Everything would have seemed a blur. Ishi would soon find herself back in the room they had originally entered, the other men gone with Johnny in tow, Constantine concerned with the commotion but not truly cognizant of it. Skylar wasn't with them at the moment, having been taken by Faruq.

"Ishi? Are you okay?"

Constantine asked, concerned by the blood that covered Ishi's front, and the blade she still held, similarly coated with the red substance. He was dressed in a set of plain peasant clothes, which were fortunately large enough to fit him. There were plenty of women's clothes, but he'd had to ask special...

"What happened?"

Constantine pushed himself slowly up to sit on the edge of the bed, not quite ready to walk, particularly on his own. His brain was still scattered, and among the constant near-feverish dreams he'd been having, he was no closer to figuring a way out. Or what that nagging feeling was...

It was all truly a blur. All Ishi knew was that it was natural; everything that happened just came natural to her, and she didn't feel bad for it at all. Someone was dead and his blood was all over her--and she didn't regret making the decision to end his life. It was like squashing an insect, really. Who cared when an insect died? When a beetle was smashed under a man's boot? The most that man would feel was disdain for the beetle being there, and making a mess of the underside of his boot.

And it was the same for Ishi. She didn't appreciate the blood on her.

But when she stared at Constantine, she didn't have a hollow gaze of any sort--not like when she had killed before. It really had come natural--and by this point, it just didn't seem to matter to her. That man was an insect. No one should have had remorse for that man's death. It was a shame, though, that she couldn't remember what happened after that.

"I am o-kay," Ishi replied softly with a nod, "Man hurt Skyrar-- but he hurt her no more."

Speaking of which, where was Skylar? Ishi looked around, expecting to find her in the room--or Johnny, for that matter. He didn't seem like a bad guy. Where were they?

Constantine's face changed to a look of brief anger as he realized what Ishi had implied in her own way, before returning to a more general concern. He wanted to act, but he wasn't in shape at the moment, and there was more he could do to help Ishi. There was enough blood on Ishi's clothes alone, stained with the black and yellow colors of vital organs, that she must had killed a man. He hoped Skylar was okay, but like most matters in their lives at the moment, he was not in control at the moment...

"Ishi? You... Killed one of them?"

That was alarming, but at least they had returned her to Constantine, even if Skylar was missing. They hadn't exacted immediate revenge on Ishi, or anything of the like. And there was time to deal with it. And now that he thought about it... What exactly had happened? How had Ishi gotten a weapon? When had this happened, relative to everything else? How much time had gone by...?

"Ishi, let's find you some new clothes. And we need to clean off your sword..."

Constantine would reach out his hand slowly, waiting for Ishi to give him the sword, if she so desired. He knew how the girl seemed to take comfort in weapons, and especially after another traumatic experience, he didn't want her to get the wrong idea about anything. He wasn't going to disarm her in a place full of hostile and woman-starved men...

Constantine wasn't trying to take it from her--and that was a good thing. It was a good move on his part. That could have only ended badly if he tried. After all, Ishi had recently killed a man--and without even the faintest sign of remorse, for that matter. She was still fairly murderous at the moment, and willing to slash first and ask questions later. Exercising caution with her was the only way to get through things without adding some more tragedy into the mix.

She handed the sword over without a word, not declaring that she had killed anyone or not. Cyril was right. She had. But he deserved it, as far as she was concerned. Unfortunately, she almost instantaneously collapsed. Seemed her legs were rebelling against her, and she just wasn't feeling it. Still not feeling the pain she should have, Ishi folded her legs over one another, reached her arms back, and pulled her shirt over her head. It was covered and blood and . . . things she couldn't even explain. Ishi always thought that the only colors in the body that could be violently spilled was red. She was wrong.

The shirt was dropped beside of her, followed quickly by the girl covering her chest with her arms. All her wounds were still wrapped up with bandages, but that didn't make her shirtless form any more modest. She had underwear still--but nothing else. Covering her chest was the only thing she could do to make herself feel a little better about that--but then again, it was a purely instinctive reaction. Ishi didn't think about it, nor did she actually feel naked when she wasn't wearing a shirt.

Not right now.

Not while she still felt numb.

Ishi didn't have her large sword, though. Somewhere along the lines of her coming back, whether she walked back on her own or was sent back by the others, she had lost the sword she'd been using as a walking stick. This had her bleeding a lot more from her legs. The bandages on her calves and hips were all but soaked--and it was clearly her blood. She wasn't going to be walking for awhile after this, not after having walked so long when she shouldn't have. She'd just reopened her wounds, and made them worse . . .

Constantine accepted the blade, but turned a bit red as Ishi removed her shirt. However, his embarrassment was tempered with concern for the girl's wounds. And a fair amount of guilt. He was constantly getting her into situations that were cruel, especially for someone of her age...

"Ishi, here. Lay on the bed."

Constantine would drop the sword onto Ishi's discarded clothing, standing up with some amount of effort. He was shaky, still, but not on the verge of passing out this time. He could even form rudimentary plans, it seemed. And remember the last few minutes...

Bending down, he would reach under Ishi's legs and behind her shoulders, lifting her and flipping her over gently and onto the bed facedown, where he had been laying until moments ago. He would then pull the covers over her, covering her from her shoulders to her knees, while he moved towards the dressers of clothing in search of new cloth, both for bandages and for an outfit for Ishi.

"What kind of clothes do you want?"

He had certain types of material in mind for the bandages, but not for actual clothing.

At first, Ishi was hesitant to let him touch her. She recoiled as soon as he was near, and brought her knees up closer to her chest--regardless of how much it hurt her. She couldn't feel the pain right now, anyways. It was amazing that she could even feel a little bit of shame still. Shame, which told her to be skittish about someone touching her, particularly a male, especially when she was barely wearing any clothes at all.

Once she reminded herself that it was Constantine, and that he wasn't a threat to her, she relaxed a little, and though she continued to cover her chest with her arms, she let him reach under her knees and behind her shoulders--and help her lay down on the bed, on her front. That made things a lot easier, actually.

Ishi pulled her arms out from under her and let them lay at her sides. She tried to relax, but as she laid there, she couldn't help but feel her heart. It was beating so hard . . . it felt like it was trying to pound its way out of her chest. That was the only explanation. And what if it did? Would she have been better off without it?

"I . . . no care," Ishi whispered, both a reply to Constantine--and herself.

Constantine would nod quietly, almost disappointed that Ishi didn't have a preference. It was acceptable, especially given what must have transpired, but still disappointing. For both of their sakes, it was better that she have some clothes, though. He'd just have to pick something.

"Ishi... I'm sorry I wasn't there again. Thank you for helping Skylar."

Which brought up an important point. Constantine needed to go find Skylar. But first... He could help Ishi's legs before he did that. And he had to make sure she was protected, which was a problem in and of itself. He couldn't be in two places at once. And Ishi's legs were in terrible condition...

Searching through the dressers, he would throw clothes aside, searching for suitable garments. It would only take a minute to find a dress that was thick and absorbent enough to act as bandages. For clothes to wear... Constantine was at a loss, until he happened across something that looked suitable. A full set of girl's pajamas, made of a soft fabric he really couldn't identify, though they were in a garish purple and white pattern. Ishi would probably appreciate having some clothes that were designed for women for a change, even if they weren't highly attractive...

"Here, Ishi. You can wear these. Don't move yet, though."

Setting the shirt and pants next to Ishi on the bed, Constantine would look around the room, finding it woefully lacking in any supplies. All he could do was change the rough bandages on Ishi's legs to try to keep her comfortable. And he would start to do just that, as gently as he could...

Thank God Ishi was numb. If she weren't, then she'd be screaming as soon as Constantine touched her wounds. The muscles themselves were irritated, and were agonizing to the touch. Fortunately, she was still numb from the last act of murder.

But that didn't mean she didn't feel nothing. Truth be told, it stung, and she winced and tensed up accordingly. That was the extent of her pain, though. There was nothing more. it did, however, begin to make her feel again, slowly but surely--a sullen reminder that she was, in fact, still alive and real, and that world was not just an illusion or terrible dream. Dreams and illusions didn't hurt.

She'd be patient, though, and said nothing at all. Her wounds were fairly bad; Constantine wouldn't need any medical experience to tell that she had made everything much, much worse--that if she pushed herself any further, she'd be permanently injured, either damned to forever limp, or in the worst case scenario, paralyzed from the thighs down. There was also the risk of infection, which was progressively worsening over the time they were here, underground . . .

Constantine was pretty much amazed at the amount of abuse Ishi's legs had suffered, and even more amazed at the fact that she had been walking around. Now, though... She couldn't do that any more. And really, she shouldn't have to, once they got out...

"Ishi, your legs... I'm not even sure how you were walking..."

And she'd been walking for his sake... That was... Sweet? He wasn't really sure how to characterize it. Yet... Well, there were too many things to think about right now, but for now, Ishi suddenly seemed a lot older. And really, when he thought about it, there were only two years of difference between their ages, anyway...

"Be careful..."

Finishing up the bandaging, Constantine would sit on the side of the bed by Ishi, trying to decide his next move. No one was around at the moment, which made things difficult to decide, not that he could trust the native residents of the underground...

"Arigatou," Ishi whispered, appreciating Constantine's assistance.

Even that was a giant leap, considering how unwilling she used to be to even speak to him.

Why there were sets of girls' pajamas here underground, no one would ever know. But no matter the case, it saw use today. Ishi slowly grabbed the clothes and turned to face away from Constantine. Despite everything-- or perhaps because of everything that had happened --she could not feel comfortable around anyone while exposed. Now, she probably wouldn't have even felt comfortable around Skylar.

Nonetheless, Ishi sat up slowly, her back facing Constantine-- or Cyril, rather --so she could slide the shirt on. It was impossible to keep these clothes clean, though. Ishi's arms were still covered in blood, and that got all over these clothes just the same. Still, clothes were clothes. They'd just have to get some more clothes, if they managed to get out of here alive.

Getting the pajama pants on was a little harder. She had to actually put her legs through them. This wasn't working out at all. The numbness was starting to go away, and each time she lifted one of her legs long enough to try and pull the fabric over them, she had to drop them in pain. After a few tries, she started to even whimper in pain--which was progressively getting worse and worse. But eventually, she did get her legs in, and pulled the pants up to her waist.

It was just . . . there . . . there was no way she was going to walk again. At least for a couple of months, and even then she might need physical therapy . . .

On top of mental and emotional therapy, which, coincidentally, was a little more important.