WHO: Athessa, Madi, Lucien, Skull, and YOU!! WHAT: catch-all WHEN: mostly Satinalia and later WHERE: Kirkwall and The Gallows NOTES: post-murderhaus h/c is gonna go here
"I know how I'm doing," he points out, giving her hand a squeeze in turn. "It's the rest of you I'm worried about."
He pulls out a smile, bracing, and it comes easily. They're back in Kirkwall, everyone survived, and Medrod will never hurt anyone ever again. There will be the repercussions, the aftereffects, like there always are. He'll do what he can to make that better, starting now.
"Hey. I didn't get a chance to say it before, but: thank you. I wouldn't be here without your help."
If she and Barrow hadn't found them when they did, if Richard hadn't pulled him out of the fucking iron maiden, if not for their collective agreement that no one gets left behind, if not for Sawbones's expertise, if not for — there's a lot to be grateful about.
"You don't need to thank me," she says on a sigh. "I said before, we look out for our own."
It's an easy assurance to make here, now, when everything has ended for the better and none of them are dead. But a familiar thread of guilt pulls taut. Shouldn't she look out for her own? Could she have somehow prevented the deaths of those elves, stopped a madman from butchering her kin?
It hadn't been until later, after he'd realized they were gathering bodies, that he'd found out the extent of Medrod's predation on elves. Had the chance to consider how horrific that place had to be, for Athessa and Mhavos and Vanadi in particular. He can't even imagine the feeling, only knows it secondhand. Naomi would have a better idea of what Athessa has to be going through.
"I'm alright." Give or take some blood loss, some nightmares, but what's a little more at this point? "I'm just glad that place won't be happening to anyone else."
A little more nightmares, a little less sleep, a deeper purple under the eyes. They're on the same page in that respect.
"Yeah," Athessa agrees, quietly. "Can't help but wonder how long he'd been at that, though. If there were others."
More bodies, more souls that will wander the Fade forever or worse, come back as ghosts. Clearing her throat, she tries to turn things back towards offering assistance where she can.
"Isaac has a concoction to help you sleep, if you need it."
There are reasons he's rarely found without coffee, and only some of them are how much he likes the taste. He'd been an insomniac a long time before Eros, before Ganymede, before visions in the Ring and the darkness in the alien ruins of Ilus and now this — he knows how to do this.
"I know," he says, exhales. "I've thought about the same thing."
There weren't any other bodies — that they know of, found — but who knows how much that really means?
He opens his mouth to reflexively refuse the offer, then pauses. Closes it.
"Some kind of medicine he makes," she says, waving a dismissive hand with only a slight wince. "Herbs and probably some extracts of some kind, I assume. It works, but sometimes it makes you act a little loopy in your sleep."
It's Ambien™. It makes you act fuckin' bonkers.
"Or I could get you some elfroot to smoke, but it doesn't always make people sleepy. I end up wandering, still awake and just...stoned."
That's sort of what he expected the answer to be, but he's hardly comfortable enough in Thedas to take anything for granted. Maybe it's some kind of magical shit, or something else horrifyingly primitive by space age standards.
"I'll keep that in mind," he says of both options, "thanks. I doubt I'll need it anytime soon, though."
Insomnia is a problem for the near future, but worry and adrenaline are about the only things keeping him conscious at present.
Athessa nods, rather absently. She is listening to what he says, but more passively than in other conversations. Rather than making eye contact and being actively in the moment, what he says just sort of filters through everything else and files itself away automatically while she watches the goings-on in the infirmary.
Gently, with her good hand, she pats his shoulder. "Lemme know if I can get ya anything, yeah? And if you need a healer without all—" A fluttering gesture with her fingers. "—This. You should see Derrica. She'll understand."
(The last time she stood here, in the infirmary, waiting, was when Derrica had been the one subjected to torture.)
Then Athessa takes a deep breath, albeit shaky, and she pats him once more before removing herself to be tended to.
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He pulls out a smile, bracing, and it comes easily. They're back in Kirkwall, everyone survived, and Medrod will never hurt anyone ever again. There will be the repercussions, the aftereffects, like there always are. He'll do what he can to make that better, starting now.
"Hey. I didn't get a chance to say it before, but: thank you. I wouldn't be here without your help."
If she and Barrow hadn't found them when they did, if Richard hadn't pulled him out of the fucking iron maiden, if not for their collective agreement that no one gets left behind, if not for Sawbones's expertise, if not for — there's a lot to be grateful about.
no subject
It's an easy assurance to make here, now, when everything has ended for the better and none of them are dead. But a familiar thread of guilt pulls taut. Shouldn't she look out for her own? Could she have somehow prevented the deaths of those elves, stopped a madman from butchering her kin?
Probably not. But what if is pernicious.
"I'm sorry you had to go through that."
no subject
She said so; she followed her words with action.
It hadn't been until later, after he'd realized they were gathering bodies, that he'd found out the extent of Medrod's predation on elves. Had the chance to consider how horrific that place had to be, for Athessa and Mhavos and Vanadi in particular. He can't even imagine the feeling, only knows it secondhand. Naomi would have a better idea of what Athessa has to be going through.
"I'm alright." Give or take some blood loss, some nightmares, but what's a little more at this point? "I'm just glad that place won't be happening to anyone else."
no subject
"Yeah," Athessa agrees, quietly. "Can't help but wonder how long he'd been at that, though. If there were others."
More bodies, more souls that will wander the Fade forever or worse, come back as ghosts. Clearing her throat, she tries to turn things back towards offering assistance where she can.
"Isaac has a concoction to help you sleep, if you need it."
no subject
"I know," he says, exhales. "I've thought about the same thing."
There weren't any other bodies — that they know of, found — but who knows how much that really means?
He opens his mouth to reflexively refuse the offer, then pauses. Closes it.
"A concoction? What do you mean?"
no subject
It's Ambien™. It makes you act fuckin' bonkers.
"Or I could get you some elfroot to smoke, but it doesn't always make people sleepy. I end up wandering, still awake and just...stoned."
no subject
"I'll keep that in mind," he says of both options, "thanks. I doubt I'll need it anytime soon, though."
Insomnia is a problem for the near future, but worry and adrenaline are about the only things keeping him conscious at present.
no subject
Gently, with her good hand, she pats his shoulder. "Lemme know if I can get ya anything, yeah? And if you need a healer without all—" A fluttering gesture with her fingers. "—This. You should see Derrica. She'll understand."
(The last time she stood here, in the infirmary, waiting, was when Derrica had been the one subjected to torture.)
Then Athessa takes a deep breath, albeit shaky, and she pats him once more before removing herself to be tended to.