RP:Larewen Down, Scars Abound

Great Hall of Vailkrin

Pilar was quite worried. Her benefactor, Larewen, had been struck down. A simple flesh wound had put her into a comatose state, and they couldn't figure out how to wake her up. Pilar knew a few healers, but hadn't had any luck finding them. The one she knew she could reach, she didn't want to talk to. She hoped Hildegarde would know someone... or could at least distract her from her troubles for a time. She entered the castle and made her way to the great hall, where she could usually find the dragon at work.

Hildegarde was at work in the Great Hall, though it was not the political work she had been tending to for the past few months. Instead, the knight was focused on the physical work she had become well known for: combat. Her opponent was a bear of a man, fighting shirtless and bare handed as if he were truly a bear! His thick chest hair was matted with sweat, but he seemed unrelenting as he came at Hildegarde again. He wore no shoes, no gloves, no shirt. Only these cotton shorts. Hildegarde was an honourable fighter and wore similar attire, though she had a little extra – a sort of cropped vest – for the sake of modesty. The two fought bare-handed, the sounds of fists impacting against bodies or hands slapping against arms audible throughout the hall. The giants and serving staff had stopped to watch the fight unfold, gasping aloud as Hildegarde reached out to twine her fingers in the thick beard of her opponent and bring his head down as her knee rocketed up towards his chin. That was all it took. The man-bear went down like a sack of spuds, leaving Hildegarde to stand and huff victoriously yet wearily.

Pilar watched the fight unfold, blushing at the state of the fighters' undress. It wasn't the man-bear she was staring at, though, but Hilde. Pilar liked women of all shapes and sizes, but she had a weakness for muscle. And boy, did Hilde have muscle. Her heart might have belonged to someone else, but... well, it wasn't her heart that was reacting to the fight. She shook the lewd thoughts from her head and joined in the applause of the other spectators.

Hildegarde was not one for applause, so she was very fortunate that her blushing could easily be mistaken for the flushed cheeks of heavy exercise! Rather than deal with the audience, however, the knight is swift to kneel down and reach out for opponent to help him back up to his feet. With a pat to his sweaty shoulder, they laugh together before she sends him off to have his head seen to. Such a strike would surely make him shaky, hence Lisbeth’s sudden departure after the man: making sure he was alright without even being asked to. With the fight done, many were dispersing from the Great Hall to attend to duties. Mikael, however, did not. He would not abandon Hilde’s side, not now that they were preparing to leave for Frostmaw soon. “Pilar,” the knight greeted, accepting a cloth from Mikael to wipe the thin film of sweat from her face, “it’s good to see you again,” she smiled. Of course, she had absolutely no idea about those thoughts! She was no mind-reader.

Pilar had to strain to keep her eyes on Hilde's face, rather than her... rest of her. "Hello, Hildegarde. It's nice to see you, too." Very nice, indeed... No, damn it, be mature! "Um... The reason I came here today was... well, besides stopping by to see you..." She sighed. "Larewen is in bad shape. She was involved in some sort of battle that tore up the street by the fountain, and now she won't wake up. I'm... hesitant to go to Larket to find Artia. Do you know any good healers?" There was hope in her voice, but also resignation. As if she felt that she was doomed to face her ex again.

Hildegarde listened to what Pilar had to say carefully, her brows furrowing in concern once Pilar got to the heart of the matter. Larewen was supposed to be her ally, yet she was in bad shape. “Do you know the nature of the wound…?” she asked, perhaps out of curiosity or some hidden knowledge. More likely the former than the latter. “I met Sabrina in Larket… she’s apparently a healer of skill, you could always seek her out. But, m’lady, you must consider Larewen’s nature. She is a vampire. You both heal in different ways from the mortals,” she reasoned thoughtfully. She had plenty of experience with vampires after all.

Pilar shook her head. "I don't know at all... It looked like just a flesh wound, but her... acquaintance's daughter said she couldn't feel her magic. I tried to give her some of mine, but as far as I know, it hasn't worked..." Sabrina in... Larket. Of course it was Larket. "I'll look for her. There's a healer in my clan I was going to look for. She's a vampire herself, so I thought she might know what to do..." She sighed. "Of course, I'd probably have to wait until I got an answer before I tell her I'm leaving..."

Hildegarde made a noise that could only be described as a thoughtful grunt. “Not being able to detect the magic of a powerful necromancer is concerning, but it might be reasoned that it’s in connection to her unconscious state. I do not understand magic as well as a mage might do, but from what I have seen of it in use… well, using it is exhausting. Imagine using it all up. You’d want to sleep for days,” she murmured. “It could be a case of exhaustion, but I would say that it wouldn’t hurt to seek out a healer – or even a mage – for a second opinion.”

Pilar nodded. "That's the plan." Her eyes did finally glance down to Hildegarde's sick abs, only to widen when she saw the scarring there. She quickly looked away. No need to stare, that was rude. Though she was sure there was a story behind it, as there was a story behind all scars. But she couldn't help but wonder how she came across a wound that read "Satoshi's Pet."

Hildegarde might have been able to miss a little glance here and there, but the widening eyes and the quick look away in combination was hard to miss. She glances down at herself, as if wondering if she had something embarrassing. But then she realised it was the wicked and jagged scar. The Silver touched it briefly and only lightly, as if it was something that ought not to be touched. “War is cruel,” she said quietly, as if that might explain.

Pilar looked back up at the Silver with sad eyes. "I'm so sorry." For her reaction, for what happened, who could say. She looked back down. "... You're still beautiful, you know." Hilde could argue that point all she wanted, but when Pilar looked at Hildegarde, she didn't see a broken nose, a mottled jaw, or a missing eye. She saw a kind smile, a righteous heart, and a confident stride. These were the things that made her desirable, at least in Pilar's opinion.

Hildegarde’s cheeks flushed an embarrassed red. She knew she was a very ugly woman. Her crooked nose had never been pretty in the first place, nor the rest of her. She had been mistaken for a man before. Repeatedly. Albeit a long-haired man! “That is kind of you to say, Pilar,” she said with a little smile, “even if I am more scar than woman!” A little joke at her own expense, but it was the truth. The number of scars upon her flesh were ridiculous.

Pilar gave a small smile. Scarred or not, it didn't change Pilar's mind at all. "You must have many stories. I'd love to hear some one day, if you're ever up for it."

Hildegarde nodded her head, “Of course. In Frostmaw, it is considered very shameful for a warrior not to speak of their scars; as if something is amiss. I would be honoured to share my stories,” albeit grizzly. “I shan’t keep you any longer, Pilar. Please, do keep me informed about Larewen.”

Pilar said to Hildegarde, "I will. Thank you for your advice."