Beorn world had been consumed by the darkness of forced sleep, and only the sound of Calypso's voice seemed to wander its way into her head. The words were scrambled, and the canine couldn't figure out what she meant. And as she fluttered ever down into the depth of drugged sleep, she shuddered, for it would not be a restful or kind sleep

/Exit via bye-bye land

Beorn

He hasn't ever seen Calypso quite like this. She has talents beyond any healer he's ever met, and the knowledge to bring mostly dead men back to life; so for her to be this concerned makes the gravity of the situation obvious to the pirate. It's no small feat to take a leg. In most situations, it would be a death sentence, but the hyena has found herself lucky enough to have a caretaker so stubborn and skilled as this one. "No' much of a choice then, aye?" he rumbles, meeting her gaze evenly and with a reassurance. If Beorn is to live, then a difficult decision must be made, and she is not capable of making it herself. "Wouldn' do for such a scrappy li'l thing to die when ye managed to save my sorry ass," Calhoun mentions with a small, wry quirk to his lips -- trying to ease some of her tension with a brief moment of humor. "What do ye need me to do?" he queries more seriously. Whatever she need ask of him, she will have his support -- both physically and morally. It will no doubt be a bloody and gruesome task, but if Calypso says it must be done, then so it shall be.

image by koafox, code by koi

Though she is not able to grasp the humor, not yet, she is eased by his manner and his reassurances. He calms her, somewhat, and allows her to think a little more clearly. It is this or death, she knows that with certainty, and she is not willing to let the canine die. Even if Beorn hates her, even if she spits venom and fire when she wakes, Calypso will not have her die.

"Fuck," she repeats, but there is a determination in her tone even now. "Is no' gonna be pretty." That went without saying, but she felt the need to say it anyway. "I've seen it done once, and it's a bloody awful thing. I've given her 'nough herbs she will sleep... but pain like d'is..." Pain like this was liable to wake the damn dead.

Without wasting another moment she turned back to the den and led him inside where the hyena, thankfully, had settled in to slumber. Fitful, aye, but slumber nonetheless. The amount of painkillers she had given should take a bit of the edge off, but cutting through bone and nerve..

"I'm scared," she admitted in no more than a whisper, a final admission of the nerves that coursed through her body, a last glimpse of weakness. And then she steeled herself and drew herself up with a sharp nod. "D'ese vines have to be tight around her leg. Tighter d'en ye'd t'ink. We cen pull toget'er, just' above de bandages." She knew exactly where she would cut, just above the knee, and she flexed her claws against the stone floor of her den in anticipation for it.

"Once it's tied off... it's gonna be bloody. I'm not sure she'll sleep through it, so I need ye to hold her still." Her gaze slipped to his, checking his readiness and ensuring he was not turned off by the notion. She knew blood wouldn't phase him, but it wasn't exactly a walk in the park she was asking him for.

Art by Rabbit | Table code by Zodiac

Calhoun's gaze is level, steadfast -- he has no intention of leaving Calypso to deal with this on her own, no matter how grisly it may be. He nods, understanding her implication well enough; the hyena may not retain her unconscious state, especially if they aren't quick about it. He follows, ducking into the den, which would be quite comfortable and spacious for most, but his bulk nearly reaches the ceiling. It strikes him, for a moment, that this is the first time he has seen the inside of Calypso's quarters -- but then the stench hits him harder. Not quite the scent of death, but definitely that of decay, and something that should be attached to no living creature. Even Calhoun, with what painful little he knows of medicines, can tell that the leg is lost. And the hyena may yet still be lost as well. He moves around the limp form of Beorn, glancing between her motionless face and Calypso's features. The hyena seems impossibly small, dwarfed even by the medic, let alone Calhoun, and he finds himself impressed with her stubbornness to cling to life. "We've got this," he reassures her, and his confidence in her abilities is genuine and true; he would not be alive if it had not been for her, and Beorn, too, will find herself indebted and alive. --- fade through gore/amputation -- In the end, the hyena doesn't awaken -- not fully, anyway, not enough to remember. There had been some unconscious thrashing, and some inhuman noises that had made him certain she was going to wake up screaming. But they make quick work of it, and Beorn slips deeper into the induced herb coma, overcome with a certain slumber, if not a bit fitful. Calhoun removes his forepaw from where it had been pinning the creature to the floor of the den, releasing the tension from his gritted jaws and shaking out his taut wrist before settling the paw beneath him. His gaze lifts from the macabre scene to land upon Calypso's face, his leveled stare searching to check in with her, well aware that she might not be okay after that.

image by koafox, code by koi

she would be a fool if she imagined such a picture perfect ending. to think that the hyena would hold anything but hatred in her heart seemed a strength -- she remembered well the words the canine had spat in her direction. and when she woke with no leg?

mentally she made a note to keep her sedated for as long as she could, rousing her only enough to take in the bare minimum of nourishment. her body would need to heal, and after this trauma...

with a determined look in her gaze she nodded at calhoun and doubled checked that she had everything she needed, especially enough absorbent moss and infection battling herbs, as well as some she knew could help stem the flow of blood. the druid pressed a few more large pieces of dried lichen beneath the canine, and then the real work began.

-- skip to post amputation --

was she okay?

fuck no.

she was panting, exhausted, and frankly half shell-shocked. but the job was done, and the stump thoroughly cleaned and carefully bandaged. beorn was out, though calypso was not likely to forget the sounds of pain that had accompanied the procedure, blaming herself for not giving enough of the herbs.

really, though, was it even possible?

the poisoned limb she bundled away, wrapping it in some of the less sodden leaves. her den was... like a scene from a horror movie, blood splattered and violet, and she felt weighed down by the notion of having to clean it.

later.

finally her gaze lifted to @Calhoun and she managed a tired smile. it disappeared quickly but for the first time since she had brought her patient home she felt a flicker of hope. "i need to sleep," she murmured, swaying slightly on her paws, feeling tired down to the very marrow of her bones.

Art by Rabbit | Table code by Zodiac

Perhaps Calhoun should have been more swayed by it all than he is, but he's seen things far worse than this, and it doesn't turn his stomach the way it seems to turn Calypso's. A silence hangs heavily between them, and though they're both aware that this was the only thing to be done, it hardly makes it easier. Less mess. Any less detrimental to Beorn's life. He can guess what sorts of thoughts are consuming the medic right now, but there are no words he can offer to soothe them. There is nothing that makes this better. Her soft admittance, at least, gives him a direction to go in. Calhoun nods, and then gestures with his chin towards the den's entrance. "Go, sleep in my den," he insists, his tone quiet but firm. It's only a short jaunt across the beach, easily visible from here. "I'll stay wit' her," the captain reassures, wanting her to know that Beorn will be safe -- and without her here, he can tidy up the scene that's a borderline massacre right now. "I'll come an' fetch ye if anyt'ing changes."

image by koafox, code by koi

There is a lot of brutality in her past, and it was not the first removal she had seen, but there was something different about being the one responsible. Doing it with her teeth and claws was a whole other level, and the churning in her gut informed her that she may yet be sick from the process.

Still, she wants to argue with him. Things could change so fast and it was impossible to think of leaving the hyena now.

But… she swayed where she stood and blinked against the pull of slumber; she must recognize, too, that she was useless now. Not to mention covered in blood (and more) that would need to be cleaned off before sleep could take her.

There is clear and obvious hesitation as she looks from her captain to her patient, chewing her lip in a brief show of indecision. But then exhaustion wins and she nods, moving first to the herbs she has prepared and set aside. Mashed to a paste and mixed with water to make almost a smoothie type texture — she does not expect the canine to wake but if she does.

“if she stirs much, d’is,” she nudged forward the shell in which the mixture sat, and then looked over the bloody scene. Much as she hated to leave it she could feel her body growing heavy, and turned to pass by @Calhoun on her way out. Her nose drags across his shoulder and another faint (tired) smile flickers across her lips. “Ye call me if anyt’ing goes wrong.” Despite the exhaustion her voice is firm, but she trusts him enough she does not linger for further confirmation.

In a flash she is gone, first to bathe in the icy ocean waters, and then to curl up in a den that is not hers but still smells like home.

-exit-

Art by Rabbit | Table code by Zodiac