[That gets her a somewhat flat look, though it's considerably less imposing with the tired way he blinks up at her, along with the general aura of unwell. And while he doesn't at all appreciate being told what to do...
Perhaps, but that doesn't mean you don't still need it.
[He's expending no less energy convalescing than he would were he fully well and moving around, after all. She turns and sits at the edge of the bed, her back turned to him; there is still a faint sarcastic lilt to her voice.]
[Of course she was right, which doesn't improve his expression any. Though at her suggestion, he makes a pained sound that has nothing to do with his injuries.]
No. As much as it may disappoint you, there's some tasks I'm yet capable of.
[Bowing to inevitability, he accepts the plate without any further (verbal) protest, though he still regards both it and Irhya with disapproval.
As well as just. Prodding his meal distractedly with a fork as he answers.]
Well, they hardly fed us during our stay with them. 'Tis hard to adjust back to having food regularly available.
[On top of the pain and injuries and- everything. The first few days back had been particularly bad, though he can at least maintain some shell of normalcy now.]
[It was a lot of trauma packed into a single week, from the sound of it. She hums, then shifts a little at the bedside.]
I should check your wounds while I'm here, too. I may not have the healing magic I had back home, but I was a conjurer once, too. I still have the principle knowledge of treating someone, at least.
[Though his first impulse had been to refuse, same as with the idea of her feeding him, he relents after a moment's thought. Even if it was unnecessary, he knew that people often felt better just by being able to help.
Plus, anything on his back he did have a harder time keeping an eye on.
Eventually, he starts eating instead of just poking his food. Though he has to add after a few moments--]
You don't have to do any of this, you realize. I'm entirely capable of looking after myself.
[It would've been difficult initially, yes, and it wouldn't be easy now, but- he could manage it.]
[The reply is perfectly even, like she somehow knew he was going to say that and already had a response prepared for his stubbornness. She does turn her head to look at him, just sort of watching for the time being.]
You will have to take your outer layers off for it, mind you. But eat first. In the meantime, I'm going to go get some things in case any of your injuries need cleaning or re-bandaging.
[She stands up and leaves the room, spending a few minutes away, and then returns with several bottles of various fluids, a couple towels, and a roll of bandages.]
[High praise. But he could tell it was probably good, he just wasn't remotely in the mood for anything, which made it somewhat difficult to finish. A valiant attempt is made nonetheless, and he does manage to force down a reasonable portion before putting the rest aside. Though it was probably the right decision to eat something, he didn't want to push it.
Resigning himself to being looked after, he begins working his shirt open, though there's a notable lack of dexterity remaining in one hand.]
...I don't believe I've reopened anything. Haven't exactly moved around enough for that.
[Though there's certainly a few things to go over. Even when everything finished healing, he'd be left with several unpleasant-looking scars. And not the haphazard consequence of battle; there's too much deliberation in most of his wounds. Long cuts over his torso and chest, creeping up towards his throat, with similar results to his back. The bruising is lighter now, but there's still a considerable amount of it.]
[And she can acknowledge what an effort it must have been even as she collects the half-finished plate, figuring she can probably eat the rest herself later so nothing goes to waste. Trauma does tend to take one's appetite away...]
Perhaps so, but your wounds were left to fester for a long period. Proper management is what will help them heal better. And you should still be cleaning them out, too, even if it looks like they're scabbed over.
[Getting up into his personal space, she runs fingers along each line, tracing the scars in a way that seems to be only halfway medical examination. It's the first time she's really gotten a chance to look at them up close, and it makes a lump rise in her throat. She exhales, mouthing a quiet "wow" to herself.]
...And covering them to keep the moisture in.
[A delayed addendum, like she just lost her train of thought.]
[He holds very still, watching as she inspects the lines of his injuries. There's a slight tension there that he forces to relax; anyone touching his wounds provoked a memory of how they'd been deliberately refreshed, any time they had started to close during that week. But Irhya wasn't going to claw them open.]
Thorough, weren't they?
[He'd only possessed this host for a few months and it already looked like this. He sighs quietly.]
I've mostly just been leaving it alone. [Avoiding dealing with it.] Rather than agitate it unnecessarily.
As you should. But it's good to get up and walk around periodically as well, to keep your body from growing too accustomed to rest. So long as you take it easy on that leg wound.
Speaking of which... pants off, too. I want to check that one as well, and then I'll start cleaning them.
[They've scarred over to the point where they don't need coverage, strictly speaking, but clearing away any excess debris is still important in this phase. She's just erring on the side of caution.
After a moment comes a question borne of pure curiosity.]
Has anything like this ever... happened to you before?
[The advice only gets a sigh from him. It was sensible, reasonable, and likely to be ignored in favor of just sleeping and otherwise remaining as still as possible. At least until he became bored enough for that to be more of a driving force than avoiding pain.
At her- request? expectation?- he obediently begins unfastening and removing his pants, movements halting, awkward.]
To this degree? No... not really.
[As neutral a tone as he can make it, though he winces a little as he manages to push the fabric free of his legs and aside. Why did not moving have to bring its own sort of soreness? On top of everything else?
In addition to the deeper wound that traveled the length of his thigh, there's several other smaller abrasions, bruises, the familiar mix of mistreatments.]
I would have assumed my host to be lost, and killed whoever was mistaken enough to attempt this.
I suppose it gives you some perspective on how important our bodies are when we're permanently attached to them.
[She dabs some alcohol on a cotton pad and starts scrubbing gently at the thigh wound first, twisting his leg a little and leaning over his lap so that she can access it. Her hands are cool, but not uncomfortably so.]
I never realized that conversation we had about you being effectively mortal now was going to come back to be so important so soon afterward. I just hate that being a monster makes me mostly useless compared to a witch...
[Though he was about to say that he was well aware of how fragile mortal forms were, he manages to stop himself. Because, yes, knowing it, witnessing it, even experiencing it for a time was one thing. Having to live with a maimed host rather than shed it and pick up a new one was... different.
As was realizing that it could've been much worse. He'd have a limp for a while, but he could still walk. He was half-blind but not entirely.
It didn't make the Ascian grateful, only uneasy.]
What more do you think a witch could do?
[Even though they were no longer raw, the injuries still weren't comfortable to have touched, even gently. But he doesn't complain, letting his leg be moved as she wanted.]
Healing can only go so far. The rest I'm left to manage the natural way.
They have so many other abilities at their disposal. Granted, it would be best if we all just had our old skills back, but perhaps I ask for too much...
[She won't put her money on it, at any rate. The rules of this world make that very clear.]
All I can really do right now is drain blood, turn into a bat, and maybe kill things if I try. Sure, I blend in better with the masses, but... Mira's skills are far more practical.
[Is that a tinge of jealousy?]
That said, I will still be here should you need any assistance with anything. You'll be vulnerable for the next several moons, or perhaps more; I will be keeping an eye on the Bond as best I can.
[That did distract him for a moment. What a strange ability to have. It would be good for hiding somewhere, he supposed.]
Well, I'm not going to argue against your obvious inadequacies. But in this particular instance, you're accomplishing precisely as much as Mira or any other witch can. And 'tis not as though the possession of magic did me any good in preventing this.
[Only their real powers would ever be good enough. But as with everything else... they were stuck with what they'd been handed.]
And I've no intention of moving much of anywhere for several moons, so I shant be any more trouble.
[Not really appreciating the reminder of vulnerability; it wasn't something he could forget, now.]
[Yet there's a distinct set of bad feelings lingering between them, perhaps more sour for Hades than Irhya, and it's irritating her. She's struggling to think of a way to drive the tension out.]
Do you want to see it? The... the bat, I mean. I've been told it's really cute?
[He was more on edge in general, a prickliness unlike his usual veneer of casual irritability. An unease he didn't know how to shake, or who to take it out on.
Still, he tries to reign it in. Might as well focus that dissatisfaction inward; he was as good a target as any.]
[Irhya steps back, pauses to take a breath, and then focuses her energy, turning into a bat in a puff of smoke. She drops instantly to the floor upon transformation; using the bones of her wings, she proceeds to pick herself up daintily, shaking her head like an embarrassed cat, then makes a few flaps over to Hades's lap.
And stares up at him with the roundest, bluest puppy-eyed gaze he has probably ever seen on a bat not even the size of his smallest finger. Cute? Yes?]
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...He does sit up, carefully.]
You know I've not much appetite, Irhya.
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[He's expending no less energy convalescing than he would were he fully well and moving around, after all. She turns and sits at the edge of the bed, her back turned to him; there is still a faint sarcastic lilt to her voice.]
Need me to feed it to you?
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No. As much as it may disappoint you, there's some tasks I'm yet capable of.
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Pity. I don't trust that you're not going to just leave it there, though, so I'm sticking around to make sure you do.
[She stands up and collects the plate, crossing the room again and holding it expectantly in front of him.]
...You seem to be doing a little better, at any rate. I was worried in the beginning you wouldn't be able to hold food down at first.
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As well as just. Prodding his meal distractedly with a fork as he answers.]
Well, they hardly fed us during our stay with them. 'Tis hard to adjust back to having food regularly available.
[On top of the pain and injuries and- everything. The first few days back had been particularly bad, though he can at least maintain some shell of normalcy now.]
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[It was a lot of trauma packed into a single week, from the sound of it. She hums, then shifts a little at the bedside.]
I should check your wounds while I'm here, too. I may not have the healing magic I had back home, but I was a conjurer once, too. I still have the principle knowledge of treating someone, at least.
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[Though his first impulse had been to refuse, same as with the idea of her feeding him, he relents after a moment's thought. Even if it was unnecessary, he knew that people often felt better just by being able to help.
Plus, anything on his back he did have a harder time keeping an eye on.
Eventually, he starts eating instead of just poking his food. Though he has to add after a few moments--]
You don't have to do any of this, you realize. I'm entirely capable of looking after myself.
[It would've been difficult initially, yes, and it wouldn't be easy now, but- he could manage it.]
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[The reply is perfectly even, like she somehow knew he was going to say that and already had a response prepared for his stubbornness. She does turn her head to look at him, just sort of watching for the time being.]
You will have to take your outer layers off for it, mind you. But eat first. In the meantime, I'm going to go get some things in case any of your injuries need cleaning or re-bandaging.
[She stands up and leaves the room, spending a few minutes away, and then returns with several bottles of various fluids, a couple towels, and a roll of bandages.]
How is it, by the way? The food.
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[High praise. But he could tell it was probably good, he just wasn't remotely in the mood for anything, which made it somewhat difficult to finish. A valiant attempt is made nonetheless, and he does manage to force down a reasonable portion before putting the rest aside. Though it was probably the right decision to eat something, he didn't want to push it.
Resigning himself to being looked after, he begins working his shirt open, though there's a notable lack of dexterity remaining in one hand.]
...I don't believe I've reopened anything. Haven't exactly moved around enough for that.
[Though there's certainly a few things to go over. Even when everything finished healing, he'd be left with several unpleasant-looking scars. And not the haphazard consequence of battle; there's too much deliberation in most of his wounds. Long cuts over his torso and chest, creeping up towards his throat, with similar results to his back. The bruising is lighter now, but there's still a considerable amount of it.]
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[And she can acknowledge what an effort it must have been even as she collects the half-finished plate, figuring she can probably eat the rest herself later so nothing goes to waste. Trauma does tend to take one's appetite away...]
Perhaps so, but your wounds were left to fester for a long period. Proper management is what will help them heal better. And you should still be cleaning them out, too, even if it looks like they're scabbed over.
[Getting up into his personal space, she runs fingers along each line, tracing the scars in a way that seems to be only halfway medical examination. It's the first time she's really gotten a chance to look at them up close, and it makes a lump rise in her throat. She exhales, mouthing a quiet "wow" to herself.]
...And covering them to keep the moisture in.
[A delayed addendum, like she just lost her train of thought.]
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Thorough, weren't they?
[He'd only possessed this host for a few months and it already looked like this. He sighs quietly.]
I've mostly just been leaving it alone. [Avoiding dealing with it.] Rather than agitate it unnecessarily.
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Speaking of which... pants off, too. I want to check that one as well, and then I'll start cleaning them.
[They've scarred over to the point where they don't need coverage, strictly speaking, but clearing away any excess debris is still important in this phase. She's just erring on the side of caution.
After a moment comes a question borne of pure curiosity.]
Has anything like this ever... happened to you before?
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At her- request? expectation?- he obediently begins unfastening and removing his pants, movements halting, awkward.]
To this degree? No... not really.
[As neutral a tone as he can make it, though he winces a little as he manages to push the fabric free of his legs and aside. Why did not moving have to bring its own sort of soreness? On top of everything else?
In addition to the deeper wound that traveled the length of his thigh, there's several other smaller abrasions, bruises, the familiar mix of mistreatments.]
I would have assumed my host to be lost, and killed whoever was mistaken enough to attempt this.
[But this time he could do nothing.]
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[She dabs some alcohol on a cotton pad and starts scrubbing gently at the thigh wound first, twisting his leg a little and leaning over his lap so that she can access it. Her hands are cool, but not uncomfortably so.]
I never realized that conversation we had about you being effectively mortal now was going to come back to be so important so soon afterward. I just hate that being a monster makes me mostly useless compared to a witch...
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As was realizing that it could've been much worse. He'd have a limp for a while, but he could still walk. He was half-blind but not entirely.
It didn't make the Ascian grateful, only uneasy.]
What more do you think a witch could do?
[Even though they were no longer raw, the injuries still weren't comfortable to have touched, even gently. But he doesn't complain, letting his leg be moved as she wanted.]
Healing can only go so far. The rest I'm left to manage the natural way.
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[She won't put her money on it, at any rate. The rules of this world make that very clear.]
All I can really do right now is drain blood, turn into a bat, and maybe kill things if I try. Sure, I blend in better with the masses, but... Mira's skills are far more practical.
[Is that a tinge of jealousy?]
That said, I will still be here should you need any assistance with anything. You'll be vulnerable for the next several moons, or perhaps more; I will be keeping an eye on the Bond as best I can.
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[That did distract him for a moment. What a strange ability to have. It would be good for hiding somewhere, he supposed.]
Well, I'm not going to argue against your obvious inadequacies. But in this particular instance, you're accomplishing precisely as much as Mira or any other witch can. And 'tis not as though the possession of magic did me any good in preventing this.
[Only their real powers would ever be good enough. But as with everything else... they were stuck with what they'd been handed.]
And I've no intention of moving much of anywhere for several moons, so I shant be any more trouble.
[Not really appreciating the reminder of vulnerability; it wasn't something he could forget, now.]
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[Yet there's a distinct set of bad feelings lingering between them, perhaps more sour for Hades than Irhya, and it's irritating her. She's struggling to think of a way to drive the tension out.]
Do you want to see it? The... the bat, I mean. I've been told it's really cute?
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Still, he tries to reign it in. Might as well focus that dissatisfaction inward; he was as good a target as any.]
...Show me this bat.
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[Irhya steps back, pauses to take a breath, and then focuses her energy, turning into a bat in a puff of smoke. She drops instantly to the floor upon transformation; using the bones of her wings, she proceeds to pick herself up daintily, shaking her head like an embarrassed cat, then makes a few flaps over to Hades's lap.
And stares up at him with the roundest, bluest puppy-eyed gaze he has probably ever seen on a bat not even the size of his smallest finger. Cute? Yes?]