As Tirena stops trying to thrash her way out of his grasp, Ellis levers himself cautiously upright over her. Pinning her underneath his weight, he turns only enough to catch sight of Adrasteia.
The yelling at the door is more or less ignored.
"Are you alright?" is very much for Adrastiea. Tirena is clearly fine, or fine enough to have put up an irritating, exhausting fight.
She pushes some hair out of her face with a groan, using her other arm to lean against the wall — which is still smoking, but she's used to fire magic, so it doesn't bother her any. "My head hurts," is very elegantly put.
The door rattles again and she yells out "Nous sommes bien ici!" before groaning and peering at Ellis from across the room. "How's your nose?"
She does fetch Ellis the rope, while muttering "oh, do shut up," at Tirena. That probably just means she'll talk more or something, right? Possibly.
Adrasteia picks up the knife from the floor and removes the one from Tirena's shoulder with a tsk, wiping it on the ruined bedspread. She does not offer to do anything for the bleeding, instead gesturing towards Ellis. "Do you want me to heal it?" She imagines he'll turn her down, but.
Tirena hisses through her teeth at the admonition, but she doesn't talk more. If it were only a question of having an attitude, she absolutely would do it out of spite. But various things hurt a lot, she's feeling slightly faint, and most of all she's turning her furious stare from Ellis' face to locate her other knife—the one that wasn't in her shoulder, the one that's just out of reach on the floor.
It's still too far to reach. It doesn't come any closer while her hands are bound.
Caladrius doesn't stir until it's too late for him to resist the ropes, and then it's only to groan and spit congealing blood, with so little force that it only flops out of his mouth and slides down his chin.
For him and that pathetic attempt, Tirena musters up the will to speak again, Tevinter accent on full display now that she's moving past curses and monosyllables: "What is even the point of you?"
Tirena's vitriol draws a thick chuckle from Ellis. Both threats dealt with for the moment, Ellis sits down heavily on the floor beside Tirena. He sniffs, winces, then shakes his head. His knuckles are swelling, but that barely merits a downward glance.
"Make sure they'll live first," he tells her. "The Scoutmaster and the Commander will want to speak with them."
And Ellis' nose will keep. It's been broken before, and repaired before, and has come out well enough.
"Clearly the point was not to win," Adrasteia says archly. Because. That's what happened, isn't it?
Either way. She puts the knives away, first, and then reaches out a hand to Tirena's shoulder, breathing deeply as the knife wound knits itself together beneath her touch. She doesn't heal it enough to do much more than stop the bleeding and clear any infection from the wound, so it's still going to hurt quite a bit. Plus she'll have trouble using it for a while.
Caladrius' injuries are a little more complex. She's not going to regrow his teeth, and his jaw is still... a mess of pain, but she also stops his bleeding and aligns the bones for the slow process of healing properly.
She puts a hand on Ellis' shoulder when she has to climb to her feet again to keep herself from toppling over. Her head is still spinning a bit, and it's not something she can do anything about except wait it out.
She won't address the break in his nose directly, but she does what she can to take the pain away in the few seconds they have contact. Side effects might include a lowering in the swelling in his hands as well.
Under Adrasteia’s care, Caladrius looks like a confused but grateful dog; Tirena looks maybe an inch of maturity above snapping her teeth.
“I think,” Caladrius says, sounding congested and reasonable, “we should—“
Tirena snaps, “Shut up,” and he does.
For a moment, at least. It’s less obedience than a pause to see if she has more to contribute before he says, reproachfully, “This was your idea,” in a tone that really means, stop being mean to me.
Adrasteia's ministrations don't go unnoticed. Ellis' hand comes up briefly to steady her at her hip, though he doesn't look away from the pair of trussed up captives on the floor.
"You should sit, Adrasteia," Ellis tells her. It's the kind of suggestion that is actually an order. She's hurt and there's not much Ellis can do for her, but if she collapses it will be bad for them both.
To Tirena, Ellis directs, "Your idea to ambush in the night, or to follow us in the first place?"
Presumably the former, and someone directed them to engage in the latter. He's obligated to ask, but doesn't expect much of an answer. Interrogation is for others more skilled than him. Toting the pair of them back to Kirkwall will be inconvenient, but what's the alternative?
Adrasteia sits, rather like a bag of potatoes she thinks, on the floor at the foot of the burnt bed. She'd rather splash her face with some water, or drink some even, but doing much more than sitting seems like quite a feat at the moment.
She's trying to sort out the logistics of taking the pair with them. Probably tied to horses; two riders per horse is doable, especially given Adrasteia's Avvar horse, but that is too close quarters most likely. The woman will pose a problem no matter how they do it, she's certain of it.
Caladrius gets a tight-lipped smile as Adrasteia begins the process of taking the braids she'd slept in down. It's something to do with her hands, to pull her attention from the dull pain in her head, and she's not feeling overly friendly at this exact moment.
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The yelling at the door is more or less ignored.
"Are you alright?" is very much for Adrastiea. Tirena is clearly fine, or fine enough to have put up an irritating, exhausting fight.
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The door rattles again and she yells out "Nous sommes bien ici!" before groaning and peering at Ellis from across the room. "How's your nose?"
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But Ellis declines to admit it, instead asking, "Can toss me the rope out of my pack, please?"
Presuming she does, he'll bind Tirena's hands first before using the rest of it to deal with Caladrius.
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Adrasteia picks up the knife from the floor and removes the one from Tirena's shoulder with a tsk, wiping it on the ruined bedspread. She does not offer to do anything for the bleeding, instead gesturing towards Ellis. "Do you want me to heal it?" She imagines he'll turn her down, but.
She's asking anyway.
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It's still too far to reach. It doesn't come any closer while her hands are bound.
Caladrius doesn't stir until it's too late for him to resist the ropes, and then it's only to groan and spit congealing blood, with so little force that it only flops out of his mouth and slides down his chin.
For him and that pathetic attempt, Tirena musters up the will to speak again, Tevinter accent on full display now that she's moving past curses and monosyllables: "What is even the point of you?"
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"Make sure they'll live first," he tells her. "The Scoutmaster and the Commander will want to speak with them."
And Ellis' nose will keep. It's been broken before, and repaired before, and has come out well enough.
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Either way. She puts the knives away, first, and then reaches out a hand to Tirena's shoulder, breathing deeply as the knife wound knits itself together beneath her touch. She doesn't heal it enough to do much more than stop the bleeding and clear any infection from the wound, so it's still going to hurt quite a bit. Plus she'll have trouble using it for a while.
Caladrius' injuries are a little more complex. She's not going to regrow his teeth, and his jaw is still... a mess of pain, but she also stops his bleeding and aligns the bones for the slow process of healing properly.
She puts a hand on Ellis' shoulder when she has to climb to her feet again to keep herself from toppling over. Her head is still spinning a bit, and it's not something she can do anything about except wait it out.
She won't address the break in his nose directly, but she does what she can to take the pain away in the few seconds they have contact. Side effects might include a lowering in the swelling in his hands as well.
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“I think,” Caladrius says, sounding congested and reasonable, “we should—“
Tirena snaps, “Shut up,” and he does.
For a moment, at least. It’s less obedience than a pause to see if she has more to contribute before he says, reproachfully, “This was your idea,” in a tone that really means, stop being mean to me.
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"You should sit, Adrasteia," Ellis tells her. It's the kind of suggestion that is actually an order. She's hurt and there's not much Ellis can do for her, but if she collapses it will be bad for them both.
To Tirena, Ellis directs, "Your idea to ambush in the night, or to follow us in the first place?"
Presumably the former, and someone directed them to engage in the latter. He's obligated to ask, but doesn't expect much of an answer. Interrogation is for others more skilled than him. Toting the pair of them back to Kirkwall will be inconvenient, but what's the alternative?
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She's trying to sort out the logistics of taking the pair with them. Probably tied to horses; two riders per horse is doable, especially given Adrasteia's Avvar horse, but that is too close quarters most likely. The woman will pose a problem no matter how they do it, she's certain of it.
Caladrius gets a tight-lipped smile as Adrasteia begins the process of taking the braids she'd slept in down. It's something to do with her hands, to pull her attention from the dull pain in her head, and she's not feeling overly friendly at this exact moment.