Feferi had stood by wearily as the paramedics checked Eridan over, and her. They had recommended bandages and maybe some x rays but she waved them off when Eridan refused to be taken for a CT scan. As the paramedics packed up their gear she saw a few more of their fellow fighters trickling into the coffee shop. Without waiting for permission, Feferi scooped him into her arms like a princess and carried him into the shop.
To her surprise there seemed to be an impromptu meeting going on and she carried Eridan to a handy table and lowered him into a chair, fixing him with a stern look. "I need to get cleaned up. Stay. Here," she ordered, eyebrows going up threateningly before she made her slower-than-usual way to the bathroom.
Beyond the scrapes and bruises she was increasingly certain the thrice-cursed wolf had cracked at least one of her ribs when it slammed her and she was beginning to regret not seeking medical attention. Well, always time to do that next. Maybe she'd drag Eridan along to get his head examined.
Feferi was drooping visibly like an orca in a too-small tank by the time she made it to the unisex bathroom, primarily mourning the ruination of her dress. It might not be a favorite but she valued her things and usually tried to take good care of them and this one was torn to bits. She failed to register passing Tavros on the way to the bathroom as she stewed on her unhappiness and her confusion. What had those things been? Could her dress be repaired? Had the water really wrapped around it? What could she wear tomorrow to cover up the worst of her scrapes?
The heavy breathing should have been a clue, as should the fact that the door was cracked open, but her instincts were dulled by weariness and introspection and the door seemed like one obstacle too many to her tired self. With a frustrated huff she shoved the door with both hands, intending to vent a little of her grumpiness on a satisfying smack of door into wall before she got cleaned up. With the lingering adrenaline from the fight, the stocky swimmer put enough force into her shove that she might have done some unintentional damage to the tile.
Princess is as princess does
To her surprise there seemed to be an impromptu meeting going on and she carried Eridan to a handy table and lowered him into a chair, fixing him with a stern look. "I need to get cleaned up. Stay. Here," she ordered, eyebrows going up threateningly before she made her slower-than-usual way to the bathroom.
Beyond the scrapes and bruises she was increasingly certain the thrice-cursed wolf had cracked at least one of her ribs when it slammed her and she was beginning to regret not seeking medical attention. Well, always time to do that next. Maybe she'd drag Eridan along to get his head examined.
Feferi was drooping visibly like an orca in a too-small tank by the time she made it to the unisex bathroom, primarily mourning the ruination of her dress. It might not be a favorite but she valued her things and usually tried to take good care of them and this one was torn to bits. She failed to register passing Tavros on the way to the bathroom as she stewed on her unhappiness and her confusion. What had those things been? Could her dress be repaired? Had the water really wrapped around it? What could she wear tomorrow to cover up the worst of her scrapes?
The heavy breathing should have been a clue, as should the fact that the door was cracked open, but her instincts were dulled by weariness and introspection and the door seemed like one obstacle too many to her tired self. With a frustrated huff she shoved the door with both hands, intending to vent a little of her grumpiness on a satisfying smack of door into wall before she got cleaned up. With the lingering adrenaline from the fight, the stocky swimmer put enough force into her shove that she might have done some unintentional damage to the tile.