Fill 'Blue for you' Part 1a
anonymous
April 24 2011, 21:22:47 UTC
This is my first time attempting a fill so please accept apologies upfront in case it isn't quite what the OP had in mind. Also it seems to be getting a wee bit long considering it was supposed to be PWP when I started it.
Lying face down and naked from the waist up on the low bench in the dingy back room of the tavern, Esca feels the tiny pinpricks as the ink is forced into his skin; barely noticeable at the moment but which he knows will coalesce into flaring pain in his back and shoulders like a wildfire before long. He can hear the wizened man who bends over his back and inflicts this slow torture upon his skin muttering under his breath as he works but not even the joy of hearing another speak in the familiar accent and dialect of his home can distract from the pain to come.
'Try not to tense up so Esca, it will not ease the pain and it will distort the design.'
Esca tries to force his muscles to relax and keeps the vituperative reply safely in his head; it is not wise to irritate the fellow who is permanently marking your skin, especially if its done in an area where you cannot keep an eye on what he's inking. Instead he tries to control his breathing and silently curses Marcus Flavius Aquila and every other Roman who ever lived, using his anger to distract himself from flinching away form every stab of the fine iron needle.
Despite his carefully constructed reasoning, Esca is honest enough with himself to know that he wouldn't be here doing this if it weren't for Marcus. Equally he knows that had he not recognised the craftsman's distinctive accent as from an area so close to his own he would never have entertained the idea of another skin marking. Not even for Marcus would he have had some dense southerner's idea of a design etched onto him, but the chance meeting with a skilled northerner, who would know the proper traditions, passing through Calleva was not likely to be repeated; so Esca hadn't hesitated but paid the old grey hair every coin he has managed to save and explained what he wanted.
As the pain flares up Esca closes his eyes grits his teeth and remembers that this will be worth it when its over, when the skin is healed and he can reveal to the centurion what he has done. He tries to imagine what Marcus' face will look like when he first sees it and has a sudden uncharacteristic moment of uncertainty and panic that freezes his muscles and spikes the pain, making his breath hiss through his teeth and causing an annoyed tutting from above. He is almost beginning to regret requesting such a large design.
Marcus has always seemed fascinated by Esca's arm markings, looking at them when he thinks Esca will not notice, as though he doesn't realise that Esca can feel the heavy weight of his gaze stroking over his skin as clearly as if it were those large calloused hands on him. But he has never actually spoken of them, never asked about them or their meanings. Perhaps he thinks that it is too personal, that Esca will not wish to discuss them with a Roman. Or perhaps he is truly so obtuse that he does not realise they have meanings and thinks that Esca is vain enough to have had them put there simply for decorative purposes. That last is unlikely though; Marcus may be brawny and occasionally given to opening his mouth before he thinks, but he has a quiet intelligence that its risky to underestimate - although Esca has to admit that he can on occasion be incredibly dense or seem to be. He is almost certain that the Roman looks on him with desire but the way that Marcus has been ignoring Esca's own heated looks and increasingly unsubtle hints suggests that either Marcus is completely oblivious or that he is deliberately avoiding the idea that Esca might want more from their newly altered relationship than they are currently sharing.
Fill 'Blue for you' Part 1b
anonymous
April 24 2011, 22:44:33 UTC
Esca wouldn't be surprised if that were true. He is well aware of how traditional Roman values view sexual relationships between men without the safety and clearly defined boundaries of ownership between them, and he can all too easily imagine Marcus deliberately refusing to acknowledge Esca's desires and his own for the sake of some sort of warped Roman notion of morality.
He feels his resentment of Aquila rise up so suddenly and sharply that it nearly chokes him. The centurion embodies everything that a good Roman should be with his physical strength and beauty, bravery, pride and virtue and stubbornness to the point of stupidity on occasion. There are times when Esca is so confused and frustrated by his feelings for the Roman that he could beat the man bloody and still not be satisfied. Aquila is like one of those statues in the temple, perfect and out of reach. Esca would be lying to himself if he didn't admit that part of his desire for Aquila is a need to destroy that image, to sully the perfection and break the centurion, to put his own mark there and strip everything that is Rome away leaving just the man behind so that Esca can give in to his needs without feeling that he is betraying himself. Britain is not Rome, she shapes men to her own ways and Esca can't believe that Aquila doesn't realise this after all they have been through north of the wall. He knows that the bonds that tie them together now, forged in the heat of such danger and hardship, in the face of death and despair, cannot be broken. They are far stronger than Rome and the chains of slavery could ever be. Rome's hold on Aquila slips a little more with every day he spends here.
Abruptly he feels the old man lean back and wipe a cloth gently over his back.
'My hands are staring to cramp and my back aches, I must rest for a few minutes, but you should be pleased, we are at least halfway done already.'
Esca raises his head unsteadily and glares at his fellow northerner in disbelief, not trusting himself to speak as he flinches and raises himself to a sitting position. Only his pride keeps him from weeping at the though that he has all that to go through again. He snatches the skin from the floor and raises it to his mouth swallowing deeply, ignoring the abysmal taste of the cheap rough local spirit and praying that if he drinks enough it will dull the pain to come.
All too soon he is being eased back down to his front and realises that he hasn't drunk nearly enough. As he looks around the grotty little room they are closeted away in, Esca cannot but help contrast this sad lonely almost furtive act with the last time he had undergone this particular infliction of pain. He had just returned from his first successful horse raid and the whole village had celebrated. Sinking into his memories he can almost smell the smoke from the bonfire, hear the raucous shouts and singing from his fellow warriors and youths, see them dancing wildly, drunkenly, spinning faster and faster, arms outstretched and long hair streaming wildly. He can hear sudden shrieks of laughter as someone with more drink than sense tries the obligatory fireleap and misjudges. It is so vivid in his mind and the stabbing pain so familiar that when he closes his eyes he can almost forget where he is and what he's having inscribed forever across his back and shoulders. Strangely for a brief moment despite or perhaps because of the pain, he is almost content.
Fill 'Blue for you' Part 1c
anonymous
April 24 2011, 23:07:10 UTC
It doesn't last for long though as the pain makes its way through the haze of alcohol again and he knows that whatever their druid used to add to the mead on such occasions previously had dulled his senses. It has certainly not been this painful in the past or he might have thought twice about this. A wave of longing and despair sweeps over him so strong that he doesn't even try to fight it; just remembers his tribe and his family and all that is lost to him now forever. He returns to cursing Rome and all Romans and uses his anger again to bolster himself.
By the time the design is completed Esca can barely stand unaided and although its only his upper back that has been inked the whole of his back feels aflame.
In fond amusement the old man waves away Esca's gasped thanks and insists on pressing another half full skin, of unwatered wine this time, on him for the journey home. He also smears a thick salve over Esca's abused skin and gives him more with instructions to use it daily before helping him out and onto his horse. As he slumps in the saddle Esca can only give thanks to all the gods that he had the foresight to ride into town today.
Re: Fill 'Blue for you' Part 1c
anonymous
April 25 2011, 10:50:03 UTC
Thank you all for your lovely comments, they absolutely make my day. I was a bit hesitant about putting this out here as I am a very nervous author at the best of times and am slightly awed by the standard of writing on this meme. I have a couple more parts ready to go, so updates will be up shortly.
Fill 'Blue for you' Part 2
anonymous
April 25 2011, 13:08:30 UTC
Marcus has been alternately worried and furious all day since Esca disappeared before anyone else in the villa was up this morning with not a word to anyone. In truth Marcus knows that now that Esca is no longer his slave he has no right to expect to know what the smaller man is doing every minute of every day, but it wasn't like Esca not to let someone know his whereabouts out of politeness if nothing else. He sighed and grumbled under his breath as he forced himself to move away from the window, refusing to acknowledge that he is moping and looking out for Esca's return.
Dropping onto a bench he ran again over the things that Esca could have been doing all day on his own. Hunting? Possibly, but he usually asked Marcus if he wanted to join him, so probably not. In that case, he'd likely gone into Calleva. Marcus frowned, there were any number of things that Esca could be doing in the town that he would not want company for.
Esca had initially seemed content with this pleasant quiet interlude in their lives but Marcus wasn't entirely certain why the Briton continued to stay on. He knew that Esca's fierce sense of honour and his vow to Marcus had made him stay with him and help him through the nightmare north of the wall, when everything in his heart and soul must have made him long to abandon him and run to join those free tribes. But now Esca was free and Marcus had tried to make him understand that as far as they were concerned that meant true freedom, he could stay or leave as he wished, so there was no longer any compelling reason for Esca to stay.
Perhaps he had grown bored and frustrated with waiting here at the villa while Marcus awaited word from Rome. Perhaps he had finally made up his mind to move on with his own life and was in town making arrangements to leave. Marcus felt his chest tighten as he considered this possibility; Esca had certainly seemed frustrated lately, almost vibrating with tension whenever they were alone together. Thinking through this, he considered the possibility that Esca was visiting the town brothel to help relieve himself of this tension in this way, a common enough occurrence in barracks life for Marcus to be familiar with it. His chest tightened even further at the idea.
Continuing this train of thought he arrived at the possibility that Esca might be in town visiting not a whore for a single day's pleasure, but courting a respectable woman. Plenty of the unmarried womenfolk in Calleva had been trying to catch the young Briton's eye lately, though Esca had shown no obvious interest in any of them. Marcus' chest was painfully tight now and he was barely breathing as he shot to his feet with a growl and began to storm back to the window. The sound of hooves approaching outside sent him stalking towards the door instead.
Esca was indeed approaching through the gloom, his horse ambling along, reins trailing loosely over its neck and rider slumped forward in a manner completely unfamiliar to Marcus. Esca normally rode as he did everything, neatly and elegantly, with an expertise and economy of motion that Marcus envied greatly. As the horse came nearer Marcus reached out and grabbed the reins bringing the animal to an abrupt halt that nearly unseated its rider. Esca grabbed at its mane in a most undignified manner before sitting up and looking around blearily. An empty wineskin dropped from his hands as he leaned forwards to peer unsteadily at Marcus. He opened his mouth to speak and Marcus was hit with a gust of sour wine on his breath.
Fill 'Blue for you' Part 2b
anonymous
April 25 2011, 13:30:00 UTC
Oops. That last post should have been Part 2a. Damn character limits!
'Ugh, you're drunk.' Marcus stated the obvious and flinched as soon as the words left his mouth, aware that he sounded like a nagging wife. If he hadn't spent the day fretting he might have been amused; he'd never seen Esca the worse for drink before, the Briton was normally so controlled.
Reacting to the offended and disapproving tone of his voice Esca immediately straightened in his saddle and glared down at him, the faint trace of a smile that had been forming at one corner of his mouth when he recognised Marcus disappearing.
'I might be, but that's no business of yours.' Esca glowered down at him and then studiously ignored him as he began to dismount. His usual grace deserted him and he would have fallen if Marcus hadn't caught him on the way down. A pained screech was his only thanks as Esca tried desperately to struggle out of his arms.
'Gods, Esca stop it. Enough, I'll let go. There, I was only trying to help.' Marcus tried to mollify the panting glaring Briton as Esca spat what sounded like particularly vile British curses at him.
'Have you hurt your back? Did you fall? Let me look, maybe I can help.' Marcus stepped towards Esca and then stopped abruptly as Esca put his hand out and backed away, a look of panic on his face.
'Stop. No, don't touch me.'
'Very well.' Marcus could hear the anger in his own voice and felt a small stab of victory as Esca winced. He saw the smaller man start to move forward but all the frustration of the day welled up and he turned grabbing the reins to lead the horse away.
'I'll see to the horse, you see to yourself. I will no doubt see you tomorrow sometime.'
He didn't look back as he led the horse off to the stables and so he didn't see Esca standing with his hand out and his mouth open as though to explain.
Re: Fill 'Blue for you' Part 2bpoziomeczkaApril 25 2011, 14:51:41 UTC
author anon! had i had half of your skill i would be announcing it to all the world constantly WHICH PROBABLY IS THE REASON WHY I DON'T HAVE IT.
I love your writing, I love it. It flows smoothly and it really reminds me of Sutcliff's elegant yet plain style. VERY VERY BEAUTIFUL ALSO I KNOW THAT IMMENSE HOTNESS IS YET TO COME AND I AWAIT IT PATIENTLY. NOT AT ALL BITING MY HANDS.
Fill 'Blue for you' Part 3
anonymous
April 25 2011, 21:29:34 UTC
Esca runs his hands over as much of the skin on his upper back and shoulders as he can reach and is pleased when although still sensitive there is no pain. Good enough that today can be the day. He will have to remember to leave an offering for the local goddess at the nearby spring in thanks for such swift healing, but for now he needs to find Marcus. Easier said than done when the Roman has been going out of his way to avoid Esca since the unfortunate incident several nights ago.
He was still rather annoyed about that if he was honest with himself. Marcus' reaction seemed unduly disproportionate even given that Esca had been very drunk when he had finally made it back to the villa. He had woken the next day feeling as though he would be better off dead. His head pounded as though Marcus was hitting it with the hilt of his sword repeatedly with all of his strength, while his back simply burned all over and he spent the morning alternately sleeping fitfully and retching whilst being by turns furious with Marcus for being unreasonable and himself for hurting Marcus and caring about it.
The day after that he was still feeling a little tender and carried out his normal duties with the minimum of interaction with the other residents of the villa. So it wasn't until the third day that he realised that Marcus was deliberately avoiding him. At first he was surprised and then annoyed that Marcus should be behaving so childishly. His first instinct was to track the foolish Roman down and and force a confrontation to clear the air. Then as his back twinged and he thought of all the previous times he and Marcus had argued and how that usually ended, he thought better of it. He would bide his time until his back healed and then they could fight all they liked.
Lying face down and naked from the waist up on the low bench in the dingy back room of the tavern, Esca feels the tiny pinpricks as the ink is forced into his skin; barely noticeable at the moment but which he knows will coalesce into flaring pain in his back and shoulders like a wildfire before long. He can hear the wizened man who bends over his back and inflicts this slow torture upon his skin muttering under his breath as he works but not even the joy of hearing another speak in the familiar accent and dialect of his home can distract from the pain to come.
'Try not to tense up so Esca, it will not ease the pain and it will distort the design.'
Esca tries to force his muscles to relax and keeps the vituperative reply safely in his head; it is not wise to irritate the fellow who is permanently marking your skin, especially if its done in an area where you cannot keep an eye on what he's inking. Instead he tries to control his breathing and silently curses Marcus Flavius Aquila and every other Roman who ever lived, using his anger to distract himself from flinching away form every stab of the fine iron needle.
Despite his carefully constructed reasoning, Esca is honest enough with himself to know that he wouldn't be here doing this if it weren't for Marcus. Equally he knows that had he not recognised the craftsman's distinctive accent as from an area so close to his own he would never have entertained the idea of another skin marking. Not even for Marcus would he have had some dense southerner's idea of a design etched onto him, but the chance meeting with a skilled northerner, who would know the proper traditions, passing through Calleva was not likely to be repeated; so Esca hadn't hesitated but paid the old grey hair every coin he has managed to save and explained what he wanted.
As the pain flares up Esca closes his eyes grits his teeth and remembers that this will be worth it when its over, when the skin is healed and he can reveal to the centurion what he has done. He tries to imagine what Marcus' face will look like when he first sees it and has a sudden uncharacteristic moment of uncertainty and panic that freezes his muscles and spikes the pain, making his breath hiss through his teeth and causing an annoyed tutting from above. He is almost beginning to regret requesting such a large design.
Marcus has always seemed fascinated by Esca's arm markings, looking at them when he thinks Esca will not notice, as though he doesn't realise that Esca can feel the heavy weight of his gaze stroking over his skin as clearly as if it were those large calloused hands on him. But he has never actually spoken of them, never asked about them or their meanings. Perhaps he thinks that it is too personal, that Esca will not wish to discuss them with a Roman. Or perhaps he is truly so obtuse that he does not realise they have meanings and thinks that Esca is vain enough to have had them put there simply for decorative purposes. That last is unlikely though; Marcus may be brawny and occasionally given to opening his mouth before he thinks, but he has a quiet intelligence that its risky to underestimate - although Esca has to admit that he can on occasion be incredibly dense or seem to be. He is almost certain that the Roman looks on him with desire but the way that Marcus has been ignoring Esca's own heated looks and increasingly unsubtle hints suggests that either Marcus is completely oblivious or that he is deliberately avoiding the idea that Esca might want more from their newly altered relationship than they are currently sharing.
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He feels his resentment of Aquila rise up so suddenly and sharply that it nearly chokes him. The centurion embodies everything that a good Roman should be with his physical strength and beauty, bravery, pride and virtue and stubbornness to the point of stupidity on occasion. There are times when Esca is so confused and frustrated by his feelings for the Roman that he could beat the man bloody and still not be satisfied. Aquila is like one of those statues in the temple, perfect and out of reach. Esca would be lying to himself if he didn't admit that part of his desire for Aquila is a need to destroy that image, to sully the perfection and break the centurion, to put his own mark there and strip everything that is Rome away leaving just the man behind so that Esca can give in to his needs without feeling that he is betraying himself. Britain is not Rome, she shapes men to her own ways and Esca can't believe that Aquila doesn't realise this after all they have been through north of the wall. He knows that the bonds that tie them together now, forged in the heat of such danger and hardship, in the face of death and despair, cannot be broken. They are far stronger than Rome and the chains of slavery could ever be. Rome's hold on Aquila slips a little more with every day he spends here.
Abruptly he feels the old man lean back and wipe a cloth gently over his back.
'My hands are staring to cramp and my back aches, I must rest for a few minutes, but you should be pleased, we are at least halfway done already.'
Esca raises his head unsteadily and glares at his fellow northerner in disbelief, not trusting himself to speak as he flinches and raises himself to a sitting position. Only his pride keeps him from weeping at the though that he has all that to go through again. He snatches the skin from the floor and raises it to his mouth swallowing deeply, ignoring the abysmal taste of the cheap rough local spirit and praying that if he drinks enough it will dull the pain to come.
All too soon he is being eased back down to his front and realises that he hasn't drunk nearly enough. As he looks around the grotty little room they are closeted away in, Esca cannot but help contrast this sad lonely almost furtive act with the last time he had undergone this particular infliction of pain. He had just returned from his first successful horse raid and the whole village had celebrated. Sinking into his memories he can almost smell the smoke from the bonfire, hear the raucous shouts and singing from his fellow warriors and youths, see them dancing wildly, drunkenly, spinning faster and faster, arms outstretched and long hair streaming wildly. He can hear sudden shrieks of laughter as someone with more drink than sense tries the obligatory fireleap and misjudges. It is so vivid in his mind and the stabbing pain so familiar that when he closes his eyes he can almost forget where he is and what he's having inscribed forever across his back and shoulders. Strangely for a brief moment despite or perhaps because of the pain, he is almost content.
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By the time the design is completed Esca can barely stand unaided and although its only his upper back that has been inked the whole of his back feels aflame.
In fond amusement the old man waves away Esca's gasped thanks and insists on pressing another half full skin, of unwatered wine this time, on him for the journey home. He also smears a thick salve over Esca's abused skin and gives him more with instructions to use it daily before helping him out and onto his horse. As he slumps in the saddle Esca can only give thanks to all the gods that he had the foresight to ride into town today.
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Dropping onto a bench he ran again over the things that Esca could have been doing all day on his own. Hunting? Possibly, but he usually asked Marcus if he wanted to join him, so probably not. In that case, he'd likely gone into Calleva. Marcus frowned, there were any number of things that Esca could be doing in the town that he would not want company for.
Esca had initially seemed content with this pleasant quiet interlude in their lives but Marcus wasn't entirely certain why the Briton continued to stay on. He knew that Esca's fierce sense of honour and his vow to Marcus had made him stay with him and help him through the nightmare north of the wall, when everything in his heart and soul must have made him long to abandon him and run to join those free tribes. But now Esca was free and Marcus had tried to make him understand that as far as they were concerned that meant true freedom, he could stay or leave as he wished, so there was no longer any compelling reason for Esca to stay.
Perhaps he had grown bored and frustrated with waiting here at the villa while Marcus awaited word from Rome. Perhaps he had finally made up his mind to move on with his own life and was in town making arrangements to leave. Marcus felt his chest tighten as he considered this possibility; Esca had certainly seemed frustrated lately, almost vibrating with tension whenever they were alone together. Thinking through this, he considered the possibility that Esca was visiting the town brothel to help relieve himself of this tension in this way, a common enough occurrence in barracks life for Marcus to be familiar with it. His chest tightened even further at the idea.
Continuing this train of thought he arrived at the possibility that Esca might be in town visiting not a whore for a single day's pleasure, but courting a respectable woman. Plenty of the unmarried womenfolk in Calleva had been trying to catch the young Briton's eye lately, though Esca had shown no obvious interest in any of them. Marcus' chest was painfully tight now and he was barely breathing as he shot to his feet with a growl and began to storm back to the window. The sound of hooves approaching outside sent him stalking towards the door instead.
Esca was indeed approaching through the gloom, his horse ambling along, reins trailing loosely over its neck and rider slumped forward in a manner completely unfamiliar to Marcus. Esca normally rode as he did everything, neatly and elegantly, with an expertise and economy of motion that Marcus envied greatly. As the horse came nearer Marcus reached out and grabbed the reins bringing the animal to an abrupt halt that nearly unseated its rider. Esca grabbed at its mane in a most undignified manner before sitting up and looking around blearily. An empty wineskin dropped from his hands as he leaned forwards to peer unsteadily at Marcus. He opened his mouth to speak and Marcus was hit with a gust of sour wine on his breath.
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'Ugh, you're drunk.' Marcus stated the obvious and flinched as soon as the words left his mouth, aware that he sounded like a nagging wife. If he hadn't spent the day fretting he might have been amused; he'd never seen Esca the worse for drink before, the Briton was normally so controlled.
Reacting to the offended and disapproving tone of his voice Esca immediately straightened in his saddle and glared down at him, the faint trace of a smile that had been forming at one corner of his mouth when he recognised Marcus disappearing.
'I might be, but that's no business of yours.' Esca glowered down at him and then studiously ignored him as he began to dismount. His usual grace deserted him and he would have fallen if Marcus hadn't caught him on the way down. A pained screech was his only thanks as Esca tried desperately to struggle out of his arms.
'Gods, Esca stop it. Enough, I'll let go. There, I was only trying to help.' Marcus tried to mollify the panting glaring Briton as Esca spat what sounded like particularly vile British curses at him.
'Have you hurt your back? Did you fall? Let me look, maybe I can help.' Marcus stepped towards Esca and then stopped abruptly as Esca put his hand out and backed away, a look of panic on his face.
'Stop. No, don't touch me.'
'Very well.' Marcus could hear the anger in his own voice and felt a small stab of victory as Esca winced. He saw the smaller man start to move forward but all the frustration of the day welled up and he turned grabbing the reins to lead the horse away.
'I'll see to the horse, you see to yourself. I will no doubt see you tomorrow sometime.'
He didn't look back as he led the horse off to the stables and so he didn't see Esca standing with his hand out and his mouth open as though to explain.
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keep it up!!
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I love your writing, I love it. It flows smoothly and it really reminds me of Sutcliff's elegant yet plain style. VERY VERY BEAUTIFUL ALSO I KNOW THAT IMMENSE HOTNESS IS YET TO COME AND I AWAIT IT PATIENTLY. NOT AT ALL BITING MY HANDS.
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He was still rather annoyed about that if he was honest with himself. Marcus' reaction seemed unduly disproportionate even given that Esca had been very drunk when he had finally made it back to the villa. He had woken the next day feeling as though he would be better off dead. His head pounded as though Marcus was hitting it with the hilt of his sword repeatedly with all of his strength, while his back simply burned all over and he spent the morning alternately sleeping fitfully and retching whilst being by turns furious with Marcus for being unreasonable and himself for hurting Marcus and caring about it.
The day after that he was still feeling a little tender and carried out his normal duties with the minimum of interaction with the other residents of the villa. So it wasn't until the third day that he realised that Marcus was deliberately avoiding him. At first he was surprised and then annoyed that Marcus should be behaving so childishly. His first instinct was to track the foolish Roman down and and force a confrontation to clear the air. Then as his back twinged and he thought of all the previous times he and Marcus had argued and how that usually ended, he thought better of it. He would bide his time until his back healed and then they could fight all they liked.
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