Newt lay unmoving on the ground- he looked dead. Pale, still, and sprawled on his back, his shirt and blue coat stained dark red with blood. Beside him lay a creature nearly as big as he was, and it didn’t look to be in much better shape.
“A manticore,” Graves breathed out as he caught up to her. “What the hell was he doing with a manticore?”
“The traffickers must have had it,” Tina breathed out, the sight of the nearly mythical beast catching her off guard. The creature had a face eerily human-like and the body of a lion, but its tail was that of a scorpion, tipped with venomous barbs. There were scars and matted fur layered around its neck, its coat was patchy and dull, and there was a bandage half-wound around its front leg. The creature was obviously near death; its breath was coming in laborious gasps and moans, and it didn’t even lift its head when they came closer.
“Tina, don’t,” Graves said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “The sting of a manticore is instantly fatal.”
Instantly fatal.
“Newt!” Tina cried out, the word desperate, torn from her throat like a plea as she yanked away from Graves and rushed to her friend’s side, manticore be damned. Luckily for her, the creature only twitched and gasped pitifully as she came within reach; she was only barely aware of it as the manticore drew its last breath and went still.
“Newt, please,” she said, and she dropped to her knees beside the redhead and immediately reached out to feel for a pulse. For a moment, she felt nothing- then, the barest hint of a thready pulse beneath her fingers. She lifted her head to look at Graves with desperation in her eyes. “He’s alive! Percival, we have to do something!”
Graves looked between the manticore and the fallen wizard with a frown. “It’s not fully grown. Its venom must not have reached its full potency,” he said, finally moving to Tina’s side to kneel beside Newt. This close, it was easier to see the faint signs of life; the shallow, halted breaths, and the sheen of sweat to his fever-hot skin.
“Tina, there’s no treatment for this. No cure. No one has ever survived the sting of a manticore,” he said, and Tina let out a frustrated huff.
“We have to try,” she insisted. “We have to. He saved my life, and he saved yours. We owe him this much, Graves. He would do the same for either of us.”
With or without Graves’ help, she planned to do whatever she could, and she started with what she did know how to deal with. She unbuttoned his shirt as quickly as her fingers could move, taken aback for a moment by the multitude of scars crisscrossing the wizard’s chest- though it made sense, given his occupation. It wasn’t her main concern right now, anyway; she tugged the shirt and coat aside to find the source of the bleeding, which seemed to be two deep claw marks on his side.
“Go and see if he has any essence of dittany in his supply room,” she said, not hesitating to toss out orders, even if Graves was technically her superior. He didn’t bother arguing the point, anyway; he went to the small entrance shack and started searching, and Tina carefully looked Newt over for any other wounds.
She found a deep puncture on his left shoulder- that must have been where the manticore stung him. It seemed that he’d run across the traffickers and managed to save the manticore, though it was a bit too late- the creature was obviously close to death, and likely wouldn’t have survived even with Newt’s best efforts.
But of course he’d tried anyway. She wouldn’t expect any less from him.
Pickett made a worried, almost anguished noise from her shoulder, and Tina tried to give the creature a reassuring look. “It’s alright, Pickett. He’ll be fine,” she insisted, hoping that she sounded more confident than she felt. “Mr. Graves and I will take care of him. He’ll be back on his feet before you know it, alright?”
Pickett didn’t seem convinced, and really, Tina didn’t blame him; after all, Newt was barely clinging to life at the moment, that much was obvious. At least the creatures had quieted down now that help had arrived.
“Found it,” Graves said, returning from the storage room with a small glass jar in hand, and Tina nodded and sighed in relief.
“Good. I’m going to get Queenie; we’ll need her help too. And I’ll move his case out of this alley. While I’m gone, can you apply that to his wounds and move him to his bed?” she asked as she stood, and Graves looked a bit shocked for a moment- probably surprised that Tina was suddenly tossing orders at him.
“I…I suppose I-“
“Thank you,” she interrupted with a grateful smile, artfully cutting off any objections he might have had. “I’ll be back soon. Just…don’t go in any of the exhibits.”
With that, Tina swept by him and back to the ladder that led to the surface. Graves sighed heavily- it was going to be a long day, he knew it.
Fill: Would You Stay 1c/?
“A manticore,” Graves breathed out as he caught up to her. “What the hell was he doing with a manticore?”
“The traffickers must have had it,” Tina breathed out, the sight of the nearly mythical beast catching her off guard. The creature had a face eerily human-like and the body of a lion, but its tail was that of a scorpion, tipped with venomous barbs. There were scars and matted fur layered around its neck, its coat was patchy and dull, and there was a bandage half-wound around its front leg. The creature was obviously near death; its breath was coming in laborious gasps and moans, and it didn’t even lift its head when they came closer.
“Tina, don’t,” Graves said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “The sting of a manticore is instantly fatal.”
Instantly fatal.
“Newt!” Tina cried out, the word desperate, torn from her throat like a plea as she yanked away from Graves and rushed to her friend’s side, manticore be damned. Luckily for her, the creature only twitched and gasped pitifully as she came within reach; she was only barely aware of it as the manticore drew its last breath and went still.
“Newt, please,” she said, and she dropped to her knees beside the redhead and immediately reached out to feel for a pulse. For a moment, she felt nothing- then, the barest hint of a thready pulse beneath her fingers. She lifted her head to look at Graves with desperation in her eyes. “He’s alive! Percival, we have to do something!”
Graves looked between the manticore and the fallen wizard with a frown. “It’s not fully grown. Its venom must not have reached its full potency,” he said, finally moving to Tina’s side to kneel beside Newt. This close, it was easier to see the faint signs of life; the shallow, halted breaths, and the sheen of sweat to his fever-hot skin.
“Tina, there’s no treatment for this. No cure. No one has ever survived the sting of a manticore,” he said, and Tina let out a frustrated huff.
“We have to try,” she insisted. “We have to. He saved my life, and he saved yours. We owe him this much, Graves. He would do the same for either of us.”
With or without Graves’ help, she planned to do whatever she could, and she started with what she did know how to deal with. She unbuttoned his shirt as quickly as her fingers could move, taken aback for a moment by the multitude of scars crisscrossing the wizard’s chest- though it made sense, given his occupation. It wasn’t her main concern right now, anyway; she tugged the shirt and coat aside to find the source of the bleeding, which seemed to be two deep claw marks on his side.
“Go and see if he has any essence of dittany in his supply room,” she said, not hesitating to toss out orders, even if Graves was technically her superior. He didn’t bother arguing the point, anyway; he went to the small entrance shack and started searching, and Tina carefully looked Newt over for any other wounds.
She found a deep puncture on his left shoulder- that must have been where the manticore stung him. It seemed that he’d run across the traffickers and managed to save the manticore, though it was a bit too late- the creature was obviously close to death, and likely wouldn’t have survived even with Newt’s best efforts.
But of course he’d tried anyway. She wouldn’t expect any less from him.
Pickett made a worried, almost anguished noise from her shoulder, and Tina tried to give the creature a reassuring look. “It’s alright, Pickett. He’ll be fine,” she insisted, hoping that she sounded more confident than she felt. “Mr. Graves and I will take care of him. He’ll be back on his feet before you know it, alright?”
Pickett didn’t seem convinced, and really, Tina didn’t blame him; after all, Newt was barely clinging to life at the moment, that much was obvious. At least the creatures had quieted down now that help had arrived.
“Found it,” Graves said, returning from the storage room with a small glass jar in hand, and Tina nodded and sighed in relief.
“Good. I’m going to get Queenie; we’ll need her help too. And I’ll move his case out of this alley. While I’m gone, can you apply that to his wounds and move him to his bed?” she asked as she stood, and Graves looked a bit shocked for a moment- probably surprised that Tina was suddenly tossing orders at him.
“I…I suppose I-“
“Thank you,” she interrupted with a grateful smile, artfully cutting off any objections he might have had. “I’ll be back soon. Just…don’t go in any of the exhibits.”
With that, Tina swept by him and back to the ladder that led to the surface. Graves sighed heavily- it was going to be a long day, he knew it.