Windsor was unaware of her exact state, but had heard the faint crack, even through the guard's yelling. That crack had just broken that final straw. It was a dire situation all around. Take a gamble or die, take a gamble or she dies. He had never been one to try his luck as hard as this, but what was there to lose? What family did he have that the guard could kill?
He hadn't expected the punch and reeled back, coughing and doubling over, trying to regain his breath. Sucks to the guard; this wasn't a game, this wasn't a petty power struggle. The bang resounded throughout the room, and then there was silence. Too much silence. Windsor crawled over and carefully extracted Tiraris from underneath the bed, still gasping for breath, when he paled even more than he already had.
Blue. Blue was a horrible colour to be turning.
Fast, fast, fast, he had to do something. Heal it. Fix it. Stop bleeding. Mouth and nose? Puncture. Not much time. Serious injury. Rib broken again. Not simple gambling anymore; it wasn't roulette, it was Russian roulette now. Every minute was a spin of the cylinder and a pull of the trigger.
He did something he had never attempted before. He removed all obstruction from the area around the wound, hands flying. He pressed his hands to the skin and a bright white light began to glow around the wound. The healer glanced, startled, but didn't comment, being a naturally silent man and already working to save the other man's life.
The light intensified, and the wound healed at an alarming rate. Bone snapped to bone, flesh bound to flesh, and the blood forcefully expelled itself from her mouth and nostrils. She would have lost a decent amount of blood, which was now splattered on Windsor and a bit on the healer's legs, but she wouldn't die of its loss.
As the moments passed, as the wound healed faster than anything he had known before, Windsor seemed to be getting worse. His eyes became duller, and with every moment the circles under his eyes were becoming close to black. His hands began to shake. With a final burst of determination and effort, the light glowed a harsh white and Windsor's eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped to the side, breathing shallow. The wound on Tiraris that had almost killed her a moment ago was healed. It would seem as if nothing had happened to it, but there would be a strange phantom ache in that area for a while but no medical emergency. T
Meanwhile, the doctor was laying on the floor in a very uncomfortable-looking, passed out and looking generally half-dead in many senses. His fingertips were singed, as was the area above Tiraris's wound and he was deathly pale. The healer glanced over again, concerned quite a bit but unable to do anything.
Windsor would have to do on his own.
