(no subject)
Hitoh asked me to help him repair his broken limbs yesterday. Admittedly, it was rather... unpleasant at first, but then my damnable compassion took over, and I found myself becoming able to overlook the unnerving elements. Even find them fascinating, in a way.
All right, so it was also pride that kept me from losing my mana biscuits in the nearest empty Argent helm. When he opened his arm up and made to bolt the metal rods I'd procured straight onto the bone, the sight and the sound of the screws made my stomach do flips. I must have turned a visible shade of green, because he looked up at me and grinned through what must have been excruciating pain, and teased me about being "delicate."
I've spent a good portion of my life being teased about my... less-than-rugged looks, my slim build, and my preference for wearing robes. That mocking, knowing grin pricked my pride something fierce, while the all-too-evident strain around his eyes pained my overly-soft heart.
The look of surprise on his face when I shook my gloves off and placed my hands on his broken arm to hold it steady was priceless, though I did have to argue with him over it. He told me not to meddle, I told him to shut up and get on with it, and I think it was sheer astonishment that the effeminate little mage was talking back to His Royal Deadness that made him do as I said. Satisfying, but I don't think I should count on it happening again.
Despite my skill as a tailor, the stubborn ass wouldn't let me stitch up the wound, but after another bout of arguing, he allowed me to hold the sides together while he did the sewing himself. The process was repeated on his leg, and it's a good thing the robe I was wearing was already dark red, or there would have been no saving it, especially after he used the deer blood I'd collected to create those worms. And I am DEFINITELY cutting my hair as soon as I find something sharp enough to do the job. I'm getting awfully tired of washing blood and muck and ichor and Light only knows what else out of it.
For all his arguing and fussing, I guess he was appropriately grateful for the assistance afterwards, as he pulled me in for a rather enthusiastic kiss. His lips were cool and covered in blood from biting the threads off, but then my affinity to fire has always made other people seem chilly to me, and I've found I don't mind the taste of copper.
He smirked at me when he pulled away, most likely in part for the bloody handprint he'd left on my cheek. I'm sure I had a smug little smile of my own. I wonder how long it will take him to notice the prints I left on his trousers?
All right, so it was also pride that kept me from losing my mana biscuits in the nearest empty Argent helm. When he opened his arm up and made to bolt the metal rods I'd procured straight onto the bone, the sight and the sound of the screws made my stomach do flips. I must have turned a visible shade of green, because he looked up at me and grinned through what must have been excruciating pain, and teased me about being "delicate."
I've spent a good portion of my life being teased about my... less-than-rugged looks, my slim build, and my preference for wearing robes. That mocking, knowing grin pricked my pride something fierce, while the all-too-evident strain around his eyes pained my overly-soft heart.
The look of surprise on his face when I shook my gloves off and placed my hands on his broken arm to hold it steady was priceless, though I did have to argue with him over it. He told me not to meddle, I told him to shut up and get on with it, and I think it was sheer astonishment that the effeminate little mage was talking back to His Royal Deadness that made him do as I said. Satisfying, but I don't think I should count on it happening again.
Despite my skill as a tailor, the stubborn ass wouldn't let me stitch up the wound, but after another bout of arguing, he allowed me to hold the sides together while he did the sewing himself. The process was repeated on his leg, and it's a good thing the robe I was wearing was already dark red, or there would have been no saving it, especially after he used the deer blood I'd collected to create those worms. And I am DEFINITELY cutting my hair as soon as I find something sharp enough to do the job. I'm getting awfully tired of washing blood and muck and ichor and Light only knows what else out of it.
For all his arguing and fussing, I guess he was appropriately grateful for the assistance afterwards, as he pulled me in for a rather enthusiastic kiss. His lips were cool and covered in blood from biting the threads off, but then my affinity to fire has always made other people seem chilly to me, and I've found I don't mind the taste of copper.
He smirked at me when he pulled away, most likely in part for the bloody handprint he'd left on my cheek. I'm sure I had a smug little smile of my own. I wonder how long it will take him to notice the prints I left on his trousers?