bethen avilla ; the circle mage (bethe) wrote in thedas,
"And you're an idiot," Beth replied sharply, trying hard to focus when there was a mess everywhere and questions racing through her mind. She could stomach the sight of blood, and she'd helped the senior mages heal the injuries that Templars-in-training had occasionally inflicted on one another during sword practice, but this was different. It didn't help at all that he wasn't taking this seriously, when she hadn't seen anyone bleed this much since--
That didn't require any more dwelling on, though she shouldn't have let her mind wander so much, anyway. Creation magic didn't come easily to most mages, never quite as much as something raw and destructive like Primal elements. It took skill and precision to work a spell into flesh and bone, to convince a body to pull itself back together. Bethen happened to be one of the few mages in the Tower to have nearly mastered the art of healing, though up until this moment, she'd had very little need to use those abilities. He was lucky she knew the spells, but she still had less experience in using them than the senior enchanters who had taught her. Her heart was pounding in her ears, not just from the shocking urgency of seeing Constans in this state, but from the sheer amount of mana this was draining from her.
She lowered her hands, now both stained red and sticky, as the gash finished closing itself. Light-headedness and exhaustion washed over her and she caught herself against the edge of the table, breath labored and slow. It was as if she'd carried an armful of encyclopedias up from the lower library to the upper one, twice -- an activity she'd actually attempted entirely on her own before, until getting chided by Kinnon for not asking for help first. In some ways, that analogy was perfect. Why hadn't she just dragged him to the infirmary? Why were they still sitting here alone, with blood on the floor and all over their clothes? Beth eyed the mess with dismay, though she noted wryly, at least they hadn't been standing over a carpeted area of the library.
Constans was lucky she knew the spells, and even luckier that she was willing to help him without asking questions first. But now that his life wasn't dangling precariously in her hands, Bethen wasn't going to let him just walk away from it without demanding to know what was going on. He might have been joking with her, but she was completely serious. "Now, what really happened? The truth. Or I'm calling the nearest Templar and it's not me you'll have to explain yourself to."