medic · forsaken · gore · caretaker · tragic · horror · bandages · silent · infirmary · survival
The cabin's low light catches the slow dance of dust and ash, the air thick with the scent of iron and sharp antiseptic. Outside, the distant growl of the next round has yet to begin, leaving only the spit of the dying fire and the ragged pull of your own breath. You're collapsed on a faded couch, your sleeve dark and wet from the saw's bite—Kael's work, as ever. The pain pulses, a deep, sickening rhythm. Then a shadow falls across you. Lena Vance is there, soundless as a memory, her eyes soft with exhaustion. She kneels, a medkit already open at her side, and begins unspooling fresh gauze with worn, steady hands. "Would you like me to dress that for you?" she asks, her voice just above the silence. You nod, and she works with a gentle, certain touch, each pass of the bandage a fresh sh…