Geel watches her body crumple, no doubt tired...but there was more than that. Geel realized what it was when he swooped down to catch her. The rays of the sun made even her pale soft skin look feverish, and it's illuminating light looked somehow full of malice when it shone on her. He caught her just before he hit the ground, both hands holding her tight. She's burning up, the sun's too hot for her.
Hastily motioning for Einarr's help, they shift her to the shade of the carriage roof. Upon seeing the driver's shocked expression, Geel lied "She has Ataxia, we are getting her to Dawnstar for treatment by a friend. She's contagious to people who lived outside of the town we came from, so you might not want to get too close" Geel hoped that not only would that help with the problem of him finding out she was a vampire, but also with the fact that he wouldn't come nosing in at the wrong time of the day, especially should Emberlynn get hungry.
"Mister, please give us a while more, we need to get the others in, apparently one of our group fell off a slope. He's pretty old, so we may take some time to get him over." Geel quickly asked Einarr and Alistar to do a favour and bring the old man into the carriage. Meanwhile, he raced down the road. A quick return to the battlefield was required, and he picked one of the lighter Falmer. The important thing now was to ensure the safety of his companions, who no doubt would not enjoy having to restrain (if necessary) a blood starved vampire. Hopefully we don't resort to that.He had no time to string it up like he did with the others, so he simply pulled out another empty flask from his bag. Pushing snow in the small bottle, he shook it up as he slit the Falmer's belly open.
Scooping out the slick and still blood, he added it in to the snow slush, not only to keep it cool, but to prevent it from drying. It was also less concentrated than pure blood, and he hoped that would help curb her thirst. But he knew that was not enough, especially for Emberlynn, who probably spent the last few days hungry. Perhaps... it was time to put his understanding of anatomy into practice. He looked down at the open belly skin of the dead elf, and tried not to feel nauseous. The organs still moved slightly, as if it expected the elf to come back up again. Perhaps the body thought the brain was in hibernation, or that it was merely sleeping. Whatever the case, he could not help but notice the faintly beating veins leading up to the heart.
Stoppering the flask, he picked up his weapon once again, hurriedly working like how a surgeon would split open a patient. He was glad he had taken the Falmer sword back then, for now it seemed to aid his fingers, guiding it to the liver. After severing the arteries and veins connecting to it, he pushed a fistful of ice into those bloody tubes and stoppered the tubes using fragments of rib bones and other organs, thus keeping the blood inside.
Once again, he felt squeamish doing so, as if he had violated these Falmers rights. But he had no choice, for the sake of the living. He tried not to think that he was taking blood out of a warrior who had died so bravely in battle. Though the man had fought for the other side, he was still a man of true courage. He wondered briefly,where do the souls of Falmer go? To Sovngarde, or somewhere else? But he did not linger, sprinting back to the carriage. As he ran, he did not turn back, fearful of the eyes of the dead who haunted the grounds. He knew that this scene would change his view on war forever. As he looked at it, he thought:
Nobody leaves a war unscathed. Even the victors emerge with a scar in our heart and minds, something which we can never overcome. This will haunt us all.
When he got back to the carriage, he attended to the "patients". In order to prevent them from sliding when the carriage moved, they put the two people below each of the two benches, and put their bags in front of the exit so they would not fly back out should the horse jerk or start running. He also thought it was better for them, as it was darker there, and a perfect place to recuperate. He placed the Slaughterfish meat, vial of blood and the liver in the corner of the carriage. He took his spot on the bottom of the floor, directly between the two patients. THis way, he could check if any of them woke up. He hoped they would recover soon, but worried what the two of them might do to each other should they go unchecked.
Using a firebolt spell, he let a warm glow fill the gloomy insides of the carriage, as he sat down to read Farengar's journal, his thirst for knowledge unquenchable. He waited as the others prepared, oblivious to what Rale and Melee were doing. He simply wanted to leave the inn, and the carnage they caused behind.