The Drow Queen of Glaley [Very NSFW]

[The Iron Bull]

Huh. I'll admit that I'm both shocked and impressed. I didn't think the Lady had it in her to be so, well, vulnerable and undignified. Good for her. 

[Coquette Blacquin]

I was dormant, so I don't know why they worked that out, but I know Cindy was upset about it. So it must have been two-on-one. 

[The Iron Bull]

No offense to you Ced, but damn am I glad my brain isn't a committee. I doubt that having more of me would increase the total amount of patience in here all that much. Fuck, might actually lower it; I can be an ornery, country bastard sometimes. 

[Coquette Blacquin]

I hope Little B made it back okay.

[The Iron Bull]

I'm sure she did, Bull says firmly. Where else could she have ended up after all, right?

[Coquette Blacquin]

I mean she ended up here... so maybe Zevran's head?

[The Iron Bull]

There's a slight delay as Bull has to focus on the task at hand, as it were, but then he sends, suppose so, maybe. But that's pretty much 'back' too, if you think about it.

[GamesMaster]

Mel takes the infant from him, swaddling it, then puts it in a small milk crate and goes back to helping the woman. "She's real cold. I don't like her breathing neither."

[The Iron Bull]

"The mom or the babe?" Bull asks, having been trying to not pay attention and now paying for it

[GamesMaster]

"Sharie. The mother." Her voice is tight, clipped. 

[The Iron Bull]

Bull grunts acknowledgment as he moves to her side, briskly and competently taking her vitals. Admittedly, he's a bit rough with it; not so much in a harmful way, but rather brisk, almost rude. 

[GamesMaster]

She's not doing well. She's lost a lot of blood, and she's barely responsive even now that the contractions have stopped. 

[The Iron Bull]

"Blood loss," Bull grunts, knowing Mel likely already figured that much out but redundancy is a good thing in healing. "Gonna guess we don't have any healing magic at all available? How about bloodgrass and some tubing?" Given the huge range of races on Aldis, blood transfusions are a very tricky thing. A pureblood human can donate to almost anyone (but, strangely, can't take blood from imisy of any variation), but nearly every other race can't tolerate blood from anyone that isn't the exact same race as them. Even having a grandparent of a different race can be enough for a lethal rejection response. Thankfully, people discovered bloodgrass, a fairly common if difficult to harvest weed that firmly suppresses rejection responses if taken in sufficient doses. 

[GamesMaster]

Mel shakes her head. "No bloodgrass. But I'm her mother. So we can try." She moves to her kit, taking out some dried reeds.

[The Iron Bull]

"Uh. What?" Bull blurts out. "I mean, yes, right, of course." Shaking his head sharply to get some focus, Bull busies himself with trying to staunch the blood flow was best he can while Mel gets ready.