bakerstreet | minor injury meme.

You or your meme partner has been hurt, but don't worry! This time around it's not that bad. You can still limp your way out of this mess.

INJURIES.
1. Sprain/strain. How did you screw up walking?
2. Broken bones. Simple fractures still hurt.
3. Cuts. Hopefully one of you has a sewing kit.
4. Burns. Location, location, location. Let's pray this one isn't on your ass.
5. Concussion. No, they're most likely not holding up fifteen fingers.
6. Other. I'm not a doctor.

HOW'D IT HAPPEN.
1. Stupidity. You did this to yourself.
2. Accident. Is an unintentional attack still an attack?
3. Attack. Don't lie, you deserved it.
4. Other. It's probably still your own fault.

WHERE'D IT HAPPEN.
1. Home. Did you remember to invest in a first aid kit?
2. School/Work. This should be excellent for getting you out of doing stuff!
3. Outdoors. Predators like the smell of blood. Clean up asap.
4. In the water. Hopefully there aren't any sharks!
5. Other. Like a hospital. That'd be handy.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Zevran has mixed feelings on chaos - mostly dependent on whether or not he's the one who's caused it. Chaos is excellent cover, but it is so very chaotic. The Chantry would surely say this chaos is the domain of mages, though Zevran's seen enough of Tevinters to disagree. Aside from that, the templars, counter-intuitive to how they title themselves an order, are certainly giving chaos their own sort of flavor. Armored, pointy, spiky flavor.

He can understand the so-called rogue mages being dodgy, and he'd concede the burn on his cheeck and neck and singed hair he experienced were only a warning shot and could be much worse. He only approached the mage camp for information on the Dalish clan that supposedly made this area their home. The mages saw an absence of a staff and assumed somehow a small leather-clad Antivan elf was with the templars. No time to debate Zevran's personal opinions on the civil war, he made sure to leave a respectable distance between them since then.

But when he also politely revealed himself to a young templar recruit taking a cutting of some royal elfroot he'd hoped for, she smashed him in the face with her shield.

So. One burn, one broken nose.

What has his face done to these people to so offend them? This war has clearly spiraled into madness!

Zevran moves through the glens and thickets silently, as he does, looking about a bit of herbs, a good spot to make camp and defend it, or any sign (which he doubts he'll find) of the clan he's meant to meet.

That's when he notices a fine, familiar profile camped some small distance from the other mages.

The bushes near Anders rustle, and surprisingly speak with an Antivan accent:]

Were a handsome elf assassin call in a favor on the behalf of the Hero of Ferelden, would a gorgeous, talented mage listen? [Zevran does not call Anders a rebel. For many reasons.]

Edited 2014-12-01 22:57 (UTC)

[Anders jumps when the bushes apparently speak to him; many of the mages avoided him now, knowing what he'd done to cause the chaos which was starting to stretch across Thedas, and he could hardly blame them for that. But it did mean that conversation was not something he engaged in that regularly now. However the fact that the bushes spoke with an Antivan accent meant it was probably not a mage who wished to speak with him secretly, and after a moment he placed where he'd heard that voice before.

He couldn't help the faint smile at the memory of the voice's owner, an echo of one he had given far more easily years ago.]

It depends on the favour, although the handsome elven assassin doesn't have to hide when he asks. Even if this particular mage can't help him, he won't harm the assassin either.

You may change your mind when you find the handsome elf somewhat less handsome than usual.

[Even so, Zevran feels relatively safe to emerge, and does. He's cleaned up the blood on his face as much as he can, since the scent of it makes him easily traced, but it's still pretty clear his nose is broken, his face burned. Really, he's lucky to be in as good shape as it is - call it a Crow's resilience.

He does not ask for help from Anders for this, though he knows the mage is a healer. These are but small wounds he can tend on his own.]

If I say you look well, you are absolutely obligated to lie to me and flatter me as much as you can with a straight face.

Maker, you do look a sight.

[Not that injuries are unexpected considering Zevran's line of work and the certain 0people they've both spent time travelling with in the past, but still. It's a little surprising to see the elf not at his best.]

Well you're still as charming as ever, Zevran. And it is good to see you, although I wish that the circumstances were a little... different. [His smile slips a little then but Anders doesn't dwell on it now. There's little point.]

Would you like me to see to those for you?

Do I not always look a sight? [Zevran chuckles - or tries to and sort of coughs, because his nose is broken and air isn't flowing correctly and it's beginning to fill with blood again. He searches around for a dry bit of log or the like to sit down on before saying.]

I would hate to look a poor guest by refusing the hospitality offered. Though I warn you I take my debts seriously, should you help, I will owe you a favor - and be forced to remain until it's repaid.

[He wants to see how Anders is doing. Not his original mission, but information that couldn't hurt.

And he always did like the mage.]

That's true. It's just that usually you do so for different reasons.

[When Zevran's seated, Anders moves to kneel in front of him, looking up at the damage to his face with a faint frown of concentration.]

You know you don't have to do that unless you want to, Zevran. I won't say no to the company, but I've always offered my healing freely to those who really need it.

[He smiles faintly and reaches up with gentle fingers to investigate the injuries, see how badly it all really is.]

This shouldn't take to long, although it's going to hurt as I set it for you.

You'll do a better job of setting it than I would, I am certain. [Zevran shrugs lightly, completely unconcerned. He has been tortured, racked, and set his own bones. These injuries, in comparison, are largely cosmetic. Not that they don't sting - if untreated the burn would turn to a scar, the nose would forever be set crooked, but nothing life-threatening. It's not something he couldn't have settled himself, but he thinks perhaps it's providence he's run across Anders.

They are both the sort to need company, whether or not they admit it.]

You know I would not offer what I have no intent of doing. [He could have passed Anders by.]

Then I'll accept your offer if you'll take mine.

[And while he mightn't admit it, the company is a welcome relief. He cannot fault any of the other mages for avoiding him, is grateful that they haven't turned on him entirely yet, though he imagines it will happen eventually. But while he understands the reasons it's harder to deal with the loneliness it causes.

So he's smiling to himself as he reaches up, hands gentle as they soothe healing magic over the burn, cooling touch to ease the pain as the skin heals itself like new once more. Then he's eying Zevran's nose.]

This will hurt a little as I set it, but it'll be over quickly.

[He's entirely certain Zevran knows and is ready for that, but a little warning is only the polite thing to do and gives the assassin a moment to brace himself before Anders is reaching up to realign the bone and press more healing magic into it.]

minor injury meme.

2 - 2 + 3 - 3, between DA2 and DA:I, Free Marches somewhere

not his face ;a;

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