[ Hayame's distaste for magic isn't easily forgotten, but in her present state, closing her wounds and stemming the bleeding takes precedence over personal preference. Having been exposed to both field medicine and magic at an early age, having sought out skill in both, Yuri considers the two complementary rather than conflicting. He doesn't know what background might result in a knee-jerk revulsion such as hers, but he doesn't question it.
His attention stays trained on her wounds as she speaks, the glow of his spell reflecting in his eyes. In contrast to other healers, Yuri's methods differed ever so slightly. He'd learned, as a matter of survival, to avoid leaving scars. Many healers where he hailed from prioritized closing up injuries, and it wasn't wrong, but in their haste they often left their mark.
For someone who relied on his looks as one of his most effective weapons, such blemishes weren't an acceptable result. His skill came too late to do any good for the scars that littered his back, nor those that crept over his shoulders — not even the one that marred his face from an incident with gardening shears.
The last, at least, he'd tended well enough that it was hardly visible to anyone but him. With makeup on, the world was none the wiser. But Yuri knows it's there. He can see it, and that is enough.
He'll leave not one mark on Hayame. ]
Isn't it though? I never did have that, as a kid. [ A beat, as he considers. He'd only marked his birthday with a game via communion, actually. It didn't strike him as worth mention. ] Well, I suppose that's unchanged, I guess.
[ He shrugs and shuffles to one side, to better reach the next succession of lacerations. Betting man that he is, he'd wager that Hayame got into a fight with a swordsman. So the wounds would suggest, anyway. ]
But how'd it go with that birthday you were preparing for?
[ It's as good a subject as any to focus on. Hayame needs to remain conscious, so she can tell him if anything worsens as he works. Fódlan lacks many of the advancements he's read about in the library, but he knows there are other dangers associated with someone passing out from the extent of their injuries. ]
no subject
His attention stays trained on her wounds as she speaks, the glow of his spell reflecting in his eyes. In contrast to other healers, Yuri's methods differed ever so slightly. He'd learned, as a matter of survival, to avoid leaving scars. Many healers where he hailed from prioritized closing up injuries, and it wasn't wrong, but in their haste they often left their mark.
For someone who relied on his looks as one of his most effective weapons, such blemishes weren't an acceptable result. His skill came too late to do any good for the scars that littered his back, nor those that crept over his shoulders — not even the one that marred his face from an incident with gardening shears.
The last, at least, he'd tended well enough that it was hardly visible to anyone but him. With makeup on, the world was none the wiser. But Yuri knows it's there. He can see it, and that is enough.
He'll leave not one mark on Hayame. ]
Isn't it though? I never did have that, as a kid. [ A beat, as he considers. He'd only marked his birthday with a game via communion, actually. It didn't strike him as worth mention. ] Well, I suppose that's unchanged, I guess.
[ He shrugs and shuffles to one side, to better reach the next succession of lacerations. Betting man that he is, he'd wager that Hayame got into a fight with a swordsman. So the wounds would suggest, anyway. ]
But how'd it go with that birthday you were preparing for?
[ It's as good a subject as any to focus on. Hayame needs to remain conscious, so she can tell him if anything worsens as he works. Fódlan lacks many of the advancements he's read about in the library, but he knows there are other dangers associated with someone passing out from the extent of their injuries. ]