[b]CW: Emetophobia[/b]
[hr]
Itxaro barely stopped herself from jumping up and celebrating when the commander gave her permission to search for missing cargo, but she couldn't suppress a small smile. This faded when she realized Silbermine would be joining her on the hunt. [i]Well, as long as I don't bring Nellara, Shirik, or J'eon, it'll be chill enough. I hope.[/i] Itxaro tossed a smug glance of satisfaction toward Dr. Lambert, having intuitively known, or more accurately, [i]guessed[/i], that the fish was safe to eat before her analysis. 

[color=fff200]"I'll gather the work crew after our little picnic, Commander,"[/color] Itxaro said before taking her leave. [color=fff200]"Oh, and I appreciate the chance to join you, Lord Silbermine,"[/color] she lied, walking away quite pleased with herself. 
[hr]
Itxaro didn't make it far before she saw Kareet, Vigdis, J'eon, and Kerchak gathered around a table deep in discussion. [color=fff200]"Who st-,"[/color] the half-formed sentence had barely escaped her lips when she saw Kareet brandish a massive blade, glistening malevolently in the afternoon sunlight, and cleanly slice flesh and bone. His own. Itxaro heard a dull [i]clang[/i] as the metal blade struck the metal table, muted by the weight of Kareet's now-severed hand. 

[color=fff200]"Huh."[/color]

Any color in Itxaro's face from her morning hike drained until her skin matched her hair. Itxaro turned slowly, drunkenly, and walked away carefully at first, as if she might fall, head swimming. Faster now, as the bile stung at her throat. Itxaro barely made it back aboard the Jotunheim and into the bathroom. Violent convulsions racked her body and she kneeled over and surrendered to the mechanical churning of her insides.

Eyes burning and mouth now coated in a film of bile and mucus, Itxaro cursed and spat and cursed again. It wasn't the violence of the act, necessarily; she'd seen her share of gruesome workplace injuries. No, it was this [i]specific[/i] injury that so disturbed her. Itxaro reflexively opened and closed her prosthetic hand as it burned with an irrational pain, one that grew the more she dwelled on it. Her own amputation hadn't been nearly as neat and tidy as Kareet's; a shotgun blast at close range didn't really compare to a surgeon's scalpel, and Itxaro's loss wasn't as voluntary. Still, it was a gruesome reminder.

Itxaro spat once more, wished desperately she had a cigarette, and sucked in a deep breath as she stood. A final shudder ran through her and she shook out her limbs and ran to the medbay. [i]Better late than never.[/i]
[hr]
[color=fff200]"Fuck out of the way!"[/color] Itxaro growled as she pushed her way past Vigdis, who was still milling about as if nothing happened. In fact, they were [i]all[/i] in the exact same place as when she'd left. She looked around at them in astonishment. [i]Idiotas.[/i] Itxaro gently pushed the lifeless claw away and flung the half-opened medbag on the table next to Kareet. [color=fff200]"Ok, Kareet, let's see your scratch. I've had worse,"[/color] Itxaro said as she pulled out a tourniquet, organic hand trembling. [i]Stop the bleeding, get the hand on ice next. Go from there.[/i] At no point in her frantic thoughts did Itxaro consider finding someone actually qualified to treat horrific wounds, and Kerchak's alleged magical healing abilities were the furthest thing from her mind.

She took one of Kareet's feathered arms in her hands and studied it in confusion, glancing at the severed claw. [i]Am I losing it?[/i] She scrambled for the other arm, also intact. She looked at Kerchek. She looked at Kareet. She looked at Vigdis. 

[color=fff200]"Alright, what the fuck guys."[/color]