RP:A Rose for a Friend
This is a Healer's Guild RP.
Summary: Emilia returns to Ara for rest and a bath, but finds and injured unconscious Krice. Leaving him a frozen rose she departs so he can rest not before informing his care giver she is to be updated on all his care.
Krice lay ensconced in a myriad of fluffy clean linens on an equally spotless bed, the unconscious warrior unmoving save for the rise and fall of his chest. At the very least he was shirtless, cleaned up and bandaged by the resident healer and her helpers; his left arm from elbow to shoulder wrapped snuggly to protect the injury beneath, his right hand also. In the hollow of his right cheek sat a deep purple bruise, indicating heavy impact, and across his entire body lay small grazes and cuts consistent with the collapse of a building all around him. He had been pulled from the fort only a few hours ago, after lying unconscious in the rubble overnight following the nightmare-ending to Josleen and Macon's wedding, and although he was thoroughly and unimpeachably asleep, his breathing and heartbeat were slow, calm, and consistent.
Emilia had kept her word to Krice that she was leaving Frostmaw with intentions of heading out west toward Venturil, it was upon reaching her former house that a letter arrived requesting her back to Larket as fast as the icy one could travel. For once when trouble struck the Genasi was not near it or even part of it. Since returning to the city the woman had worn herself down with tending to the injured in the city. This loss of energy sent her looking for the comfort of Ara. Unlike Krice all neatly slumbering clean and bandaged Em was as dirty as ever, in fact, she could be mistaken for a troll. Near black bandaged were wrapped around her uninjured feet and hands, cut off ragged pants hanging by a rope about her waist, and an oversized ragged shirt half hanging off her shoulder covered her top. White flesh was smeared with dirt and blood, while white curls were a mass of bun atop her head covered in just as much dirt as blood as debris. Hardly a speck of white visible. Entering Sabrina’s room, one she commonly spent the night in, the Genasi was at a loss when she spoted Krice there on the bed, “Oh, Krice….” she whispered before moving closer to take a seat on the floor next to him, far enough away that her dirty-self wouldn’t affect him, but from this spot she’d study him from head to toe taking in each and every injury on him.
Krice was unresponsive not only to Emilia's arrival, but to the various scents she brought with her, the sound of her voice, and her nearness. Where once he was an alert guardian, now lay a man injured and bed-ridden and not even aware of the state he was in. Leaning up against the bedside table was his katana, the newest one gifted to him by a certain blacksmith, cleaned, polished, and ready for use once more.
Emilia wouldn’t stay long, she was afraid to make matters worse for the warrior and she was in dire need of a bath. In this moment she could only imagine what it was like to be Krice always watching over someone else. Shaking her head she rose from the floor and rested a hand on the bedside table, slowly lifting it up until a rose made of ice was left in the wake of her touch. It wouldn’t melt fast, a tiny trace of magic holding it together. “Rest well, Warrior,” Em said blowing him a kiss, because she couldn’t touch him, and then turned to leave. She only stopped to chat with his main healer informing her that should anything change she was to be informed right away.