Avarein: Vant

Chapter 17: Nara

"Alright, I'll see these two through."

The doctor nodded at Greva and Carte, who had forced the duo of Vant and Morma into the hospital of the town, despite their hissing and groaning. They both sat on the same medical bed as the doctor, clearly not a fan of his rowdy patients, inspected both of them through a circular lens floating in front of his right eye, formed by magic. He took around thirty seconds to squint at Vant and spent nothing more than a passing glance towards Morma before dispelling the lens, taking a few notes on his clipboard.

"I'll have to have to heal you, big guy. A few bandages aren't going to fix a bullet wound, no matter how strong you are."

The doctor took a moment to look up at Carte, his voice still sounding dull and annoyed.

"That'll be additional charge, by the way."

Carte nodded understandingly, although he wasn't exactly happy about the doctors attitude. He couldn't really blame him though; the tiny village they were situated in was a hotspot for bloodsports a somewhat out of place coliseum a little ways out from the village where it was far enough from the cities that the council simply didn't particularly care. The doctor set his gaze back onto Morma, looking a little more pleased with her condition.

"The girl seems fine; a little dehydrated and low on proteins, so I'd advise a nice bit of meat for her tonight."

The doctor eyed the pair standing up, silently wondering who in the world the father was between Carte and Vant. He could see the woman of the group being the mother; they did share a remarkable likeness. The father though...

"Greva, you can go. I'll keep watch on these two."

Greva took a moment to considered leaving and scouting out somewhere nice to eat, but decided against it, simply shaking her head and leaning back onto the wall behind her. Pushing the pair of them out of his mind, the doctor stripped the amateurishly wrapped bandages off of Vant's arm and inspected at the wound, which had partially healed over the week or so that had passed since he had gotten. To say it wasn't pretty was an understatement. The bullet had been removed, but the flesh around it was still twisted and mangled from the projectile, a small spot of gore in an otherwise normal arm.

"This is going to hurt."

Mumbling to nobody in particular, the doctor prepared his regeneration spell on his newly unwilling patient. Almost immediately picking up on his distress, Morma forced her tiny hand onto Vant's palm, trying to grip around it tightly before giving up and going for a few fingers. She sent a massive smile his way and he returned one, although it wasn't nearly so joyus or confident. The doctor, attempting to ignore Carte who feverishly held a book in his hand and pen in the other, began the healing process.

White light emanated from his hands and surrounded Vant's leg, before flesh and skin duplicated and snaked forward both sides of the wound, almost immediately colliding into each other. Vant gritted his teeth as the doctor carefully pushed each tiny piece of flesh and skin into place, like it was some sort of grim jigsaw puzzle. Eventually, once every piece was in place, the glow shined brighter for a moment, each small molecule bonded with one another. Vant struggled to keep in a scream as it all began to fit into place, but as soon as the bonding was complete, the pain was suddenly gone alongside the magical glow. Operation complete.

The doctor slid away from the bed and towards his table to calculate the financial costs, ignoring the scene behind him. The total cost for two check ups and one minor healing was one gold and two silver; a little pricy compared to most places, but that was to be expected. He passed the invoice to Carte while questioning how in few seconds that he had looked away, the little girl had managed to climb onto his patients shoulders and began cheerfully flexing. Vant mimicked her movements perfectly despite his recent injury and healing, leading him to believe this was some sort of normal occurrence to them. As Carte paid him for his services, he concluded that he was probably the father; Vant was likely some sort of babysitter... or something...