. Still, time will have to mend it properly. After she has wrung every last drop of useable aether, it is with a forehead moist from prespiration Drift gets looked at fully. "Still...a little shortening of the hours spent wracked in pain...and your internal frame has been set back into position." She pauses before adding, "What...is plasma?" Genuine puzzlement, it would appear. "A multiversal bit of slang?"
Wally West	Drift lays there and winces as she pokes and prods. Then does her thing. Once she is done, he closes his eyes and just lays there a bit. Though when she asks about plasma, Drift raises up his ok arm to sorta explain. "Plasma is a form of energy. Like.. even blood has plasma in it.. Its hotter then fire." He does try to explain it in simplest terms. "Its science stuff." He ends it with that. He could probably break it down more, but really-- if she doesn't understand the fundamentals of normal science, he knows it will probably go over her head. "Also thanks babe. I'd hate to have to ask someone to dislocate stuff, just so it gets back into place right."
Selaine Marette	An eager student, the stranger with the rogue smeared cheeks cants her head as he coaches it in the most basic terms; piping up with a quiet "I see." when lessontime comes to an abrupt finish for today. "A source of destruction like any other energy. That is all the information I require at present." An upward turn of her mouth suggests an almost smile, hesitant to proclaim itself. She could probably needle him for more, yet his current state and sudden realisation her powder has been mixed improperly and is like a red rash across her face silences that conversation. Turning her face away, she hastily swipes at the offending rouge. Further smearing it and spoiling the sleeve of one pristine robe.
Wally West	Drift grins as he watches her blush, "Ah come on now.." He looks at her, though it is easy to tell he may drift off back to sleep again soon enough. "No reason to be so shy about blushing. You got a cute face. You should be willing to show it to the world-- like a star." He then closes his eyes. "...though pardon my inability to entertain..pretty exhausted and.. will have to find some food later.. tanks running on empty.."
Selaine Marette	"Pardon?" Selaine stiffens, all her trained hauteur brought to bear up until the moment he drifts off, respecting his namesake. Kneeling, she hooks him with a groan underneath the arms to drag him out step by dogged step back to where she left an enchanted trinket for such emergencies. With it her muscles bulk up enough to make lugging him across her back a less bone crushing prospect. Off to play the charitable sop. Perhaps stitch back his clothes whilst she waits for news of customers in the squalid apartment she names home. It never pays to be a compassionate student.