Ragnar returned to a dark house, one dim light on in the kitchen. Even so, he could see that the knives had been taken out of the walls and, he wasn't positive, but he was pretty sure he'd bled all over the floor. It had all been cleaned up. Athelstan.
He made a mental note to thank him in the morning. Gyda didn't need to see any of that.
It struck him that he was still a mess, caked in dry blood, the injury on his palm still open. He was pretty sure there were bandages, or at least some linen, in the bathroom upstairs. He dragged his hand over his face and headed up the stairs as quietly as he could, flicking the light on in the bathroom and swinging the door just shy of shut. He dug around in the space under the sink, looking for anything that he could wrap his hand with. Tucked in the back, he found a roll of gauze and did his best to wrap his hand up. It was his left hand at least, making it slightly easier.
He caught his reflection in the mirror and made a face. He looked like absolute shit. The tiny knick in his ear had bled profusely, so there was a trail of dried blood down the side of his neck that made it look like he'd been majorly injured despite the cut being barely visible. His tunic was also stuck in the dried blood on his shoulder, though that cut looked to have closed up. It was just easier to leave his tunic for now, if he took it off it would likely reopen the cut on his shoulder and he didn't want to deal with it.
With his palm wrapped up, he just thought 'good enough' and was ready to slink into the spare bedroom. He didn't want to deal with Athelstan right now... if the monk was even still there.
action~
Ragnar returned to a dark house, one dim light on in the kitchen. Even so, he could see that the knives had been taken out of the walls and, he wasn't positive, but he was pretty sure he'd bled all over the floor. It had all been cleaned up. Athelstan.
He made a mental note to thank him in the morning. Gyda didn't need to see any of that.
It struck him that he was still a mess, caked in dry blood, the injury on his palm still open. He was pretty sure there were bandages, or at least some linen, in the bathroom upstairs. He dragged his hand over his face and headed up the stairs as quietly as he could, flicking the light on in the bathroom and swinging the door just shy of shut. He dug around in the space under the sink, looking for anything that he could wrap his hand with. Tucked in the back, he found a roll of gauze and did his best to wrap his hand up. It was his left hand at least, making it slightly easier.
He caught his reflection in the mirror and made a face. He looked like absolute shit. The tiny knick in his ear had bled profusely, so there was a trail of dried blood down the side of his neck that made it look like he'd been majorly injured despite the cut being barely visible. His tunic was also stuck in the dried blood on his shoulder, though that cut looked to have closed up. It was just easier to leave his tunic for now, if he took it off it would likely reopen the cut on his shoulder and he didn't want to deal with it.
With his palm wrapped up, he just thought 'good enough' and was ready to slink into the spare bedroom. He didn't want to deal with Athelstan right now... if the monk was even still there.