roarofflame asked: Well, in that case... *He wraps his arms around her and lifts her right up for a proper little kiss. He grins afterwards.* Better, lil miss?
Mmmmm, much. Thanks, dear.
I like to tor—TREAT PEOPLE TO NICE THINGS.
— Iolar, justiciar commander, terrible father, and dirty, dirty liar.
can wordy do this too, wordy does this, also “TIME TO SEE THE BABY” “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO”
“I DON’T WANT TO BOND”
“well tough.”
roarofflame asked: *SUDDENLY... Roar gives little Wordy a kiss on her cheek, grinning.* B) Grey mages! I swear!
Eheheheh. Man, I hate it when this happens and I get my real smooch taken by you and your ‘don’t kiss a married woman with a giant husband’ morals. *gives him a soft kiss on the lips* There. Our relationship’s pretty open, man. He knows I am too affectionate towards the entire world to not constantly mack on all of them.
He should. He knows you need him still. Gods know I still need Martin sometimes. He reminds me of the good in the world and that there’s always someone out there who will surprise you. You’re perfectly lovable, and mistakes you’ve made are mistakes. They’re not damning. He loves you and loved you anyway, and he tried to take good care of you. Try to carry that on, okay? I know you don’t like the body you’re in, but you can’t put yourself in pain trying to change it. I worry about you so much, ‘Tail. Please don’t hurt yourself this way again.
No, Words. He shouldn’. He’d still be aroun’ if I didn’ have th’ tendancy t’ royally fuck up everythin’.
/Scratches where the cut is/ He’s dead an its my fault. I wouldn’ like me either.
Unless you directly killed him or indirectly made the choice to kill him somehow, it’s not your fault. The Thalmor should not be torturing people for things they can’t control or things that aren’t hurting other people, and really they shouldn’t be torturing or killing people at all. That’s what killed him. Not you. Can you tell me what happened?
And get over here so I can hug you, you ass. You need hugging. And less scratching yourself.
Just because he isn’t here in this plane doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try to keep your promises to him. He still loves you, somewhere out there.
________
….Feh. He shouldn’.
He should. He knows you need him still. Gods know I still need Martin sometimes. He reminds me of the good in the world and that there’s always someone out there who will surprise you. You’re perfectly lovable, and mistakes you’ve made are mistakes. They’re not damning. He loves you and loved you anyway, and he tried to take good care of you. Try to carry that on, okay? I know you don’t like the body you’re in, but you can’t put yourself in pain trying to change it. I worry about you so much, ‘Tail. Please don’t hurt yourself this way again.
Sweetheart, you are not getting a major limb connected to your spine cut off.Why not? Worked fine th’ first time!
Clearly because you’re a lucky son of a bitch. Now you’re just tempting fate. I am not letting you accidentally cut off use of your legs or something. Or bleed out. How you didn’t do either before is honestly surprising.
Bad News, and Good News.
“I have. But not as badly as you. You got hit straight on, close, with definite practice and power to stimulate fear and nerve damage. Damned Thalmor. May they burn. You don’t do this to people unless you’re not planning on them living very long. You’re probably going to have some neuropathy. I’ll see what I can do with the nerves, honey. Hopefully working on them should have a calming effect. It’s going to take a long time, though, and precision. I can get some help from—-” She stopped herself. Claire. Her eyes burned and her throat closed a bit. He wasn’t allowed to be gone, not yet, but he’d managed anyway and she didn’t think she was going to forgive him. He was supposed to sing stupid Breton lullabies to Mart and snark at her and have soft gold skin and this was all wrong and it was all her fault, somehow. She didn’t know what she was guilty for.
“Nevermind.”
“But anyway, why don’t you give me the cloth and I can help with your back? There are some pretty gross splinters in there, sweets. Might hurt but they need cleaning. Need to upgrade their torture materials, clearly.”
“Sounds fun.” He twitched again. He hoped it would subdue at least a little. He needed to be steady in his profession. One wrong jerk and you had a broken lockpick.
Splinters? Great. He hadn’t even noticed those. Then again, his entire body hurt. For all he knew they had cut off a leg and he hadn’t noticed. He tried to focus on the physical pain instead of the odd clenching in his chest and thoughts that wouldn’t keep quiet.
With some effort, he managed to get himself sitting on the bath ledge, back facing the female Argonian. He chuckled and bopped Mart on the nose gently.
“Don’ stare or yer gonna go blind, lil lady.”
“Eheh. I don’t think she knows what she’s looking at yet.” She produced some tweezers and plucked out slivers of rotting wood, pressing on the wounds and wiping away any results of infection in circles. It was useless to seal over a wound you’d just have to lance later. When she was sure all of the pockets were clean she added on a bit of new skin, to conserve. These would most likely heal well on their own.
There was a fernlike pattern folding out from where he’d been hit, not as noticeable with the pigmented scales but still visible to a trained eye. Definitely a targeted shock, and hot. She healed the superficial burning first, since it’d take little time and definitely not the amount of precision work she’d have to do on the deep nerves, with regrowing and replacing and reattaching.
The other wound she could see were the holes in the membranes of his fins, but looking at the pallor around the woulds she knew they wouldn’t heal yet, even magically. Poisoned. They might never close properly, healing around the holes but not over them, though she hoped they would. Hopefully the piercing objects hadn’t been left in too long and the holes were that apparent from the substance that was keeping them in a stasis state. Otherwise they’d have to go buy some earrings.
So, I happen to be a woman for six hours.
… It’s kind of chilly.
Anyone have a shirt?
I can lend you one. We’re about the same size.
(The can is slightly hypothetical, I’m not sure I quite want to, cutie—)
Shana.
OKAY HERE HERE’S A SHIRT FARKAS YOU GROW A PAIR OF THOSE AND THEN YOU CAN TELL ME WHAT TO DO
Bad News, and Good News.
“You waste a lot of time lying to people about things they already know about. It’s okay, honey. Just…try your best for me and Mart, okay? You’re not worthless and if anyone here would let me I’d skin all those Thalmor alive for thinking they could take you and get away with it. I keep hoping if we tell you enough times you’ll believe us. If you’re going to do it, though, at least be careful and clean up afterwards. I really don’t want you getting an infection, like, say, this gross one under your fin here. Igh. Kyne, how can they treat people like this? How can they think it’s justified? They took love and gave you pain and that’s just not right.”
“Don’t scrub too hard, you’ll take more scales off. I know you don’t like them but yours have too much of a blood supply to rip off. You can keep them softer, probably, but you can’t exfoliate like Mart and I can. I don’t think she’ll have many scales at all. She definitely got her father’s system, though. She’s much hardier than I am. Probably going to be taller.”
‘Tail couldn’t quite look her in the eye. He didn’t like listening to Wordy because Wordy always spoke the truth, and the truth wasn’t something he wanted to think about right now. As far as he was concerned, Claire could walk in the door any second. Hell, he was probably on his way. And he was perfectly fine.
He liked that idea more than the truth.
His fin twitched painfully.
“Nerve damage. I’ll have to look at that later. Shock spell?”
“I’m sorry, honey. I wish there was something I could do for you. It’ll dull, I hope. But it’s sharp at first. You’re doing better than I was. Remember? You just…have to keep going. Even when you don’t want to, just…push at it. It unfortunately takes a lot of mental lying to keep yourself alive for long. But you’ll do it, because bodies live on if you let them. Sad, stupid thing. I’m just glad that at least he’s not…not in pain anymore, yeah? He’s out of that misery. Probably arguing with Talos somewhere about whether he’s real or not.”
‘Tail nodded. “You ever been shocked, Words?” He never had until recently. The very thought of it made a chill run down his spine. Electricity. Yeah, how about no.
The idea of Sinclaire arguing with Talos both made ‘Tail want to laugh and whine. But instead of doing either, he just put his chin on the ledge of the bath and stuck his tongue out at Mart.
The Argonian, whom normally never shut up- couldn’t really bring himself to words lately. Words seemed to hurt as much as lightening.
“I have. But not as badly as you. You got hit straight on, close, with definite practice and power to stimulate fear and nerve damage. Damned Thalmor. May they burn. You don’t do this to people unless you’re not planning on them living very long. You’re probably going to have some neuropathy. I’ll see what I can do with the nerves, honey. Hopefully working on them should have a calming effect. It’s going to take a long time, though, and precision. I can get some help from—-” She stopped herself. Claire. Her eyes burned and her throat closed a bit. He wasn’t allowed to be gone, not yet, but he’d managed anyway and she didn’t think she was going to forgive him. He was supposed to sing stupid Breton lullabies to Mart and snark at her and have soft gold skin and this was all wrong and it was all her fault, somehow. She didn’t know what she was guilty for.
“Nevermind.”
“But anyway, why don’t you give me the cloth and I can help with your back? There are some pretty gross splinters in there, sweets. Might hurt but they need cleaning. Need to upgrade their torture materials, clearly.”
