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| - The medical bay would rival a fully equipped planetside hospital. It has been divided into operating theaters, isolation wards, intensive care wards, recovery rooms, and examination rooms. Doctors offices have doctors from every race know to allow those coming here comfort in relating to someone of their own kind. A pharmeceutical dispensing facility has been set up with around the clock staffing to allow those with minor aches and pains access to medications. This area is kept super sterile and clean as a pin. The artificial lighting system has been adjusted to the bright afternoon setting. Sich remains in the bed that has confined her for the past several days, now conscious. The Ur'Soth writhes around a little, but is too weak to manage anything more. L'ssthvril flows into the medical bay with the usual click of talons on the hard sterile flooring, her robes pulled closely about her. She moves through the corridors with surety, reaching Sich's room and entering with no one slowing her, this time. Sich hisses something softly in Naliese, mostly incoherent. Though the occasional fragment of pre-combat blessings can be heard: <.. .be my aim with her infallible sight. Let Her Glory... strength. Let Her Glory be my...> Amidst the buzzing and beeping and small flashing lights of the medical devices, the tiny priestess comes to a stop beside Sich's bed. In a rare moment her ever-moving eyes still, regarding the wounded, nictating twice in that time. The tip of her tail sways slowly, back and forth, back and forth, and the rest of her body is very still beneath the heavy robes that stir in perfectly-conditioned, recycled air. Sich's head slowly shifts to one side bandaged snout pointing to the priestess. The Ur'Soth's eyes, hazy and dry, regard the other Nall in silence for a moment, her hissing fading off. A tail slaps once, firmly, against the sterile decking. L'ssth of Hatch Vril turns to the bedside table, slipping from her robes two devices: a small canister and a golden dagger, both emblazoned with stylised sunburts. Her motions are rather formal. she enquires, ritually. Sich drops her stump back to the surface of the bed. She slowly rolls her body over towards the priest, weak muscles shaking as they're forced back into action. The Ur'Soth chokes on something in her throat, coughing once before continuing. <... Honor is my death.> L'ssthvril bobs her snout, breath hissing momentarily through a fractionally-dropped bottom jaw. She works away at her tasks, lowering the bed, her tail's motion slowing with speech as the hydraulics shift the bed down to within her reach again. She doesn't look at the fallen one, contenting herself instead with removing the plain canister from the device on Sich's arm and pressing a button which shuts off the light there. she asks further, ritual lilt to her voice still. Sich hisses, body jerking weakly in moment of pain. She pauses for a few moments, waiting for the pain to pass. Her body falls limp. The Ur'Soth adds in a quiet, weak hiss, The priestess' voice is firmer now, demanding, and she picks up the sunburst canister from the bedside and works it in her talons. she hisses, Sich's remaining talon digs into the sheets of the bed, claws extending as pain surges through the scaley appendage. The Ur'Soth says, taking a moment to cough and chuff before continuing. Once more the priestess' tail slaps the deck, hard, and deftly she snaps the will of Nalia into the machine on Sich's arm. With a tap of her talons the machine lights up again, humming softly and blinking green lights against black metal. Chemicals work into Sich's blood, substances synthesised from the jungles of the homeworld, heightening her awareness and easing her pain, burning the synapses of her brain bright for one last time to wake her into lucidity. She begins to chant, slowly, She turns during the continuing chant, bowing ritually before taking the dagger up in hand. Sich's talon relaxes, the rest of her body following afterwards. The Ur'Soth flares her scaley nostrils, tilting her snout back to expose her neck, scales burnt and charred by the injury which placed her here. She clacks her jaw a single time, then turns motionless, save her slow, deep breaths. Sich of Hatch Kavir nictates her eyes, now sparkling with life, a single time. L'ssth echoes the motion, dark eyes crossed by the pale membrane once, and then sparkling again. She holds the dagger reverently, lifting it above the bed. <....Take this valiant one and grant her Your infallible blinding sight. Take this valiant one and grant her the speed of Your body and the strength of Your passage...> The golden dagger glints above the bed, poised as the incantation rolls out in the alien hissings and clatterings of sound in that small hospital room. Sich's snout raises further. The Ur'Soth reaches a talon over to pull the cover free from her body, exposing the cuts, scrapes, burns, and scars brought about by a life of combat. This scaled mass inflates as a deep, wheezing breath is drawn, and held. She doesn't speak or move any after that. With a final flash the golden Talon of Nalia descends in the priestess' hand, parting the charred scaled easily to release the warrior's last fount of blood, and to release her soul to the Goddess. Sich's body remains motionless as the dagger slides through her skin. Not a jerk, not a lurch, not a hiss of pain is offered as her blood seeps from her skin. The Ur'Soth's breath is slowly released, gurgling through the slit in her neck. Another breath isn't drawn. The machines around the Ur'Soth protest the dead, all raising there voices to beep furiously for the lost. All the while, Sich simply lies still and listens. The protests cease after a moment, changing to a long, quiet tone of acceptance. Slowly the mattress pools with blood, through the loud beepings and clickings and then as the funeral song of the machines begins, low and still. L'ssthvril's voice remains steady, continuing without a flinch, warm liquid spurting up around her talons and then subsiding as the warrior's blood ceases to pump. Lights go dark on the small machine on Sich's arm, and the sound of hurrying feet can be heard in the hallway. The priestess ignores all of this, wrenching the golden dagger, now dark with lifeblood, free and returnignit uncleaned to her robes. The scrambling of feet moves to the door and then inside. The eyes of the older Doctor Swanson peer at the bed, blinking a few times in disbelief. A glint light from the surface of the dagger meets the doctor's eyes. "Dear God..." He says softly, looking between the bed and the tiny preistess beside it. "What did you do?" The man asks softly, shock overwhelming him to the point where anger is impossible. Who would have thought the Nall to have so much blood in her? As L'ssthvril goes through the motions, assuring herself that the spirit has indeed fled, a new sound enters the room. Below the voices raised in confision and above the low constant level bleep of the machines the dark blood begins to drip in quiet song against the until now liveless, sterile floor. At length, her duties for the moment compled, the surviving tiny Nall turns for the doorway. Consumed in her dark robes she makes no sign of notice to the humans, looking to flow on right past them as if they were not there. Doctor Swanson just watches the priestess for a moment, then quickly moves to the side of the bed. It only takes a moment before he sees the obvious. With a sigh, his wrinkled hand reaches over to turn off the monitors. Doctor Swanson looks down to the floor, watching silently as the blood flows beneath one of his shoes to a drain on the floor. L'ssth of Hatch Vril is gone with a swirl of heavy robes and a skittering of talons, replaces after some short while by two more Nall, clad both in similar robes with no runes on them. Together they make preperations to bear the Warrior's still-warm body off, heedless of the blood and the human alike. The doctor simply takes two steps back from the trio of Nalls, his shoes leaving bloody prints on the tile. He watches them in silence for a few moments, a look of understanding on his whithered face. Soon enough the worst of the blood is sponged off of Sich's inert body, and leaving that scarred battered form bare to the world the two dark-robed Nall bear her off to her final triumph on the ship where she served for so long. The once-clean hospital room is left to the humans that own it, the blood that served the warrior well for so long left for them, but no more. Doctor Swanson slowly walks over to the intercom as the three Nalls leave. He orders the room to be cleaned, then moves on to his next patient.
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