bakerstreet | minor injury meme.

[ Probably a fight-related injury, definitely pretending nothing hurts. ]

[[ ot all prompts, closed to prior CR today sry ]]

[It wasn't often that Thranduil ventured out into the forest alone - at least not as himself. He sometimes formed his thought into the image of a white stag to survey the land, and had done so earlier. What he saw in his wood was something both familiar and not, though rather disturbing.

Legolas had left some years ago, just after the battle was over. The king could have understood a change in appearance - clothing or hairstyle, perhaps - but nothing nearly this drastic. This was something he truly had to see for himself.

He hurries to gather some supplies, knowing that the person had some minor wounds, and makes his way into the dark forest. When the king finally reaches the man with his son's face, he says nothing but gives Buckingham a cold judging look.]

[ He thought it a grand improvement upon the accursed half-island at first, but it requires little thought to conclude that a home hardly compares to his home, and this of all places was... perhaps not the most convenient path for his journey, after all.

The company certainly leaves a great deal to be desired, hideous creatures, but he left them with blades in their stomachs, and that will suffice. It must, even if it does not repair the tears in his clothing where they bit and stabbed, nor does it remove the nausea their attack brought, the heaviness which lends difficulty to his steps.

Irritably Buckingham pulls the last of their white threads from his sleeve, when he suddenly finds himself in company yet again. Quite different this time, and yet... no less ornery, it would seem. The duke draws himself up to his full height, though the wound in his side does not thank him for it.

He arches a brow and smiles, loftily. ]

You seem lost.

[Immediately Thranduil knows this isn't Legolas by any means, but why they should share a face was beyond him for the time being. The king had been about to ask for the stranger's name and purpose here, but the haughty expression and foolish suggestion stir up a fire within him that he has to work hard to repress.]

Who are you that dares to insult me in my own wood?

You lost your way in your own woods? [ Buckingham chuckles. The motion aggravates nausea and wound alike, but for a splendid cause such as this he pays the price happily. ] That must be quite embarrassing for you.

I am not lost. Not a leaf moves in this forest moves without my knowing it.

[The Elvenking gives Buckingham a disgusted look then tosses the bag with supplies at him.]

Tend to your wounds.

Edited 2015-03-23 19:47 (UTC)

[ To such swift gesture Buckingham can react in no other way but to catch the bag, but once in his possession it takes little more than the moment of a condescending smile, before the duke hauls his host's gift back at him, in much the same fashion that it was delivered to him. ]

Wounds? My good man, you're mistaken. Your eyes may follow the leaves quite keenly, but they must've missed the branch, which... gave me a scratch, nothing more.

[ Fresh blood? What fresh blood? How very silly of you. Nobody here is swaying, or slowly soaking his white chemise red. Really now. Buckingham laughs. ]

But you're... too kind to be concerned.

[ any particular feelings on which one would be more entertaining while injured? ]

[Dorian's impeccable theatrics over something so tiny/silly/etc. would be perfect!]

[ In theory, the idea of going somewhere for something like a vacation is absolutely lovely. He takes back every bad thing he's ever said about the Inquisitor - going to lounge on a beach for a while, taking a break from Inquisition duties after saving the world is rather lovely.

Not lovely, however, is that apparently time in the Southern part of Thedas means that his skin is positively dreadful when it comes to being exposed to the sun for long periods of time.

His arms and legs were almost always covered, save for a bare shoulder here and there when it was warm enough. Now, surrounded by sand and water and the sun beating down on them, Dorian had fallen asleep and paid the price. The bridge of his nose is bright red, his back and shoulders suffering much the same fate. Nothing that would kill him, of course, but it's enough that when the sun goes down, he sits heavily next to the Inquisitor, and bumps one hot to the touch shoulder against hers before realizing that it hurts. ]

I was going to thank you for taking us somewhere nice, for once, rather than the abysmal rain and sleet and snow, but I think I'm retracting that sentiment.

[The Inquisitor had done her best to abandon her busybody tendencies long ago (even if she still slipped up. A lot.), so when she saw Dorian sprawled out in the sun, she didn't bother nudging him out of the way with a concerned foot. Besides, he was from Tevinter, right along the cusp of the equator, what was the worst that could happen? No, it surely wouldn't have been worth it to disrupt his well-deserved rest in that warmth that he must have missed.

So she'd spent her time playing-- some would even say frolicking-- in the cool water, allowing the stresses of the daunting past months ebb away. She soaked in the laughter of her friends and companions (possibly with her, possibly at her, although both were more than welcome) until the sun began its slow descent below the horizon. On a good night back home in the Free Marches, that meant a bonfire, a gathering of the clan, and the swapping of stories: some comedic, some tragic, but all of them deserving of rapt attention to the point that the last person excused themselves for the night, either for bed or to take over the watch.

There weren't any stories tonight, just food and a tired but happy murmuring, and that was just fine by her. These days, silence eluded her, so turning her gaze to the setting sun and marveling at the briliiant display of color provided just as much entertainment. Between the sights, the sounds, and even the vague smells of woodsmoke and seaweed, Inquisitor Lavellan couldn't help just the tiniest smidgeon of pride: this was the world that they saved together, these were the moments preserved for generations to come--

--and that was most definitely Dorian's burning hot shoulder against hers]

Good morning to you, too.

[She tilted her head to peek up at him, catching the red hot streak across his nose and cheeks]

I'd thought you were enjoying yourself. What's the matter?

[You know, outside of looking like he'd been set on fire]

The sun has apparently taken issue with me being here.

[ Tragic, Lavellan, this is tragic. For all that he was tan in Tevinter, he's downright horrendously pasty now, and it's showing in the bright red of his skin after being in the sun too long.

Bull doesn't seem to mind the sun, hefting Sera up and tossing her into the water with a shriek from her as soon as she lands. They've been doing this all day; it's impressive, truthfully, that they have that much energy when Dorian just wants to lounge this evening. The water gets too cold early in the morning or late at night. ]

As if you can't see.

[ Dorian rolls his eyes and furrows his brow at her. ]

I'm not entirely certain how you escaped being set on fire.

You seem to forget I've spent the majority of my life living outdoors. I'm practically immune to sunburns.

[That most certainily is a smirk spreading its way across the Inquisitor's face. Not that she enjoys seeing Dorian in pain-- far from it, but seeing him so completely red deserved just a bit of teasing. Just a bit. She hasn't completely avoided the sun's rays herself, either, with her freckles darkening across her face and shoulders. It still paled (HAH) in comparison to Dorian's struggles, however.]

I didn't think to bring any elfroot with me this time, but I'll be more than happy to help. You can be my good deed for the day.

Ugh.

[ It would take a spectacular amount of time and effort to get his voice to sound as disdainful as Cassandra's but Maker, he tries his best and comes very close.

Of course she freckles, though. It looks cute, sweeping across the bridge of her nose, on her shoulders. It's still an odd thing to think of the savior of Thedas as cute, but it's true enough, except when he's being positively evil and taunting him for his ill-timed sunburn, in which case any presumed cuteness is straight out the window. ][ He's certainly not saying no, though. ]

[That cuteness has gotten her out of many-a-situation, thank you very much. So has being positively evil. But, thankfully for Dorian, she's not evil enough to leave him hanging, especially not after offering him help.

So she raises her hands and lets a thin coating of ice slowly spread and cover her fingertips. She doesn't place them against Dorian's face, but instead lets them hover just a couple of inches away from his skin surface. Anything else would most likely do more damage.]

How's that? Better, you big baby?

Excuse you.

[ It's hard to look properly affronted when he's sunburnt and practically pouting, especially when her hands are cupping his face nearly, the cool press of magic enough to get him exhaling shakily and slowly relaxing, some of the ache eased. ]

I am anything but, thank you.

[ He's tilting forward into it, though, for all his bitching and moaning. Fire magic, and a few others are things he's good at, but ice and healing are far better left to the others. ]

What was that? 'Please freeze my mustache, Inquisitor'?

[It's a threat as empty as they come. Even if the two were arch-nemeses, bitter rivals, or some variation thereof, Dorian's mustache was clearly a mark of pride, and any betrayal in that regard would be considered evil at best, unforgivable at worst. Instead, she circles her fingertips along his cheeks again before moving to the bridge of his nose and along the tops of his eyebrows.]

I will throw you into the water.

[ Dorian tips his head forward a touch more and exhales, not quite a pout but markedly close, wrinkling his nose faintly as he lets her work on him.

Eventually, he pulls back and grimaces, touching fingers to his cheekbones. ]

There's a plant somewhere around here, that's supposed to help with this sort of nonsense, but this is far preferable.

I'm truly flattered, Dorian.

[She's not teasing for once, either! The smile on her face shows her usual sincerity even as she concentrates on moving to cool his still burning shoulders.]

You may have to show me that plant later so I can inform the apothecaries. I have a feeling this isn't the last time we'll have to deal with the sun setting you alight.

[Theeeeres that tiniest little poke to his pride]

(( hey there!! would you like a shep? and/or any specific role? ))

[Always down for a Shep! I haven't had the chance to play Garrus as the hurt one, so if it's okay with you, could we go down that route? Also would you prefer to play them as buddies or romanced? Either is fine with me!]

(( exceeeellent! really wanted to play the unhurt myself so i'm glad! aaaand let's do buddies! i'm cool with there being potential there if it goes that way but unromanced for now should be fun. is that good? ALSO if i start, any idea for injury? or i can just leave it to you if you want! ))

[Buddies it is! If you don't mind writing a starter (I should actually be alseep now herpity derp), the injury would probably be something stupid like him spraining his ankle trying to show off at Vega. Because half the Normandy Crew is secretly twelve years old.]

(( this is an accurate statement of which i cannot argue. i should also be asleep too but you know, life choices. OH WELL, here's a starter. ))

[ okay so, when she walked into the med bay and saw garrus strung up like a turkey, she laughed. a hand went to her face first to try and stifle it, keep his embarrassment to a minimum but then there was the leg, hanging and his face and... shepard, despite the mighty control she possess in the face of danger, could not hold in her laughter over an injured crew member. she laughed, doubled over and giving a slap to her knee at the sight in front of her. she was sure, absolutely positive that chakwas only had his leg strung up to shame him. the bet had spread across the normandy quickly, though no one was sure what it was actually for -- just that vakarian and vega had a contest in the brig and it ended... poorly. shepard knew it was just a sprain and while turians and humans work differently, she can't imagine it needed this much attention. no, this must have been chakwas. ]

Okay, okay. I'm good, I swear.

[ this is... after the whole laughing for nearly five minutes though so, it probably doesn't say much. it's well deserved in shepard's opinion though because the things that her crew gets up to when she's not looking... sheesh, even liara has some weird stuff and at this point, shepard has the right to laugh at them for it. all of them. she approaches his bed after, leaning against the frame and inspecting the wrap around his ankle. a thought -- birds have hollow bones, don't they? -- occurs to her but she doesn't voice it, instead looking up towards garrus' face. ]

So, did Vega win his bet or are you waiting for a rematch? I could tap in, if you want. Help save your dignity a little.

(PSHAW life choices who needs to make the right ones anyway? (she says as she wishes she went to bed at a decent hour). Oh well!)

[He expected it.

Honest to the spirits who never seemed to quite have his back, his actions, or any single positive factor of his life thus far, Garrus Vakarian fully expected that very reaction from Shepard. The moment Chakwas made an elaborate show of raising his leg to 'speed up the healing', as she so transparently lied, he knew he was in for it.

Even so, his mandibles pulse in the turian equivalent of a scowl as Shepard's laughter trails off. It's all for show, really, because who wouldn't find this entire getup amusing, if not downright hilarious? That didn't mean he couldn't at least try to save a little face. Just a little.]

You're the last thing my dignity needs, Shepard. With all due respect, of course.

[Which, as Ash had put so eloquently years ago, is as close to 'kiss my ass' as he can get without saying it.]

We're waiting for a rematch. Preferably somewhere away from the service vents.

[ the scowl is really the cherry on top, she thinks. over the years she can read every single huffy and childish expression on every single species she's served with and this is just one more to add to the pile. the amusement hasn't left her, even as he bites back and she knows what he's thinking -- knows that he used that phrase, on purpose. it's really become a running joke on the normandy, always inciting giggles from the long timers when a new crew member used the phrase seriously.

so, she smiles. ]

Oh, of course. I just wanted to help but I understand.

[ totally innocent sentence but it's laced with double meaning and she knows he can tell. she's really fighting to keep back a grin because really, it's just too funny. ]

That sounds like a good idea. You know, Vega's actually worried too. Offered to make some soup and bring you some pillows. A real Florence Nightingale, that one. [ shepard, you should stop using human pop culture references in front of other species. probably. ] He's looking up some dextro recipes on the extranet now.

Tell Vega if he touches any of my food, I'm gonna personally make sure he's the next guy strung up like a damn louza.

[It's an empty threat if there ever was one. Not only because Garrus couldn't even swat at a fly without accidentally knocking himself out of bed (even now he could feel his leg swinging back and forth with every subtle movement), but also because there wasn't any animosity between the two. At least nothing serious. They'll always be two little kids scuffling around in the sandbox.

And speaking of obscure species-related references:]

...A louza's a bird. Just in case your translator didn't catch that.

Huh, learn something new every day. [ a louza... what a weird name for a bird! except then she remembers she just compared him to a turkey, and that's probably weird too. ] I'll definitely get right on that, Vega won't touch your food before you're out of here.

[ shepard makes no motions to leave though, still content with sticking around and bothering the heck out of garrus. she makes this known by pushing his uninjured leg off the edge a bit and sitting down at the end of the bed, digging into her pocket first for a pack of cards. she holds them up for garrus to see and pulls them out to shuffle. ]

I thought while you're here, I'd teach you the noble art of Go Fish. A grand human tradition passed down through years and years of bored soldiers with little to do. I mean, if you're up for it, of course. Wouldn't want to to make your injury any worse.

[ she really is getting a kick out of this, can you tell? ]

[That's the turians for you-- weird names for their freaky metal animals. And speaking of weird, Garrus is going to eye those cards, eye Shepard, then eye the cards again.]

Considering your luck with fish in the past, Commander, I'm not sure I want to learn anything from you.

[OOOH BUUURRN no not really, but it's hard to come up with a witty retort when you're two rolls of wrapping paper away from being a neatly tied up birthday present]

But I'm up for anything once. Anything's better than... what was that one called? FIfty-two Pick Up?

[That one was also courtesy of Vega]

I-- [ she starts but then stops, letting out a very indignant huff and why does garrus turn her into a five year old. immediately she just wants to beat him at this to wipe the smugness off his face.

... is that smugness? that's probably smugness. don't be smug, you intergalactic turkey. ]

Fifty two pickup is much easier when you have five nimble fingers to pick them up. [ she even lifts a hand and wiggles them to demonstrate. ] Also, he was just messing with you.

[ there that's much better. though she's going to have to ask vega later if he caught garrus trying to pick up the cards on video. maybe edi if he doesn't. subtly though because she's still a suuuuper professional commander with suuuper professional interest in watching her crew members humiliate themselves doing dumb things. ]

This one is simple though and doesn't involve throwing any cards. We each get seven cards and try to guess who has what. For instance, I'll ask you if you have any threes and if you do, you give me all your threes. If you don't, you tell me "go fish" and I pick another card out of the ones we're not using. But if I collect all the threes in the game, I put them in front of me and we keep going. We keep going till all the cards are gone and whoever collects the most sets wins.

[ she stops shuffling and grins at him, ready to deal. ]

Sound good?

[He'll put aside the whole 'messing with you' thing for later, when he inevitably gets into another scrap with Vega. It's just another thing to add to his wholly justifiable ass-whooping evidence pile]

[Instead, Garrus will focus on Shepard's explanation and let it run through his head a few times. He nods in understanding, and just manages to avoid giving another shrug.]

Sounds good enough, I guess.

[He's just busting her chops at this point, don't pay it any mind]

I'm gonna trust you to deal, O Nimble Fingered One.

[ shepard's rule is generally no bruises and plausible deniability on her part. it's tough being queen.

also, jerk. but she's going to give a roll of her eyes and start dealing out cards to the both of them. ]

I'd watch myself if I were you. Insulting my nimble fingers when they've saved your ass plenty of times before. I might even start feeling insulted and who knows what'll happen then?

[ but now they both have cards and very pleasantly, she lifts her deck. ]

You first.

Uh-huh, and you've never had your own ass saved by my impeccable shot?

[He peruses the cards Shepard's handed to him: an ace, two threes, one four, a king, a queen, and a two.

He thinks about it for a second, as if there really is any strategic angle one could take in a game that relied on chance and the honesty of the other player. And between the two of them, the latter was completely unlikely]

Got any threes?

[ she is just going to raise a shoulder totally!! and completely!! innocently. she has no comment on your impeccableness, vakarian. nope. not one.

instead she looks down at her cards. two twos. a four, a six, two sevens, and a joker. she gives a shake of her head, no point in cheating just yet. ]

Nope, go fish.

[ and she will wait until he picks his new card. heh. ]

[His eyes narrow and don't leave Shepard's face as he slowly moves a hand to pull a card out of the pile.

And fumbles around a bit.

Because he's still staring her dow--oh cool there we go he found it. Smooth. He adds the card to the fold (a seven), and nods for Shepard to take her turn.]

So is this game supposed to teach some kind of value to Alliance soldiers?

[ she's trying not to laugh as she keeps his gaze because out of the corner of her eye she sees him trying to grasp at the card. her teeth go into her bottom lip just a bit to keep from smiling but a puff of laughter slips out of her despite it. don't laugh, don't laugh, don't laugh.

but then he recovers and they're good! haha, nimble fingers. time to continue the game. she weighs the pros and cons of telling him that they play it just for boredom but... no, that wouldn't be as funny. so, ultra serious, she nods in response to his question. ]

Go Fish is a game in which Alliance soldiers are taught how to respect and trust their team. If your squadmate says he has no threes, you have to respect that. You have to take their word and continue the game until it's played through. So, Vakarian, do you have any... uh, twos?

[That's a big heaping pile of bullshit that he can smell ten million space miles away, Shepard, and the deadpan (more than usual) look on his face says it all.

But it's still enough to trouble him over any potential lies he could've told. He stares at the two for a good few minutes before he hands it over]

Here, take it. Think of it as a gesture of respect, Commander.

[Someone's a sore loser. And he hasn't even lost yet.]

[ look, it was very funny to her at least. she's still trying to stifle a laugh and it's becoming more difficult with each passing moment. she's not good at this deadpan stuff! not like garrus, at least.

but it's worth it, she thinks and she casually takes the twos right out of his hand before adding them to hers. oh, how noble of him. ]

See, this is why I like you on my team. You know your place.

[ shep, stop pushing it. ]

Apparently my place is making sure you don't get your ass handed to you.

[He peeks at his cards again before acknowledging Shepard once more]

In the best possible way, of course. [lies] Now do you have any fours, ma'am?

[It's hard to stay dignified when you're strung up like someone's dinner and so full of sour grapes]

[ she's just going to wave a hand dismissively. yes, yes, that too. ]

Yet here you are, getting your ass handed to you by a dumb bet. Now who's going to watch my six while you're stuck here? There's no other scarred up bad boy turians around to fill that role.

[ she does grin very cheekily at the ma'am though and looks down her at cards, feeling pleased whenever she can trade barbs like this with garrus. if she had to say, she'd probably consider him her best friend at this point and sitting here, playing go fish with him -- it reminds her why.

she's even going to nod when she spots her four, holding it out to him willingly. ]

[He'll graciously take the card from her with a single flexed mandible, the closest a turian can get to a human smirk.

Going tit for tat with his commanding officer, of all people, is a privilege that Garrus can and will never take for granted. The pecking order on turian vessels is far too rigid to allow for anything of the sort, loose personal restrictions between crewmates aside. To count Shepard amongst his friends, and, let's face it, his best friend is nothing short of a miracle he's not entirely sure he deserves.]

I'll still vouch for Vega to watch you on the field, even if he's a complete and utter ass.

[Because Garrus totally isn't one himself.

Totally.]

Yes, because that's completely different than the norm.

[ she's going to roll her eyes because she sees that smirk, vakarian and it is not appreciated it. don't you sass her when you're the one in the hospital bed with your foot in the air! really now.

but she's going to look down at her cards and furrow her brows, trying to think of how to actually win this. hm. so he took her four but she took his two -- which leaves her with three twos. she needs another one to have a full set and it's probably in the pile. hm. ]

Have any sevens?

It's not my fault you picked the biggest jerks in the galaxy to help you out.

[He says as he hands over the seven. Sort of. He holds it just out of Shepard's immediate reach, almost like he's trying to prove some kind of point. Probably the one about her crew being made up of giant, gaping assholes.]

[ oh, you giant wad of --

shepard makes a face at garrus and leans forward to grab the card from him. while she does that, she puts a hand right on his leg to hold herself up as she grabs it. it wasn't super necessary and she puts way more weight than she should on it but, you know.

whatever.

when she sits back, she raises an eyebrow at him as if daring him to say anything. ]

You were saying?

[He's not saying anything, Shepard. Mostly because he's too busy cringing, his shoulders hunched, and his toes curled, to even think of a response.

Evil. Just plain evil.

But he lets go of a breath and finally answers back between clenched teeth:]

Got any queens?

[ she's going to savor that cringe because it serves you right. not just for the card but for getting hurt doing something dumb. shepard wouldn't really say it aloud but she does hope his leg heals quick because she really isn't looking forward to doing any missions without him. it would just make her feel... off.

but for now, she focuses on the go fish. she gives a shake of her head, knowing he has to take another card from the pile. hm. okay. she has now:

- three twos
- one six
- three sevens
- one joker

so she needs a two and a seven and she'll be winning. nice. she grins to herself about it for a moment before realizing she should probably keep a poker face on and immediately schools her expression into something innocent. whoops. ]

No, yeah. No queens.

[ good thing they're not betting anything ]

[ Barry might have handy-dandy accelerated healing, but it still takes time to heal. The Glades really aren't the best place to hang around at night. As evidenced by the long slash down his side from trying to stop a hold-up. He could've dodged, if he'd wanted the guy to get sliced in half. Since he generally liked it when people stayed in one piece, he hadn't.

He also didn't want the attention of stopping a robbery, as much as he usually reveled in it. He wanted to get away and get back to his real mission in The Glades. And maybe find a few bandages first. ]

[ She's not supposed to still be in Starling. The League uniform has been put away at the corner of a closet in a small safehouse: all she carries with her are the requisite knives in her sleeves, one tucked into her boot, and a few smoke bombs and a small bottle of herbs that'll numb pain long enough for her to get somewhere safe to treat any wounds. She misses the daggers and short swords, true, but they're remnants of someone she no longer stands beside. ]

[ Out for a 'walk' in civilian clothes, she's drawn to a disturbance of someone who's most certainly not the Arrow, moving as a swift blur through the masked men, stopping only to - what is this fool doing, is he actually attempting to talk them out of it? She sincerely hopes he's learnt the value of a good fist to the face as they run off and leave him bleeding. She's heard of the Flash; the League has little in the way of photographs or information beyond the fact that he seems to move almost as fast as they do, but seeing him like this on the sidewalk - he appears curiously human. ]

Hold still. I must apply pressure to your wound.

[ He immediately presses a hand to his wound. Barry can feel the blood even through his clothes. In the dim light cast by streetlamps, he can see blood on his suit and slowly dripping onto the pavement. That's a lot of blood. That's a lot of his blood.

Barry looks up as the woman approaches. She doesn't seem hostile, and he can't see any weapons on her. He winces inwardly-- what a great way to meet the fabled Flash, bleeding on the street from a knife wound like a complete newbie.

Even though nobody here knows Barry (aside from Team Arrow), he's careful to disguise his voice. ]

Don't worry, I'm f-- [ He tries to stand, but immediately falls to one knee. He inhales sharply, wincing in pain, and holding back a cry of pain. ]

What you are is a poor liar.

[ She has quickly pulled a strip of cloth from her sleeve and is pressing it tightly down on the wound. The bleeding is slowing faster than normal. ]

Are you in any pain?

[ Barry chuckles briefly, but winces when a sharp pain shoots through his side. ]

A lot of people tell me that. And a little, but it'll pass.

[ It's not like she can stop the pain even if she wanted to. ]

[ She narrows her eyes at him, assessing the tense muscles and subtler expressions of pain. Father had often said outsiders had no mastery of the body, and where once she knew where to inflict pain it tells her the real truth about his injuries. He won't need the herbs. ]

[ With mild amusement, ] You are not very good at staying still, either. Yet the bleeding has already slowed.

[ He lets out half of a laugh before he winces again. He can already feel the bleeding slowing. In another minute, it will stop. In maybe half an hour, he'd be completely healed. ]

I'm a fast healer. It looks worse than it is. I think.

[ She lifts the cloth to check, and pulls out her small bottle of yarrow powder just in case. ]

[ Curiously, ] How fast?

[ It's a wonder that someone like him exists even if the assassin in her is weighing her options should she ever have to kill him. Traditional weapons are out of the question: fire he'd probably heal from. Ice will do the trick nicely. ]

[ Barry can hear Dr. Wells in the back of his mind 'you should be careful not to give away too much.' ]

Very fast.

[ In his defense, he's not 100% sure how fast he'll recover from something. ]

[ Quietly amused, ]

Very well.

[ She pulls another small bottle from her pocket, this one a solution. ]

Drink. It will ease the healing process.

[ Barry sits up a bit straighter, gingerly touching the wound. It still hurts like hell but he can move a little better now. ]

It won't, not for me. Don't waste it-- you might need it later.

[ Dubiously, ] You're certain?

[ Proud as she is and has been taught to be, there's ignoring a flesh wound and then there's ignoring a large bleeding gash in your side. The former is expected; the latter is unwise. ]

Yeah. [ He gives his wound a cursory once-over, though the poor light makes it hard to see how far along it is in the healing process. ]

I think the bleeding has stopped already.

[ Awkward pause. ]

So, um. Is there any way to keep this between us? The whole me being stabbed thing.

[ She eyes him curiously, as though she can't believe her ears. This man makes no sense. He's in absolutely no position to bargain even with the wound closing - she could have killed him at least ten times in as many minutes, and if she wanted to know his identity under the mask she has only to use barely two of the various interrogation techniques she's aware of. He talks to vagrants as though they are everything but opponents meant to be conquered. ]

[ In short, he sees the same world Sara does. A display of her (now-gone) power would serve no purpose. ]

You're strange, Al-Barq. I'll keep your secret. [ a beat, and she pockets her vials, and holds out a hand to help him up ] I am Nyssa.

[ Let him tell whoever he wishes. It's not as though she doesn't know how to disappear, and - it's only fair. ]

[ It's because he doesn't see assassins around every corner the way Oliver did. He sees the good in people. And all he sees is Nyssa helping him, showing genuine concern for him.

Barry takes her hand and a small smile spreads across his face. ]

Thanks. For keeping this a secret and for stopping to help.

What's 'Al-Barq?'

[ She smiles, enigmatically. ]

It's an Arabic word. [ teasingly, ] Google it.

[ He'll find that it means "the lightning". It's what he is: fast, deadly if striking you, beautiful from a distance. And always - part of the oncoming storm. ]

This is a dangerous place to be at this time of night. Do you have a place to go?

Until I do, I'm going to assume it was something nice.

[ He's trying to decide if he's amused or not. Come on, he's a speedster! He's fought metas before! ]

That's my line.

If I wanted the way to your heart I wouldn't use flattery.

[ She'd use a dagger. ]

I can manage. I'm not the one who was badly wounded ten minutes ago.

[ But it's really, really amusing that he's worried about her, and she smiles warmly at him. Dude, she's the monster under the bed. ]

[ He's not sure what that means, but she makes it sound ominous. ]

But I'm the one with superspeed.

If you give me a few minutes, I can run you home. A speedster taxi in exchange for helping me.

[ She's an al Ghul. Needlessly dramatic is kind of their superpower. ]

You needn't give me anything in exchange.

[ She has the information she needs: he's definitely not human, he heals fast, and he has a malleable kindness. Anything else is.. extraneous. Also people touching her = no. ]

[ He doesn't seem to realize he's given anything away. He also doesn't see her as a threat. Capable, sure. But someone who'd hurt him? That never crossed his mind. ]

I know but I want to. Or at least offer to. Like you said, the streets are dangerous.

[ A masked stranger offering someone a ride home isn't weird or anything, Barry Allen. ]

You could be dangerous.

[ Nyssa's no teacher, but her tone is firm, unaccusing. She can play a little longer. ]

You wear a mask. In my experience, those that do have something to hide.

[ Barry gives her an odd look. Hurting her never crossed his mind. He doesn't have any ulterior motives. Though, when she says it that way...

'Wow, way to be creepy. Good job, Allen.' ]

You kind of got me there.

[ Wryly, ] That was the point.

[ She gestures. ]

But I know your sort, you will insist. We may as well walk to a better lit area and ensure you don't get stabbed again.

[ Ugh, so embarrassing. ]

My sort?

[ She's already started walking, back straight and unafraid, and smirk faintly back at him. ]

Stubborn vigilantes. Come along.

[ He catches up easily, even without his speed. ]

I'm not your first?

[ Um. ] First vigilante, I mean.

[ You just left her an opening you will regret, Barry Allen. ]

Not by a long shot.

[ she's so funny ]

[:D]

[ ooc: 8D any prefs? ]

((none in partic. Maybe something like 1/2/3-3-2/3? And i'm open to either being the injured party. They're both likely to have all of the above and then some. ))

[ The target's known for his eccentricities: the usual modern securities were absent from the house. He keeps crows as watch; Nyssa has to respect that particular choice: the birds are smart and more dangerous than dogs, but even that will not save him in the end. She didn't have to come along, but Istanbul is a favourite destination, and besides, she is heir, she walks where she pleases. ]

It's a shallow cut, but it will need cleaning.

[ It's three AM and they are curled up on a small bed in the dusty apartment overlooking Gulhane Park. The floor is worn with her pacing; much as she and Ra's both disliked waiting, she was more impatient for news of Sara's safety. Bird against birds, a fitting mission, but sometimes Nyssa finds her father's particular dramatic flair... silly. ]

[Birds against birds indeed. Sara can't say that she'd been trained to face crows, but there's a first time for everything she supposes. In the end, as predecited the birds did not save him, and as usual, Sara took no pleasure in the loss of his life. Or the crows that preceded.

One of them had gotten her pretty good on the shoulder, tearing through the thick fabric with sharp talons. Two gashes, not too bad if Nyssa's analysis were anything to go by, and it usually was.]

Who knows where those talons have been.

[She offers a small smile with the bad joke.]

[ She smiles, and gently brushes Sara's shoulder with her finger and thumb. There's little such thing as medical leave in the League, but she's very tempted to use the excuse to stay here a while longer. ]

I could kiss it better.

[And at that she can't help the grin, turning her face away slightly.]

You know, I think that might actually help.

Or it couldn't, and I would have to [ brushing Sara's waist playfully ] step up my game.

[ Now she's smiling openly, and dabbing the cut with cotton wool soaked in a solution of turmeric. There's antibiotics for an emergency, but Nyssa prefers the old ways. ]

[She sucks in a breath as the solution touches her open skin, but it's quickly replaced by a flirtatious smile, right at home on her face.]

Well, I guess you'd have to try and find out, huh?

[ A killer's touch is hardly gentle, and Nyssa - while careful with her toys - has always had them replaced when they're no longer of use. But Ta-er al-Usfar is different; she is bright and warm, sweet as Koshary tea with the sting of mint. Every faint brush of her fingers on Sara's skin is measured. She is precious. ]

If you insist on such, beloved, I would be a fool to deny you.

Well you'd only be denying yourself.

[Her wound still needs to be bandaged up, but that can wait. It hardly seems important in the grand scheme of things, when Nyssa's right here, and they have some time alone. They so rarely get time alone.]

[ She presses a strip of gauze and tapes it down expertly, then curls up on Sara's other side. They have a few hours until dawn wakes the city, and it's warm here. Nothing like the cold of the mountain seeping in through the stone walls. ]

You finished earlier than expected. We aren't due home for another two days.

Huh, was it really that quick? It felt like it took forever.

[But then again fighting off a pack of genius birds could throw off her sense of time. She'd never been particularly good with it anyway.]

It'll be nice to have a little vacation.

[Moving her arm around Nyssa, she settles in closer. It's nice, comfortable. Safe. Sara hasn't felt safe in a long time.]

Wouldn't it.

[ She kisses Sara's forehead idly, pulling the blanket over them both. ]

Do you like Istanbul? We could always come back.

[injured himself, patching someone up, both injured, w/e I'm cool with anything. I can also write starters if you'd prefer that.]

Edited 2015-03-23 01:40 (UTC)

[ooc: #mostaccurateusername

I am tempted by Barry's superhypoglycemia popping up. >> how would you feel about that?]

[ikr, ty barry. also apologies I am slow during the week.

sure. maybe during training or something like that?]

Training with Oliver is the actual worst. She's the metahuman, but it's like the guy doesn't have physical limitations. He's trying to work her on endurance right now, which is great and all but she's had a long day outside of this, and every time she opens her mouth to tell him, he does the whole you can do better than that, Barry, you won't have time to stop and take a break if blah blah blah thing. So she winds up gritting her teeth and working through it.

Which is dumb. She knows it's dumb. She is the dumbest. Her body may be superhuman, but it's still human in the end, and it needs certain things to keep going. And when her blood sugar level drops, it plummets. It feels like she goes directly from a tiny headache and maybe a little lightheadedness to vision covered in spots and tachycardia so bad that her heartbeat's probably undetectable. Barry drops out of superspeed abruptly to gather herself, but the sudden stop just makes it worse. She's barely been still for a couple seconds before she sways and collapses.

Edited 2015-03-24 01:12 (UTC)

[Oliver knows he's been pushing Barry pretty hard, but he doesn't realize quite how hard until she unexpectedly drops out of superspeed. He's already making his way to her then, and kneels down next to her when she collapses, not quite getting there fast enough to catch her.]

Barry? Are you okay? [Obviously she's not, but there's a note of please be okay that he can't quite hide, even knowing that she heals fast.]

[She's conscious when he gets there, but not by a lot. She might've blacked out for a couple seconds - she remembers starting to fall, and then Oliver coming up to her. His voice sounds kinda garbled, like it's the vocal equivalent of a funhouse mirror.

She blinks at him for a second like she's not quite sure why he's there until his words finally click in her brain as a question.] Yeah, I'm, um. [She winces and starts trying to sit up, or at least move herself out of the uncomfortable position she collapsed into.] Low blood sugar. With my... [What's the word? She waves a hand vaguely, like that actually means anything.] It gets really. Bad.

Edited 2015-03-24 02:30 (UTC)

[Oliver sighs, and scoops her up from the ground; thankfully they're not far from the club, and there are several late-night food options nearby. Not that carrying her is remotely difficult for him.]

You should have told me before we started. What do you need?

[Whoa wait what. She was not expecting to be picked up, and there may be a moment of confused and uncoordinated movement before she gets with the program.

Well, this isn't embarrassing at all. Even if he is surprisingly comfy, especially when she gives up on trying to keep her head upright and rests it against his chest instead.] Just. A lot of calories. [And maybe an intravenous line or two.]

[Hey, it's way more efficient than trying to make her walk right now.] How many pizzas can you eat?

[He's heading directly to the club, but also telling Felicity to put in a pizza order for delivery asap.]

"You know, the next time it looks like the bad guy is ten feet tall with spikey horns, how about not jumping in heads first until after I get a good look at it? Might save us both a little pain." Because ow. Supporting him as they both try and limp back to wherever the hell Oliver's bike went in the chaos is definitely a pain. Buffy grimaces and pauses, taking a moment to try and re-adjust her arm where it's looped around his back, keeping a good grip on him, and then continues; "I could have told you that thing was a Palak demon, and arrows only piss them off."

"I was trying to be helpful," Oliver protests, leaning against her as she maneuvers them back to his bike. It's not that bad, on the injury scale, but he knows walking on a sprained ankle will only screw it up more. Not that he didn't try, before she insisted on helping.

"You could have told me there were demons arrows didn't work on."

He's just lucky she's got slayer strength on their side. With their height and bulk difference, it's hard enough helping him along as it is, it would have been impossible for a normal girl her size. And at least it's a sprain, not a break; carrying him would not have been possible even with her strength, not with the way she messed up her other arm during the fight. She's not sure exactly what she did, other than she knows it's not broken, and that it hurts like hell to move. She rolls her eyes at his commentary, and finally, there, his bike is in sights. Not too much farther, thank god.

"Guess what. There's demons that arrows don't work on." What? He told her to tell him! Kind of. "I'm not the go-to girl for demonry- that'd be someone like Giles, or Dawn, or Willow- but I know a Palak when I see it. The only way to pierce their skin is with gold, it's like kryptonite or something for them. And there's a ton of other demons that can only be killed certain ways."

"So what you're saying is I need to expand my arsenal and get some gold-tipped arrows, and have Felicity import your team's research into her databases," he replies, through a grimace. "...I really need to find a better word for that now that Roy is going by Arsenal."

He hauls himself onto his bike when they arrive, and starts it up as best he can with his ankle the way it is. Thankfully they're not too far out from Starling.

"I'd ask if you were a boy scout in another life, but I don't think boy scouts get dressed up in skin-tight green leather and hunt down bad guys with bows and arrows." Nevermind that she's wearing leather pants of her own- black, a gift from Faith, and they match the jacket she left with the bike- or that she wields her own medieval weaponry, that's not the point. The point is- hell if she knows, she just wants to get back to the bike and- and there it is. And then he's hauling up, even as she starts to ask-

"How are you going to-" Except he's on the bike and starting it, injured ankle or not, before she can finish questioning whether or not he can even drive with his ankle hurt. Which leaves her to get on behind him. With a grimace of her own, she climbs up to the back of the motorcycle, hauling herself up with her good arm as she keeps the other held as close and still as she can. Not that it's possible to keep it completely still while climbing onto a bike, but she's also fairly skilled at suppressing pain and pushing through it.

"Let's just- get back."

[It really is his fault if you think about it. It's all Oliver Queen's stupid, pretty faced, well muscled body, great smile's fault that Iris isn't paying attention to where she's going as well as she should be and somehow doesn't judge the distance between the table and herself very well.

Because that really hot freshly brewed coffee in her hand? Totally ends up in his lap.

The only saving grace is that she doesn't still work at Jitters and doesn't have to worry about her ass being fired for pouring coffee on the customers. No she quit this place to be a real journalist but she still comes here all the time. Running into Oliver is pure coincidence and apparently he's waiting for Barry for some reason or another that still doesn't make sense to her (how are they friends, it's Barry and that's Oliver Queen) and she pulled together some of that gumption to ask if he minded if she waited with him. Not just to ogle him but maybe get a little mini interview for her grown up job.]

Oh my God. OhmyGod Iamsosorry!

[Oliver yelps, partially in surprise and partially because ow hot coffee. He pushes back his chair and grabs a bunch of napkins from the table, trying to soak it up. He shakes his head when Iris apologizes, though.]

It's fine, I've suffered worse. Usually when women spill drinks on me it's on purpose. [because he deserves it]

...It's Iris, right?

[She's going to die now, okay? Okay great.]

Yeah. Iris. Iris West. Friend of Barry and sort of Felicity but you know that because you... remember who I am.

[Please just kill her. Why is he so pretty to look at? It's not fair. It's stealing all of her brain cells.]

Take mine. Seriously.

[Because she can't afford to replace those probably very expensive pants.]

Edited 2015-03-24 01:19 (UTC)

[He laughs at the first part, and nods.] Of course I remember. Barry talks about you a lot.

[He can see why, really. But if he allows his train of thought to go much farther in that direction, Barry will most certainly kill him.]

I can get another one, I don't mind. [He gets up again, glances down at his stained pants and tries to tie his jacket around his waist to hide it.] ...This isn't really helping, is it?

He does?

[There's a very brief moment where she looks like a hopeful preteen with another crush because Barry talks about her? Really? What does he say about her? Did she know that Barry and Oliver were on a regular chit chatting basis because she might have to punch him again. She wants in on his rich and famous friends too!

And she's not going to laugh at Oliver Queen but she is going to hide her smile behind her hand. No, the jacket is actually the worst.]

No. It's uh, pretty awful. You don't rock the suburban dad look very well, so sorry to break it to you.

[Ollie notes that preteen crush type of look, and files it away for later consideration. Maybe Barry's feelings aren't one-sided. Oliver's still of the opinion that it won't work out for them either way, but he can only base it on his own experiences.]

He does. Only good things, I promise.

[He looks a little sheepish at the feedback, and shrugs.] The suburban dad look is not really something I'm interested in rocking anyway, so it's probably a good thing. I'm going to get another coffee anyway though, I'll be right back.

[The jacket also sadly covers the view his butt on retreat, sorry Iris. Unintentional payback.]

[Don't start shipping it too Oliver, then there really will be no hope for them. ~~Because Oliver ruins all good things, get it? Okay moving on.~~

She actually looks when he walks back, to see if she can get a glimpse at his backside, because yeah he's got great arms but she's actually a big fan of fit butts and how do you think Eddie won her over? Yeah, it was the nice tailored suits.

Still a little mortified, she drops into one of the chairs at the table, pulls out her phone to text Barry the highlights and how he should maybe think about defriending her off facebook because she's pretty embarrassing.]

(Definitely something fight related if she's the one hurt, probably from a mission, personal or otherwise. She could be easily patching someone else up, knowing at least basic first aid)

Edited (Clarifications!) 2015-03-23 01:27 (UTC)

[Y/N?]

[ Either role. ]

[^ the scenario I rolled unless you have something specific in mind. I'm pretty okay with either role so let me know if you have any preferences. o/]

[[there better be lollipops after all this.]]

[Today had started unlike most; today, Fíli had most of the day to himself. There were just a few household chores to do, like always, and in between letting laundry on the line dry and getting the prep work for dinner out of the way for their mother, Fíli had the thought then would be a good time for his usual grooming.

It was only every few days when he'd shape up edges and trim down his beard (despite the occasional flak he got) and normally it was quick work. Normally, his blades were sharper, and now he's too lazy to go out and sharpen more when it was practically all he did yesterday. So he's more careful than usual when he adds more pressure for a decent pare, and with all the lather from the soap it really shouldn't be a surprise he nicks himself.

And yet it is, if only because the pain from a dull edge smarts more compared to a sharp one—making Fíli flinch and turn that nick long and deep. The flush caused by embarrassment doesn't help him bleed any less and quickly it starts to look like someone tried to take his head off. He'd keep to the bathroom and clean up but he knows their mother (ironically) would kill him for staining her good cloths.

With a hand pressed tightly to his throat and blood coloring his neck and the collar of his shirt red, the blond starts the journey across the house to he and Kíli's room. He's sure there's an old, tattered tunic he could use that no one would miss for a temporary bandage.]

[ Blissfully oblivious to his brother's adventures in the bathroom is Kíli, whose own afternoon has been spent in pursuit of a hunt that yielded them a flawless silver pelt and enough meat for good coin from the butcher. The archer heads straight for their rooms when he arrives at their dwelling; Dís has yet to return from the market, but he knows Fíli's home from the boots at the door. ] Brother?

[ It's more than enough coin for six kegs of ale and expenses for a month besides. There's little doubt where they're headed after dinner, but first Kíli'd have to locate his brother. ] Fíli!

[He doesn't hear Kíli arrive home, doesn't hear the footfalls on the floor or stairs from being too lost in his own thoughts and trying not to bleed over everything. It's a right mess he's in, a foolish mistake all the same, and he can't help but repeat the words and other variations in his mind until he hears Kíli calling him.

It gives him pause enough that a wicked little idea slips into his head, and how could he not act on it with such a perfect opportunity at hand? Pranks are a common form of torture in the Durin household, and last Fíli checked it's been too long since either of them pulled something. So really, it's just overdue.

Making sure to climb the stairs clumsily, the elder puts on the act that he's having much to difficult a time walking, and it's no different when he makes his way down the hall to their room. Hand still tight on his neck, which isn't bleeding as much now as it is just residual, Fíli stumbles and slams his shoulder into the doorframe with a quiet, choked gurgle.]

[ With the effort Fíli is putting in his heavy footfalls it is impossible that Kíli misses it, though he senses nothing awry just yet - ] Fee! [ he calls from the room in absolute certainty that the presence could be none else but his brother, voice light and spirits high still. ] What's this? Were you bewitched into a lumbering beast whilst I was -- Fíli!? [ Well... they are, until the older dwarf crashes into the doorframe with a strangled sound; the sight of his brother half-keeled over with a dirty, deep red ringing the collar of his tunic and matting the gold of his beard is enough to turn Kíli's own blood to ice. The shock of it is what breaks the younger one out of his frozen state, and he almost trips over all manner of things rushing to his brother's side, supporting him with one arm and fumbling about with the fabric at his throat with the other. He doesn't care how, he has to stop the bleeding. ]

You know, you're kind of blowing my mind here.

( Cosima offers Mark a bright smile, then frowns down at his busted knuckles. ) So, I'm pretty sure you'll live. How long have you been self-aware? Was it just always, like, "I'm on Team Clone" or were you and your brothers brought together later?

( she halts mid-stream, laughing a little and making a quiet exploding noise and pointing to her own head. ) Sorry if I'm a little overwhelming, I have this thing where I forget the world isn't moving on my frequency at all times. Feel free to answer in batches, we have all day.

( so sayeth the human bulldozer, as if Mark answering is just a given. )

[ we have all day. all day in the custody of one of them. ( tell her nothing, rudy's voice at the back of his head, quiet but no less hungry. ) mark doesn't acknowledge the pain in his knuckles, the way her fingers skirt over the breaks of red there. he watches her curiously — she talks, faster and more amply than the wild one. this one, cosima, she's the one with all the questions and the answers that accompany them.

when she's finished with her display, he looks from her hand, halted, to her face once more. ] We've been a family for as long as I can remember.

[ it could be a lie, but he speaks with earnest. they survive, they adapt. this situation is no less different. the laboratory may be cold, electric hums in the distance, but it's nothing he can't adhere to.

the fight with the dyad agent meant to bring him in ended less clean than they had intended. the agent, however, was much less fortunate than he. ] Why am I here?

[ a question for a question. ]

So you're like, a unit in the most literal sense? ( she can't help a small, petty pang of jealousy at the idea— all her sisters together all their lives, aware of their own nature and not kept in the dark— and tosses it aside as unimportant. those of them who survived came together later, and they are where they are now without any outside interference in how they relate to each other. all things considered, she probably comes out ahead in this one.

case mentally closed, she turns back to the more interesting matter at hand. )

I mean, it makes sense from a military and psychological point of view, ideally you could have multiple clones raised in close enough proximity that they're capable of operating almost as one single organism instead of individuals. ( and then, as quickly as if it's part of the same sentence: ) Fact check me if I'm getting any of this twisted, by the way. I know it doesn't seem like it, after the kidnapping thing, but I'm on your side. I kind of... I work at Dyad, not for them if you get what I mean. ( trusting every word of his mouth ( any word shrieks a voice in the back of her head, sounding a lot like alison ) would be foolish, but there's no harm in taking him at face value for the moment. people want to cooperate more when they feel believed, and the world of knowledge Mark holds makes her hands itch to just reach out and touch, test bones and flesh until she understands enough to move onto something new.

she settles for bandaging his knuckles, looking back up after a moment and quirking a brow. ) You want the big answer or the small ones? Because there are a million tests they're going to want to run on you, and those are just the obvious ones.

( which doesn't answer why she's here, but he didn't ask that half of the question and if he wants to trade answers, she's going to pad her deck as much as possible. ) Then there's the big issue, the whole 'there are other clones and we didn't make them' part.

( which might give dyad a way to fix their own process— that's not what Cosima wants and what she's out to prevent, but there's a huge difference between admitting not marching to the party line inside Dyad's walls and letting that piece of information go. )

[F/M if shippy, but OTA for friendship/bonding. Most likely injured, though happy to patch up someone else. Both injured is highly likely as well.]

(open to AUs! )

[either role. m/f for ships, gen ota.]

Edited 2015-03-23 01:47 (UTC)

[can be either be injured or tending to the injured party.]

[ whomp whomp did you have any preferences as to injured/uninjured? Shippy/not!shippy? Some potential for mocking either's skill with sewing? ]

[No preferences on whether Kost here is injured or tending, though an injured and grumpy Cass sounds pretty enjoyable. I am happy to do shippy things but just a disclaimer, I haven't played through Cassandra's romance. I've watched a couple scenes but I haven't gotten around to her yet (I'm so slow, I know. This is what attempting a Nightmare mode run does to you).

THAT SAID, if you don't mind me flying blind, shipping is 100% cool. Also please forgive my lack of icons, hopefully that will be rectified soon.]

[ That's cool! Injured and grumpy Cass it is. I'll keep the nitty gritty romance details to a minimum, I wouldn't want to blow it for you. (nightmare run my respect is overflowing)

I don't mind at all! Inquis' are pretty tough to make icons for unless you're running a hell of a setup. Would you prefer if you or I started/rolled? ]

[I've got a decent setup but for some reason when I recorded the last few cutscenes, they didn't save properly. Go figure. Not re-doing the scenes on Nightmare, no thanks, haha.

Anyway -- if you have an idea, go for it! If you want romance to be active, early on the romance sound good?]

[ Early on is perfect, still flirting would actually be primo, just so there's really nothing to spoil.

also hhhh i'm just imagining nightmare and crying i could never ]

[ Grounding Cassandra was a feat of strength, considering amongst the party members, she was the pinnacle of endurance. Hauling an easy 100+ pounds of steel, and swinging it, you'd think she'd have a good hold on it all, and she did! Honestly and truly, she did. But there's only so much fighting you can do before you take on something a little bit out of your league.
Bigger than her britches today, Cass was fueled by adrenaline, and that was her downfall. The one time she lost her usual levelheadedness, she took the brunt of a dragon's weight against her massive shield. A sickening crack echoed underneath her armor and tears had prickled at the corner of her eye; her shoulder was dislocated and her rotator cuff sprained. Since, she's been hiding in her tent for better part of the evening and afternoon, the better part of her left shoulder red and purple with bruising. Potions and the like helped with the pain, but it didn't set her straight, and it certainly didn't help the strain. She feigned any further attempt to lift of move her armor, leaving her in it for the time being.

Summoning all she could of her better judgement (because she Wasn't with a capital W going to ask Varric or Dorain for assistance.) she's sought out Kost for help. ]

Inquisitor. A moment?

Edited 2015-03-24 22:39 (UTC)

[The fight they'd had with that dragon the other day had left everyone a bit worse for wear. Kost had done his best to tend to everyone, the Qunari knew his magic could only do so much. The talents of a Knight Enchanter could do wonders on the battlefield but even then, healing was best left to those trained properly in the art.

What had not escaped his notice, however, was the way Cassandra had been avoiding everyone since the dragon fell. He knew the woman had fought hard and taken quite the beating during the battle but she was a resilient creature, a force of nature if there ever was. Kost couldn't help admire the woman for it. She could shoulder more than her share of any burden, she would fight long and hard, she barely seemed to rest - it was an impressive sight, to say the least.

Having the woman approach him in his own tent wasn't something he'd wholly expected but it was something he welcomed, the Qunari rising up - bending at the knees to avoid having his horns touch the roof of the tent. The last thing he needed was holes in there.]

Cassandra? [He tilted his head a bit, voice soft and curious, gesturing with a large hand to have her come closer.]

You're out late... And still dressed for battle. [That was odd - they were safe in the camp, the scouts always made certain of that. There was no need to still be wearing her heavy armour at this hour.] What brings you here?

I...I require assistance, from someone whom I can trust. I apologize if I am disturbing you.

[ Yeah, that's a line if she ever saw one. How does she sum this up without sounding like some....feeble broken thing, she's not sure. ]

I am. I'm unable to lift it.

[ Short spoken and poorly punctuated again. Whether or not it was the throbbing, ebbing pain that was crawling up the side of her neck or her nerve, she wasn't concerned, she had to get this set to at least afford a half decent night's sleep. ~~She won't be having one at all, she'll be lucky to get an hour in.~~ She does manage to step inside, but. Cautiously. She feels already as though she is intruding. ]

As such, I'm unable to set my arm. The final blows and my poor choices today have caused me to injure my shoulder, my arm isn't setting correctly in it.

[ Why is this embarrassing? It's not. It really, really isn't. This is necessity. She tightened her reigns. ]

I would appreciate the assistance, lest I'll be returning to Skyhold in the morning.

[ She may have to anyways, but either way, she'd like to with a half functional arm rather than not. ]

[The moment she said she wasn't able to lift her armour, concern reached his eyes, his brow creasing with worry. He moved closer to the woman, urging her to come further into his tent.]

Why didn't you say anything earlier? [She always tried to take on too much, he thought.] You know I would have helped you at a moment's notice...

[He shook his head, giving a bit of a sigh, closing the flaps to the tend to give them a bit of privacy - he didn't need anyone walking in on them as he helped the warrior out of her armour. Varric would have a field day with that.]

Come here now, let me help you now. You shouldn't be moving your arm at all if it's in that sort of condition. I've spent my life around mercenaries, injuries like this can be horrible if left alone for too long. I know you're strong but...

[He was babbling a bit, fretting over the possibilities. He breathed in through his nose, calming himself as he turned to face her. He still had that worry etched across his face, still thoroughly concerned.]

Don't push yourself further than necessary... Now here, settle in. Let me take a look - I'll see if I can get you more comfortable. Can you move your arm at all? Are you hurt anywhere else? I don't want to aggravate anything in trying to get your armour off.

[ Ohhhh there it goes. He's worried. And he's really worried. Her lips purse, fighting the urge to step out and excuse herself, she'd just face the dwarf's mockery, but, this isn't a petty matter, this is a serious injury, and she needed the help.

His small lecture was something that out of any other person, she'd be aggravated at. But, instead, she's rather flattered. Stepping in further, she's already disarmed half of her attire, but anything from the waist up remained, making things slightly difficult to maneuver gently in. ]

I can, just barely. I'd rather not, for fear of tearing anything.

But no, I am not any more injured, at least not nearly as severely.

[ A few lacerations, but hey, that's every day business. She didn't bother with the details. ]

I am fine. [ Perhaps she was more stern than she intended to be. Her regret is instant, after all, she was the one asking for help. ]

I just need it set, or the armor off so I may set it myself, that's all.

[ Which, with something sprained in her rotary cuff, wouldn't be happening nope. ]

You aren't setting something like this yourself. [He gave his head a small shake, her resistance was only going to make him fuss all the more.] Let me do it - I can look at it, heal it a little as I go. [Healing a single, smaller area was very different from the power granted from his Resurgence skill but he'd do what he could for her.]

You'll be fighting fit in no time, then. [Punctuated with a bit of a smile, even if he knew it was a manipulative thing to say.]

Now, let me take a look - the laces that hold this piece on, they're over here, aren't they? [Large fingers brushed against the woman's arm, looking for where those heavy pauldrons connected.] These first, then your breastplate - then I'll take a look at that arm properly.

[The laces weren't where he'd expected, having to gingerly brush his large paws on either one of the woman's arms, until he found where the pieces connected - no laces like a mercenary would have though. Buckles and straps, a properly fitted piece of armour on a proper soldier. They came undone easily enough, pulling off the shoulder guards and pauldrons, some of that weight lifted from her now.]

How does that feel?

[ Her leathers had patina underneath the heavy sets of armor, showing their wear and tear. Still, she can't help but be flattered by his concern, and she bites her tongue from snapping back. She asked for his help she reminds herself. ]

Unlikely, but. Thank you.

[ Yeah, maybe a little, but it was still a vote of confidence that she didn't really have right now. ]

They're under----there.

[ His touches and close proximity she wasn't embarrassed by, not really, but perhaps unused to. The weight off of her shoulder's was like the Maker had given her a really great gift, and she even sighs a bit at it. Without the steel bearing down on her, the hurt was a little more apparent, her shoulder pushed at an awkward angle. ]

Better. Much better.

[There was so much to a proper warrior's armour. Kost handled it with care as he removed the piece, setting it down on the floor for the time being. The close proximity may not have been a source of embarrassmennt for the woman but the Qunari had a certain appreciation for it. There was a lot of trust behind what she was doing now, asking for his assistance, trusting in him not to make the matter bigger than it was. He was concerned of course, rightly so in his mind - but he wouldn't tell anyone that Cassandra was injured. He wouldn't say a word unless she spoke first.]

Let's get the rest off. This breastplate can't be helping matters.

[The breastplate or the shirt she wore beneath it, the leathers on her hands - too much to her armour but it was all necessary. Every part of it served its purpose. Much like the Inquisition in a sense.

Kost's hands moved again to work on her breastplate, focusing on removing that next. These he at least had more experience with, how to remove properly. As he worked, he took a moment to look towards her, meeting Cassandra's gaze and smiling a little in doing so.]

I used to tend to my fellows in the mercenary company like this too. Patch them up, set their bones. Help them undress when they otherwise weren't able. Whenever we got new blood, they always found it a bit entertaining - the biggest one among them and he's the one cleaning cuts and bandaging bruises.

[ She wasn't prepared for that, but her expression doesn't waver. Her lips press into a flat line, and she lets out a breath she'd forgotten she'd been holding. ]

An old poem once spoke of the largest being the most gentle in order to account for the small.

So forgive me, the image is....quite entertaining, actually.

[ She does smile at it a bit, the chestplate finally popping loose and the weight falling back. It allows her to sink forward fully, and that alone is a relief to her back, her clavicle and her neck. Now removed, the harsh red irritation was visible on her neck, but she didn't care to notice. ]

No apologies needed.

[He laughed a bit as he removed the chestplate, his rose coloured eyes meeting her own for a moment, lips curled into that smile. Though her smile was thin, Kost was glad she was able to relax a bit more now. She was always so stiff - and while that was well and good in Skyhold when commanding her men, she needed the opportunity to let herself breathe.]

It is a bit of an amusing thing to imagine - my hands are so large, I have to take extra care with everything. Imagine someone as myself attempting to stitch up a lacerated arm on an elf - some of them, my hands could touch if I put them around their waist.

[With the warrior's chestpiece aside, those large hands of his began to move over her arm, lightly touching and gingerly squeezing, trying to see where the pain was most prevalent. He could see the redness up closer to her neck and going down to her shoulder - that was certainly an area he'd need to investigate.]

Tell me where it's most tender, I can briefly draw the pain out with a spell.

[ She averts her gaze quickly. ~~We're not having a moment!~~ she told herself inwardly, the rather sharp adjustment to the lack of weight bringing her shoulders upwards slightly. Still, his next comment just make her smirk, if not for the image alone. ]

It is. Even funnier so, your needlework is probably far more impressive than my own.

[ Pay close attention to the leathers, you'll find little spots of minute repair and yes, her needlework is rather horrid.

He mentions the size of his hands compared to an elf, and she does find the image as much entertaining as the last, and for a moment, guilty pleasure wonders if they'd fit so snugly around hers. She quickly banishes the thought. That was inappropriate, and a little pang of sudden discomfort reminds her of such. ]

There, between my neck and my shoulder, and the very end of it. I fear that something may already be torn, but there's nothing I can do about it at the moment.

[He gave a bit of a sympathetic hum as he touched the area, breathing in through his nose before wetting his lips. He was glad that she seemed amused by his stories, pleased to see her relaxing at least a little more at present. He noticed the small areas the woman had no doubt tried to repair - it wasn't a bad job, a bit messy with those wide stitches, it was a wonder they were still holding together as well as they were.]

It may be more effective to remove your top, let me see the extent of it. I hope you haven't torn anything too badly...

[Or irreparably, for that matter. He disliked the idea of her being out of commission for a few days - having her out permanently? He didn't quite want to face that. He couldn't imagine she did either.

A faint, blue-green glow surrounded the Qunari's fingertips as he stroked along the material of Cassandra's top, the anchor in Kost's hand glowing as much as the mana in his fingers. The way he brushed across her shoulder and up to her neck, even above her top, felt warm - a very genuine and building heat. It helped soothe the sore muscle there, taking away some pain from the aching and bruised flesh.]

How does that feel now?

Better.

[ Understandably, she had no qualms about removing her top, but the actual going through with it would be more difficult than it was to just put it on this morning. Deep, steadying breaths helped ease the pain alongside his healing magic, and for a moment, she disregarded any social hangups she might've had being in his presence as a friend and not a teammate. It made the tenseness disappear completely. ]

I hope I haven't either, or this will be a much longer process than we'd hoped.

[ Closing the rifts, that is. Because come on, she held up a dragon today, and she wouldn't deny it. Surely she wouldn't boast either, that's about the extent of it. Her doubt begins to bubble in the back of her mind, but she does her best to set it aside, unclasping the neck of her leathers to pull the collar down the best she could, because there would be no lifting her arms up and over to get it off that way. One clasp, two clasp, three clasp, revealing soft linens for chastity and small spots of skin underneath, luckily, her mail cleverly stitched to the inside of her leathers for this reason alone; to eliminate multiple layers in the even of an emergency. See the armorer's mailing apprentice do that for you, or just have her messily stitch it for you.

Still, underneath where she isn't lithely muscle lined, she's black and blue, and it's no real mystery as to why. ]

Edited (dem commas) 2015-03-25 19:17 (UTC)

[Kost let the warrior remove her attire herself here, not wishing to overstep any bounds. Though with his old mercenaries, it was never an issue to strip them down and patch them up - it was different among the Inquisition. Even though he was known as the Herald, even though he'd been aiding them and fighting alongside side them for some time, he still a bit out of place. He was still finding his footing above all, figuring out where he fit among the group.

And where he fit when it came to Cassandra. The talented woman had impressed him in ways he never imagined. There was something so incredible about her, it made him want to have her close by through all of this. After all, in many ways, he wouldn't be here if not for her. They hadn't quite gotten off on the right foot but Kost had gone and proven that first impressions were not always the lasting ones.

Of course, any thoughts he was dwelling on swiftly left his mind the moment he saw the state the woman's arm was in. That redness he saw close to her neck was nothing compared to what her armour and her leathers had been hiding. That black and blue flesh looked incredibly sore and tender, he hadn't anticipating something quite like this. He knew she'd fought hard, taken a number of blows and the brunt of that dragon's weight - but to truly see it was something else.]

Maker's breath, Cassandra. Look at the state you're in... [That concern was back now, his brow creased as he brought both hands to the woman's arm gingerly holding it and inspecting the bruises.] It certainly needs to be set, you weren't wrong about that... But it may just be a sprain, your shoulder might even be dislocated at this rate.

[He wet his lips and breathed out, shoulders sagging.]

Let's sit down so I can help you set it. [Even though Cassandra could stand comfortably in the tent, he most certainly couldn't. His knees were growing sore from crouching as he was.] I'll cast another spell to try and dull the pain again but once we return to Skyhold, I want you getting this looked at properly.

[ She sat rather roughly on her knees, the actual weight of his gaze and worry replacing that of the cold steel. ]

My own fault. A simple miscalculation. It won't be happening again.

[ Still, she's...incredibly flattered by his concern. ]

You're not a stranger to injuries like this, dislocations, sprains.

[ She doesn't finish her question; Why do you look so surprised? ]

It is my guess that it is, thus my reluctance to move it.

[ Or see anyone else about it, frankly. ]

On your order, Inquisitor.

[ Her fancy way of saying 'As you wish.' She's distracted momentarily by his little gestures; being gentle with her arm, and his overall soft demeanor. She didn't feel like a chastised child like the many healers she'd seen before made her feel. No, she was being looked at like someone who knew her limits. Foolishly she'd pushed them. ]

Thank you. It is an unusual request I am sure, having me yelling at you one moment, and asking you to set my arm the next. This is not exactly what the either of us expected at the beginning, I assume.

Edited 2015-03-26 00:35 (UTC)

[She didn't feel chastised by a healer because she wasn't being looked at by a healer. Kost was the Inquisitor, it was true - but he was also her friend. A friend who cared a great deal for her. As she settled onto the floor, he joined her, though his form still towered over her. His hand moved to her shoulder again, sending another wave of soothing magic against it, something to help ease it.

His touch was still gentle, not wanting to put more pressure on it than necessary. Just enough to let the magic seep in, to alleviate some of that pain she was in.]

I'm sorry that you got injured out there... But I'm glad that we had you. You protect me so often out there, I don't think I'll ever be able to repay you properly.

[His hand moved from her shoulder and down her upper arm, palm flat against her skin. More area to cast against, a place to focus his power. Along her upper arm, back to her shoulder and then finally, his large hand rest against her neck. He kept it there, no doubt for longer than he ought to, encouraging Cassandra to look at him.]

Nothing would pain me more than to lose you out there.

[ Oooh, girl, those alarm bells are going off and they're saying 'either cut and run or face this head on!' and she can't look away. The magic is soothing, cool and refreshing against her skin, and if she wasn't leaning into by now, she had.

She bites her bottom lip sheepishly, studying what he just said to her. She bled more now for Kost than she ever had for Justinia, and the idea of it doesn't bother her. In fact, it brings a smattering of pink to her cheeks. Something stupid and romantic fluttered through her mind like 'I'd die a thousand deaths' or 'take a thousand arrows' but she agreed, she'd only make a fool of herself. ]

Don't apologize, and don't think you have to repay me.

[ Finally, she does lock eyes with him, and instead of hardened, battle-weary Cassandra, she's soft, and...kinder looking. It was like looking at a whole different person. ]

As would I, knowing you were gravely injured due to my carelessness.

[ How to words? She has to think of them specifically, starting with one and then restarting again. ]

You---no. If it meant your safety, then I'd gladly do it again. And again. And I'd continue to, until I were brought to my knees, and still, I would not bow.

So, for losing me...[ She pauses, her other hand coming to rest on his. ]

You will not.

[Kost kept his eyes on Cassandra's own, matching that softened gaze of her's. His hand moved from the woman's arm and towards her neck, moving slowly as to keep her hand on top of his own. He rest his fingers at her neck, his hand large enough to brush against her jaw as he watched her.]

No one in this Inquisition is expendable. Leliana could find me one-thousand warriors - but there will only ever be one Cassandra. I intend to keep you here at my side for as long as the Maker allows it.

[There was no one in this Inquisition he appreciated more than Cassandra. She gave him so much, she dedicated everything towards their cause, to protecting him. He ultimately carried Thedas' future in his hand - but whatever future was crafted, be it for the Inquisition, for Thedas, for them, he wanted her there.]

Let's finish getting this arm of yours set. I've still plenty of magic in me to help mend it - but don't think for a moment I'm not going to worry about you all night. [He said it all with a kindly and sweet smile, something adoring in his eyes.] I'm tempted to say you should spend the night here in my tent, so I can keep an eye on you.

[ Her breath is caught in her throat suddenly at how he touches her, and she freezes, unwilling to move for anything else. If her face was only slightly pink before, now? She's almost completely scandalized, blushing fiercely. When he finally lets his hand to her, Cass realizes she's stopped breathing, and releases the breath shakily. ]

That is...more than kind of you, Kost.

[ Whoops, where did the 'Inquisitor' go? She has to wrench her gaze away, but not without smiling bashfully first. Pain? What pain? She can't feel it over the ridiculous pounding in her chest, in her ears. Hesitantly she nods. ]

Yes. Good idea. As for staying, I-I don't think your reputation can afford such rumors.

[ Rumors like the ones that spoke of getting under the Seeker's skin with a silver tongue? He probably could, and her every fiber says 'don't decline' where the morality in her says 'Nope, bad idea.' She's the definition of conflicted. A sharp pain grounds her not long after. ]

Besides. You may not like me in intense pain.

[ ~~Flimsy attempt to be lighthearted, go.~~ ]

[There was a warmth in his eyes that simply wouldn't leave as he watched her, a fondness he simply couldn't help. Hearing her say his name as well, that made it feel as though his heart took the opportunity to skip a beat. It was a strange and wondrous feeling to have, to be able to share a moment like this with the hardened warrior.]

if you were in pain, you know I'd heal you. [Even if his healing talents were unable to mend broken flesh or bones, he could still take the pain away, as he'd proven since she'd come to his tent.] Keep you comfortable for the night - see how it all feels in the morning.

[He lowered his hand from the woman's neck, bringing it towards her arm. Both hands soon held that injured part of her, his touch so cautious and gentle despite his large hands. He positioned them on her arm, applying a bit of pressure now as he straightened it, preparing it to be set properly now. He continued to speak though, hoping his words would distract her. He'd set enough arms and legs over the years with his mercenary groups that it was hardly a task for him now.]

My reputation already has enough rumours behind it, I'm more than certain people have enough to occupy themselves with. I'm a Qunari, I'm a mercenary and I make no secret of being a mage. I'm hardly the ideal vision the Chantry wants for Andraste's Herald. If anything, I'm confident that rumours of a secret rendezvous with my Seeker would be seen as a positive thing compared to all of that.

[He said it with a laugh, applying more pressure to the woman's arm, pulling on it in doing so, trying to pop her shoulder back into place.]

Though Varric might find some interesting way to spin it all. Say I keep you near just in case that Tevinter mage we have travelling with us decides to use me in a blood ritual.

[There was amusement in his voice, knowing full well Dorian would never do such a thing. Rumours would be rumours though and so long as he was the Herald, they would persist.]

[ He made sense of it all, rather hitting the nail on the head about rumors. He was right: perhaps it was the least scandalous of all things that followed him. ]

They'd either say that we corrupted each other, or brought each other closer to victory. That I was crazy, or overflowing with devotion.

[ The hopeless romantic in her fluttered at the idea, being stolen away for evenings much like this one. She's ripped from that romantic reverie as he presses her arm back into place, grabbing a hold of him at the shoulder to balance herself and brace for pain. ]

Secret rendezvous, though...

[ Ugh, in all her minute amusements, all her slightly entertained fantasies, she hadn't really imagined something like this. ]

Were I a fool, I'd say you sound like you're propositioning me.

[ She only manages through a strained breath before the shoulder rolls back in, and her grip on him tightened with an audible cry. Once it's there it's set, though, her hold doesn't slacken. Breathing through it, Cass straightens herself, if only just to look at him again. Maker, just the way he was so gentle was enough to light her up. And the warmth, the warmth she found in him was comforting, and she knew she wouldn't be leaving this tent. ]

Because if you were, I'd have very little choice but to gleefully accept, considering my feelings.

[ She wants to add something snippy about either of the two rascals he's just mentioned but the weight of her last statement still hangs. ]

Edited (5am typos) 2015-04-02 12:43 (UTC)

[Her words gave him pause, the Qunari clearing his throat a bit now, one hand still on her arm, even after it had rolled back into place. He wet his lips a little, watching her with a bit of a creased brow, worrying his lower lip. Oh, Kost hoped the woman wasn't playing with him right now. Cassandra wasn't the sort to joke and tease like that though, not the kind to speak without conviction. She was a woman who said what was in her heart, regardless of how it reflected upon her.]

Your feelings... [he murmured those words back to her softly, fingers stroking along her forearm.] I'm... I'm not the sort to play games, Cassandra.

[She had always been truthful with him though. She wasn't the sort to play games. Maker, he prayed she wasn't.]

If you truthfully have feelings that go beyond my role as Inquisitor... I'd like to know them. [He brought his free hand to her chin, tilting it up again to meet his gaze.] I'd very much like to know if they so happen to fall in line with my own.

[ His worry gave her pause, her brows knit in slight misunderstanding. Usually she was so forward and direct, and this had been a challenge for her, she has to find her words again. ]

I am not playing games with you.

[ As he tilts her head, she decides to rise only halfway, standing on her knees, likely no higher now than he sat. Still, it's right enough for her, and she cautiously brings her hands to his shoulders (despite the nagging pain in her own.) Her gaze doesn't leave his. ]

I do. So much so that after this I fear I can no longer deny them.

[ Did she just say that? Oh that sounded so wrong coming from her, like a cheesy, badly thought of line in one of her books. Like a helpless damsel who was to faint in her lover's arms. Not at all an undesirable position, she'd admit, but not one she wants to convey right this moment. She bites back her look of dissatisfaction with herself, and starts over. ]

What I mean is...[ Mayday, mayday. She sighs and sits back with a look. ]

I do have feelings for you. Rather, I've kept them to the wayside, in order to continue towards our goal. They're not worth the distraction, unless----unless you deem otherwise.

[ Did she say that right? She tries to turn it over in her mind. 'I like you, but this isn't a thing that should get between us and Corypheus, unless you think it won't.' Yeah, that sounded about right. ]

Edited 2015-04-04 02:52 (UTC)

[He listened to her words, a certain warmth spreading through his chest the more the woman spoke. She was his Seeker, his guardian, his knight in a sense. She stood for all things just and good, she stood for the Inquisition - she stood for him. If Kost had gotten a little caught up in the romance behind all of that, could she truly blame him?]

I see...

[He breathed the words quietly, both hands coming up now to cup the woman's cheeks, a deep affection in his Dawnstone-coloured eyes as he looked down at her. Large hands could easily crush her with enough force but right now, they were gentle. Gentle, easy, a kindly and warm touch. To embrace her in this manner, he never thought he'd be able to. Her duty and his position had always forced him to mentally separate things - but knowing the woman had feelings? Knowing she felt so strongly about him? How could he ever deny her?]

I too have something I must admit, I feel a great deal of tenderness towards you, Cassandra. Few things in this world make my heart feel weightless but every time you speak to me, when you stand at my side, when you defend me in battle - it soars. When I sit here in my tent with you before me, with you seeking me out for aid? It sings.

There is a lot of beauty to be found in this world but before meeting you, I'd never known how much of it could be right before my eyes.

[ She opens her mouth to say something, anything. And nothing comes to be spoken. So, picture, for a moment, Cassandra Pentaghast sitting, mouth open, awestruck in her Inquisitor's tent. She closes it suddenly in realizing her look of...probably stupor.

For a moment, a few, sane thoughts cross her mind. This was the Inquisitor, this was Kost, her Quinari Inquisitor, her commanding officer, her---this wasn't morally correct, it couldn't be, but nothing contested these thoughts more in her mind than a simple 'What of it?'

Quite honestly, everything they'd staked could be turning for the worse at this very moment, should she continue, but then again, it couldn't. After looking at him for a long moment, studying what he said, how he looked at her and---Maker, his hands on her face, gentle and warm, she decided that perhaps this would be a good thing; a thing that they both needed, that they obviously, both wanted. There's no tactful way to put it but she wasn't sure she was feeling the moment right. There was an inkling of doubt in the back of her mind, like perhaps she could be wrong about it, about all of this, about what he could possibly mean, and so rash action wouldn't be excused---instead she asks. ]

...May I kiss you?

[That kind warmth in his eyes didn't fade for an instant, the corners of them creasing a bit as he gave a soft laugh. That laugh was content and it was comfortable, it wasn't at her either. Kost's hands hands cupped her cheeks for a moment longer before slipping down Cassandra's throat, down towards the warrior's shoulders. He took special care on her one side, not putting too much pressure on it - though he knew that his seeker wasn't about to shatter like a porcelain doll.]

Please do...

[He leaned in a bit closer, the tip of his nose touching her own. His voice was a hushed whisper yet it was so full of expectation.]

I was hoping you'd ask. [He gave another gentle laugh, allowing himself to nuzzle the end of his nose against her own.] It's taken me long enough to muster the courage for this much.

[ She's more than relieved to hear him say it, doubly so, to have him so close to her. ~~Really, brushing her nose? That's probably what did her in.~~

Now with his permission, she kisses him. And oh she kisses him. She tries to get a better hold of her emotion, but it really was like trying to hold a bowl of water on horseback. Her arms came back up around him, now unafraid of scaring him away.

With that kiss, her entire worldview changes. Her perspective is suddenly straight again.

This was her Inquisitor. Her Inquisitor. Who she's kissing, who's she's admitted her feelings to, who's she pledged herself to once before, and has silently done again. Her shoulder seemed like a pinprick compared to the realm of possibilities she's laid herself in front of now. Sure, she did before, behind of cause of stopping Corypheus, the Templars, what have you. But now she would with a new cause, a new reason, and that was because she wanted to, not of her virtue or sense of duty, but because she loved him, and would see no harm come to him from this point forward. She would place herself between him and any harm that would come and die protecting him without hesitance.

Naturally, this means she's probably coming on every errand now, Kost. ]

Edited 2015-04-15 17:44 (UTC)

[Ah. A wondrous thing it was, to feel Cassandra's lips against his own. There was something so sweet and yet, so strong about the sensation of her mouth, lips that claimed him and comforted him all at once. The Qunari could feel a warmth spread through his chest, returning the kiss as best he could, hands slipping down his warrior's form and to rest one upon her hip, the other returning to cupping her face. The tips of his large fingers brushed into her hair, lightly tracing that tight braid. Whether that was truly her hair or if it was merely a headpiece, he didn't care. Everything about Cassandra, about this human he now held close, was perfect.

This was not a road he'd expected to travel. Much of the Inquisition had been an unexpected turn - but this was the first time he truly felt it had been rewarding. It was a selfish thought but all the same, sealing rifts, being a target for criticisms from the people of Thedas and a target for the forces of darkness, it was a thankless existence. He wasn't here to be thanked but this? This made it all feel right.

He slowly parted from Cassandra, letting out a slow breath against her before he lightly panted against her face. Soft puffs of air, wetting his lips as he stroked along the warrior's hip. His eyes were still closed, their noses touching once more, as if that contact was just as intimate as the kiss they had shared.]

I do hope you realise, you aren't leaving this tent until morning. [He gave a very light chuckle, sighing softly across her.] If you thought I fussed too much earlier, I have all the more reason to now.

To be truthful, I did not expect to after you set me.

[ 'Good, because I really didn't want to.' ]

I will stay.

[ Less of a statement, more of an affirmation. She's only cracked her vision to just get a look at him this close, and she can't help but bring a hand up to mirror his in adoration. It's now hard to conceal the flush on her cheeks. ]

Though do be gentle, I can't bear weight on one side.

[ Now she's just being cheeky, brought to kidding around for the first time in a while. She was used to the courting, the flirting, the walkaround, not something this sudden, nor this upfront and...passionate. It was refreshing, and she'd likely be singing his praises for days. Cass leaned up to peck his cheek, her offending arm resting on his own, hand leading up to his bicep, then shoulder again. She quite liked feeling up and down his arms, just reminding herself, how solid but gentle he was. ]

You're alright? With...this? Us.

[ She makes a vague gesture. Us, that is what she meant, she just has to confirm. For clarity's sake. That it wasn't just some fluke, or her being injured a garner for pity. That this was an actual thing, that was happening. ]

[Everything right now felt so very comfortable. It was no doubt the first time Kost could every truly admit that since all of this began. He'd always been comfortable among his mercenaries, the Inquisition had taken longer to grow on him.

Though, as daunting as she could be, Cassandra hadn't taken long to grow on him at all. His fondness for her was present since the start - or at least, since he first began to seal the rifts. Things had been a touch rocky at the start with her harsh accusations and stern tone she carried with him. Once she established he was not the threat, not the one at fault for the Divine's death - things had all changed.

Earning the seeker's favour had been a bit difficult but right now, it more than proved his efforts had been worthwhile.]

I think I should be the one asking a similar question of you, Cassandra.

[His hand stroked along the woman's good shoulder, easing back and motioning for her to come closer if she so wished. To have the woman nestled close to him, to have her body against his own - even just to sleep side by side - was something he'd longed for.]

Not only am I a mage, I'm of the Qunari as well. [A Qunari largely raised among humans - but still a Qunari.] I should hope such a thing is not too jarring for you.

[ His concern brings a small smile to her face. A mage being his worry, haha, oh, does she have news for you.

She admired his ability to adapt, his gentle nature under his exterior---something now hardened for the purpose of being a leader, an icon, his thoughtfulness. The more she thought about it, the more the list grew. Mage, Qunari, Inquisitor? It all seemed superficial to her now, whereas moments ago, it was all she clung to in order to not allow herself to have those fantasies. ]

Whether or not this persists for a while, or only for a short time---[ Her logic being that they could very well be on their way to dying!]---I cannot personally, afford to worry about those things.

Had I, I would have missed you, and we would not be sitting here.

[ She takes his invitation to come closer, only leaning on him slightly; enough to be felt. ]

There are more important things to hold reservations over.

[The tenderness in his face didn't fade for a moment as she moved in closer, his arms wrapping around her in an embrace. Gentle hands began to move along the woman's back, urging her to remain near. Though the nights in the Hinterlands weren't exactly mild, the Qunari felt more than warm and at ease with Cassandra close to him like this. Even though he looked like something of a brute, he still needed affection. He still craved attention of this sort.]

So long as our focus remains on sealing those rifts, on putting an end to Corypheus, I don't believe anyone could object to our being together.

[He was laying down now with her, entirely comfortable even on the rough floor of his tent. The ground below was easy to ignore, particularly when he had this incredible feeling that swelled up in his chest, a heat that reached his face and made him feel nearly invincible. With Cassandra at his side, he'd always been inclined to fight harder. Now, it was all the more important to continue doing so. A contented sound came from his throat, large fingers moving up to stroke the hair on the back of the woman's head, hoping she too felt as comfortable as he did.]

I've dreamed of this, I will admit. Nights out under the stars, having you close to me. Even with everything looming down upon us, I think I'll rest easier knowing I have you here at my side.

[ She did, and his quiet ministrations only helped that. Her breathing is slowing, her concentration only wavering minutely. This was nice. This was something she could very well get used to; being affectionate in private. Perhaps it was even something she didn't know she missed so much. ]

Did you?

[ It wasn't so specific, not to her; simply the idea of it was enough to make her cheeks redden, and shove the fantasy aside. Now she could allow it. ]

So then rest.

[ Her uninjured arm stretches to find one of his hands, to hold it softly, no matter what it's doing. ]

I will not leave.

I hope I'm not being too forward in saying that.

[He noted the way he cheeks coloured but also how she stayed there with him, how she curled in closer and touched his hand. He had always been something of a romantic - and this was far from an exception.]

But it pleases me so much to have you here and I only hope to have you for many nights to come.

[ That garners a small chuckle out of her. A drowsy one, but still a chuckle. ]

You are, quite forward actually.

But, I like it.

[ That's some truth right there. It was awkward and likely way too fast for her usual liking, but that's...exactly how she wanted it. Without delay, without any obstacles. Some small part of her sang still that she couldn't possibly deserve this, but she continued to allow herself to relax; letting her guard down for once. Her hand tightens around his. ]

So you will; if that is what you wish.

[ Because she's down with that. Definitely. Damn what Dorian and Varric would jest about, seven hells, she will stay. ]

[Please ask for anything shippy.]

Edited 2015-03-23 03:04 (UTC)

minor injury meme.

Angela / Aldrif Odinsdottir - Marvel 616

Lord Buckingham | The Three Musketeers (2011)

As discussed!

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Inquisitor Lavellan | Dragon Age: Inquisition

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waaah, sorry I moved yesterday and have been like ??? dead

no worries, take all the time you need! (it's midterms week on this end so I'll be slow as well ;w;

lmao and then eccc happened. i'm finally back now X_X

welcome back!!! Hope you had fun :)

of course i forget sakuracon is this weekend hello im the actual worst

lmao not even a little!!! keep on running around and having fun!!!!

collapses also why did my tag formatting die why this

/pats forever

i'm so slow too so i apologize.

no need to apologize!

Garrus Vakarian | Mass Effect

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i accidentally archived this notif like a silly pants, my bad

no worries!

i still have no excuses!!

You don't need no excuses brah

<3333

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Nyssa al Ghul | Arrow

Barry or The Flash? You decide.

squishes u

squishes back!!

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