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open rp post

MOSTLY ACTIONSPAM ★ PICTURE PROMPTS OR OTHERWORDLY PROMPTS WELCOME ★ TELL ME WHO YOU WANT IN THE HEADER

★ MUSELIST

( code from supersuits | gif from ahgiffers )

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[inklongdry]

[ Arthur’s codex is nothing terribly fancy to look at, but it’s clearly well-loved, and he would admit that having it back in his hands, even temporarily, is something of a comfort.

But there’s no time to dwell on it, really. ]

As quick as I can manage it.

[ He has no doubt that Cullen will follow him as he turns and heads into the infirmary where the Elezen- sorry, elf, rather- is still cursing up a storm. What a charming young lady.

He pushes his way past the people tending to her and the people around just to gawk with only token apologies, and when he crouches at her bedside, the look she gives him is one of confusion as well as blatant suspicion. Arthur tries for his best reassuring smile, though he’s not too certain it works.

Even with the simple dressing on the wound, Arthur can tell it’s a bad one, blood already seeping through the bandages. He’s only ever met Sera in passing, but she’s a few shades paler than normal. ]

I know, I’m probably the last person you expected to see here.

[ As he speaks, he takes his book in one hand, letting it fall open- he’s used this spell enough that even the book seems to have its placement memorized. Arthur draws his fingers across the pages, which begin to glow with green and blue light, and strange geometric shapes in striking orange. Arthur is too focused on his work to pay any mind to the reactions of anyone else in the room, and with a wave of his hand, the same sort of light gathers over Sera’s wound.

Arthur focuses his attention there, willing the ragged hole to close, the damage to mend as he focuses his power into the spell.

(And not for the first time, Arthur feels like he gets a glimpse of fluttering wings and golden light. The barest echoes of the Nymian fae of which he’s read so much, but never seen himself.)

After a very long few moments, Sera seems to relax, the pain and tension easing out of her with a sigh. Arthur draws his hand away from the book, letting the light die down. The bandage may still be bloody, but underneath is only a small pink patch of mended flesh.

That done, Arthur stands, snapping his book shut and offering over to Cullen in one motion. ]

[elderflowers]

[ There's a tension in the air as Arthur makes his way through the throngs of people to the infirmary, uneasy stares and watchful eyes fixed on the book in his hand. Despite having vouched for the man, even the Inquisitor's attention is hawklike as he looks from Arthur to Cullen. The Commander offers a solemn nod, short and hopefully reassuring — though perhaps the hand still resting on the pommel of his sword might allay more of the Inquisitor's uncertainty; Cullen is nearby, ready to act if this happens to bite them in the ass, but... he'd rather it didn't come to that.

(But he's seen the worst of magic, and he's far less willing to blindly trust something new and unfamiliar, even if what Arthur has offered is help.

Unfortunately, their options are exceedingly limited at this point.)

He isn't the only one watching intently as light and shapes begin to emanate from Arthur's book, and though they all seem stiff, on their guard, no one moves forward to stop him or take the codex away. Instead, they let the spell do its work, and much to the relief of everyone still in the infirmary, they can see Sera's wound closing over.

After a few drawn-out moments, the light vanishes and Sera slumps with relief back against her bedroll. ]

Think I'll keep everyone else on the pointy end next time, yeah?

[ There's a communal sigh as the near-palpable tension starts to dissipate, and the Inquisitor returns to Sera's side to check on her as Cullen turns his attention back to Arthur and the proffered book. ]

... Well, then.

[ Cullen reaches out to take the tome (because while he's impressed, he's not inclined to let Arthur keep it just yet). ]

Perhaps thanks are in order.

[ They most certainly are. ]

[inklongdry]

[ Arthur lets Cullen take the book without argument, offering only a small shake of his head. ]

If anything, I should be thanking you for placing your trust in me.

[elderflowers]

[ Cullen tucks the book securely in the crook of his arm, casing Arthur a somewhat dry look. ]

Given how little choice I had, I’m afraid I can’t necessarily claim it was an act of good faith.

[ Their resources being what they were, it largely came down to “how much did he want to risk Sera’s life” — and with the Inquisitor breathing down his neck and the condition the elf appeared to be in, the answer was “not nearly as much as he might otherwise.” ]

So— thank you.

[ There’s a tug of something at the corner of his lips that might be a smile — though there isn’t much in the way of joy in it. ]

I’m sure you’ll soon find yourself beset with more thanks than only my own.

[inklongdry]

Considering my current circumstances, I’ll take whatever I can get.

[ Not that he was hoping for someone to become gravely injured for a chance at saving them, but whether by choice or desperation, that little bit of trust was a welcome change from the constant suspicion. ]

I don’t do what I do for the thank-yous, Commander, so if it’s all the same to you, I would rather extract myself while I can.

[elderflowers]

I don’t blame you at all.

[ Which is entirely true. Cullen doesn’t do well with genuine gratitude either, not when he’s lived so much of his life in service to the Chantry.

Templars, after all, don’t work for the expectation of thanks.

(Especially since they’ll rarely find it.) ]

Then you might want to—

[ —go quickly, is what he was about to say, but before he can finish his sentence, a familiar voice comes up beside them, and the Inquisitor claps a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. ]

Maker’s breath, but I’ve never seen anything like that. An incredible show of magic, truly. We are in your debt, Ser.

[ Cullen straightens up respectfully as the Inquisitor stands next to them, though he does offer Arthur something that might almost look apologetic for not letting him beat a hasty retreat sooner. ]