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Date Posted: 01:06:46 12/20/01 Thu
Author: Tristan and Rowan
Subject: I second that notion
In reply to: Erlic, Corum & Valhorek 's message, "A time for rest" on 19:49:49 12/19/01 Wed

Tristan smiled ever so slightly when Marz complained about not being able to fight with his broken wrist. If he were still concerned about something trivial like that, then he must be mostly all right. Tristan was really just thankful he was even alive, especially after being held underwater for so long. If he’d have drowned… he thought fearfully, but he pushed the notion away, since it actually kind of hurt to even imagine it.

He was rather surprised when Marz leaned against him, because he’d been giving the impression that other than a few broken bones he was pretty much okay. He sounded weary beyond belief, which only served to up Tristan’s tendency to worry over him even more. Once the initial relief at his being alive washed away, he was free to drive himself crazy with concern for all the “little” things wrong with Marz.

“Everybody did,” he said, answering one of the questions. “We all had our fair chance to stab at it, but Laurel stunned it with some magic stuff, making those rocks on the ceiling fall onto it, and Isobel stabbed it with a killing blow, I guess.” He yawned, feeling rather weary himself, and flexed his right hand, wincing at the pain vibrating from his sprained wrist.

“It was Erlic who released me,” he added thoughtfully, “But you were the one who saved me. If you hadn’t rushed to get beside me soon enough, the thing would have…well…I don’t think I would’ve made it, anyway.” He grinned somewhat shyly and actually kissed the side of Marz’s head. “So I guess that makes you my hero!”

Although he was halfway teasing, he did mean it in a way. After all, if Marz hadn’t come, he wouldn’t have even had his sword to defend himself with, and the monster would grabbed a hold of him with its tentacles and started to pull…. He shivered slightly, just glad once again to have made it out alive and mostly okay.

“Come on,” he said at last, “Let’s get you back outside to the healer. And some clothes wouldn’t hurt either. Not that I don’t like you like this, but it isn’t exactly…civil.” He helped Marz up as best he could, and the two of them made their slow way back down the tunnel and outside toward the campfire. Once there, he sat down carefully, one arm supporting Marz as he took a seat as well. Of course, the ex-gang leader didn’t like being coddled so, but Tristan didn’t want him to do anything crazy, like poke a lung or anything.

While Valhorek came to work on Marz, Tristan dashed over to where they’d left their pack and dumped the contents on the ground. Once he collected a pair of pants and two shirts, he stuffed the remainder back in and hurried back over to the healer and his patient. He actually smiled at Valhorek as the man finished his job and left to tend someone else.

“Here,” Tristan said giving Marz the clothes. He pulled the other shirt on, annoyed to see in the firelight that it was a soft, dark reddish color. Must be one of Marz’s. When he turned to glance at him, he saw him wincing as he tried to tug on the second shirt, stubborn as always about asking for help, though.

“I’ll do it,” Tristan muttered, trying to hide his smile as he helped him thread his arms through the garment. At that point, Marz swore about his injured hand again, and his inability to wield a sword. Tristan was just about to open his mouth and ask him if he really only knew how to hold a sword with just one hand, when suddenly Val reappeared, looking down at him expectantly.

“What?” he asked, but before he could protest, the healer took his own right hand and began wrapping it securely with a sturdy bandage. “No!” Tristan complained, trying to pull it back but hissing as the pain coursed through his arm. “It’s fine. It’ll get better…you don’t have to…ouch!”

He glared at the healer as he strode away, rubbing his uninjured hand over the new bandage. Finally, he returned his attention to Marz, shaking his head slightly. “Look,” he said, drawing his sword with his left hand, “It’s easy enough. See?” He gave the blade a couple twirls and made a few imaginary stabs at the air, his aim and ability just as good as if he’d been using his right hand. Of course, he’d been trained to fight two handed, anyway, and didn’t think much of someone who could only fight with one.

He paused to look up when Erlic began speaking, advising them all to try and get some sleep for the night. “Oh,” he cried, jumping quickly to his feet. “He’s right. Here, let’s get you to bed.”

Marz could protest all he wanted, but Tristan could tell he was exhausted, so he helped him to his feet as before and led him to the nearest unoccupied cave. Leaving Marz to lean against the rocky entrance, he hurried inside and pulled the furry bed out closer to the mouth of the cave, since his lover hated closed in spaces. Next, he arranged the various pillows in their proper places and spread out the additional animal fur blankets, sneezing a couple times as the dust rose up to catch him in the nose. He made sure the “mattress” was well padded so as not to cause undo discomfort to someone with several broken ribs.

“This’ll do all right, do you think?” he asked, turning to give Marz an anxious glance.


Rowan went rigid with fear when he noticed the blood in the back of Tia's head. Still, he tried to at least keep the appearance of remaining calm as she spoke to him, although the way her eyes refused to focus on him worried him more than a little.

“Oh, everyone’s fine,” he lied, inserting a little chuckle just to show how cool how everything was. “You got that bump on your head, but otherwise I’m sure you’ll be okay, too.” He kissed the top of her head before helping her stand, biting his lip anxiously when she continued to lean on him.

She’s just tired, he told himself, as he lead her out of the torch lit cave and back outside toward the campfire. But she still continued to trip and stumble over every little thing, as if she couldn’t quite see very well. Rowan cursed himself to the twelfth hell every time this happened, so eventually he just picked her up and carried her the remainder of the way, barely even noticing the additional slight weight in his arms—and he wasn't exactly a big guy, either. She fussed a bit, of course, but he hushed her up with a another grin.

“Come on!” he persisted, laughing, “It’s romantic! Besides, it’s only a few more feet, anyway. You should stop complaining about it, or else you’ll start to hurt my feelings and make me wonder if I don’t smell bad or something.”

Once he set her down, they had only to wait a few minutes for the healer to do his work. Rowan almost choked to death when he saw Val whip out that needle and tube, but fortunately Tia still couldn’t see well in the dark. “What the hell are you going to do with that?” he whispered, grabbing the man’s arm. The healer only gave him a look, and Rowan dropped his hand sheepishly, gesturing for him to continue. He watched fascinated as Val drained the injury before wrapping Tia’s head up in a load of bandages. With a nod, he accepted the medication he was handed, listening to the instructions and relaxing when it became apparent everything was going to be okay.

“Wait right here,” he said to Tia, handing her the mixture the healer had given him before jumping to his feet and racing back to the cave. When he got to the lake, he hesitated briefly before jumping in and swimming to the area he’d seen Tia initially struggling in. Taking one deep breath, he plunged underwater, calling upon his rarely used inner magic to help light the way. The runes in his palms shone a bright, eerie silver as he search the lake bottom, eventually coming upon the sword Tia usually wielded in battle. He made a grab for it before kicking off and swimming to the top, gasping like crazy when he broke the surface again.

He muttered to himself as he crawled on shore, shivering slightly in the desert night air. When he got back to Tia, he handed her the still wet weapon and gave her a brief grin. “There you go,” he said, unable to keep the usual cheeriness out of his voice, despite the fact that he was somewhat tired. “I wouldn’t recommend using it till you can see better, but I thought you’d want it back just the same. Don’t bother thanking me. As you personal knight in shining armor, I only did what I had to do, ya know.”

He looked up as his sister finally appeared, chatting it up with that floating skull, which she still carried in one hand as if the thing were an invalid. She was explaining in detail what had happened with the kraken, but the skull didn’t really seem to be listening. Barry’s eyes did seem to light up, however, when she began to go on about how brave he’d been.

“I was sure it must have been you who put the little beasties in the monster’s eye,” she smiled, patting the skull on the top of the head. “What a clever idea!”

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