Beau (rivalen) wrote in emillion, |
Among mercenaries and pirates (sometimes not terribly distinguishable from each other), news traveled fast, which meant that mere minutes after the group had stopped and settled, as fires were being fanned into existence and food set out for preparation, Ari was already making her way through the camp, instrument case slung over her back, her eyes searching for a particular comrade, whom she found at last seated on large, flat stone near camping supplies that he apparently hadn’t started setting up yet.
Not that she could blame him, under the circumstances.
“So,” she said, approaching and looking him over critically, even as a smirk played across her lips, “I am told that you attempted to leave this life by throwing yourself headfirst into a ditch. Is living really so terrible, Riv? Am I foiling your plans if I patch you up? I’d hate to undermine your intentions.”
Duality is what defined this Samurai, and if he is inwardly scowling and angry, his face is nothing but pleasant, a wide smile. “It was a very, very awkward accident.” He conceded, lowering his head in greeting before motioning her to come forward. There are cuts and scrapes and a potential bruise or two, but nothing life threatening; mostly the result of someone who forgot to look where he was going.
In truth, it was his pride that had suffered the most.
"I'm rather sorry I missed it," Ari admitted with a grin. "My walk was terribly dull. I'll have to stick by your side as we continue..... just in case."
She took a seat near him, cross-legged in worn, practical breeches, the antithesis of the brightly plumaged bard she presented to the world inside the city walls. "Nothing broken, I assume?" she asked, just in case. He didn't seem to be in that much pain, though some fighters were particularly skilled in masking discomfort.
“You’re welcome to stick by my side, you could use the protection.” He flashed a quick teasing grin; his prejudices about women were present as ever but he did not want to insult Ari. “Nothing broken, maybe my ego a bit.” He laughed and loosened the gloves he was wearing. “Cut and scrapes. Nothing that requires any serious attention.”
She rolled her eyes and asked him, “Of the two of us, who’s injured, exactly? Not that I’ll complain if you put yourself between me and whatever’s down in that temple.” Common sense went a long way, and a man in armor made for an excellent first line of defense.
“Up to you,” she said. “I can leave them, if you’d rather be manly about it and sleep on the ground with scrapes and bruises. Or I can take care of them. If you like, you can lie to everyone and say I bullied you into the healing, or else that you just wanted to hear my angelic voice.” She grinned. “Either one paints me in a favorable light, really.”