As Trix listened to the gargoyles rather broken sentences, finding it odd that his grasp on Common was so poor. Pretty much everyone in the empire was fluent in Common, even if they were born with another tongue. She certainly didn't know much about gargoyles, but this one certainly didn't seem distressed, so that wouldn't be a good excuse for the broken language. But that was neither here nor there, not really. The female Knight was in her undergarments on her table, letting Trix see the damage done.

Edoward was fidgeting uncomfortably, his face flushed red. Trix rolled her eyes, [color=f49ac2][i][b]"Out. I'll call if I need you."[/b][/i][/color] She might be as inexperienced with unclothed people of the opposite gender as he was, but only in the romantic sense. She was, after all, a medical professional, and it was part of the job. Her eyes passed back to the shoulder wounds. They were a finger's width wide, and a few inches long, oozing blood slowly, puffing up a bit, reddening. She wasn't in danger of bleeding out, but infection was always an ever present danger. Trix gathered a jar of honey from her supplies, and mixed in the powdered herbs from her mortar, turning the gold substance a dark green. Once the mortar was cleaned out, she put as many of the primrose petals as would fit. She then used a twisting motion in addition to the pressure based grinding, and managed to eke out a few droplets of oil, dropping that into the honey-herb concoction and mixed it thoroughly.

She grabbed a pan and her wineskin and moved into her apartment, where the hearth was rolling heartily. After pouring the crimson liquid into the pan, Trix set it upon the stones in the fire, and waited for it to boil. As soon as it did, she came back and set it on a counter and dunked a few rags into it. [color=f49ac2][i][b]"Edoward, in here now."[/b][/i][/color] The Knight arrived, still looking a bit pale. [color=f49ac2][i][b]"I need you to hold her arms. She will likely wake up and thrash in pain. Don't let that happen. It will cause more damage. This is more important than anything else right now. If she screams, ignore it. If she fights, resist it. Understand me?"[/b][/i][/color]

The young man, a hint of green now in his cheeks, nodded, gulping heavily. He gripped the woman's strong, lithe arms from her body side, allowing Trix access from the top end of her body. Trix slipped a band of leather between the Lieutenant's teeth, then pulled out one of the hot, soaked rags, took a deep breath, and pressed it into the left shoulder wound. The sudden heat on the exposed wound forced the woman's eyes open wide, a guttural scream echoed through the building, her neck arching back, her chest attempting to do the same, but was kept down by Edoward. Trish ignored the woman and scrubbed out the wound making sure she didn't miss anything. She had to scrub hard, wash away some of the flesh that had already died. The herbalist repeated this to the other wound. It took several long, agonizing minutes, but she had to be thorough. 

Once the scrubbing was done, she applied the honey-herb salve to the wounds and grabbed her sewing kit. After threading it, and dunking it in the heated wine, she gently squeezed the flesh to the side of the wound, and pushed the needle in. It slide across the gap and she pushed it in, then up through the other side. She cut it, and closed it with a doctor's knot, completing the simple interrupt suture. She continued with this until both sets of wounds were closed, the lieutenant now a bit more calm, though still breathing heavily. When she was done, she coated the sutures in the salve, then wrapped up her shoulders in clean rags. 

Cleaning up her hands, she watched the woman's face, seeing her relax now that the pain had passed. She was conscious but not quite ready to maintain a conversation, and Trix figured she'd drift off to sleep soon. The herbalist moved outside for some cooler air and to examine her other patient. Just from a glance at the cloth and the blood, or lackthereof, on it, she knew his injury was superfluous. Maybe he just wasn't a fighter. There was nothing wrong in that. She'd never fought anyone or anything. She decided it would be better to not question it. 

She sat down upon the soft grass, ignoring the chill and dampness of the dew. She just looked at the gargoyle, studying him, his gaze, his very minor wound. Her eyes fell on the gore covered dagger, thinking that maybe he'd fought after all. [color=f49ac2][i][b]"Thank you for bringing her to me. It was very brave. Not everyone would have bothered. So thank you Mister...?"[/b][/i][/color]

A caterpillar was starting it's ascent up one of her plants. Many gardeners might have plucked it and killed it, but not Trix. She petted it as gently as she would her darling plants. This was its home as much as it was hers. [color=f49ac2][i][b]"Oh how rude of me. I'm Trix, and welcome to my garden."[/b][/i][/color]