Hmm. Not dont want to, but cant? Allergy or something? Well, Yvonne personally would prefer risking the allergy than bleeding out from a literal hole in her torso, buuuut Sparky knows herself best. Hopefully. If it save her the potion, she's not complaining.

[b][color=#a4161a]"Choking is safer than blunt trauma, you know."[/color][/b] Yvonne quipped with a hint of disapproval, but didn't dwell on the topic. She stood up with a groan, carefully propping the elf as she belted her mace again. [b][color=#a4161a]"But whatever. Good idea, Airy. Maybe keep his arm somewhere, Solomon can probably reattach it."[/color][/b]

Half-blind, the two of them hobbled excruciatingly slowly toward the remnant camp of the gate guards. Why'd they set up in the middle of the damn field, she had no idea. Perhaps they realized how futile it was, watching over this much stretch of land with so few people, and have decided to just fuck it and camp in the middle. Regardless, it's right where it stayed.

The fire had long since doused, obviously, but there's still some small collection of firewood and Yvonne wouldn't mind tossing a bedroll or two to keep it going. At first she had intended to grab one of it for Sparky to lay on at, but the stench of sweat and dirt immediately made her reconsider the decision. Odds are the wound would get infected just by touching the damn thing... sighing loudly, she unclasped her cloak and lay it flat on the ground. There's definitely a bunch of tears and blood on it by now, but somehow it's by far the cleanest piece of fabric within reach.

They're so doomed.

[b][color=#a4161a]"Stay down and keep pressure on the wound, I'll get the fire started. Then we can see how badly you've got fucked over."[/color][/b] Reaching for the other side of her belt, Yvonne fiddled a bit to release a water canteen and a silver flask before handing it to the elf. [b][color=#a4161a]"Water and hard liquor. You'll probably need it."[/color][/b]

Now, the firestarter... Thank the quartermaster for drilling the habit of carrying emergency supplies. Gathering what little bit of dried straw and branches, Yvonne hunched over the still-warm remnant of campfire as the rhythmical tapping of flint and steel rang across the night.