The Drow Queen of Glaley [Very NSFW]

[The Iron Bull]

"Well then, sounds like she's a right dick," Bull says promptly. "Do you, uh, shit, I don't know what to do with people crying," he mutters, tugging on one horn briefly. "Uh. Do you maybe wanta bandage to-- for yer tears? Or you wanna lay down, I can't imagine that ain't hurting like hell. Maybe a hug wou-- yer naked. Umm. Brush your m- hair?"

[Coquette Blacquin]

She manages a weak smile, turning to look over her shoulder briefly so he can see. "Thank you, but I'm fine. You said you had ointment, that might ease the pain somewhat? Then perhaps you can brush my hair in bed while I go over your new position? Brushing my hair will be part of it, I think, so it's good practice, and it's... soothing."

[The Iron Bull]

"Good, good, yeah," Bull says with some relief. "Go ahead and, uh, lay down on the bed I guess?" He swallows. "So, umm, Imma just kinda ask right out; what's the plan for me having to, uh, well, rub your ass. Sh-- hindqu-- uh, rear?"

[Coquette Blacquin]

"Just... be professional about it," she admits, blushing a little. "It's far from the worst thing I've ever had to do."

[The Iron Bull]

"Umm." Bull tries to think that out and comes up with, "I got pit fighter, veterinarian and whore as examples for what that could mean. In the best sorta way, you mind if I think of you as a very great horse right now?" He's not wasting time as he asks this, however, already pulling out supplies from his ever-present waist pouch and setting them on the side of the bed.

[Coquette Blacquin]

"That's fine," she says quickly. "What I mean is, don't like, grope me or linger on some area you don't need to linger on. Treating me like you would Jasper sounds about perfect." She moves to lay on the bed, wincing a little as she does since she has to move her aching legs. 

[The Iron Bull]

Before she gets halfway into position, Bull has moved in. "Up we go." He gently grips the sides of her hips, neatly avoiding all but the faintest of the bruising, and easily lifts her onto and over the bed. Setting her down, he grunts as if in approval, then grabs a pillow. A beat later and he grabs her gown and drapes it over her lower back, giving her what coverage she can have while he treats her. 

"Okay, so first step is gonna be dabbing some greenie oil on the broken skin. Infections are serious. It'll sting for a five count or so, then tingle a bunch. Some people like it, some people find it annoying. Like being tickled. That'll last for a good while, but it'll start to numb up the pain near the start o'all that part. Should help prevent any scaring too, which is good what with you not having any fur." There's a minor note of 'you poor thing' in his voice when he comments on her lack of fur.

[Coquette Blacquin]

"I... didn't realize I was at risk for scarring," she notes. Varisia won't be pleased if I end up with scars I'll bet. 

(Then she shouldn't have hit you, Cedric growls in response, prowling in the background)

It's good that Bull knows what to do.

[The Iron Bull]

"I mean, probably not?" Bull replies with a shrug. "I don't really remember what Boring Old Dude went on about-- oh, sorry, that's-- I don't really remember names of people from when I was a kid that much? But yeah, he was our sage. In ma folk's merc company. Not much for combat, but he knew a good dozen rituals and knew something about near everything and near everything about some things. Anyway, he did most of my learning, the book stuff at least, but I wasn't-- dabbing starting now-- really that great at paying 'tenshion to'em. But about scars, I remember he saying stuff about how 'lessen it's like bad mojo, real weird mojo or get-fucked levels of mojo, then stuff on't leave scars most times. 'cept when you either want the scars or are too afraid of the thing that did the scaring? Sum'thin like that." 

As he rambles, he's soaked a bit of rag with the contents of one of the many clay bottles he's got on him. Now glistening a silvery green, the rag is breathed on to wear it slightly, then applied ever so gently to Coquette's cuts. This is the easiest part, embarrassment-wise, as he's just lightly stroking the cuts with the rag, his fingers never touching her skin.

[Coquette Blacquin]

She hisses a little as it stings, letting out a soft mewling noise once as he goes over a particularly broken bit of skin. Other than that she's quiet, docile, her eyes closing gently as she lets him take care of her. 

[The Iron Bull]

"Thatta girl," he murmurs, running the fingers of his free hand through her hair. "You're doing wonderful. Strong, brave girl you are." He makes a soft, sympathetic noise at her pained one, stopping a moment after finishing with that bad cut to just stroke her hair and murmur gentle sounds. "Just a little more, alright? Just a few more cuts and then we can take a small break."

[Coquette Blacquin]

She gives a small nod, and a moment later seems to find words: "Keep going. I can handle it."

[The Iron Bull]

"Brave girl," Bull repeats, patting her calf approvingly. He's silent a moment, then the flow of comforting words and praise resumes along with the application of the greenie oil salve. It's not much longer before he pats her calf again. "And that's the last cut. Little bit of a break now to let that sit, then we'll move on'a the bruise paste. That stuff's much nicer. Warms up nice, smells great, no sting. Really slippery though, so you have to watch your grip and footing if you get it on the wrong spot. Soaks in after a while, mind ya, and does nice things for the skin. Nasso much soft-ifying it but healthier like for sure." 

By the time he finishes explaining all that, he's put away the salve and wiped his hands clean, just in case. "So... Got a bit, like I said, so you want I should brush your hair? Rub your feet maybe? Or, uh... guessing you don't need me to clean yer ears," he muses with a soft laugh.

[Coquette Blacquin]

"My hair," she murmurs sleepily. She gestures with one hand toward a silver-backed hairbrush on the bedside table. "Maybe the talk can wait for tomorrow," she adds. "Come see me at six bell and I can show you how to help me dress?"

[The Iron Bull]

Bull grins, feeling a bit proud at how relaxed and safe she's clearly feeling. He's never had any real fear of a sexual attack of his own sex, and, if anything of that sort had happened at the casino/fighting pit he'd worked at, it had happened behind closed doors or wearing the mask of economic compliance. But he knows it exists, knows it's something that even Alessian females have to worry about, and it fills him with a fierce kind of gratitude that Coquette seems to somehow trust him enough already to be wounded, naked and alone in front of him. More than that even, as she's able to doze and rest with him practically kneeling overtop her. 

Leaning away, he snags the brush-- way nicer than the one I got-- and then shuffles over towards her head. "Never seen hair so silver before," he comments as he gathers it up into one, thick strand. "Right gorgeous. And nicer on the skin than silk."