[ He keeps still as Lune works, the cool light of her healing skill washing over him like water. Her face is a pale oval in the reflected glow, and rather than watch as bones shift under his skin and that angry swelling calms, he studies her: the focus that knits her brow, her intent eyes, the way her lips press together as she works.
And then it's done, and he exhales a little easier as he runs a cautious hand over his own side. He's sore and there's still blood drying on his skin and he'd like to sleep for about a week, but the underlying wrongness of before is gone. He shifts and doesn't feel bone grinding against fractured bone anymore; that deep insult to the softest and most vulnerable parts of him has lifted. ]
Yeah.
[ She's likely furious with him, he realizes that. It doesn't stop him from lifting his gaze back to her face with a sweet, slightly crooked smile. He can take these hits for one reason only: because he knows Lune has the skill to put him back together again. It's hardly what she wants to be doing — he knows that, too — but he's never doubted her ability to rise to the occasion. ]
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And then it's done, and he exhales a little easier as he runs a cautious hand over his own side. He's sore and there's still blood drying on his skin and he'd like to sleep for about a week, but the underlying wrongness of before is gone. He shifts and doesn't feel bone grinding against fractured bone anymore; that deep insult to the softest and most vulnerable parts of him has lifted. ]
Yeah.
[ She's likely furious with him, he realizes that. It doesn't stop him from lifting his gaze back to her face with a sweet, slightly crooked smile. He can take these hits for one reason only: because he knows Lune has the skill to put him back together again. It's hardly what she wants to be doing — he knows that, too — but he's never doubted her ability to rise to the occasion. ]
You're getting really good at that.