RP:The Price to Be Paid: A Tale of Icy Stubbornness
This is a Healer's Guild RP.
Summary: Emilia is resolved to take care of the messy aftermath of the duel between Leoxander and Thamalys. The latter, badly wounded, offers some resistance - especially since the impossibly stubborn Genasi is literally bleeding herself in order to heal him. Eventually, and despite the annoying contributions of a rather silly Physician, slashes and gashes are mended - although a hefty price is paid.
Larket: Academy of Magics
Thamalys lay on the wooden floor of what was probably the largest room in the whole of the Academy, oddly enough located into the basements and yet quite easy accessible from a spiralling staircase originating from the right corner of the main hall. No bed would have been large enough to contain the sprawled shapes of the Avian, which wings still stood stretched out in exactly the same position the Immortal brought him here from that gloomy lawn in Frostmaw, a journey of shadow and pain. No proper clothes on the Blue, as they just burned within his fiery rage during the duel, but luckily a whole lot of mithril covered most of his features. Still stuck into the left ankle, a long, slender black arrow, a sharp gift from the Lone Wolf, much as a barbed, metallic hook solidly pinned into his left shoulder. His left eye was battered and bruised, his nose reduced to a mass of bloody flesh. The Gossamer Halberd only witnessed that awful scene, perching from a small table where a number of glasses, potions, bandages and the Wind knew what else were piled up in a mighty disorder. Presently, the Spellblade seemed to be asleep, maybe dosed with some potent medication, administered by that tall Half-Elf clad in silver and white who had just left the room to climb up the staircase.
Emilia found her way to the academy carrying slung over her shoulder a black satchel stuffed with more than enough supplies to tend to an entire camp of wounded men. Compared to the small stature of the Genasi the bag seemed to weigh more than she did. In fact, some gawked as she walked past them supporting the bag as if it was weightless. Through the front doors with a quick pace beneath those bare feet, Thamalys was here and he was hurt. Not only was a guild member down, but a dear friend of hers. It had been some time since her last visit to this building, yet a few of the students wandering still remembered the icy woman. Emilia was rather hard to forget. The woman stood out like a rose in a patch of weeds. Speaking with one lad the Genasi got her answer as to where she could find the one she was searching for. Nearly a run carried the snow white lady the rest of the way down those spiraled stairs into the lower portion of the academy where the basement rooms were. From this point it was hard to find Thamalys where he remained sprawled out on the floor a bloody wrecked mess. “Oh, Not Lost…” she whispered in a saddened tone, a almost permanent frown falling upon those death-blue lips. Careful steps around those white feathered wings as the petite woman circled him, studying each injury of the fallen winged man. Where to start? Stopping behind his head the Icy woman lowered herself to sitting on her knees, rear resting on her own feet, and with a gentle slide of her frozen hands beneath his head she lifted it from the floor up into her lap. He seemed sleeping still, yet she worked with as much gentle nature as she could for him. “I do prefer the natural magics, Not Lost, but some of these wounds are a bit more in dire need for care, please do forgive me for the magic…” she whispered as she held that black hand over his face where his nose was nothing but a mass of bloodied flesh. Closing her eyes the Genasi focused on the single facial wound before her, a gentle white-blue light falling from her hand over his nasal area. The healing from the woman was just as frigid as the gusting winds of Frostmaw, numbing the pain with cold while slowly the flesh beneath would begin to repair itself. The process was slow, but should his body react to her magic Thamalys would have his handsome nose back to the way it was prior to his fight.
Telukar || The Physician had to push himself against the cold wall, as the darting tiny figure of the Icy One devoured the stairs to descend into the basement. “Would you mind?!” he would have yelled, subsequently muttering some not entirely polite comment before deciding the odd guest below deserved whatever company he liked. With an outraged gait, the Half-Elf continued is march uphill, an immaculate vortex of outraged elegance.
Thamalys was drifting away in a warm, liquid mixture of murky dreams. Was it a statue, fashioned like a mighty dragon, the one thing trying to bite his head off? And flames, blue flames everywhere, the shadowy shape of a… dancer, he would have thought, clad in black and with impossibly long tentacles, each one of them carrying some deadly piece of metal. He thought he smelled lavender, if that made any sense at all. While Lost - once more - into this painful ordeal of broken memories, the body of the Spellblade did not acknowledged the soft touch of the Wintry Lady, but something in a deep corner of his mind registered a cold shiver building into his bones first and then climbing his way up to his very face, there where the frosty magic of the Genasi was succeeding - how marvellous! - in mending one of the the dire deed of the Lycan. As if some sort of invisible threshold would have been suddenly crossed, then, the head of the Blue started to twitch, in the same fashion of a large fish flapping his scaly tail on the fishmongers’s chopping board. “Off! Off me, you nasty piece of stone… go away, I said, or I will crush you with my bare hands… no, NO!” he cried while raising head and shoulders alike, apparently unaware of the fact - and of the pain - that the Lycan’s hook was still anchored on his collarbone, gushes of scarlet blood blossoming on the shiny metal covering his chest. He saw a pair of hands upon his face, and yet, despite one of them was unmistakably pitch black, he seemed not to recognise the Genasi - not at all. With eyes streaked by stripes of gold and red, he would have raised both arms and tried to seize with his left the black hand of the Icy One and with his right the thin neck of the Wintry Lady, somewhere - he knew- above and beyond his own head, a mad grin of joy broadening on his face. “I… got you! Finally, I shall end you, o’ Dragon!”. A loud, terrifying laughter followed, every note of it smelling of folly.
Emilia had only just finished with the nose when he started to stir awake, yet it was not a fully conscious waking in which he stirred. Something was not right, yet the Genasi couldn’t place exactly the answer. He was squirming when he should be lying still. His hand that lifted up for her dark colored one took a hold of her wrist without much trouble, the woman was a bit stunned in her response for a moment there. Thamalys would find that hand which grabbed the darker wrist shocked with a rushing wave of bone chilling cold from her into him, as if he’d just been struck by lightning but it was nothing but pure frigid energy. It was an accidental reaction out of being started by his sudden attack upon her. The second hand would find itself latched into a mess of white curls as she ducked her head down in trying to avoid the reach. It was with a thunk that Em’s forehead connected with the hook imbedded into his shoulder, the metal of which protruded out causing her white flesh to split itself open, crimson liquid falling over her brow and dripping onto the floor mixing with his blood. A mix of warm blood with her own icy blood causing a strange hiss with a sudden small patch of red mist in the room. White hand fell down upon his shoulder still alight with that white-blue healing energy. Bone numbing it rested on Not Lost for a few moment, allowing the area to go numb from the touch before without a second to waist she grasped the metal and with a swift motion, and a grunt of effort, removed it. It would hurt, badly were he not partly numb to it. There was no doubt in her mind that he could feel some of the pain from her sudden choice to remove the hook while he attacked her-or well this dragon he thought she was. In part, she hoped the sudden onset of pain would knock him back out before he yanked a fist full of hair out of her head or snapped her wrist with his hand that was currently crushing her other wrist. Yet, either way as the blood spurted from the new wound Em would be quick to get her healing hand on it to start the magic process of trying to close this wound.
Thamalys froze - how apt… - that demented expression on his tattooed face the very moment the bitter wave of cold swept through his body, flesh and bones alike, why, even his wings, the tips of each feather clinging against each other with a metallic sound. He gasped, loudly, a whole mass of air gulping with a hiss, his right hand letting go of the Genasi’s curls. And yet, his left one did not move, stuck, glued into that now ice cold grip. Much of his vision shattered into pieces soon after, if not for the shock of the cold, most likely due to the unbearable spike of pure pain piercing his shoulder. The flaming head of the dragon was no more, the memory of Leoxander tangled in blades and ropes shoved into the past. The golden stains into his eyes began to give room to the usual solid blue hue of the Avian, who felt like emerging from the bottom of a frozen lake into the morning air. Puzzled, scared, ashamed, he tried to focus his gaze upon the Wintry Lady, if with very little success. “Eeeee…” he started, not even able to move past the first letter. Not a moment too soon, however, the mighty craft of the Icy One would have started to work his way into the bloody hole left by the removal of the hook, so that the Spellblade would have find some more voice. “E…milia? What… what are you doing? Where am I? The Lycan, the statues, beware of the statues!” he ranted, some pieces of the recent duel too hardly pinned into his mind to just be forgotten so swiftly. A part of him wanted to furl his wings as well, which indeed responded to his command albeit they did knocked down much of the stuff on the small table near by, including the metallic figure of the halberd, the sound of the metal against the floor ringing loud throughout the whole room. “My hand, please… let go of my hand…” he implored, not realizing he was the one who still held the black limb of the Genasi, as the freezing sweep of her flesh seemed to have absolutely shattered his senses.
Emilia free of his grasp upon her wild curls was able to lift her head up once more. There was a good sized gash across her forehead with blood running down the side of her face, yet she didn’t seem to even notice the wound. In fact, she hadn’t felt it at all, the cold that she shared with the Winged one as she healed him to numb his pain was a constant sensation for the little woman. Emilia was numb. Not just on the outside anymore, but the inside too, though this she would never reveal as she kept a well practiced smile plastered on those death-blue lips. The white hand remained on his shoulder, pushing him full of a cold-healing magic to close the gaping wound she created when yanking free that hook once embedded into him. From the deepest layer of wound the body would start to stitch itself back together again, regrowing and reconnecting itself in a almost magical way. Muscle to muscle, blood vessel to blood vessel, and flesh to flesh until he would be left with nothing more than a six pointed star shaped scar of a silvery color, one would that would forever be just as frigid cold to the touch as touching the Icy one herself. She listened while she worked, yet no words left her mouth. Patching up his injury taking the main focus of her attention, she could not be the resulting answer to ruining him when trying to fix him. The blood that fell from her forehead was soon joined by droplets of blood falling from her nose. It was a great deal of energy to fix not only his nose, but such a gaping wound in one session back to back. “Thamalys, we are in the basement of the academy. You are injured, you need to rest, don’t struggle…” The woman would respond finally. Then with that black hand she moved to wipe the blood that leaked from her nose. As such, his hand presently grasping her tiny wrist and frozen to it, would move in unison with her action. Blood from her nose dripping down over his hand, a rush of warmer cold over his flesh, perhaps enough to unstiffen the grip. Staring down at his hand, moving with her own she gave a tiny chuckle, “I think it would be easier to get your desired appendage back if you were to let go of me, Not Lost.”
Thamalys shook his head, a thick haze of confusion and fear still deeply rooted before his eyes. He could feel - what a spectacular sensation! - the many parts of his mauled shoulder findings their way again through tendons, nerves, veins, flesh and eventually skin, but only very little more. No, despite the sudden gift of her blood on his hand, he still could not feel anything from his elbow up. Luckily enough, though, the Wintry Lady cared enough to explicitly tell him about his foolishness, so that the Avian did let go of her eventually, absolutely bewildered at the sight of her blood rushing from her forehead - that much he could maybe have withstood - and nose as well? No, that evidence was definitely too much for the however inexperienced healer, who decided to blatantly ignore the Genasi’s suggestion about staying calm and still and propped himself up into a sort of a seated position, dragging his legs around in order to face the Icy One. “The Academy? How did I even get here? No, scratch that…” he uttered in a rough tone, shaking his head violently and, at the same time, with his right hand probing his nose first, his shoulder soon after. “How…” he sort of inquired, yet another though eventually prevailing soon after. “No, scratch that either. I will not have you bleed because of my mistakes!” he stated, his hand for a moment as if trying to reach for the face of the Genasi. He knew better, though, limiting himself instead to rest his weight on both hands, lay on the floor. “That is enough, ma’am! Once more, I will have to thank you…” he lowered his head, a whole cascade of ivory braids, streaked with crimson, falling across his face, “but there is very little use in healing this Avian if in order to do that the Guild shall have you bleeding in turn!” Still astonished by the swift healing he received, he would have tried to move further, but the sight of his ankle turned his pale skin into a completely different shade of marble white. He even pointed at the dreadful wound, the head of the arrow having pierced the other side of the entrance point, the wooden part of the dart brushing against his very bones. He seemed to notice some movement from the Wintry Lady, as if she intended to mend that gash as well. He went for open his mouth, resolved not to spill a single droplet more of that icy blood, arms crossed like a picky child.
Emilia watched him with careful eyes with each of his movements, both hands out and at the ready should the winged man start to fall in his disregard to her clear instructions to relax and rest up, not move about like a stubborn child. Once he was settled into a stable position, facing her she continued to watch him as blood dripped from her freckled nose, “Not all monsters are bad...some of us try to make amends for what we are by doing good things with our gifts…” she answered one of his questions while wiggling her little fingers about that were still partly aglow with that magical elemental energy from her core that she’d healed him with, “But if you do not stop acting like a stubborn one I will be forced to do two things, first is to command you to let me fix you as your superior healer and as your co leader to the guild and secondly turn into a true monster and freeze you into a proper statue so that you start listening and have no choice but to let me fix that wound.” There was a serious nature to those words, laced yet with a bit of a caring nature behind that stern tone. She wasn’t heartless, frozen hearted, but there was still a heart in there somewhere. “From what I gather Valen brought you here, how I haven’t a clue. I am sorry I wasn’t there to take care of you the moment you needed me most. Forgive me…” she would offer a sad look as she apologised to the avian. Small movements as the icy one scooted herself closer to his ankle with the arrow sticking through it from one side to the other. Once she was sitting next to his injury she would look to him with those almost soul piercing blue eyes, “Now, are you going to let me fix this last major wound before checking over the rest of you or do I need to freeze you in place?”
Telukar || A faint echo of soft steps - slippers. Oh, how did he love his slippers… - could be heard from the staircase. Seconds after, the silky, white attire of the Half-Elf emerged from the shadows into the basement. He stared, first the Blue, than the Wintry Lady, than the Blue again, both eyebrows raising in a gesture that dripped outrage - was he not the Academy’s Physician after all? He sidestepped toward the two of them, genially arguing “if you would please step aside, miss, I shall take care of that in a minute… properly, that is…”, said the silly while obviously pointing at the Spellblade ankle-with-arrow.
Thamalys listened carefully to each and every word that left the frosty lips of the Icy One, his mind still swaying back and forth from reality to illusion, from ancient memories to the very present. “Monsters don’t bleed for silly friends who thought it was a good idea to cross blades with a Lycan…” he muttered, not much adding as the rebuke of the Genasi sounded loud and clear - and the mention of the hierarchy immediately triggered that part of him trained to respond to discipline and rules. A past in the ranks of the Avians’ Tzur had to mean something after all. “I… I will stay still…” he conceded, arms still crossed, an hint of fear as the Wintry Lady approached the wounded ankle - that injury had all the ingredients to craft a mighty dose of stabbing pain. “However. You have nothing to ask forgiveness for, and you know that…. and no, please, enough of that… cold… I have always thought I could not feel cold at all, and yet…” The Blue, however puzzled, was right in that he rarely registered any temperature gradient across his flesh. Perfectly able he was to set himself ablaze without any hint of suffering, as much as walking in the snow barefooted - but for some reason beyond him, the magic of the Genasi seemed to be able to quench his senses to a whole new degree of cold. He was steadying himself for the incoming healing - it was bound not to be pleasant, he bet - when the pesky Physician dared to interrupt. He did not even answer him, but he did nail a deep blue, exceedingly annoyed gaze on him possibly enough to freeze him on the spot - if the Icy One did not just do that already.
Emilia the moment her status as a healer was pulled into question by the physician of the academy the tint woman burst up from her seated position like a firework that had just exploded. That look in those icy-eyes one of a rarely seen emotion, outrage, “How dare you think you can waltz in here and tell me how to do my job! To do my duty to my beloved friend that YOU left lying on the floor injured, bleeding out, and unattended by any soul! You who walked away from him when he needed tending to, YOU who could have been the cause of his death should something have happened while he was left alone! Get out of this room before I use that arrow to do a lobotomy on you to fix your head for lack of judgement!” The shrill of the yell in her voice was enough to rattle the bones of any sane person. To make matters worse the anger leaking from the very tiny woman caused the moisture in the air to freeze into tiny pellets of ice that came raining down not only on this man telling her to move aside, but herself and Thamalys too. They were small, mostly harmless except for the feeling of being hit by them, most like being hit with a ton of birdseed. Valen would surely have a lecture for her later for her outburst, yet she could care less. With the physician stunned by the outburst Em turned to face the winged one. She forced a smile, a twitchy one, as she squatted down next to him, “This will hurt, I am sorry.” It was a bit of bad assuring before she took a hold of the arrow head with her white hand and steadied his ankle with her black one, “one...two...three…” she counted a loud before with a forceful downward motion snapped the head off the arrow, slicing her own hand open with little care for her own well being. In the next few seconds that black hand followed through with sliding the broken weapon out the way it entered his flesh in a swift motion. Dropping both shift and arrow head Tham would find his ankle subject to both hands of the woman holding either side of the wound tracks, “I am sorry…” she whispered before that glow was alight again, the frigid cold seeping from her hands into his wound. She couldn’t heal it without the cold, it was a part of her. If he looked closely he might see the two tears that rolled down her cheeks as she dishonored his wishes. Like his shoulder the body would find itself in an accelerated healing process. Ones his minor wounds from battle would not suffer from, lucky for him this would be the last wave of unbearable cold pushed into his body through his bones and flesh to mend him. Yet, she wouldn’t finish the healing, it would be left as superficial holes on either side where the arrow passed, easily bandaged up. This lack of ended was because her nose that had been dripping blood was now leaking blood in a steady stream. She couldn’t focus on the healing, her energy was drained down to the point her hands just stopped glowing and she fell back into sitting on her rear with shaking hands. Water fogged eyes, she was about to burst into tears, looked up at him as the blood fell from her nose and continued to drip from her forehead, “I am so sorry...I am sooo sorry, please forgive me…” And the tears would begin to fall mixing with the blood before freezing over into watery-frozen droplets of blood that would shatter as the hit the floor.
Telukar || The Half-Elf recoil from the outburst of the Genasi - not to be underestimated, he learned that very day. The freezing rain hit him squarely, and thus the would-be-great-physician darted away toward the staircase, shrieking like a fat pig ready to be slaughtered.
Thamalys did not need to add anything on top of the Wintry Lady speech - with waterworks included, no less. He did drop his jaw, no matter the confusion and the pain, in witnessing a tentative hailstorm coming into shape indoor - oh, the to many things he did not know about that tiny frozen mystery! He came to his senses once more right after Telukar left the room - hopefully, this time for good, the warning of the Icy One sparkling a sizeable jab of fear in his heart. Pain, he cared very little about, but he did fear that even the mighty enchantments of the Genasi could have been not enough to fix his ankle. And a limping bird was basically a dead one, in those dangerous days. He clenched his teeth, ready, but when it came, the pain was beyond any measure, despite the swift move and the magic of the skilled Healer she was. For a moment he thought his teeth would just pop out of his mouth, that his head would just melt into the sorrow, never to gain conscience again. But luckily enough, he was obviously wrong, the pain slowly fading away already, his sight steadying through that crimson veil hanging in front on his eyes. Speaking of reds, then, at this point in time he could not ignore anymore the dreadful condition into which the Wintry Lady forced herself into. Those long liquid streaks of bitterly cold blood running across the Genasi’s face, the horrific, if beautiful display of this mixed-phase droplets dying into thousands of glowing pieced upon impacting the floor… by the Wind, he could not help it. “Enough!” he cried, escaping whatever attempt of the Icy One of keeping him still, subsequently dragging himself toward her. “I would not care even if you were the Master Healer herself! Look at you! How dare you to thrash yourself so badly… for me? Can you not see that for every ounce of my flesh you mend, a piece of me dies away into darkness, witnessing you bleeding? Every single tear of yours, every single drop of blood carves too deep a wound into me - I am not to let this going on, not before I found myself Lost again once more…” Ah, but he had nothing, less than nothing, no clothes, no herbs, nothing of his usual stashes of rather useful items he used to carry with him. The bag, her bag, surely there was something there… he moved, a painstaking display, till he reached what he was looking for. “There is nothing in here, nothing…” he moaned before yelling with all the voice he could muster “you! Half-Elf! I know you are still there! Get to the warehouse, look for a parcel sealed with deep blue wax. No questions, just bring it to me! Quick, or I’ll have you skewered!” Moments only afterwards, the silly one was back indeed, trembling, some painted rags in his hands. The Spellblade did not even thank him, he just grab one of them, with a massive red rune painted on it, and started, if allowed indeed, to clean the blood from her face, the powerful spells of Valen hopefully working their way already, stopping the blood, bringing some more life into the frosty flesh of the Wintry Lady.
Emilia was literally a mess. Her hands were coated in blood both of her own and that of the Blue. Her face was bloodied by the gash to the forehead in dodging his reached against the hook she freed from his shoulder and her nose was still bleeding all over her white dress. It was overdue for a time to change the color of her attire, why on Hollow had she not chosen a new color sooner? White stained so easily and the small woman was almost in some sort of trouble that ended up with her getting it dirty or ruined to the point a new one was needed. Watching him move she could see that his ankle was still in need of mending, however a mundane method would be needed now. Searching around with her gaze foggy from the tears she tried to focus on what there was in the room. By the time her attention and focus was back upon Thamalys he was before her again, when did he get there? Where did he get that rag from? The Genasi had lost track of time for a moment there in her less than one hundred percent state. The small woman did not stop the Winged one from putting that strange runed fabric up to her face or from cleaning her up her blood. Unlike a normal being that would heal faster under the magic from Valen the Ice-woman did not. The blood would eventually come to a stop in a few minutes as her energy level started to regain itself, slowly, very slowly. She was a monster of ice-snow-cold with a core made from that very element allowing her to continuously draw from the source like a never ending waterfall of magic, yet that was only when she was utilizing the element as it is. Beyond being a healer she was a cryomancer, or that is what the world marked her down as to explain her magic. It was the taking of her core element with her unnaturally healing ability of herself and forcing it out and into another that took a harder hit on the Genasi. This is how she had fixed the Blue, giving up parts of her to restore him. As he tended to her face she stared at him in silence, not sure what to say. Finally, she spoke, “Thamalys, I am sorry I could not heal your ankle all the way, please let me finish patching it up with some herbs and bandages...the deeper wounds are healed, it is left to the outer healing now. It will be a few days before the soreness goes away, but you will be fine.” Even in this moment where she was hurt, bleeding (though this had nearly finished), and at a loss of strength she was still more concerned about him than she was of herself. Seems the pairing was at a standstill with who cared more about the others injuries.
Thamalys could feel a whole collection of long, deep, deadly cold shivers of fear building into his own body, the moment he realised not even Valen’s magic was enough to restore the Genasi properly. He could not understand the reason why, and frankly, at that particular stage he did not care that much. He would have not desisted, though, yet another runed cloth snatching from the trembling hands of Telukar. A different shade of color, the very same, disappointing result. And yet, if very slowly, his efforts did seem to lead to some improvement, to which the Avian reacted with renewed hope. The words of the Wintry Lady, still - unbelievable! - chiefly concerned about the Spellblade’s ankle, managed to paint a thin grin on his face, those grey lips pouting into an incomprehensible expression that however had something to do with amusement indeed. He would have accepted any answer, as long as she would have shown to feel better, which is seemed to be the case - he only needed that much. Eventually, he put away the enchanted fabric - obviously into the arms of poor Telukar, presently promoted from delivery man to human hook - and simply yielded to the stubborn healing schedule of the Icy One. “Very well, then…” he begun, extending the offended leg in front of her, a sneer chanting of some pain still on his bony face. “I would just point out that in a matter of hours you brought back a badly battered chunk of flesh and feathers into something still alive and kicking. Once more, ma’am, you will have to acknowledge my deepest gratitude.” he concluded, a truly grateful tone obviously evident in his words. “Also, I believe I could use a bed or something… please do have a word with the Steward, would you?” he inquired toward the Half-Elf.
Emilia went to stand, bad idea, she collapsed back down on the floor where she was sitting. Not enough strength to get back onto her feet just yet, but she would not let this stop her from finishing the mend to his ankle. The moment he would react, she knew he would, the Genasi would dismiss it with a wave of her hand, “I am fine.” Reaching over she managed to snag the strap to her bag that she carried down here with her. Rummaging around in it for a time before pulling forth a jar of a strange chunky look green stuff and a layer of cotton and of course bandages. First, the jar was opened and the goop slathered on the wounds, it was cold but nothing like the Genasi. Second, the cushy layer of cotton was wrapped around his ankle. Third and lastly, the still shaking hands of the woman wound the bandages around his foot, up over the ankle and part way up his leg before tying it off. There, all secured and done the mundane way. Why couldn’t all wounds be as easy as that? A mental thought that followed with a small chuckle to herself. “I am a healer first and foremost, Not Lost. It is my duty to tend to those that need mending not matter the cost. All lives matter and I must follow by that creed of the healer’s. I know it worries you that I suffer, but all the healings in Larket from first the pending war to the quake of the city. I haven’t had time enough to rest properly and having been functioning on nearly nothing for weeks. I am sorry that it has caused trouble in my ability to get your properly mended, please do forgive me.” All the while as she spoke the tiny woman crawled over to sitting next to him, then if allowed she’d move off the hard floor into his lap and rest her head on his shoulder over his new scar. “Please, stop being so silly and getting all in a worry over me, “ she’d whisper.
Telukar || If the poor Physician was in any way pissed off by the totally rude behaviour of the Avian - the Half Elf dared to offend the Icy One? He was just beginning to experience the revenge of the Blue… - he did not show it at all. He collect the soiled rags into a fluffy ball, nodding affirmatively at the Spellblade request and timidly conquering once more the staircases - not even bothering to tell him that there was not such a thing as a Steward in the whole of the Academy. “Sodding picky bird…” he whispered within clenched teeth stomping up the stairs.
Thamalys underwent all the stages of the medication without flinching, not even once. Yes, the greenish gel was not exactly pleasant, but if compared to what he experienced with that hook in his shoulder, creams and bandages were nothing than child play. The speech of the Wintry Lady did not go unnoticed either. Moving just to a tiny extent his mended leg - oh, it felt so much better already! - he would have noted “Oh, I feel I can forgive you rather easily. I have a nose again, this nice star-shaped scar will inspire a terrific addiction to my ink - he already had in mind a whole constellation spreading across chest, neck, and shoulders, with the actual star as the masterpiece - and I am sure you managed to fix my ankle as well.” On he went, his spirit much higher already than the moment he woke up. “Oh. Also. I guess I must have lost that duel!” he commented, queerly enough with a rather merry voice, his eyes darting toward the Gossamer Halberd nearby - as long as she was intact, he would have been merry enough. He did not say aloud that losing a duel was a fair price to be paid for having the privilege of those stark-white curls on his shoulder. Instead, he confessed: “Never. I will never stop worrying about you - I too have a duty to care about those we need to be taken care of - and yet, I will keep those worries to myself alone, that much I can do…”. He would have added no more, a mighty dizziness embracing him, the blood loss eventually taking his tool. He could feel most of his body had been healed indeed already - some rest would have finished the job at hand. His head would have started to sway, his hand sliding back on the floor till he was forced to lie his back on the wood as well, the tiny shapes of the Wintry Lady shoving - gently - away. Whether Telukar managed to find a room for him or not, it was far too late already, the sturdy wood being more than enough to accommodate the huge extent of the Blue. He closed his eyes, no more to plunge into dreams of darkness, dragons, and flames.
This RP is linked to:
Titans of Winter Tournament 2017