[ Her half-open eyes watch his reactions. A frown takes her face, noting the discomfort--no pain--he tries to hide. Her hand remains steady, used to the idea of those she heals grabbing onto the source of what causes their pain to increase. Part of her cannot let go of the fact that perhaps this may have been avoided if they had simply allowed her to heal him...
She cannot undo the work of the healers, as much as her pride of a white mage wishes she could. All that she is capable of doing is untwisting the tension and ease the muscles so his natural aether will flow through the healed wound site once more. It will twist and turn again; knotting itself up and causing aches and pains. The cold climate and the stress that comes with his position will certainly see to it.
Her eyes drift to their hands as his fingers curl around his. She continues her work, fingers moving ever so slightly here and there, only to press against him once more. Her eyebrows continue to furrow as she can feel just how deep the wound is. They must have been in a panic and a hurry to heal him with the state of Ishgard and looming war once more with Nidhogg. The wound could have been fatal if but a fw more notches in a certain direction. ]
Then, I am honored to be the first.
[ She means every single word--even if she wonders if she might be the only one. No doubt that once Nidhogg's war is over and his attention can drift to other matters of his life he might find another. One that he could spend more of his life with, to raise a family with...
Alkaid closes her eyes once more to push the thought away for the moment. Her ears lower slightly as she briefly puts all her focus on the healed injury, allowing the aether to not only flow into the muscles more, but to learn of what his own needs. Her head tilts to the side, the pink edges brushing against him as she does. ]
This place--this is where the knife cut. [ Where they hurt him; tried to kill him. ] Here... and it didn't cut side-to-side... it went down, and further in...
[ Perhaps it is strange to him she might learn so much from merely directing and listening to the aether. Yet, that is exactly what conjurey as an art is. Listening, learning, moving, taking and giving. The base skills can only be known to help master white magic. Not that this requires the higher skills of that magick.
Her eyes remain closed as she leans in again to press a kiss to his forehead in apology. It would be easier if she could touch the scar directly, but she would not ask him to do such a thing. Instead, the edges of her first two fingers push against the scar quickly. Her other hand comes to rest at the top of his head, fingers combing through his hair to try and ease him as best as he can. ]
It wasn't aimed to scare or intimidate... it was aimed to kill... to take you away--[ from me, she manages to stop herself from saying. ]--they missed, failing to strike... and instead merely managed to cause such an injury. [ Her head tilts down to rest her forehead to his as her fingers move down slightly. ] So much pain... pain they couldn't take away, only cover in their haste... because they were scared that they might lose their Lord Commander... their leader...
[ She was scared too; horrified at the idea that she might lose him when he was not hers to lose. ]
You were scared too, deep down, where they couldn't hear... you still are... of so many things. They all bundle and twist and knot here... in this place. The one place where they could strike past your armor and hurt you... [ Her head tilts just enough to kiss his temple lightly. ] Tell me what frightens you most at this very moment, my love. Let it out, let it flow freely, so you might find reprieve of it.
[ Of course, in another state, she would of stopped herself short of so opening calling him such a thing. Yet, her mind is focused on the task of mending and comfort. As she listens to the injury and the disrupted aether, her heart is open as well. Anything he might ask would be answered freely without notice. ]
no subject
She cannot undo the work of the healers, as much as her pride of a white mage wishes she could. All that she is capable of doing is untwisting the tension and ease the muscles so his natural aether will flow through the healed wound site once more. It will twist and turn again; knotting itself up and causing aches and pains. The cold climate and the stress that comes with his position will certainly see to it.
Her eyes drift to their hands as his fingers curl around his. She continues her work, fingers moving ever so slightly here and there, only to press against him once more. Her eyebrows continue to furrow as she can feel just how deep the wound is. They must have been in a panic and a hurry to heal him with the state of Ishgard and looming war once more with Nidhogg. The wound could have been fatal if but a fw more notches in a certain direction. ]
Then, I am honored to be the first.
[ She means every single word--even if she wonders if she might be the only one. No doubt that once Nidhogg's war is over and his attention can drift to other matters of his life he might find another. One that he could spend more of his life with, to raise a family with...
Alkaid closes her eyes once more to push the thought away for the moment. Her ears lower slightly as she briefly puts all her focus on the healed injury, allowing the aether to not only flow into the muscles more, but to learn of what his own needs. Her head tilts to the side, the pink edges brushing against him as she does. ]
This place--this is where the knife cut. [ Where they hurt him; tried to kill him. ] Here... and it didn't cut side-to-side... it went down, and further in...
[ Perhaps it is strange to him she might learn so much from merely directing and listening to the aether. Yet, that is exactly what conjurey as an art is. Listening, learning, moving, taking and giving. The base skills can only be known to help master white magic. Not that this requires the higher skills of that magick.
Her eyes remain closed as she leans in again to press a kiss to his forehead in apology. It would be easier if she could touch the scar directly, but she would not ask him to do such a thing. Instead, the edges of her first two fingers push against the scar quickly. Her other hand comes to rest at the top of his head, fingers combing through his hair to try and ease him as best as he can. ]
It wasn't aimed to scare or intimidate... it was aimed to kill... to take you away--[ from me, she manages to stop herself from saying. ]--they missed, failing to strike... and instead merely managed to cause such an injury. [ Her head tilts down to rest her forehead to his as her fingers move down slightly. ] So much pain... pain they couldn't take away, only cover in their haste... because they were scared that they might lose their Lord Commander... their leader...
[ She was scared too; horrified at the idea that she might lose him when he was not hers to lose. ]
You were scared too, deep down, where they couldn't hear... you still are... of so many things. They all bundle and twist and knot here... in this place. The one place where they could strike past your armor and hurt you... [ Her head tilts just enough to kiss his temple lightly. ] Tell me what frightens you most at this very moment, my love. Let it out, let it flow freely, so you might find reprieve of it.
[ Of course, in another state, she would of stopped herself short of so opening calling him such a thing. Yet, her mind is focused on the task of mending and comfort. As she listens to the injury and the disrupted aether, her heart is open as well. Anything he might ask would be answered freely without notice. ]