#// thank you for sending though I've been wanting a reason for the resident goths to interact

[twistedisciple]

To his shame, he hesitated.

It was against the creed of a healer to discriminate, but he froze when locking eyes with Griss, medical supplies in hand.

“You.”

He had a job. Zelkov had hardly dragged his feet about mere jobs in the past, so why start then? But what… how? This wasn’t the time for questions, and Griss had evidently been brought on just the same as Zelkov had. He briskly unwrapped the bandages needed for Griss’s cut, channeling speed into his expertise. He gathered a clean, damp cloth and a salve, flicking the cap open, avoiding Griss’s gaze.

“This will *sting.*”

The fun stopped the moment Griss had arrived in the medical tent. There wasn't another battle waiting for him, which was fine since the academy organizers seemed bloodthirsty (or sadistic, though Griss wouldn't judge) enough to have a whole calendar year full of reasons to sic its students on each other, but the pain had ebbed away into numbness, too. He never could get too much of a good thing, even if he wanted.

Running his fingers through his hair to try to shake out some of the water that had plastered it across his forehead, he went to join the other wounded like the good little patient he was. As much as he relished the myriad sensations that came with injury, he was no fool with a death wish and had enough medical background from his own clerical studies to understand the deadliness of infection. Dying the first time had been a choice, and one he nearly regretted. Dying a second time wasn't an option.

Griss had become unusually quiet, nearly contemplative in the haze of antiseptic and herbs, waiting, wondering how Zephia fared in her battle, until his eyes met with a shade of gold unmistakably familiar and a crooked smile broke across his lips. Zelkov, he recalled from the visits the Hounds had paid the Elusian castle, was one of the princess' retainers and, more recently, friend of the Divine Dragon. He knew the recognition was mutual, too, just by the way Zelkov seemed to reconsider his duties for a moment, and Griss made sure not to make the choice easy for him, staring and grinning like he was.

"What? Think I'll bite?" he challenged, flashing one sharp canine from behind his smile like a threat. Now that was an idea, and it was never bad to have options. Much to Griss' pleasure, Zelkov couldn't be swayed from his sense of responsibility and brought over his medical supplies whether he wanted to or not. It would sting, he warned. Griss barked out a laugh.

"Mm, what a sweet-talker." He lifted up his arm to let his new nurse get to the wound, then hissed through his teeth when the cool salve did exactly as he said, the fingers of his other hand digging into the damp fabric of his robes. Ah, but that was what made the healing part of all this so worthwhile. A little bonus at the end.

But it wasn't all that fun when the nurse was in a hurry.

"Hey, what's the rush?" he snapped, indignation drawing a storm across his face. "You that scared of me?"