I stood there, naked and shivering, but unable to look away from the scene before me. I pushed away from Farkas and he let go of me, moving to his brother to shrug on his armour. I moved on unsteady feet round the altar, as I did Aela met my gaze.
"Igne, heal him!" Aela sobbed, as she knelt over Skjor's broken body. I flinched at the raw pain in her eyes. At the denial. "Aela…" My voice cracked, "He's dead." "Heal him! Please."
Nothing I could say would convince her, deep down I knew that. So I gathered my weakened magicka with effort, channelling it into Skjor's still warm corpse. The familiar golden light swirled about Skjor but the cuts and bruises remained and he lay utterly still. My head began to spin but I kept the spell going even as I sank to my knees.
"Enough." Dimly I registered being snatched up from the floor, rough cloth being pressed to my chest as I was dragged away.
When I regained my scattered senses I realised I was in one of the side rooms, a rough woollen blanket barely covering me, alone apart from Vilkas. He was stood in front of me, wearing just trousers and boots, hands grasping my upper arms, waiting for a response to a question I hadn't heard. I blinked, "What?" "Can you heal yourself?" His eyes flickered down, darkly taking in the burns and bruises on my body, barely covered by the blanket he had found. He was almost growling at me, fragile temper clearly about to snap, still on edge after his transformation. I felt myself quail under his gaze and I shook my head dully. He bit back on a curse, turning his back to me briefly before he spun back round, unusually indecisive, though I knew why.
"Go on. Get it over with." I was too tired to feel. My heart was sinking, I'd screwed up in so many ways. I kept my gaze on a piece of straw on the floor, unable to look at Vilkas. "Get what over with?" There was still an edge of anger to his voice, but he mostly sounded confused. "The shouting." I replied dully. The pain was starting to creep into my awareness now, almost welcome stings piercing through the cloud of shock. "You think I'm going to shout at you?" He had stepped closer to me. I swallowed and nodded, fighting the tears of guilt and exhaustion. My vision blurred and the straw disappeared from sight. "You're going to tell me how I fucked up. How I was stupid, and my stupidity got Skjor killed. That I'm worthless and don't deserve to be a Companion. That you were right all along-"
I was cut off as Vilkas stepped in again, gently pulling my chin up with a finger, forcing me to meet his gaze and the tears held in my eyes to spill down my cheeks. I could feel the warmth of his body soaking into mine and for a heartbeat everything else faded away. "I don't think that."
I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Could only stand there staring at Vilkas, who looked as confused as I felt.
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timeasmymeasure
Call of the Blood 11.1/?
Date: 2013-07-09 12:26 pm (UTC)I stood there, naked and shivering, but unable to look away from the scene before me. I pushed away from Farkas and he let go of me, moving to his brother to shrug on his armour. I moved on unsteady feet round the altar, as I did Aela met my gaze.
"Igne, heal him!" Aela sobbed, as she knelt over Skjor's broken body. I flinched at the raw pain in her eyes. At the denial.
"Aela…" My voice cracked, "He's dead."
"Heal him! Please."
Nothing I could say would convince her, deep down I knew that. So I gathered my weakened magicka with effort, channelling it into Skjor's still warm corpse. The familiar golden light swirled about Skjor but the cuts and bruises remained and he lay utterly still. My head began to spin but I kept the spell going even as I sank to my knees.
"Enough." Dimly I registered being snatched up from the floor, rough cloth being pressed to my chest as I was dragged away.
When I regained my scattered senses I realised I was in one of the side rooms, a rough woollen blanket barely covering me, alone apart from Vilkas. He was stood in front of me, wearing just trousers and boots, hands grasping my upper arms, waiting for a response to a question I hadn't heard.
I blinked, "What?"
"Can you heal yourself?" His eyes flickered down, darkly taking in the burns and bruises on my body, barely covered by the blanket he had found. He was almost growling at me, fragile temper clearly about to snap, still on edge after his transformation. I felt myself quail under his gaze and I shook my head dully. He bit back on a curse, turning his back to me briefly before he spun back round, unusually indecisive, though I knew why.
"Go on. Get it over with." I was too tired to feel. My heart was sinking, I'd screwed up in so many ways. I kept my gaze on a piece of straw on the floor, unable to look at Vilkas.
"Get what over with?"
There was still an edge of anger to his voice, but he mostly sounded confused.
"The shouting." I replied dully. The pain was starting to creep into my awareness now, almost welcome stings piercing through the cloud of shock.
"You think I'm going to shout at you?"
He had stepped closer to me. I swallowed and nodded, fighting the tears of guilt and exhaustion. My vision blurred and the straw disappeared from sight.
"You're going to tell me how I fucked up. How I was stupid, and my stupidity got Skjor killed. That I'm worthless and don't deserve to be a Companion. That you were right all along-"
I was cut off as Vilkas stepped in again, gently pulling my chin up with a finger, forcing me to meet his gaze and the tears held in my eyes to spill down my cheeks. I could feel the warmth of his body soaking into mine and for a heartbeat everything else faded away.
"I don't think that."
I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Could only stand there staring at Vilkas, who looked as confused as I felt.