[For the first time in months, he feels true terror.
He never felt it when hunting daemons. He knew what he was up against then, could use sound and the distinct feel of magic to navigate his encounters with them, but this was something different. Aranea was not a demon, but a single-mindedly determined human being who was now convinced that he was the enemy.
He'd been her enemy once before, and none of them had escaped that battle unscathed. Now, limited though he was, he was prepared for daemons-- but not for this.
He manages to avoid the first swing, but the downward thrust connects, and he crumples to the ground as he loses his footing, biting back the urge to let out a roar of pain as he counters with his own blade, aiming to knock her spear off-balance and, if he's lucky, out of her hands.]
Focus-- [His voice is strained now, and he has to push his way through the words as he hurls another dagger towards the Mindflayer, bathed in a burst of Sagefire.] --on the enemy! It's pitting us against one another!
[To Aranea, the blade looks like a tentacle and yet...the sound she hears is more of a metallic clang! and she feels a stronger pressure behind it than she would expect of a fleshier appendage. She also feels the heat behind her from the true Mindflayer, and that puzzles her. Puzzles her enough to finally glance back and see...something burning.
Something writhing and screaming with...arms...robes...
The Mindflayer? But that's not possible because she's been fighting it the whole time. Had there been two? No, she swears there's only—
What is only a couple of seconds feels far longer, especially for Ignis most likely. But it's during this time that the hold on her mind looses, the confusion fading. And that's when her eyes widen and she jerks backwards.]
[The reprieve that her confusion grants him is enough, and he seizes the moment to push himself back to his feet, swaying in the process as he feels the effects of pain and bloodloss. Disoriented though he is, he's determined to finish this fight before it can escalate any further, although he may have to fall back on more grenades to see it through to the end, Aranea's attacks having hurt his mobility.]
Feeling a bit touched, were you?
[There's no bitterness in his voice, at least, no accusation-- but they don't have time to discuss it now. He focuses to gain his heading, utilizing another elemental grenade to call lightning down upon the daemon, causing it to shriek as its body began to seize.]
[For once she can't retort, here senses quickly coming back. The light is dim, but she can see him sway. She knows her spear had connected, but where—
No, not the time. Ignis is right, they have to finish this daemon. And now it's personal. No one takes over her mind and gets away with it lightly.]
On it!
[Dashing forward, there's a sharp inhalation of breath as she leaps high upward. In the air, feeling the cold wind rushing against her wind, all remaining traces of the smoke clears and all she's left is clarity. Her body turns as she brings the spear into position, before slamming her boots down against the bottom of edge of the blade.]
Take this!
[With all her strength, she plummets toward the flailing Mindflayer, the tip of her spear piercing through the ridge of its shoulders and tearing completely through. A grisly end, but once it gives its final death throes, it disappears back into the darkness. One sorry soul freed.
But she doesn't stop to watch. She doesn't even stop to pull out her spear now firmly embedded in the hard ground. Instead she turns toward Ignis and...not run, but she does hurry over to him.]
[He doesn't let himself sag again until he's certain the daemon is gone, its deathwail piecing the air before it goes silent, dissipating and taking the foul, oppressive aura it bore with it. Only then does he stumble forward, going down on one knee rather than fighting hold himself up on an injured leg. He grimaces, calling his daggers back to him through what little magic had been left behind in Noctis' wake.]
Nng--
[He stifles himself a second time, pulling a familiar flask from inside his jacket. Curatives wouldn't undo all of the damage, but it would help to take an edge off the pain, and accelerate healing.]
[Seeing him go down to his knee makes her run the last few steps, a hand reaching out to grab his—no, wait, she can't grab his shoulder because that is totally not how it should looks. Now that she has the light on him, she can really see the damage, and for a rare moment her face goes blank, almost fearful.]
Shit, Ignis, I—I'm sorry—
[As she swears under her breath, she reaches into her own satchel hidden beneath her side skirt and pulls out another potion because one is definitely not going to be enough. It's also not going to do much more good, but it will give them some more time to slow the blood flow so doesn't bleed out. But now is not the time to bumble apologies, she needs to focus on what is in front of her.
And that is a big, bloody mess.
Fortunately she's quick to get over shock and surprises, and while dispensing the potion with one hand, she reaches behind her to press a button on the radio communicator to her airship.]
I'm calling Biggs and Wedge, there's no way you can walk back like this.
[That may also be the sound of buckles unsnapping and fabric ripping as she uses that half skirt for impromptu bandage wrappings.]
[He wants to wave off the apology, because it surely hadn't been intentional-- he'd had similar experiences with Noctis and the others, but the different then was that there had been more of them, people to intervene. Gladio had always been there with his shield, or Noctis would bodily pull the affected combatant away from the rest. This time, it had been just the two of them, and he'd only had himself to fall back on. Normally, that was the way he liked it-- not having to depend on anyone else, but he was grateful when she mentioned calling for her men, gritting his teeth to ground himself.]
I'll be fine, once we're back. -- thank you.
[Because he knows better than to argue that, knows better than to try and walk. Still, he calls his cane out of thin air, grabbing hold of it to support himself as best he can while still on the ground, exhaling slowly as he feels Aranea begin to tend to his wounds with makeshift bandages. She was quick and decisive, and that was good.]
Are you hurt?
[Because it's entirely possible that he's not the only one who was walking away from this fight with an injury. At least they were both walking away from it to begin with.]
Looks like you still have enough energy to be stupidly polite. [While his concerns could be commended, she finds it irritating her instead. He's the one with the grievous injuries, not her, and while unintentional, she was the one who inflicted them. His...manners frustrated her somehow.]
Aside from being sorely pissed at being used, no. I'm fine.
[Of course she doesn't sound happy about that, and she may have used a little more force than intended when tying the ends together on his thigh.]
[He grunts softly as she ties that bandage a little tighter than expected, but the pressure will only help to stem the flow of blood. At the very least, he's accepting the help, and that's more than he's allowed himself to do in the past.]
Good.
[Not that he blames her for being furious.]
Consider it a good sign that I'm able to talk at all. You're a formidable opponent.
Must have hit your head if you're trying flattery. [Sarcasm, of course, But it is true that it's a good sign he's talking.] But you should have figured that out the first time.
[She moves to his arm next, pulling back the ruined sleeve and even ripping it further. Huh, has she ever seen him without sleeves?]
[Trust him, he hadn't missed that the first time around. He grimaces again as his sleeve is pulled free. Some part of him is cringing at the thought of the jacket being ruined further, but he knows there's no saving it now-- some things are more important, after all.
The arm beneath it is nicely mangled, bent in the wrong direction, and only adrenaline is keeping it from being completely agonizing. The gash left by the tip of her spear runs deep, as well, almost down to his elbow.]
[There's a low, sharp hiss, her usual firm touch now light as it brushes against his skin. That alone should be a good enough hint.]
Good news, you'll have some cool new scars. [The bad news is left unsaid.] But it'll heal if treated right. I'll have medics on the ship, but you'll need more than that once we get back. Definitely not going out anytime soon.
Want me to snap your arm back in place? [Because she can if he can't wait for a professional.]
Gonna need more than just scars for that. [A light, wry smirk as she finishes wrapping his arm before looking at where his shoulder should be.]
But all right... This is gonna hurt.
[That is her only warning before he will feel a strong grip first on his upper arm and then on the back of his shoulder blade. Gritting her teeth, she forces the arm forward and up back into its socket.]
[Consider that as close to resignation he'll allow himself to come. The sound his shoulder makes as it's snapped back into place is jarring enough, but the pain is enough to make the darkness he lives in go momentarily white and full of stars. He bites back a sharp cry, stifling himself.]
By the Six. [But it needed to be done.] At least it was quick.
Really? You don't even swear? [Some light dry humor that could have gone dirtier, but she's focused on his injury. She lightly touches the area, feeling to make sure it really is set in there.
Nor has she forgotten about what we said earlier. Trusting her. Not that it's overly important and she more or less dismissed it, but the sentiment it invokes is what helps make her a little gentler than she might have been otherwise.]
But it should be set, so don't move it. I think I can make a sling...
[The skirt gives her a lot of material to work with at least.]
[He swore plenty when it was appropriate-- despite the fact that the point of swearing was to be decidedly inappropriate. He nods carefully, confirming as he remains very still, not wanting to jostle it.]
Appreciated. Once that's done, all we're missing is a bottle of brandy.
[And some real medical attention, but he would like to drink now, please.]
Don't worry, I got plenty. [There's a small pause as she glances up.] And right on time. Can you stand?
[As if on cue, the giant lights of the airship shine down upon them, the engines humming as it slowly descends. Already she can hear her men shouting orders and boots hitting the ground to provide whatever support they can. This may be the first hint for Ignis to realize she may not have told them that she was out here. Exactly.]
[Just a dismissive shake of her head as she stands and readies to help him try to hobble along.]
They knew I was out. [Just not what for exactly.] Now come on.
[If he can, she will help him to the airship. Otherwise a stretcher will be brought out to take him in. All the while ex-Imperial soldiers looked on with slight curiosity.]
[He gives a brief, derisive snort, though now is hardly the time for a lecture-- and he was hardly the person to give it, given he had also ventured out into the wilderness to hunt on his own.
He could almost feel the stares on them as he uses his cane to steady himself, allowing Aranea to assist him. A stretcher, it turned out, wouldn't be necessary, but he could feel his strength leaving him as the adrenaline began to wear off.]
You'll get no argument from me. The sooner we return, the better.
[He was certain he could get someone to make a house call, but all he wanted now was his bed and the contents of his liquor cabinet.]
[There's no real response from Aranea, but mostly because she's barking out orders and wondering why her medics aren't moving when there's clearly and injured man to be dealt with. There are questions posed at her, but she dismisses them.
Eventually they'll be at the medical ward where Ignis could be treated. At the very least he can be cleaned up, get x-rays, stitched, given a proper sling, and whatever else needs immediate attention. Depending on how deep the cuts or how bad the shoulder is, he may only need just a final examination from a doctor in Lestallum.
But she won't stick around for that. Instead—]
You can trust my men, so relax. I need to check in with the others, but they'll take you to a room later. You might remember it. [Whatever room Noctis used to nap in probably.] I'll come by there later.
[She's a bit of a mess after helping Ignis and she wouldn't mind a quick shower herself.]
[He offers her a wordless nod of thanks as she departs, finding himself weary and suddenly overwhelmed by the medics descending on him. He braces himself and lets them go about their work; they're expedient, at the very least, and within half an hour he's been cleaned up, stitched, bandaged and set mostly to rights.
Fifteen minutes later and he finds himself settled in the very room Aranea had mentioned. Her men had given him something for the pain, thankfully, and he sat propped up on the bed, a glass of water in one hand as he rested with his head against the wall behind him.
This wasn't at all how he had imagined his hunt concluding, but he could have been much worse off.]
[It takes her a little longer, but when she finally knocks on the door and enters, she's showered and changed. Not that it matters what her appearance is since Ignis can't see it, nor is it really that much different than what she usually wears.]
So, how are you holdin' up? [She shakes the bottle in her hand, the warm liquid swishing inside.] Brought a get well present.
[He doesn't need to see the bottle to know what it is, and he offers her an appreciative smile, genuine as it is weary.]
Well enough, all things considered. Your men do good work.
[He would heal, but the idea of resting for as long as it would take for him to do so was a bit daunting for someone who liked to stay as active as he did.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
YOU'RE TEARING HIM APART literally
He never felt it when hunting daemons. He knew what he was up against then, could use sound and the distinct feel of magic to navigate his encounters with them, but this was something different. Aranea was not a demon, but a single-mindedly determined human being who was now convinced that he was the enemy.
He'd been her enemy once before, and none of them had escaped that battle unscathed. Now, limited though he was, he was prepared for daemons-- but not for this.
He manages to avoid the first swing, but the downward thrust connects, and he crumples to the ground as he loses his footing, biting back the urge to let out a roar of pain as he counters with his own blade, aiming to knock her spear off-balance and, if he's lucky, out of her hands.]
Focus-- [His voice is strained now, and he has to push his way through the words as he hurls another dagger towards the Mindflayer, bathed in a burst of Sagefire.] --on the enemy! It's pitting us against one another!
NOT HER FAULT HE'S EASY kind of
Something writhing and screaming with...arms...robes...
The Mindflayer? But that's not possible because she's been fighting it the whole time. Had there been two? No, she swears there's only—
What is only a couple of seconds feels far longer, especially for Ignis most likely. But it's during this time that the hold on her mind looses, the confusion fading. And that's when her eyes widen and she jerks backwards.]
What the hell, Ignis—!?
[Why was he— What did she— Oh shit.]
you're going to sully his excellent reputation
Feeling a bit touched, were you?
[There's no bitterness in his voice, at least, no accusation-- but they don't have time to discuss it now. He focuses to gain his heading, utilizing another elemental grenade to call lightning down upon the daemon, causing it to shriek as its body began to seize.]
Now! Overwhelm it while it's incapacitated!
pretty sure he can do it on his own
No, not the time. Ignis is right, they have to finish this daemon. And now it's personal. No one takes over her mind and gets away with it lightly.]
On it!
[Dashing forward, there's a sharp inhalation of breath as she leaps high upward. In the air, feeling the cold wind rushing against her wind, all remaining traces of the smoke clears and all she's left is clarity. Her body turns as she brings the spear into position, before slamming her boots down against the bottom of edge of the blade.]
Take this!
[With all her strength, she plummets toward the flailing Mindflayer, the tip of her spear piercing through the ridge of its shoulders and tearing completely through. A grisly end, but once it gives its final death throes, it disappears back into the darkness. One sorry soul freed.
But she doesn't stop to watch. She doesn't even stop to pull out her spear now firmly embedded in the hard ground. Instead she turns toward Ignis and...not run, but she does hurry over to him.]
:|
Nng--
[He stifles himself a second time, pulling a familiar flask from inside his jacket. Curatives wouldn't undo all of the damage, but it would help to take an edge off the pain, and accelerate healing.]
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Shit, Ignis, I—I'm sorry—
[As she swears under her breath, she reaches into her own satchel hidden beneath her side skirt and pulls out another potion because one is definitely not going to be enough. It's also not going to do much more good, but it will give them some more time to slow the blood flow so doesn't bleed out. But now is not the time to bumble apologies, she needs to focus on what is in front of her.
And that is a big, bloody mess.
Fortunately she's quick to get over shock and surprises, and while dispensing the potion with one hand, she reaches behind her to press a button on the radio communicator to her airship.]
I'm calling Biggs and Wedge, there's no way you can walk back like this.
[That may also be the sound of buckles unsnapping and fabric ripping as she uses that half skirt for impromptu bandage wrappings.]
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I'll be fine, once we're back. -- thank you.
[Because he knows better than to argue that, knows better than to try and walk. Still, he calls his cane out of thin air, grabbing hold of it to support himself as best he can while still on the ground, exhaling slowly as he feels Aranea begin to tend to his wounds with makeshift bandages. She was quick and decisive, and that was good.]
Are you hurt?
[Because it's entirely possible that he's not the only one who was walking away from this fight with an injury. At least they were both walking away from it to begin with.]
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Aside from being sorely pissed at being used, no. I'm fine.
[Of course she doesn't sound happy about that, and she may have used a little more force than intended when tying the ends together on his thigh.]
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Good.
[Not that he blames her for being furious.]
Consider it a good sign that I'm able to talk at all. You're a formidable opponent.
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[She moves to his arm next, pulling back the ruined sleeve and even ripping it further. Huh, has she ever seen him without sleeves?]
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[Trust him, he hadn't missed that the first time around. He grimaces again as his sleeve is pulled free. Some part of him is cringing at the thought of the jacket being ruined further, but he knows there's no saving it now-- some things are more important, after all.
The arm beneath it is nicely mangled, bent in the wrong direction, and only adrenaline is keeping it from being completely agonizing. The gash left by the tip of her spear runs deep, as well, almost down to his elbow.]
How bad?
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Good news, you'll have some cool new scars. [The bad news is left unsaid.] But it'll heal if treated right. I'll have medics on the ship, but you'll need more than that once we get back. Definitely not going out anytime soon.
Want me to snap your arm back in place? [Because she can if he can't wait for a professional.]
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Perhaps I should be grateful that I've been told scars make me 'ruggedly handsome.'
[The way he says it makes it clear he's not entirely convinced-- nor does he put much stock in such remarks, but to despair is decidedly unlike him.
He exhales again, steeling himself.]
... yes, please. I trust you.
[More than he would trust some medic he'd never met.]
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But all right... This is gonna hurt.
[That is her only warning before he will feel a strong grip first on his upper arm and then on the back of his shoulder blade. Gritting her teeth, she forces the arm forward and up back into its socket.]
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[Consider that as close to resignation he'll allow himself to come. The sound his shoulder makes as it's snapped back into place is jarring enough, but the pain is enough to make the darkness he lives in go momentarily white and full of stars. He bites back a sharp cry, stifling himself.]
By the Six. [But it needed to be done.] At least it was quick.
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Nor has she forgotten about what we said earlier. Trusting her. Not that it's overly important and she more or less dismissed it, but the sentiment it invokes is what helps make her a little gentler than she might have been otherwise.]
But it should be set, so don't move it. I think I can make a sling...
[The skirt gives her a lot of material to work with at least.]
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[He swore plenty when it was appropriate-- despite the fact that the point of swearing was to be decidedly inappropriate. He nods carefully, confirming as he remains very still, not wanting to jostle it.]
Appreciated. Once that's done, all we're missing is a bottle of brandy.
[And some real medical attention, but he would like to drink now, please.]
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[As if on cue, the giant lights of the airship shine down upon them, the engines humming as it slowly descends. Already she can hear her men shouting orders and boots hitting the ground to provide whatever support they can. This may be the first hint for Ignis to realize she may not have told them that she was out here. Exactly.]
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I may need assistance.
[He starts to pull himself up regardless, listening to the shouts of her men as they close in-- the pieces beginning to fall into place.]
They didn't know you'd come?
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They knew I was out. [Just not what for exactly.] Now come on.
[If he can, she will help him to the airship. Otherwise a stretcher will be brought out to take him in. All the while ex-Imperial soldiers looked on with slight curiosity.]
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He could almost feel the stares on them as he uses his cane to steady himself, allowing Aranea to assist him. A stretcher, it turned out, wouldn't be necessary, but he could feel his strength leaving him as the adrenaline began to wear off.]
You'll get no argument from me. The sooner we return, the better.
[He was certain he could get someone to make a house call, but all he wanted now was his bed and the contents of his liquor cabinet.]
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Eventually they'll be at the medical ward where Ignis could be treated. At the very least he can be cleaned up, get x-rays, stitched, given a proper sling, and whatever else needs immediate attention. Depending on how deep the cuts or how bad the shoulder is, he may only need just a final examination from a doctor in Lestallum.
But she won't stick around for that. Instead—]
You can trust my men, so relax. I need to check in with the others, but they'll take you to a room later. You might remember it. [Whatever room Noctis used to nap in probably.] I'll come by there later.
[She's a bit of a mess after helping Ignis and she wouldn't mind a quick shower herself.]
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Fifteen minutes later and he finds himself settled in the very room Aranea had mentioned. Her men had given him something for the pain, thankfully, and he sat propped up on the bed, a glass of water in one hand as he rested with his head against the wall behind him.
This wasn't at all how he had imagined his hunt concluding, but he could have been much worse off.]
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So, how are you holdin' up? [She shakes the bottle in her hand, the warm liquid swishing inside.] Brought a get well present.
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Well enough, all things considered. Your men do good work.
[He would heal, but the idea of resting for as long as it would take for him to do so was a bit daunting for someone who liked to stay as active as he did.]
Everything should mend, given time.
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I SAW THAT
:D
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