Alaric lay under the light of the moon passed out, a large portion of his face missing. There was a pool of blood forming around his head. If this were to continue on, Alaric would surely bleed to death.
The other member of the boat wanted to take action. Absalom had renewed respect for Alaric.
Absalom loved victory, and lived for it. But the thing that Absalom hated above all was defeat. Absalom wasn't going to let Alaric die. Even with the puny rat brain that Absalom had, he understood the pain that was happening with Alaric. He didn't want him to die.
Absalom started by going around the boat looking for supplies to stop the bleeding. He grabbed some loose cloth and pushed it onto the wound. Absalom was still limited by his rat hands, so he wasn't able to tightly wrap it.
Looking for anything further that would have any use, Absalom scurried about. Alas, Alaric didn't pack accessible medical supplies. He had some basic things on standby like disinfectant, but it was nothing that a rat would be able to use for him.
Absalom was beginning to be filled with a rage. Regardless of the victory and losses that Alaric had experienced, failing to heal and save Alaric would be counted as a loss in Absalom's mind.
The idea of losing overtook Absalom's mind, and it began to race. Losing here would mean the end. Absalom wouldn't be able to swim all the way over to land, and would die out on the boat if he was unable to do anything to help Alaric out now.
This desire brought out a spirit in Absalom. His eye started to pulsate, red lines streaming out of it. These red lines were made of the flesh of Absalom. He was beginning to understand some of the powers he now held due to the transference of the eyes.
Thin red tendrils continued to emerge from the circumference of the eye, forming a near circle of red around it.
Absalom now apprehensively went over to Alaric. In Absalom's mind, the powers that he was using now were activated out of pure instinct. There was no element of free will in what was going to happen with them.
Absalom approached Alaric, and took a look at the wound. It was undeniably gruesome. There was red flesh and sharp bone sticking out, Alaric's tan face splattered with his own blood. There were small pellets from the shotgun lodged into the skin, penetrating deeper.
It was truly a stroke of luck that Alaric had managed to not be hit straight in his brain or throat, both of which, if hit, would result in his death.
At the moment he was just incredibly deformed and injured.
Absalom's eye tendrils now were relatively close to the face of Alaric. They seemed to be reaching out to the open flesh of his face. Absalom inched closer, moderately fearful of the powers that he was using.
The tendrils weren't operating off the mind of Absalom, so he had no idea whether their intent was to help or harm Alaric once they reached him. Absalom was willing to gamble on them helping.
The tendrils reached out to the empty flesh of Alaric, and then connected the two. The tendrils weaved themselves into the skin of Alaric, forcing Absalom's eye into the mouth of Alaric. They were now connected akin to conjoined twins.
The tendrils continued to move about, and seemed to secrete some kind of liquid. Absalom could see nothing about what was happening, simply the darkness of Alaric's mouth.
The tendrils kept secreting the liquid, making strange squishing sounds. The whole process of what was happening was lengthy. It took about an hour before the tendrils detached Absalom from Alaric.
It was now deep into the night, so Absalom couldn't see what had happened. Instead, he felt around. It seemed that Alaric was still alive due to some faint breathing noises. Absalom, now assured of the safety of Alaric decided to fall asleep, curling up next to him.
It seemed that their relationship was mended as of now from its small road bump.
Alaric woke in the morning to the smell of his blood. It was not quite sunrise, so Alaric could only faintly see what was around him. He was drenched in a plethora of liquids, including saltwater and his own blood.
He felt generally sore, but well rested. He had no idea how long he was asleep for. In truth, he had slept for an entire day and some change.
Absalom was asleep somewhere on the ship, after having had ran around and rested around the ship the entirety of the day without Alaric.
Alaric slowly started to sit up as his vision adjusted. The shotgun was laying next to him, having not had fired since he had grabbed it.
Remembering the events of the past day, Alaric quickly brought a hand to his jaw, feeling for the missing piece. While it wasn't entirely missing, there was still a gap in his face. It was covered in a thin layer of skin, looking bumpy and rough. Alaric rubbed his hand over it. It felt smooth. Looking into his reflection in the water, he saw that a white patch of skin had formed over it. Some bones also seemed to have healed.
Thinking about how he possibly could have had such a quick recovery, Alaric pondered his surroundings, and quickly landed on Absalom.
"It's something with that eye." Alaric said definitely, being correct in his idea.
Alaric smiled at Absalom, once again realizing the friendship they had with each other.
Laying down, Alaric waited for the sun to rise for the day. He now had a new fish to experiment with, and an ally with an increased ability. Overall, things were looking good.
Looking over at the fishing rod, it was very much still cursed. It was now strictly brown, and had large spikes growing out of it.
The light of daybreak lit up the day for Alaric as he prepared to head back home.