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Post by Gilbert Beilschmidt on Jul 26, 2018 20:33:21 GMT -5
Making his way up to the house, Gilbert tried to keep himself together as much as possible, to try to show that he wasn’t as injured as he was. He had just won the fight and kept it together for his men, but he needed help. He was lucky his cloak was dark, to hid any blood that might be seeping through his uniform. He knew he could trust Eliza to patch him up, he just needed to get to her.
He could remember the blow to his side that was causing this issue, and it was one he could have seen coming, but not that he could have stopped. He had felt that pain of it cutting into him as he tried to dodge out of the way, but he was still hit. Groaning as he held his side, he leaned against the wall next to the door and knocked hard. His vision was swimming and things were starting to be doubled in vision, but he knew he had to hold it together. He needed Eliza, but he didn’t want to worry her either.
Knocking hard on the door, he held himself tighter, sweating with the miles he had ridden and walked to get here. He was glad he was on foot and not on horseback, less height to fall from.
“Eliza! Open up, it’s me!”
He could only hope that she was at home and was in a position to help him. He knew ultimately he would be fine, but he preferred if he were to be stitched up until his wounds healed.
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Post by Elizabeta Héderváry on Aug 5, 2018 19:34:02 GMT -5
Luckily for the injured Prussian, Elizabeta was home, although she was out back tending to the few horses she kept when she heard him calling from the front of her house. “It’s a little hard to open up when I’m not inside in the first place” she shot back, loud enough for her voice to carry. She was in the middle of filling the water troughs, making trips with a bucket from the well to the small stable, but was almost done. “Come around or hold your horses, and I’ll be there in a minute.” Not having seen Gilbert’s state yet or heard anything amiss in his greeting, she figured him capable of circling ‘round back or waiting until she was done what she was currently doing. She thus went right on fetching water for her horses in the meantime, and (thankfully) was setting the bucket down only a few minutes later. Gilbert had apparently chosen to stay where he was, so she dusted herself off and started walking towards the front of her place, slightly annoyed. What could possibly be keeping him rooted in place on her doorstep? Rounding the corner, Elizabeta got her answer, much as the other may have been trying to hide/downplay it. Gilbert was leaning heavily by the door, holding his side and not looking well at all.
“What on earth happened to you?” she blurted, startled and thrown off by finding him in this state, until she saw some blood drip from under his arm onto the stone at his feet. She’d initially thought he’d just gotten beat up by another nation perhaps, but blood meant a more serious wound, especially with the way he was sweating and cradling his side. It was that realization that helped Elizabeta snap out of her shocked state. She quickly moved to open the front door for them both, then kept close to him in case he needed the support to get inside. “Keep pressure on that, and lean on me if you need to,” she instructed, her previous sass gone in light of the situation. It would likely come back, given that it was part of her usual communication style when it came to him, but only after assessing the extent of the wounds & making sure he wouldn’t pass out on her. Serious blows for their kind were delivered more in the context of war, economical or political strife, with other kinds of wounds (like a hit during sparring or a burn) being typically much less life-threatening. She had no doubt this one would cause pain and leave a scar, but it would heal, and she could at least help stop the bleeding.
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Post by Gilbert Beilschmidt on Sept 19, 2018 8:38:34 GMT -5
"It's a little hard to open up when I'm not inside in the first place. Come around or hold your horses, and I'll be there in a minute." "Son of a..."
Gilbert muttered to himself, sighing and holding his side tighter. He wanted to yell back again, to curse her out. Mumbling to himself, cursing under his breath with pain, he just kept his eyes closed and tried to breath deep, to breath through the pain. Gilbert knew that he didn't come around that often... though if he admitted it to himself, he came around more often than he should; but he never knocked like that, nor demanded that she some to seem him like that. He waited though, not that he had much of a choice. His vision was still swimming and he didn't know if he could move without falling over or passing out... or both.
"What do you think the fu.." And he hissed, having spoken to harsh and pulled something in his side he didn't need pulled as he tried to curse at her. Settling down, he grunted before speaking in a more normal voice. "Fighting Eliza, that's what happened. Someone got a bit to close and I couldn't avoid the blow. Gods above its lucky that we're immortal."
"Keep pressure on that, and lean on me if you need to." Leaning against her, she sighed in a bit of relief as he didn't need to keep himself upright by himself anymore. He didn't like showing weakness to anyone, but Eliza.. he knew she was different. They had grown up together, be sheildbrothers for a long time, and nothing would change the fact, especially now that he adjusted to the fact that she wasn't male. He knew it made no difference between the genders in fighting terms. This was his best friend and she could help him where as he didn't trust others to not damage him more. "Just.. lets get me laying down and bandages up. I hate the feeling of blood dripping off me, and I want the room to stop spinning before my eyes."
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