He goes rigid under the bolt. One of his knees bends before the other, a last conscious movement, the beginning of a step that he doesn't take because his heart stopped beating under that second round of electrocution, and he collapses into the river and rocks.
Bastien is close enough to be splashed. Still glowing, unharmed, halfway onto his feet. The magic that has killed the man is terrifying and the magic that cushioned his fall against the riverbank is the reason he is already standing, if not the reason he is alive. He doesn't look at Derrica yet. He steps close enough to the Tevinter to be sure, and he is. No need to feel for a pulse. His visible eye is open, flat in the moonlight, and so's his mouth. If he were inhaling he would be inhaling water. There's a splatter of dark on his tan face that Bastien first thinks is blood, before he realizes it's freckles.
He gets his arms under the body's, to drag it into the shadows, and then he looks up.
"Thank you," he says, still quiet. There was no cry of alarm, but sound carries oddly around water. "Sorry."
Apologize. What is there to apologize for? She couldn’t have done it any better.
“Let me help,” is pitched softly too, accompanied by a careful, hesitant stretch of her hand towards him.
He’s alright. Derrica has done this trick before. It’s why the barrier. There’s an order to it all, but Bastien has never seen it and Bastien is still—
Unknown to her. She had been able to predict Holden, but she cannot guess at Bastien’s reactions to her. (It hurts, thinking of Holden.) Anxiety curls in her chest, even as she slips her stave back over her shoulder. All is still quiet. They will have their pick of approach to the rest of this task, surely.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
Bastien is close enough to be splashed. Still glowing, unharmed, halfway onto his feet. The magic that has killed the man is terrifying and the magic that cushioned his fall against the riverbank is the reason he is already standing, if not the reason he is alive. He doesn't look at Derrica yet. He steps close enough to the Tevinter to be sure, and he is. No need to feel for a pulse. His visible eye is open, flat in the moonlight, and so's his mouth. If he were inhaling he would be inhaling water. There's a splatter of dark on his tan face that Bastien first thinks is blood, before he realizes it's freckles.
He gets his arms under the body's, to drag it into the shadows, and then he looks up.
"Thank you," he says, still quiet. There was no cry of alarm, but sound carries oddly around water. "Sorry."
no subject
Apologize. What is there to apologize for? She couldn’t have done it any better.
“Let me help,” is pitched softly too, accompanied by a careful, hesitant stretch of her hand towards him.
He’s alright. Derrica has done this trick before. It’s why the barrier. There’s an order to it all, but Bastien has never seen it and Bastien is still—
Unknown to her. She had been able to predict Holden, but she cannot guess at Bastien’s reactions to her. (It hurts, thinking of Holden.) Anxiety curls in her chest, even as she slips her stave back over her shoulder. All is still quiet. They will have their pick of approach to the rest of this task, surely.