Allisandra paused, frowning, before changing direction slightly. "You're lucky I know someone who lives around here and doesn't hate me." She muttered, shaking her head. Interesting. It wasn't long before she was knocking on the door to a slightly dilapidated looking home, not even flinching when the door was thrown open by a large man covered in sailor's tattoos. He took one look at the Prince, before ushering them both inside hurriedly.
Dorian released a breath when they turned away from the docks. It was almost as if an invisible weight was lifted from his shoulders. Again, he would have thanks the man but couldn't must anymore strength to speak. He moved his head form side to side to look at the small home.
The home was, to say the least, a mess. Children's toys and coils of rope, what looked like a small anchor, and various fishing weights, were all scattered throughout the room, somehow looking like they belonged together. The man waved them through the mess, seemingly fine with Gyriel swooping through before Ally closed the door behind them and followed. He led the way into a living room, and in a gruff and deep voice instructed Ally to set the Prince down on the couch.
Dorian sunk into the couch when he was placed down onto it, resting his head back against it and closing his eyes. His body hurt, he was tired and confused and right now all he wanted to do was sleep. He doubted they'd let him, though, not until his injuries were somewhat cleaned up.
"Try'n stay awake." Ally advised, relaxing as soon as she had let go of him, and resisting the urge to immediately bolt for the bathroom. She had to at least make sure he wasn't immediately about to die. "Johnson, you still got that first aid kit?" She turned to the man, who was studying the two of them.
"Yeah, I do. Be right back." 'Johnson' turned, disappearing somewhere down the hall and leaving them alone.
Dorian just hummed slightly in response, though he didn't move to open his eyes. He took some deep, painful breaths, swallowing a couple times to sooth his dry throat. Hopefully this girl wouldn't just bolt so he had time to thank her… and her friend. He shifted his body slightly only to be met with a wave of pain, causing him to hiss.
The hiss made Ally look back to the Prince, and she shook her head. "You shouldn't try t' move. D'you-" She paused, knowing she'd absolutely regret the side-effects of the offer, but forcing herself to speak. "D'you want me to help you move into a more comfortable…whatever?"
Dorian shook his head at her, declining the offer. He was fine where he was, now anyway. She'd helped him enough at this point and he could move into a comfortable position by himself, even if it pained him to do so. He was guessing it would be like this for a while, anyway.
The first aid kit was thrown from the doorway at Allisandra, who reach up and caught it without issue. She crouched in front of the Prince, opening it up and nodding to Johnson as he set a damp rag down on the small wooden coffee table. "I need you t' point out or let me know where the worst injuries are, if you can."
Dorian sighed softly and slowly, lifted his not so injured arm to point at his other shoulder. It looked like an arrow wound only the tip of the arrow was still in his skin. Then he pointed to a deep slash wound across his chest and a deep stab wound in his side and thigh.
Allisandra just nodded, moving from her spot on the floor to the couch next to him, and few too many inches away as she grabbed the rag. "I'm dealing with the arrow first. Seems just a bit more pressing, movement-wise and all." She muttered, as Johnson once again disappeared.
Dorian hummed his agreement, opening an eye for a moment before he closed it again. If he could have both arms functioning again that would be amazing. He released a deep breath and taking a couple more to distract himself.
Ally didn't give any sort of warning before removing the arrow, knowing that anything else would just make it harder for him. She quickly wiped at the blood best she could, attempting to clean up the surrounding area, before pressing a wad of gauze to the wound.
Dorian hissed in pain though was glad for the arrow head to be out of his arm. He bit down harshly on his lower lip, opening his eyes finally and keeping them open.
"Probably should've given you something to bite on." Ally muttered, half an apology as she grabbed a bandage to keep the gauze in place.
Dorian huffed a laugh, "P-Probably…" He mumbled, looking down at his shoulder then to her, "What's.. your name?"
Ally blinked, pausing as she moved onto his chest. "Most people call me Ghost." She said after a moment, before taking another moment to think. "Name's Allisandra, though."
"Th-Thank-you… Allisandra.." Dorian shifted a little to help her get to the next wound. He sucked in a breath as he did so, but didn't cry out or hiss in pain this time.
"Don't thank me yet. You might be cursing that name in a moment." Ally said, shaking her head. She pulled the rag away, studying the gash. "D'you think you could get your shirt off? It's done for, at this point, and just in the way."
Dorian hesitated before he nodded. He had scars, yes and he shouldn't care if she saw. She felt like the type who'd have her own so it wouldn't matter. He leaned forwards slightly and carefully, took his shirt off.
Ally's eyes flickered across his chest, half looking at other injuries, and half taking in the scars. Setting the rag down and shrugging out of her coat to keep it clean, she returned to cleaning the gash without a word, though her own scars crisscrossing her neck seemed to burn once more with the phantom sting of the barbed wire. "This one might take stitches. Think you can handle that?"
"Had 'em before… I can deal with 'em again." Dorian replied, releasing a long breath. He'd had stitches multiple times. Had stitched himself and other people up. He was used to them by now so he didn't practically care.
"This might help." Johnson said gruffly as he entered the room once more, a bottle of scotch in hand. Ally snorted, but kept quiet, well aware that in his situation, she'd be jumping at the alcohol. She finished cleaning up as best she could, rifling through the first aid kit for what she needed.
Dorian smirked a little, gladly taking the alcohol from the other man, "Thanks…" He raised the bottle in a sort of salute before he took a swig, enjoying the burn and the fact that his throat was no longer dryer then the desert.
Ally waited until he'd gotten a bit of the alcohol into his system before getting started, brows furrowed as she carefully stitched the gash closed. She was good at it, obviously having had some prior practice.
Johnson sat down on what was essentially a dining room chair, studying Dorian. He didn't seem to recognize him, if his curious and wary gaze was any indication. "I heard her give ya her name, but I didn' hear ya offer one back."