Leaning back on the palms of his hands, he braces himself as he waits for her to get to work,)
That bad, huh?
(Of course, he knew that much already. He's lucky to be alive. It's only because Byleth and Edelgard showed him mercy in Derdriu that he was able to escape with his life.
He lets her work and allows himself a moment to rest under her care. He dislikes relying on others but he knows better than to resist a healer at work. There's an initial discomfort as the magic settles in, getting to work, bringing skin together, closing, and physically repairing itself but there's the dulling that comes from it too, cool like ice but not as harsh.
Magic really is something, he thinks. He's never had much of a talent for it. Manuela had barely managed to get a healing spell out of him at the academy and Hanneman was impressed if he could summon enough wind to turn the pages in a book. Nothing wrong with that. Magic isn't for everyone and he'd joked that he had to be bad at something when he was already so good at everything else.
He watches Flayn, noting the way her hands shake from time to time. He's seen this before. There were times when Marianne gave too much of herself to others, pushing herself too far. There were times when Lysithea, exhausted from using her spells in battle, tried to be useful after and heal the injured.
Flayn is exhausted. And like Marianne and Lysithea, she would push through it. He's the same when it comes to other things and it's for that reason, he's always let them go just a little further. Even now, he says nothing at first. He gives her a few moments and when her hands start to tremble... he reaches to take one of her hands in his own)
Thank you. ("That's enough.") I feel better... much better.
(It's the truth. Looking down at his chest, he can see the visible difference. He won't mention her exhaustion. She wouldn't like that, would she? She might even insist she's fine... and he'd rather she didn't lie.)
This should hold until we get to the Rhages.
(The first time he's mentioned the capital by name.
He gives her hand a squeeze and a gentle tug to sit by him,)
But for now, we rest. All of us.
(Badira, too. He'll let her hand go soon too so he can at least put his blouse back on. It's warm enough that he doesn't actually need the outer part coat.)
no subject
Leaning back on the palms of his hands, he braces himself as he waits for her to get to work,)
That bad, huh?
(Of course, he knew that much already. He's lucky to be alive. It's only because Byleth and Edelgard showed him mercy in Derdriu that he was able to escape with his life.
He lets her work and allows himself a moment to rest under her care. He dislikes relying on others but he knows better than to resist a healer at work. There's an initial discomfort as the magic settles in, getting to work, bringing skin together, closing, and physically repairing itself but there's the dulling that comes from it too, cool like ice but not as harsh.
Magic really is something, he thinks. He's never had much of a talent for it. Manuela had barely managed to get a healing spell out of him at the academy and Hanneman was impressed if he could summon enough wind to turn the pages in a book. Nothing wrong with that. Magic isn't for everyone and he'd joked that he had to be bad at something when he was already so good at everything else.
He watches Flayn, noting the way her hands shake from time to time. He's seen this before. There were times when Marianne gave too much of herself to others, pushing herself too far. There were times when Lysithea, exhausted from using her spells in battle, tried to be useful after and heal the injured.
Flayn is exhausted. And like Marianne and Lysithea, she would push through it. He's the same when it comes to other things and it's for that reason, he's always let them go just a little further. Even now, he says nothing at first. He gives her a few moments and when her hands start to tremble... he reaches to take one of her hands in his own)
Thank you. ("That's enough.") I feel better... much better.
(It's the truth. Looking down at his chest, he can see the visible difference. He won't mention her exhaustion. She wouldn't like that, would she? She might even insist she's fine... and he'd rather she didn't lie.)
This should hold until we get to the Rhages.
(The first time he's mentioned the capital by name.
He gives her hand a squeeze and a gentle tug to sit by him,)
But for now, we rest. All of us.
(Badira, too. He'll let her hand go soon too so he can at least put his blouse back on. It's warm enough that he doesn't actually need the outer part coat.)