[ The unfortunate thing is that Anders isn't wrong, mentally toying at the fringes of what he knows as to healing magic and knowing, thus, he'll wind up making a mess of it, probably, as out of sorts as he is. Dorian casts a look over his shoulder while his hand lies over the wound and its steady issue of warm blood.
His exhale is part sigh, part laugh. ]
You ought to tell me. Find yourself healing back your own fingers regularly, nowadays?
[ Eyes closing in bridled wince, Dorian sets about parting his robe a little further. Whatever spell hit him had emulated that of a blade, piercing past his light armor and whatever magical defensive he'd managed to erect, cleaving a clean slice into where his shoulder met his chest. ]
no subject
His exhale is part sigh, part laugh. ]
You ought to tell me. Find yourself healing back your own fingers regularly, nowadays?
[ Eyes closing in bridled wince, Dorian sets about parting his robe a little further. Whatever spell hit him had emulated that of a blade, piercing past his light armor and whatever magical defensive he'd managed to erect, cleaving a clean slice into where his shoulder met his chest. ]