[ his flighty attitude from before has all but disappeared. Once his upper body is out of the water and sufficiently dry, he unfastens the neck of his wetsuit enough to fit one of his arms through - and several smaller tentacles, all of which he touches to the Reefback's body. The touch alone makes his skin swell up slightly. But he's calculating for the slight expansion in his head as he goes. ]
... Sorry, my tentacled friend. This is going to hurt. But I'll be as quick as I can.
[ with that, he starts moving quickly - very quickly. Additional tentacles in the water suddenly lash out and wrap around the Reefback's body firmly to hold it in place, to which it responds with an unhappy noise, but he doesn't have time to stop and feel bad for it. The longer he takes with this, the more moisture he'll take on, and the higher chance he'll have of making its injuries worse instead of better. His tentacles split into many strands, thinning out until they're hardly wider than a human hair, and then seem to disappear into the Reefback's body. All of it is done so quickly that it's almost impossible to see. (Almost, but not quite. He's not as fast as he used to be.)
The whole process takes a little bit less than a minute and a half. He doesn't make a peep as he works; his tentacles fly about at the cellular level, stitching closed wounds as best as he can. Without the injured animal's cells or blood on hand, and with the water around, there's only so much he can do. But by the end of it, the Reefback's bleeding has essentially stopped, and while the wounds are present, they seem much more closed. After a short intake of breath, he releases the creature, which is quick to swim off with a thrash. ]
... Okay. I'll take that as a notifier of success. [ he sounds a little tired, but other than that... ]
no subject
[ his flighty attitude from before has all but disappeared. Once his upper body is out of the water and sufficiently dry, he unfastens the neck of his wetsuit enough to fit one of his arms through - and several smaller tentacles, all of which he touches to the Reefback's body. The touch alone makes his skin swell up slightly. But he's calculating for the slight expansion in his head as he goes. ]
... Sorry, my tentacled friend. This is going to hurt. But I'll be as quick as I can.
[ with that, he starts moving quickly - very quickly. Additional tentacles in the water suddenly lash out and wrap around the Reefback's body firmly to hold it in place, to which it responds with an unhappy noise, but he doesn't have time to stop and feel bad for it. The longer he takes with this, the more moisture he'll take on, and the higher chance he'll have of making its injuries worse instead of better. His tentacles split into many strands, thinning out until they're hardly wider than a human hair, and then seem to disappear into the Reefback's body. All of it is done so quickly that it's almost impossible to see. (Almost, but not quite. He's not as fast as he used to be.)
The whole process takes a little bit less than a minute and a half. He doesn't make a peep as he works; his tentacles fly about at the cellular level, stitching closed wounds as best as he can. Without the injured animal's cells or blood on hand, and with the water around, there's only so much he can do. But by the end of it, the Reefback's bleeding has essentially stopped, and while the wounds are present, they seem much more closed. After a short intake of breath, he releases the creature, which is quick to swim off with a thrash. ]
... Okay. I'll take that as a notifier of success. [ he sounds a little tired, but other than that... ]