017 » send my love to your new lover

[cethern]

[his blue robes are bloodstained and his white hair is matted against his forehead, but this man walking down a forest path late in the evening has the look of a priest about him. perhaps it is the way the moonlight illuminates his features. perhaps it is the desperate look on his face.

(or, like, the fact that his weapon is in the shape of a freakin' cross. you know. that tends to reinforce the whole "holy man" thing.)

he is limping, that much is obvious, and his clothes are torn and bloodied in ways that are consistent with being attacked by a pack of ravenous wolves — but none of that really matters, not when his legs are giving out on him and he's dropped to his knees and his vision is blurring and he just can't focus —]

Damn it...

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[astralia]

[Cethern is not the only priest wandering around this particular forest after dark, though he likely is the only one suffering from such grievous wounds. Largal is present as well, gathering some flowers that only bloom at night for Gidean to use in his alchemy. Why isn't Gidean out getting them himself? That is something Largal didn't even bother to ask. When Gidean says he has "plans" with that particular twinkle in his eye it's almost always something sexual.

He'd really rather just not think about it.

Still, in this case it turns out to be fortuitous that it's the older of the pair out and about. Since he's off the beaten path he actually doesn't initially notice the fallen man, but the smell of blood hits his nostrils before he passes by. He starts looking around for the source, eyes widening when he finally spots the young man collapsed on the ground. Largal steps out of the brush quickly and kneels beside him, supporting his head as he shifts him into the recovery position.]

Can you hear me? Keep still.

[cethern]

[even that much seems to cause the young priest discomfort. he groans when largal's hand accidentally finds a jagged bite-mark at his neck (hidden by his collar and just barely illuminated by the moonlight; cethern does not blame him), but his limbs feel too heavy to move and his head lolls dangerously to the side when it isn't supported.

with a great effort, the wounded man manages to bring his hand up to largal's arm, tugging weakly at his shirt-sleeve.]

Leave me...

[astralia]

[Of course, Largal just ignores him in favor of looking him over. It's unfortunate, but he can't do much more for him here. A quick inspection makes it look like he was attacked by some sort of animal — that means infection is a risk. He'll need to take him back to the inn where he's staying and clean him up before he can properly heal him. For now he murmurs a spell to expel foreign entities and boost his body's natural healing processes.]

Don't be ridiculous. I'm taking you to where I'm staying. Do you know if any of your bones are broken?

[cethern]

...Arm. [he manages, after another obvious effort to stay conscious. he does not specify which one. largal's face swims in his vision past a sea of stars brought on by pain; his grip on the the older man's sleeve loosens, and his hand falls uselessly to the ground.]

Just — leave me, I tell you it is hopeless —

[but surely if he's in as much pain as he acts, he has more of a chance than someone whose sensations are leaving his body entirely?]

[astralia]

Hopeless, is it? Well then! You at least deserve a proper burial, don't you? Let's get you into town. I'll save the coroner a trip.

[Clearly, he's not taking these protests seriously. If he still has the energy to answer questions and complain coherently, he can be saved. Largal murmurs another regenerative spell to help him heal over time. This one comes with a more obvious flash of light and a slight tingling sensation (if he can even notice that past the pain). He glances up at the tree canopy with a grimace — there's no way he can take to the sky here. There was a clearing not too far off though, so he'll just have to go back. Largal pats him down enough to figure out which arm is broken, then carefully arranges the younger man in his arms so that he's supporting him as much as possible with the broken appendage draped in a way that he won't jostle it.

Much. He's not perfect.]

[cethern]

[if cethern only had the energy, he would probably have rolled his eyes at largal's jesting — but as it is, it's all he can do just to brace himself for the aches of pain that blossom after he's moved. still, largal is as gentle as possible, which is more than cethern can say for some others who might sling him roughly over their backs and half-drag him to safety.

cethern is limp and heavy in largal's arms, and the two spells from earlier don't seem to be showing any particular effect at the moment, but he still seems to have enough energy to talk.]

You... You're a healer.

[there's a question, somewhere, in that bland observation, but he either can't or simply isn't the type to put the words together for it right now.]

[astralia]

[With Cethern's weight along with the weight of his chainmail, mace, and shield Largal honestly isn't sure if he's going to make it off the ground. At the very least he's going to have to leave his massive shield behind and probably his mace too. Possibly even his boots. On the ground he's fine with this much, though.]

That's right. Unfortunately, I can't heal you up immediately. It looks as if you were attacked by animals, and I really need to clean these wounds before closing them...

[Not to mention the fact that healing someone up too rapidly can really weaken them. Less is more when it comes to magic, and unless it's in the heat of battle Largal tends to act as more of a doctor.]

[cethern]

...Lucky.

[no part of cethern's expression changes at largal's words, but he rests his head against the man's shoulder, apparently submitting (at least for now) to his care despite all earlier protests.]

I never was... any good at healing. And it cost my friends... their lives. [with a bitter, wheezing laugh:] Maybe if I'd just paid more attention...

[astralia]

[From his tone, it sounds as if he feels like he should have been able to heal them. That sort of guilt is something Largal understands intimately. He glances down at the man in his arms briefly, suppressing the urge to comfort him since it's honestly more important to move quickly at this point than it is to sit down and hug it out.]

Did it happen just now?

[If so, once he has his current patient patched up for the night and sleeping he'll come back out and look for them. The gods don't always grant requests for resurrection, but Largal is an excellent channel and succeeds more often than most. He won't mention it now though — no reason to get this man's hopes up needlessly.]

[cethern]

...No. They left me a long time ago.

[cethern's eyelids flutter dangerously, threatening to close; he rests his eyes for a moment, and then he turns his head toward the night sky. his pain has subsided, is ebbing slowly away from him, either because he's finally starting to die or because the regenerative magicks largal cast are finally kicking into high gear — he can't really be sure which.]

Ilysium... was beautiful. Is that odd? That I never noticed... until she was gone.

[astralia]

It's not strange.

[He almost stops there since he doubts he's in the mood for platitudes, but it really is best if he remains awake for now. Largal continues:]

Sometimes, people just don't notice how beautiful something is until it's gone.

[As they reach the clearing he lets out an audible sigh. Good — he won't be able to carry him effortlessly forever. Largal steps out into the moonlight and kneels, placing Cethern on the ground so that he can hide his mace and shield in a bush. After some thought he strips the parts of his chainmail that are easy to remove and hides them there too. If it comes to the worst and someone steals it, he can always smith some more. Closing his eyes he draws in aether to call his wings, flapping them experimentally before kneeling to lift the younger man again.]

If you can, hold on. We'll be in town soon.

[cethern]

Wh-Why are you — ?

[cethern seems to panic at first, his fingers groping blindly for his mace when it's taken away from him — but by the time largal has stowed his shield in the foliage and is working to remove his armor, he's gotten the message. the silver-haired stranger is feeling better enough that he grits his teeth through the throbbing pains that still persist and helps to divest himself of his gear... or at least he tries to, anyway. in reality, his fingers just tug uselessly at one of his buckles until largal expertly undoes it for him.

once that's done, cethern lays his bloodied hands to rest at his side, blinking blearily at largal, this strange man who's been kind enough to mend his hurts and even carry him a short distance through the woods —

— and then largal spreads his wings, enveloped in the radiance of what seems to cethern to be a thousand moons, and suddenly, as cethern's taken up again, everything makes sense.]

...I had not thought this humble servant of the Goddess worthy of one of Her messengers.

[astralia]

I am Her servant, but not quite in the way you're thinking. It's a long story.

[Honestly, even Largal isn't quite sure what a Daeva is. Whether he likes it or not, it's something he now has all of eternity to figure out. He falls quiet as he starts to pump those heavy wings, clearly straining to get off the ground while bearing the weight of two. In the end he does make it to the sky, only breathing easy again once he's achieved his goal height.

Then he starts to simply glide toward the village. Flight has never been his forte, he's too large and bulky even without his armor. He can manage it in a pinch though.]

You seem like you're improving a bit, [he calls out against the wind.] Can you think clearly enough to describe what attacked you?

[cethern]

[the breeze would feel good against his skin if it weren't cut and torn in places. cethern's still a bit loopy — he certainly wouldn't have made the comment about ilysium if he weren't — but all the same, he swallows hard on his dry throat and tries to come up with the facts.]

I walked into a den of wolves...

[well. that doesn't. sound nearly dramatic enough. he tries again.]

They had — they had developed a taste for human flesh, and were terrorizing a nearby village. I thought to aid the people in their plight, but... [he shakes his head.] I slew their queen. I could not slay them all.

[astralia]

[Wolves. It could be worse; he could have been attacked by something poisonous. Of course, wolves that have been eating humans might be diseased. Largal sighs through his nose. If they're going to be in this town long, he should probably take care of any stragglers.]

They'll be weaker without the leadership. I'll take care of them sometime soon.

[As they approach the outskirts of the village he slows, somewhat awkwardly going in for a landing before he's spotted. He's not exactly the image of a perfect graceful angel in this. Once he has his footing on the ground his wings vanish in a flash of light, and Largal immediately starts walking toward the inn.]

[cethern]

[for a moment, cethern seems to wrestle with this, as if he can't bear the thought of his work being completed by someone else — but it's hard to feel angry with a stranger that has saved your life, and is carrying you, and in the end he relents.]

...Thank you.

[he does his best to be less of a burden as largal lands, bracing his arms around the man's neck, and it feels... well, ultimately rather pointless. largal stumbles on his footing, either way, and cethern flinches as added pressure is put on some of his wounds, but he doesn't complain.

though, apparently, he's becoming a bit irrational again.]

I should have... done more, I should have — should have been better — agh —