minor injury meme.

[estivates]

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.

Comments

[magerights]

[The instinctive, automatic reaction makes Anders pause, and while he's annoyed at Fenris' behaviour, for once he can see why the elf might be a little touchy about mages at the moment.

So he bites down on his tongue for now and slowly holds up his hands, letting his staff fall to the ground and hopefully showing Fenris that he's not doing anything.]

It's all right, Fenris. It's over now. It's just me.

[broods]

I know who you are. [His voice is smaller, less sharp than he wants. He is telling the truth, though there are flashes of Hadriana - 'Poor little wolf, shall I make it feel better?' - who was always there to heal him after Danarius had used blood magic to cause him unbearable pain.

He wets his lips, licking dried flakes of blood from them. A normal and typically ignored side effect of fighting, but the scent and taste now fills his nose and mouth and makes him want to retch. He hunches over, coughs dryly a few times.

He doesn't remember everything, or how long he was controlled for. He cannot ask Anders for that information - he cannot trust him not to exploit that. So instead he must accept the blank space in his memory, and that is what he hates more than anything else.]

Let's go.

[He is limping, pale and his markings refuse to calm. He drags his sword behind him in the sand for a few paces, then drops to his knees and vomits on the sand.]

[magerights]

I don't know if-- [Anders begins, then sighs, rolling his eyes as Fenris stubbornly starts off in what he's fairly certain isn't even the right direction either. He looks like death warmed over though, so Anders imagines that has a good deal to do with that error as well. He follows behind Fenris as close as he dares, not expecting the elf to manage very far looking like that, and it turns out to be an accurate prediction as a moment later Fenris drops to his knees.]

Fenris?

[Anders ventures a few steps closer, concerned despite his open dislike of the elf usually. He doesn't actually enjoy seeing people in distress, and Fenris is very clearly experiencing that for all he's stubbornly trying to prove otherwise. It's frustrating that he won't let Anders close enough to help as well.]

You're hurt and the fight took a lot out of you, you need to rest a moment. Let me at least look at your wounds.

[broods]

No. [His response doesn't hold the same anger before, but that is mostly because he doesn't have the energy to even raise his voice.

He sits back on his legs, wincing as the burn on his thigh stretches with the movement. He can taste bile and vomit in his mouth. He's glad - it means he can't taste the blood. His traitorous blood, able to be manipulated by magic. It is not the first time his body has betrayed him.

He is too weak and dizzy to stand. He tries once, and has to stop before he falls. He has no palatable option. Either he lets the mage watch him struggle pathetically, or he lets him attend to his wounds. The first option also comes with the risk of Hawke and the others seeing him like this, inquiring what had happened. That thought makes the choice for him.]

No magic.

[magerights]

[Anders was about half a second from deciding that Fenris could shove his stubbornness and casting a healing spell on him anyway, regardless of the consequences that might mean he has to patch himself up later as well. But then the elf finally gives in, except with the worst condition Anders can think of right now.]

No magic? You can barely walk and Maker knows those burns are nasty and you're going to insist that I somehow manage this without my magic? Of all the stubborn, senseless, idiotic--

[He trailed off, heaving a frustrated sigh, though Fenris might notice that despite the protests, Anders had been digging out several vials of potions and other supplies all the while.]

I have some poultices and potions, if you're willing to live with a mage touching you, Maker forbid.

[broods]

I do not trust myself not to murder the next person I see who uses magic, so if you could refrain - [He breaks off with a growl, looking very pale and leaning to one side. Fenris just gives Anders a wretched, frustrated sort of look that is as close as he's probably ever come to saying please to the mage.

In his current state, exhausted and injured but also completely on-edge, he truly doesn't trust his muscle memory. Attacking Anders is one possibility, but worse is the chance that he might crumble. He's been healed with magic many times since coming to Kirkwall. It still rouses some unpleasantness, but he tolerates it for the sake of practicality (and for the sake of Hawke, who groaned loudly and smacked a palm over her face the first few times he refused).

But the blood magic brought a surge of memories with it, and every bone in his body screams that pain far worse than a few burns is coming next.]

[magerights]

[Well, that was a clear indication the Fenris wasn't simply being stubborn out of his own prejudices then. Not that Anders still didn't think they were linked, but the fact that Fenris didn't snap back or rise to match his irritation made it very clear how serious this was.

So Anders didn't answer immediately, simply ventured closer and handed a slim vial to the other man.]

Drink that, it'll help give you enough strength to move. I think it best if we get away from here before I see to anything else.

[He wrinkled his nose, glancing back at the dead blood mage.]

Garbage will attract scavengers, after all.

[broods]

[Fenris swallows the liquid with no complaint. He does not like being in pain, contrary to what Isabela suggested when he refused healing in the past.

While he waits for the draught to take effect, he tries to recall what had happened. He remembers arguing with Anders, then a mage surprising them and then... He presses his lips together in frustration. Nothing. He remembers nothing.

As soon as he feels some strength come back into his legs he stands, and while he is still leaning and looks like a gust of wind could blow him over, he manages not to fall.]

You do not have to stay with me, mage. It may be a... slow walk back to Kirkwall. [He manages to touch his voice with humour, despite the pain and confusion, though it's strained.]

[magerights]

Right, I'll leave, and then when bandits or some slavers wondering what happened to their communications show up and finish you off, I'll explain to Hawke why I let you drag your half-fried self to Kirkwall alone.

[Anders shakes his head at that idea. As much as he doesn't get along with Fenris, leaving him to likely die isn't something he wants either.]

Besides, it would be better if we just got to a safer place and rested more. I could give you more potion and you could recover your strength.

[And maybe his wits about why healing wouldn't be such a bad thing, if they were lucky.]

[broods]

[Any other day, Fenris would have snapped back with 'isn't that the best case scenario for you?'. But the mage has offered to stay with him, and Fenris learnt long ago to push aside his pride (and anything else) in exchange for survival. Letting Anders accompany him is not comparable to eating food trampled into the mud under the wheels of a cart or stealing coin from those no better off than him, even if that life is far behind him (not far enough).]

Fine. [The effort of placing one foot in front of the other consumes most of his energy.

They walk in silence. They make it a decent distance before Fenris starts to lag, the effects of the potion wearing off. He leans against the trunk of a tree, starting to shiver.] We can stop here.

[magerights]

[There's a couple of times Anders wants to put his foot down and just cast the damn healing magic on the stubborn fool of an elf, but the idea that it might end with his heart being forcibly removed from his chest stops him. When Fenris finally does admit defeat - in a way - and stop to rest, he can't help but give a sigh of relief.]

Finally, I thought you were going to see how long it took you to pass out so I could heal you with you being unconscious. If you wanted to take that route, I have herbs that would do the job better.

[Not that he imagines Fenris would ever agree to willingly being unconscious in the presence of a mage.]

Are you still not going to let me help you with magic?

[broods]

[Fenris slides his back down the tree until he is sitting. He tilts his head up, staring at the sky.]

You have a terrible bedside manner. No wonder the only place they'll take you is Darktown.

Just give me another potion. It served well enough. [The flaw in that plan -- clear to both of them -- is that they are still far from Kirkwall, the sun is setting, and Fenris is not able to walk much faster than an old man.]

[magerights]

I usually match it to my patients. Besides, I run a free clinic, so it isn't as though anyone's giving me coin to be nice to them.

[The darker edge of humour helps with what Anders knows he has to tell the elf now. He sighs, closing his eyes briefly before regarding Fenris again.]

I can't. I had few enough to begin with and you had the last. All I have left are lyrium potions.

[It's exceedingly clear how well it will go for Fenris even with a potion; without it Anders imagines they won't get much further before they're set upon by wild animals or bandits.]

I could use it to fight off whatever comes after us, I suppose. But there's a better use as well.

Blood magic is so vaguely described in the game so I apologise for headcanon-ing it

[broods]

[Fenris stares back at him searchingly, waiting for a sign that Anders is jesting just to anger him.

When it does not come, Fenris looks away and silently curses his body. His only visible wounds are the burns, and what he assumes is a few bruised ribs. He has fought with worse, and if that were all he were suffering from he could make it back to Kirkwall with ease.

The blood magic left less visible damage, though Fenris is not certain of what or how. He still aches all over and he feels fatigued beyond what even extreme physical exertion could cause. He assumes he was only under the control of the mage for a short while, based on the fact he has seen very few people survive after having their body controlled through blood magic. His internal organs are likely suffering, as his own blood was corrupted and overheated.

There are two options. One, Fenris continues to limp back to Kirkwall through the night. If anyone does look for the dead mage, he will be painfully easy to track. Two, he allows Anders to heal him.

If he values his survival the choice is clear - but not easy.

He exhales with a sharp gust of irritation.]

Have you treated the damage of a blood mage before? [He sounds sceptical, angry. It masks most of his fear and apprehension.]

it's cool!

[magerights]

[Anders resisted - barely - the urge to roll his eyes at what seemed like ridiculous reluctance on Fenris' part to him. That wasn't going to help right now, and he could see Fenris just using it as another excuse to reject help again.]

We've fought blood mages before, Fenris. [He pointed out.] And we've hardly been unscathed afterwards. I think I can heal it just as well now as I have before if you just let me.

[He slowly lowers himself to a crouch as well, better to meet the other man's eyes, and offers him a wry smile.]

And I've healed all manner of other injuries as well, both in Kirkwall and with the Wardens. Darkspawn injuries aren't something to be taken lightly either.