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Entry tags:
- !event,
- arcane: silco,
- arknights: gavial,
- black butler: sebastian michaelis,
- culture (the): demeisen,
- divinity original sin: fane,
- enderal: jade the prophetess,
- expanse (the): amos burton,
- fate grand order: tezcatlipoca,
- fate/: rin tohsaka,
- fate/: sakamoto ryouma,
- fire emblem: shez,
- fire emblem: yuri leclerc,
- forgotten realms: raphael,
- howl's moving castle: howl,
- jinba: hayame,
- legend of zelda (the): link,
- life is strange: chloe price,
- oc: liem talbott,
- oc: matt jamison,
- pumpkin scissors: alice l. malvin,
- suikoden: yuber,
- terra e: tony asuka,
- tsubasa reservoir chronicle: subaru
THE ADVOCATE ORACLE - A RIP VAN WINKLE IN TIME
Sweet dreams are made of Bliss
As the twilight falls, and bearers begin to tuck in for their evenings on the night of the 15th of March (OOC time) and whether they tuck themselves into bed fully, or simply drift away in the middle of their dinner, work, indulgences, or what have you; bearers will fall into a deep, deep sleep. Perhaps you slump in your chair, or you wrap your arms around a teddy bear, or partner, or cup a precious shard in your sleep, it doesn’t matter, because as you drift away, into a sleep that seems to tug you under like the undertow itself, a question will echo in bearer’s minds: “If given the choice, would you show compassion in the face of adversity?”
It sticks with you, even as you fall into a dreamless sleep. As if it rotates in your mind, over and over, letting you worm over that. You know for certain what it is, that it is the calming, soothing voice of the Oracle, reaching out to you across the ether, telling you – promise you – that if you accept its promise, you will find that the Oracle could be in your hands. That thought leads you to dream of something else – of home, or your loved ones – of what you are fighting this war for. Even as you dream, you feel a presence next to you, and unlike the Harbinger’s winding, rough digging, this is more akin to a friend, who is asking you soft, coaxing questions. Things like: what was your childhood like? What were your friends like? What did you do? You cannot help but think of them, think of your home and your loved ones. Of where you came from, and how it made you what you are.
The advocate seeks to understand you, and where you come from. You can feel it, that overwhelming Acceptance and love from it, even as you reminisce, compelled to answer the multitude of questions, you can feel something building behind you, around you. “Don’t you want them all to understand this?” the impression is given through communion, and you cannot help but answer: yes.
It sticks with you, even as you fall into a dreamless sleep. As if it rotates in your mind, over and over, letting you worm over that. You know for certain what it is, that it is the calming, soothing voice of the Oracle, reaching out to you across the ether, telling you – promise you – that if you accept its promise, you will find that the Oracle could be in your hands. That thought leads you to dream of something else – of home, or your loved ones – of what you are fighting this war for. Even as you dream, you feel a presence next to you, and unlike the Harbinger’s winding, rough digging, this is more akin to a friend, who is asking you soft, coaxing questions. Things like: what was your childhood like? What were your friends like? What did you do? You cannot help but think of them, think of your home and your loved ones. Of where you came from, and how it made you what you are.
The advocate seeks to understand you, and where you come from. You can feel it, that overwhelming Acceptance and love from it, even as you reminisce, compelled to answer the multitude of questions, you can feel something building behind you, around you. “Don’t you want them all to understand this?” the impression is given through communion, and you cannot help but answer: yes.
Click your Heels together, Dorothy!
As you awake for the first time, it’s alien, the world that meets you. New smells fill your nostrils, new sights, the gravity is perhaps different than you’ve gotten used to on Kenos, even those slight shifts enough to make the world feel wholly different. You remember the advocate’s words, and it wants you to feel what it feels. Understanding. Compassion, and perhaps there is a sense that doing so would hurt yourself in turn, if you understood too much. That is the advocate’s way, after all, isn’t it?
You feel an inexorable, slight tug in your chest. Something subtle and gentle, the slightest of sensations, that gives you a direction. You know it, your mind only just now comprehending the advocate’s confusing impressions via communion, that there is something of this world’s… Soul/center/heart or whatever word you want to use for it. Something about this world that will help you along your path, and help you with the results you so desire. You know it will not guarantee a victory, but surely it will help. Especially as your numbers dwindle from world to world. You are left with an impression from the Advocate -- if you die, they cannot bring you back. There is apology in this, but alone, one oracle is limited. Only united, can they truly change your fate.
The lingering presence of the advocate starts to fade. You know this is a bearer’s world, if not your own. You look around, to see perhaps a familiar face nearby? Or perhaps you are alone. Does it matter? You know that this place belongs to a bearer, but whether they are a friend or an enemy, one has to begin to determine that. You’ll need your wits, you’ll need your strength and resolve to make it to the end of this, won’t you?
After all, as bearers were recently reminded: this is War. This is not simply the fate of this world, but perhaps all, as it will require you to find the answer to this question. So you start to move, you start to look around, explore, and search. For the soul of each world, for the bearers that lie dreaming within, and your foes that will seek you out. Stay steadfast, for the way out will come, if you make it to the end. The longer you spend in each world, however, the more the shadows look darker, and deeper. Hungrier. The more the spaces seem smaller or compressed. As if there is something gnawing away at the sides, making their way to the heart.
You feel an inexorable, slight tug in your chest. Something subtle and gentle, the slightest of sensations, that gives you a direction. You know it, your mind only just now comprehending the advocate’s confusing impressions via communion, that there is something of this world’s… Soul/center/heart or whatever word you want to use for it. Something about this world that will help you along your path, and help you with the results you so desire. You know it will not guarantee a victory, but surely it will help. Especially as your numbers dwindle from world to world. You are left with an impression from the Advocate -- if you die, they cannot bring you back. There is apology in this, but alone, one oracle is limited. Only united, can they truly change your fate.
The lingering presence of the advocate starts to fade. You know this is a bearer’s world, if not your own. You look around, to see perhaps a familiar face nearby? Or perhaps you are alone. Does it matter? You know that this place belongs to a bearer, but whether they are a friend or an enemy, one has to begin to determine that. You’ll need your wits, you’ll need your strength and resolve to make it to the end of this, won’t you?
After all, as bearers were recently reminded: this is War. This is not simply the fate of this world, but perhaps all, as it will require you to find the answer to this question. So you start to move, you start to look around, explore, and search. For the soul of each world, for the bearers that lie dreaming within, and your foes that will seek you out. Stay steadfast, for the way out will come, if you make it to the end. The longer you spend in each world, however, the more the shadows look darker, and deeper. Hungrier. The more the spaces seem smaller or compressed. As if there is something gnawing away at the sides, making their way to the heart.
Around the world in 60 seconds 12 hours
When you find yourself at the end, when you close your eyes – only a blink, but it hangs, as if the momentary motion is enough to suspend you into a suspended space before. You can see the two options stretched out before you – metaphysically – the impression of it. A long, long shadow cast over one. As if there is a presence hovering over and above, like waiting jaws, ready to strike. In the other, there remains…nothing. It is not pleasant, it is not comforting, it simply… is. A sense that there is now a lack of anything, almost like it had never existed before.
Does this world have value? You can feel the Advocate ask. Do you want to give them a chance to live? Or does should this world cease, is there nothing here to save?
And though you are compelled, required to answer, you know this question for what it is. Short-sighted. Both, in the end, will lead to its destruction, but which will you choose? Will you allow the world to continue, even with that long shadow cast, like a hungry beast with snapping jaws; or will you erase it from existence and spare it that oncoming apocalypse?
Does this world have value? You can feel the Advocate ask. Do you want to give them a chance to live? Or does should this world cease, is there nothing here to save?
And though you are compelled, required to answer, you know this question for what it is. Short-sighted. Both, in the end, will lead to its destruction, but which will you choose? Will you allow the world to continue, even with that long shadow cast, like a hungry beast with snapping jaws; or will you erase it from existence and spare it that oncoming apocalypse?
Catch [???] Winks
The last world’s fate decided, bearers float in an endless sea of stars. You can see them all, spread before you. Intermittently, they wink out, swallowed into the darkness, consumed as the shadows, that inky-black nothingness grows ever-larger. It looks upon you, bearers. It is nothing, but you have its attention, and your blood runs cold, your limbs frozen. You cannot move, you cannot speak, you cannot breathe. You feel it, the power of being drawn into it, like it wants to consume you. Like it knows you.
T̸̢̼̯͓̬̘́̀̋̆͊h̷͔̣̱̝͍̬̣͕̄̂͗̆͒͌͜ͅẹ̶̱̩̅͒̿̇͠ ̵̭̹͇͖̔̀ṃ̸̢̧͙̟̼̜͌͆̍͝͝ͅo̴̟̞̓̆̇̐̆͊̽͆̂̀r̶͈̺̮̠͙̗͌ę̸̤̻̈́͐͂̓̊͐̂͆ ̵̡̛͎̩̳̤͔͚̱̼̆̒̓y̴̺̞̹̺̝̤͂ǫ̷̡̣̱̥͊̈́̓͑̕͘ű̵̼͜͜ ̶̨̨̝̟̘̱͇̲̻̪̊͂̽̈̒͊f̴̱̐͌̌̓̋̔́̀͝i̶͖̤͎̬̝̦͒̂g̸̳̰̟̀̓̽̈́̐h̸̼͍̮͎̊̅͗͊̈͋̽̀͘t̴͔͚́̓,̷̨̧̱̠̙̠̙̱̒̍̽̾ ̷̖̰̼̬̟͐̊̂t̶̖̄͂̅̃̍͐̊̑̅͜͝h̴̢̛͙̪̞̫̝̺̋̅̿͛̇̚͝͝ͅͅȩ̶͉̤͍̠́̈͑̏͋̚͘͝ ̸̢̨̧͚̖̤̪̬̪̀̉̐͗̂͆͑̚̕̚c̴̠̩̳͎̲̪͔̟̈́͂̉͑́l̶̡̲̻̣̘̏́ͅo̶̢̧͔͈̬̳̰͈̝̻͌̋̆̃͒͗̏͘ş̴̪̺̣̥̎̽̿͗̒́͛̕̚̚e̴̺͍̤͖͂̇͑͂̋͂̆̾r̴̨̩̈́͋͠ ̷̧͚̲̩̖̋͒̉́͗y̶̘̖̝̑̈͊ǒ̵͚̽u̵͎͍̇̀̏̊̕͝ŕ̷͎̜̘͙̀̋ ̶͇̲̝̞̖̝̣̘̝̬͋d̷͔͈͔̀̿õ̴̝̯͇̹̘̏͗͜ö̵͚͓͆m̵͉̦̫̥̦̞̫͐̆͐̿͊͒͌͋͜.̷̼͈̻̥̜̾̏͐̾̐͆͘͜
You gasp, as you startle awake, and open your eyes for the first time in a long time.
T̸̢̼̯͓̬̘́̀̋̆͊h̷͔̣̱̝͍̬̣͕̄̂͗̆͒͌͜ͅẹ̶̱̩̅͒̿̇͠ ̵̭̹͇͖̔̀ṃ̸̢̧͙̟̼̜͌͆̍͝͝ͅo̴̟̞̓̆̇̐̆͊̽͆̂̀r̶͈̺̮̠͙̗͌ę̸̤̻̈́͐͂̓̊͐̂͆ ̵̡̛͎̩̳̤͔͚̱̼̆̒̓y̴̺̞̹̺̝̤͂ǫ̷̡̣̱̥͊̈́̓͑̕͘ű̵̼͜͜ ̶̨̨̝̟̘̱͇̲̻̪̊͂̽̈̒͊f̴̱̐͌̌̓̋̔́̀͝i̶͖̤͎̬̝̦͒̂g̸̳̰̟̀̓̽̈́̐h̸̼͍̮͎̊̅͗͊̈͋̽̀͘t̴͔͚́̓,̷̨̧̱̠̙̠̙̱̒̍̽̾ ̷̖̰̼̬̟͐̊̂t̶̖̄͂̅̃̍͐̊̑̅͜͝h̴̢̛͙̪̞̫̝̺̋̅̿͛̇̚͝͝ͅͅȩ̶͉̤͍̠́̈͑̏͋̚͘͝ ̸̢̨̧͚̖̤̪̬̪̀̉̐͗̂͆͑̚̕̚c̴̠̩̳͎̲̪͔̟̈́͂̉͑́l̶̡̲̻̣̘̏́ͅo̶̢̧͔͈̬̳̰͈̝̻͌̋̆̃͒͗̏͘ş̴̪̺̣̥̎̽̿͗̒́͛̕̚̚e̴̺͍̤͖͂̇͑͂̋͂̆̾r̴̨̩̈́͋͠ ̷̧͚̲̩̖̋͒̉́͗y̶̘̖̝̑̈͊ǒ̵͚̽u̵͎͍̇̀̏̊̕͝ŕ̷͎̜̘͙̀̋ ̶͇̲̝̞̖̝̣̘̝̬͋d̷͔͈͔̀̿õ̴̝̯͇̹̘̏͗͜ö̵͚͓͆m̵͉̦̫̥̦̞̫͐̆͐̿͊͒͌͋͜.̷̼͈̻̥̜̾̏͐̾̐͆͘͜
You gasp, as you startle awake, and open your eyes for the first time in a long time.
no subject
So you know what? It’s better that this is coming down to a real fight, as far as she’s concerned. One that she hopes is over quick and easy, no matter how enticing a round two against her is. And it’s precisely because Gavial has had a chance to fight against (and alongside) her that Alice’s next move doesn’t seem quite right. She knows the gal knows how to fight. You don’t opt to carry around a weapon that big unless you know how to use it, and a single swing isn’t going to tire an experienced wielder out that fast.
It’s bait. And Gavial doesn’t care.
She doesn’t bother responding to the verbal taunts, not when the physical is plenty. The best way to end this quick is to just go for it. It’s stupid and it’s reckless, but Gavial never got as far as she did without taking some stupid risks along the way. Her gaze does a quick sweep, taking in Alice and Amos, the arcs of the branding iron and the dual-bladed weapon. She needs to be ready to react to whatever comes next, and that can happen if she makes her move fast. So her boots scuff noisily against the stone underfoot as she pivots to try to maneuver around the blade pointed her way and go barreling in toward their Meridian foe in a tackle.]
no subject
On the other hand... this needs to get done. He doesn't feel bad anymore, because it needs to be done. Maybe he'll feel bad after, maybe he won't; for now he can't afford to feel anything, so he doesn't.
Alice says to take whatever they need from her.
Gavial charges in.
And a second later, Amos charges in, too. From their angles, he doesn't think Alice can get them both — so either he gets struck and absorbs her blow, or he tries to pin her down. Either way, he's pretty sure what they need to happen is about to, and he can live with being a coward for that. ]
no subject
They aren't playing distraction anymore though. They're both coming with the intent to take her down if nothing else. Amos is the bigger of the pair and while she doesn't doubt Gavial can take her down she knows Amos can. He's not trying to dodge her sword either.
In her fight with Gavial she had intentionally missed the mark on the other woman. This time she hasn't the will or the time to deliberately miss -- all she can do is aim at some non-vital spot as she thrusts her Mahne forward. A leg perhaps, the arm holding whatever it is he grabbed up -- she's putting the whole of her weight into this upward swing. One hand on one grip and her other on a second she steps forward into the swing.
Then she pivots as quick as she can. Gavial's dodged around her blade but she'd at least somewhat counted on that. The downswing of her Mahne hits where the other woman ought to have been and then Alice drops low, swinging the blade even with the ground in the hopes of catching Gavial's legs. Maybe her tail? If Alice manages to cut any of them so much the better; the sword is new and likely sharp as a blade can be for that.]
no subject
But of course, the thing about a double-bladed weapon is that it’s all too easy to make a follow up swing on the opposite front. Just as Gavial figures, Alice knows how to put these blades to use. Her initial thoughts of a tackle get pushed to the wayside when the weapon swings low for her and cuts easily into her upper thigh. It’s a sharp sting that has her further gritting her teeth with a hiss as she adjusts to levy most of her weight to her other leg. But she can’t let this stop her forward progress. Even if it means letting the weapon cut deeper into her, it’s a worthy exchange if it lets her get her hands on Alice.
Gavial’s no stranger to taking a beating. When deployed to the field not as a medic but as a soldier, she excelled at fending off multiple foes at once to keep the heat off of her companions. A position like that comes with its share of getting bloodied, and her Arts were key in making that happen. On-the-fly healing and bolstering of fortitude can go a long way in the heat of the moment.
So she calls upon that experience, tells her brain to ignore as much of the fresh blossom of pain spreading from her leg as possible. It helps that the Zenites are so thoroughly focused on their goal in this moment. Single-minded focus like this makes for a good anchor. She pushes forward and lets that blade cut deeper, hands outstretched and aiming for her main sword arm and the weapon’s centered grip with the intention of either disarming her or attempting to hold her arm still enough for Amos to seize an opening to brandish iron against bare skin.]
no subject
and no more than that, Kiritsubo's shielding magic rushing in to protect him from the blade doing any further damage. The next strike will hurt him, the shield's one-time use spent, but for now he's got all of the momentum he needs — and it helps that Gavial is still on her feet, distracting Alice and looking to inhibit her for him. It's only out of the corner of his eye that he can register that she's still up and fighting, because he can't afford to take his eyes off of Alice right now.
Soon enough, though. Hopefully.
With teeth bared like a wild animal Amos charges in to close the gap between himself and Alice. He should be more mindful of the Mahne now. He won't be, because within a second this could all be over.
Amos reaches out with the brand, forcefully stabbing it anywhere in Alice's direction where he can see bare skin. Any further strikes he'll take, same as Gavial — but for now nothing matters but getting this done. ]
no subject
She still tries of could. When Gavial goes got her main sword arm -- her right at the moment -- Alice drops all notion of trying to pass the sword off to her other hand. Instead she outright drops the weapon, trying to make for Gavial's wrist. She's low to the ground already and she's used people's moment to throw them over herself more than one before. Reach for Gavial's chest with her other hand, jerk her arm the opposite way, heave her over and --
Amos. Amos. In a split second she'd forgotten him and that's all it takes. Her left arm outstretched to try and grasp Gavial's body so she can throw the other woman is the perfect spot. His forceful stab lands it just above Alice's elbow and the feeling is instant and intense.]
WH-WHAT!
[It's all she can bite out before a sharp hiss of a breath makes it past her teeth.]
no subject
So there’s a triumphant feeling when her lunge manages to disarm her, and it hardly even falters when Alice quickly maneuvers that arm to grab her by the wrist instead—it means this gets to stay close-quarters and give Gavial the opportunity to force an opening for Amos, after all. She can see what Alice intends to follow up with though, and curses internally. The quick mobility she needs to slip out of the grapple and what surely will follow it is too much of a gamble with that injury on her leg, so instead she tries to mirror Alice in thrusting a hand forward to try to seize her by the front of her shirt as well to brace herself—
And gets a clear view as Amos brings the branding iron in to strike true and catch her by surprise.
Caught mid-maneuver, it’s not as clean of a throw as it might otherwise have been; Gavial is yanked from her feet briefly, but she doesn’t get that over-the-shoulder clearance and instead goes crashing down to her knees beside her foe, only half-cognizant of the dropped Mahne sitting nearby.]
Just a little sting, is all.
[Like she’s advising a patient of something as simple and harmless as the prick of a needle. It’s accompanied by the faintest short-lived grin, because: job done! But now they have the task of getting out of here before the fight can get dragged out for much longer. And that first requires Gavial to get back to her feet, while contending with her injured leg.]
no subject
But as far as he's concerned, the fight's over. Amos withdraws the brand, bringing it to rest at his side as he looks to... hm. Gavial is going to struggle with mobility for a minute, and Alice is kind of in between the two of them. Alice, whom he no longer has any reason to fight, which throws a new little complication into things he hadn't been anticipating in the heat of the moment.
Amos blinks, his expression shifting from borderline feral to almost puzzled as he tries to figure out what to do next. There's no point in escalating shit further... but Gavial is injured, and he wants to get to her... and there's the matter of maybe he should feel bad about what they just did to Alice... ]
Sorry. It's just we had to get this done, and with all the worlds we've been through we didn't know how much time we had left... It isn't personal. [ And he is genuinely apologetic, however much a sorry, but not sorry enough to not do it to you to begin with is worth.
Still, Amos decides to take a step back, just in case Alice does decide to attack him. Fair's fair; he couldn't blame her. ]
Are you okay?
[ He's actually addressing Gavial, but considering how he's facing the both of them... technically, he could be asking Alice, too. ]
no subject
She heaves out a few breathes, teeth gritted. She's not tired more than she's ... confused. A lot of emotions are tangling up in her chest right now as she looks at that mark on her. Yet it's Amos' words that hit her as she tries to figure out what she's feeling in the moment.
It isn't personal.
She finally blinks up, thoroughly ignoring Gavial for the moment so her eyes can settle on Amos. The apology she doesn't hear, just those three words.]
You would have done this to anyone then?
[Somehow that makes her more angry. Herself she could understand, she was the noble who ought to bear the pain of these sorts of things but what if they had ended up in a world with any number of other Meridians? Gray, Jade, Hayame, Dimitri, so many others she didn't even know yet.
Alice's chest heaves as she wrestles this feeling. She turns to find her Mahne, reaches to grasp it with her left hand despite the sting the mark still hits her with. The grip creaks in her hand a moment and then ... she sighs out, long and low.
At least it was her then. Whatever came with this at least it would be her. No civilians, no other Meridians. The look she turns back on the pair is sharp and bright, still confident despite ultimate defeat in this moment.]
What comes next then.
no subject
And totally focus on that and not how bad this whole maneuver of theirs is starting to feel. Amos is right, though—they had to get this done.]
Didn’t have time to be picky, so yeah. Just the luck of the draw that we ran across you first.
[Gavial finally offers a thumbs up in response to Amos's question, sighing in turn as she pushes herself to her feet as quick as she normally would. There’s instant regret as her injury stings in protest, and she grits her teeth. Alright, off that leg for now. Instinct is to reach for familiar healing Arts as she shuffles, just a little, to circle closer to Amos, but her eyes are locked on that dual-bladed weapon once again. She really would love for this to continue to a real fight, but that hadn’t really been the point of all this.]
Next? We go our separate ways. [She sounds a little more pained about that than her actual injury.] Get on with our day.
[She nods back over to the main street they’d all come down this alley from—and in the process catches sight of a few worried onlookers who’d apparently started to catch wind of this as the fight picked up.]
no subject
Amos shoots his own glance back at the people beginning to congregate around the alleyway's entrance before shrugging it off. They didn't get involved, so they did good here, right? Yeah, probably. Self-assured of at least that much, he turns back to Alice with a shrug. ]
I mean, I'd've preferred the skeleton. Fane. Or maybe Hayame. But you're a good person... so...
[ Actually, if he thinks about it, a lot of people on Meridian are good people. And if he thinks about it more, it bothers him that if he could do this to Alice, he could've done it to just about anyone else he's deemed a good person. It should bother him, at least.
He takes a step closer to Gavial; closer to the alley's entrance. Or exit for them, now. ]
... I'm not sure what it's gonna look like, after the Oracle. But... it'll lead to something good. [ For Zenith... maybe not for Alice. Unless she switches sides. That kinda seems like the best case scenario to him, now. ] And we got no quarrel with you, so, yeah. You don't gotta see us again if you don't want to.
[ Which would be totally understandable. ]
no subject
Also the civilians. They might not even be real for all she knows -- she has her doubts on any of the worlds being "real" -- but she's equally loathe to let them worry. Many obviously know who she is and she can already hear a few whispers about thugs jumping nobles in back alleys.
She sighs out then, bringing a hand to her forehead. Her left arm is still throbbing around the brand and she needs to go settle the civilians so she turns a harsh look on both of them.]
Behave yourselves for whatever time you have left here. I won't use my weapon in anger but I will use it to defend this city.
[With that she turns to retrieve the carrying case her Mahne was in. She's not even going to give the pair the benefit of a glance as she stalks her way out towards the entrance of the alley, her voice taking on that authoritative military tinge as she speaks to the gathering civilians.]
There's nothing to see here, everything has been settled! Move along!
no subject
For now though, as the rush of their short-lived scuffle wanes, Gavial is content to stand by and watch in silence as she gathers her weapon and its case and makes the first move to leave the alley and disperse the concerned citizens.
It’s only then that she breathes another sigh, slightly agitated, and begins to limp a few steps over to the nearest of the alley’s walls. Amos gets a hearty pat on the shoulder as she brushes past him to turn and lean her back against that wall.]
That’s that, I guess.
[One more lingering glance at Alice’s retreating form before she turns back to look him over.]
You alright?
[Says the woman always more concerned about others than her own obvious injuries.]
no subject
Oh well. It's done now. Alice is taking care of the civilians, so they aren't his problem. He doesn't care about them — it's just good that they didn't get hurt, and so, any remaining tension dispels itself from his body, his shoulders slumping a little as he exhales, visibly relaxes.
Turns to Gavial as she pats and brushes past him, gentle smile on his face. ]
That's that. And yeah, I'm good. Thanks to you.
[ He moves to join her over at the wall, apparently unbothered by everything that's just transpired. It's over now. Why stress over it, right?
His grin broadens, good humour on his face now that it's over. ]
But if you aren't going to patch yourself up, I'm going to do it right now for you.
[ It's not a threat; it's a promise. ]
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If there is a regret to focus on in the moment, though, it’s that she’s left this wound of hers linger long enough to get some good-natured pestering from Amos. He can always be counted on to make sure she takes care of herself, that’s for sure.]
Man, think I’m understanding how some of my patients must’ve felt with all my nagging…
[Girl, you are actively bleeding. The nagging is deserved.
But she grins right back and reaches out to put a hand on his shoulder to steady herself.]
Help me sit and I’ll get right to it, then.
[Not like she needs to be particularly dainty with an injury like this—she’s dealt with way worse—but she might as well avail herself of his help if she’s got it.]
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Well. Oh well. They took so long they left things to chance, and this just so happens to be the hand they were dealt. Can't really argue with that.
Can argue with Gavial, so he laughs a little at her complaining, obliging her as he moves to ease her down into a sitting position, injured leg stretched out. ]
Tell you what. Next time I'll take the blow for you, and you can snipe at me when I don't patch myself up first chance I get.
[ Next time, like there's going to be one. (Which is, admittedly, very much a possibility the way things are going.) They'd met like this, though, what... a year ago? Thereabouts? If anything feels right about this, it's to fall back into a familiar pattern.
He moves to sit down next to her, eyes on her expectantly — if she stalls any longer he's just going to apply healing magic to her himself. ]