The trembling is palpable as Kit takes Myr's hand, and the elf's heart clenches in his chest at the realization his friend isn't just nervous, he's afraid. That's the missing piece he needs to slot all the disjointed parts of this strange encounter into a coherent whole. Oh, Kit. Of course he'd limp around in constant pain while it healed on its own.
Of course he wouldn't seek a mage's help until he had no time for another option.
That Kit first sought out Vandelin for that help says much about their friendship. And that Van would think to bring someone this frightened of magic to Myr for help both flatters and terrifies him. To say healing isn't his specialty is to grossly understate just how little he's done with it and how inadequate he feels to the task--especially when his success might make the difference in Kit's survival in the Wilds. Maker guide my hand and my magic that I might do through You what I cannot of myself; Andraste, in Your mercy, intercede through me on his behalf, he prays silently as Kit uncovers the wound for his inspection.
Then he dismisses his own anxieties and sets to work. His exploration of the wound is gentle, his fingers light on the proud flesh that's grown up around the edges, wary as he is of causing Kit any unnecessary pain. Ordinarily, he'd want to speak a word or two of the diagnostic spell, or make a gesture to remind himself the shape it needs to twist in the Fade to work, but it seems prudent here to cast it silently and it's simple enough he can just manage that without stopping his physical inspection of the injury's dimensions. What he gets from it is heartening: No infection, no unusual inflammation or twisting of the healing tissue; it's just as inflamed and sore and weak as might reasonably be expected from the healing process. At this stage, it really is something within his capabilities to fix.
Now that he's got an idea of his objective in mind, Myr can put a little energy into his bedside manner instead, breaking his focused silence for a casual remark: "I take it this means we'll be postponing our trip up the coast until after your mission. When will you be back?" His tone is light, even; the question is meant as a distraction as he works out the contours of the spell he needs in his head. He can't cast this one without the words--the same Maker-damned limitation that's always tripped him up--and have a hope of getting it right, so better that Kit's thinking about something else when Myr mutters the string of spell specifications under his breath and turns it all loose.
Creation magic is subtle when it heals; Van was precisely right to describe it as encouraging growth, though in this case with a wound three-quarters healed there's not so much growing that's left to do. Rather the leaf-green glow that creeps from Myr's outstretched fingers brings with it a comfortable warm lassitude as it sinks into Kit's flesh, strengthening the new-grown muscle even as it clears away the last of the bruising and inflammation causing Kit's pain.
no subject
Of course he wouldn't seek a mage's help until he had no time for another option.
That Kit first sought out Vandelin for that help says much about their friendship. And that Van would think to bring someone this frightened of magic to Myr for help both flatters and terrifies him. To say healing isn't his specialty is to grossly understate just how little he's done with it and how inadequate he feels to the task--especially when his success might make the difference in Kit's survival in the Wilds. Maker guide my hand and my magic that I might do through You what I cannot of myself; Andraste, in Your mercy, intercede through me on his behalf, he prays silently as Kit uncovers the wound for his inspection.
Then he dismisses his own anxieties and sets to work. His exploration of the wound is gentle, his fingers light on the proud flesh that's grown up around the edges, wary as he is of causing Kit any unnecessary pain. Ordinarily, he'd want to speak a word or two of the diagnostic spell, or make a gesture to remind himself the shape it needs to twist in the Fade to work, but it seems prudent here to cast it silently and it's simple enough he can just manage that without stopping his physical inspection of the injury's dimensions. What he gets from it is heartening: No infection, no unusual inflammation or twisting of the healing tissue; it's just as inflamed and sore and weak as might reasonably be expected from the healing process. At this stage, it really is something within his capabilities to fix.
Now that he's got an idea of his objective in mind, Myr can put a little energy into his bedside manner instead, breaking his focused silence for a casual remark: "I take it this means we'll be postponing our trip up the coast until after your mission. When will you be back?" His tone is light, even; the question is meant as a distraction as he works out the contours of the spell he needs in his head. He can't cast this one without the words--the same Maker-damned limitation that's always tripped him up--and have a hope of getting it right, so better that Kit's thinking about something else when Myr mutters the string of spell specifications under his breath and turns it all loose.
Creation magic is subtle when it heals; Van was precisely right to describe it as encouraging growth, though in this case with a wound three-quarters healed there's not so much growing that's left to do. Rather the leaf-green glow that creeps from Myr's outstretched fingers brings with it a comfortable warm lassitude as it sinks into Kit's flesh, strengthening the new-grown muscle even as it clears away the last of the bruising and inflammation causing Kit's pain.