Ari ♫ ♪ ♬ (gracenotes) wrote in emillion, |
The sound of Ari’s voice was certainly a surprise, and caused the smith’s gaze to rise from the thoughts that trundled along inside of it. “Ari..?” Eyes narrowed, trying to make out the most details she could manage as the bard trotted up to her side. “I believe I am fine to walk.” Aspel offered as a response, not answering the part about her being okay considering she felt far too frozen to be entirely sure just how broken she really was at this point. “However, the metal of my armor is ice cold, the underpadding is soaked with sweat,” blood “and snow. With those items in consideration, I believe it would be wise to progress towards a warmer setting if you desired to continue this talk.” With sword strapped to her side, helmet grasped in one hand, and the bladed shovel used as a makeshift cane, Aspel pressed forward, giving a nod towards Emillion proper. Really, there was only so much cold someone could take, even when they came from a cold climate themselves. “I have had some healing previous, if it will help to ease your concern.” A faint, yet exhausted smile was offered as Aspel paused, shifting to lean over and press a kiss against Ari’s forehead - if the bard so allowed - before gesturing for them to move forward once again. “I went looking for you,” Ari said, by way of answer to the question that had been her name. “With the assumption,” she added, “that you were out there getting broken.” It was only half a joke. “And I agree, you must be freezing.” She certainly was, and the snow caked on the bottom of her cloak was too thick to shake off. Not to mention that Aspel was most likely bleeding in half a dozen places. And although she was uncertain of Aspel’s assertion that she could walk, she let that go, too. At least she had made it back into the city more or less in one piece. She was feeling surprisingly calm about it, all things considered. She supposed such things came with repetition. Cheery thought. “I agree, that is somewhat comforting,” she said about the healing that had been received in the field, accepting the kiss with a small smile of her own. Aspel’s lips were cool. She raised one mittened hand -- the fingerless gloves abandoned in favor of something warmer when the necessity of playing had passed -- to cup Aspel’s cheek for a moment. An examination of her face didn’t reveal much in the way of just how badly injured Aspel might be under her armor. “So then, I suppose the question is, home or a clinic?” she asked. “Frankly, either option is warmer than here.” |