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[travelerscurse]

It's not until everything goes quiet that Gustavain realizes anything is wrong.

Before that, it's just battle, one opponent after the next, call the Light to his fingertips and send it lancing out to a foe or to heal an ally. Again. Again. Again. Everyone thinks of such things in terms of their beauty, but for him, the Light has only ever been brutal in his hands, even his healing being too quick, too desperate, for subtlety and grace. He doesn't mind. War isn't beautiful.

But when the last soldier falls (and he's tried to keep as many of them just injured instead of dead as he can, but it's hard when they won't stay down) that he realizes that he might not have to worry about whether or not he's killed them afterall, because out in the frigid cold, they might all be dead, himself included. The world goes quiet-- it's just him and the ruins and the trees and the snow and his labored breathing before he pulls his scarf hurriedly up over his face to conserve warmth. Where is he? How far as he gone from the fighting? He doesn't panic, but his brain is quickly turning over his situation and how best to resolve it, ears straining against the muffling snow.

And then he hears it-- first one clash of metal against metal, then another, a cry of pain from someone, and he doesn't know friend or foe but he's running towards the sound instantly, unwilling to risk it fading and losing his way again. He's expecting to find a squad from the noises, but finds only another lone warrior, fending off half a dozen soldiers, with at least another 3-4 already dispatched. His breath catches when he sees how they are dressed, what they are wielding, because oh, he knows that weapon, but there's no time to think about that now. They are outmatched by so many, even though they have fared well to last this long, and his hands gather power now as he runs.

It's probably surprising to feel regenerative magics before she even sees that someone else has joined the battle. It's probably more surprising to see what's clearly a bundled up healer run right up beside her rather than using her as cover, light suddenly lancing in all directions. The soldiers fall back a moment, seem dazed by the brightness-- giving her an opening.

Comments

[travelerscurse]

He's already been shown that she's vastly different in temperament from Sigdurgu if nothing else, but he is sort of anticipating the two of them settling into a stoic sort of silence. So when she's clearly shifting a bit a moment later, unable to keep entirely still, the diplomat in him (that he always swears up and down he isn't) pulls words from him before he can help it,

"I learned how to knit my clothes back up the same as flesh, but I still have to do armor the hard way. Do you want any assistance with yours?"

[dawnsdarkness]

(She would team up with Rielle against Sigdurgu in a heartbeat and he would not stand a chance against their combined might.)

"Oh, do you have tools with you?" She knows how to patch up her own armor as well, but left her tools and such back at the camp. More out of overconfidence than anything- had Gustavain not shown up, she may not have bothered to take shelter and would be trying to make her way back.

[travelerscurse]

"Not proper ones and I'm not very good at it, to be honest," he admits with a laugh, "but I know enough to tighten straps and get pieces cleaned at least, so they won't have further damage," his eyes sparkle with good humor at his own failings, "To be fair, I don't know how to properly mend my clothing either, just make it look better. But considering the cold, it's better to not let the wind blow through it regardless of ah... structural integrity, shall we say? I can get a proper mender to look at it when we get out of this."

[dawnsdarkness]

Lillian gives a helpless little shrug. "I should probably be better at mending armor than I am... I've just always like weaving better." The only activity from her upbringing that she enjoyed, really. Though in hindsight it may have had something to do with stabbing her frustrations away.

She'll hop up to her feet in one quick motion, moving to grab her armor and settle back on the floor next to Gustavain. "I appreciate the help!" Even minor repairs are helpful, given the situation. And the fact that the situation he came upon with her absolutely surrounded by enemies is not uncommon.

[travelerscurse]

"At least I can cook," he quips as he starts to look over her armor, "So I suppose I'm good for something that's not related to killing people," it's said lightly, very definitely joking, but it's a kind of gallows humor that definitely sits better on a Dark Knight than a healer. It definitely sits a bit strange coming from the Warrior of Light. But he's not lingering on it, doesn't even seem to have assigned it much importance, moving to start working on cleaning the smaller pieces of her armor,

"A weaver, hm? Shall I pay you to patch my armor up while we wait, then, instead? I'm certain it could use it," there's the hint of an opening left deliberately there, nothing she can put her finger on precisely, more than just that it sounds like an invitation to banter, but the door is open nevertheless.

[dawnsdarkness]

Lillian giggles. "Oh, you don't need to pay me to do it. So long as you ask very nicely."

Just like his words, there's clearly something else in there, a testing sort of banter. She's getting to like him already, quite different from what she'd thought the Warrior of Light would be like- and while she's sure she could have gotten along fine for a single night with what she'd imagined, this is more fun. Especially since she's wondering if he'll catch on to her tone, that a simple 'please' isn't what she's implying...

[travelerscurse]

There's the barest hint of a sly look on his face, not like he's trying to be clever so much as like he's also caught scent of the game, here, and is slowly feeling out the edges of it with a banked delight.

"I've been told I'm very persuasive when I've a mind to be," he returns in the same tone, "How nicely would you need to be asked?"

He's saying that like he's still talking about asking, but if before the door was opened a crack, he's basically just kicked it open. There's still a hint of plausible deniability here, on both their sides, but he doesn't seem hesitant to name what they're talking about so much as enjoying the push-and-pull a bit longer.

[dawnsdarkness]

Lillian grins, and it's a surprisingly wicked expression on her otherwise sweet and cute face. Still, her tone remains playful, and she taps a finger to the side of her lips, forcing her expression into something thoughtful.

"Hmmm... very, very nicely," she hums, and then adds on like she's trying to be helpful, "Begging works. Or some people grovel. I can be pretty flexible."

[travelerscurse]

Now, now, he finally roves his eyes up and down her body in something more than mere assessment of injuries and a vague understanding that she's attractive. He takes his time with it, lets his expression slide heavy-lidded and warm while he does.

"You'd make even the Warrior of Light beg?" It's not a challenge. The tone is soft, still teasing a bit perhaps, but it's clear now where they're headed. He's been sitting on one of the dining room chairs this whole time, but it's a simple matter to slip out of it to his knees. With the way she's sitting on the floor and his own height, he's still looming over her a bit, but the position is nothing if not obvious.

[dawnsdarkness]

"I would," she says, and while a bit of chipper cheekiness remains on the surface, there's something darker, almost familiar underneath. She doesn't move from her spot, but the height difference between them doesn't seem to matter that much, the way she sits up straight giving her something of an imposing air as she reaches up to his face. From the outside, the touch may look sweet, a soft caress, but behind the curve of his jaw Gustavain can feel the slight bite of nails sharpened to be more like claws, threatening to draw blood. "Especially since he wants to."

(There is it, why this might be familiar. She wants to see, you want to show her--)

[travelerscurse]

She can see him relax into it, the way his expression slides even more heavy lidded. He tilts his head to the side to bare his neck just slightly as she reaches for it, then leans into the caress once it's there. Into the palm of her hand, yes, but also into those nails.

"Mm, I do," he confirms, because it's important, "I want to." And then, because it's also important, "If you want someone who'll fight you, say so now. I'd not wish to prove unsatisfactorily... accommodating, but I've little mind to resist otherwise." And then, there's still a little smirk, his humor as always rising to the forefront, a little show that she need not worry his easy acquiescence means losing his personality,

"Besides, what is the point in resistance when both of us can mend," he teases, but also allows, draws part of a line-- she is the clothing mender, of course, that's how this started, but he can knit flesh, bone. It's permission, if she wants it, deliberately open-ended.

[dawnsdarkness]

She runs her thumb over his cheek, a sweeter gesture to offset the way her nails dig in a little deeper, raising red lines across his skin as they draw little circles. "Mm, no, you don't need to," she says, cocking her head slightly, "I don't mind it, but it's not what I'm looking for, either."

She shifts up, bringing her legs to either side of his, raised up so she's closer to his face (which has the side effect of showing off how very toned her lower half is). "That doesn't mean I'm not going to hurt you, though," she warns, her bubbly voice now rich and dark as she leans in, biting down on the curve of his neck.

[travelerscurse]

He hasn't yet been forbidden touch, so he reaches up and slides his hands around the backs of her thighs when she raises up like that. His hands are a little heated, this is no platonic, helpful touch, but there's nothing groping about it, either, and he doesn't reach further for her either for his own gratification or to please her in a way she hasn't asked for. It's simply a bridge, a point of anchoring and connection.

He doesn't have anything smart to say to her telling him she's going to hurt him, but the way the side of his mouth curls up in a little smirk says everything he's not about how he feels about it. And then her teeth dig into his skin and he makes the sweetest little noise, soft and aching.

It's been a long time since he let himself indulge like this. He's going to enjoy every moment of it.

[dawnsdarkness]

"Such a sweet boy," she all but coos, knuckles of her free hand brushing over his cheek. It's the kind of tone that could inspire many things, depending on the mood of the listener; some might be inclined to push back, fight her and test her, but if Gustavain's already not inclined to put up a fight, it might be more soothing, inviting him to sink further into this and let her do what she will. "I'll take very good care of you~"

She gives him a brief little kiss to his lips, similar to that head kiss she gave him earlier, before turning her faze down towards his remaining clothing. "Get the rest of this off," she tells him simply, "...Unless you really want to test my mending skills, I suppose."