[really? he almost asks. that was just so much easier than he'd expected, is all. instead admits, ]
I could use a little healing.
[ he remembers the miniature nug soothed by silas's magic, hopes he hasn't misjudged. he'd rather this, truthfully, to asking derrica or adrasteia right now.
for the record — he sounds closer to embarrassed than in peril, more i feel like a fucking idiot than bleeding out somewhere, or something. ]
[ and richard will find it is. he will also find a few other things of note, if or when he lets himself in. for one thing, despite the heat, there's a fire burning in the fireplace at one end of the room, though it's clearly begun to dwindle. at least part of the kindling appears to have been a book, pages all dark and crumbling. jim's seated at a desk not far away, a hand over his face, though he looks up when he hears the door open. the trouble is easy enough to spot; his other hand is gingerly balanced on the desk, fingers and palm all new-burn reddened and irritated.
it's probably not a hard guess where the burn came from, at least. ]
[ Silas lets himself in with the kind of quiet that is as unnerving as it is conscious of listening ears in neighboring quarters -- only the click of the handle turning marks his arrival, once before and once behind. He takes the additional liberty of rolling the lock over after he’s taken in the scene, absent of emotion.
Also: looking sharp in his vest. All dressed up and only here to go.
There’s a touch of liquor on him at his approach stinging on his breath when he holds a hand out in silent request for a look at the damage. ]
[ is equal parts mouthiness about the clothes — and here he is, all plain, loose tunic and trousers, barefoot — and genuine concern about disturbing silas's plans with an abrupt request. but he holds out his hand; and, mostly, what's visible is the kind of scorching one might expect from brief exposure to heat before pulling their hand the fuck back, all forgetting why it's a bad idea to, say, touch a hot stove. ]
No. [ Feels like the truth. There’s no defensive tension to his glance, his left hand easy under Holden’s scorched hide. ] Just working.
[ He utilizes his inspection to veil a long look down past it to what remains of the book in the fire, his bony face serious in the castoff light. Hm, and his right hand comes up to close around Jim’s wrist. Warm, at least.
if he were in the roci, this would be a moment he'd go for the med bay, let the autodoc do its thing, and not have to trouble anyone. calling silas now is equal parts because his hand stings like a bitch as not wanting to answer questions about it later. or, ideally, now.
on closer inspection, the book seems less book than something else; a surviving scrap of a page, or two, is handwritten. which isn't unusual, of course, in thedas; but surely silas knows what holden's handwriting looks like after all these months. ]
[ Shallow as they are, the burns are easily softened, crispy capillaries coaxed back to the surface with that pervasive heat to dull the strangeness of the sensation. The language itself is more hissed than spoken, familiar now to Holden’s ears.
It only takes a few seconds; Silas sniffs when he’s finished, turning Holden’s hand like a piece of toast to be sure it’s evenly done. ]
Would you like to talk about it?
Edited (redundANT) Date: 2021-06-14 03:08 am (UTC)
a flicker of thought, as he glances back to the smoldering fire: she would never have seen them anyway. or he could say something flippant, easily; or some platitude, or pleasantry; or he could say no, because isn't that why he called silas instead of anyone else?
isn't it?
he says, ]
Most days, [ weighted, weary, almost enough to break, ] it's enough to try to help these people, and fight this war.
[ enough to have some purpose, some good to be doing, some reason to justify how he's survived, again and again, where so many haven't. to even imply that the cause sometimes isn't feels unforgivably selfish; there's the saying about old habits, and this is his oldest. the farm, his crew, this place: there's always something he feels he needs to save.
petrana had her counterpoint, the reminder that they owe it to themselves, too, to win the war. but the notion of fighting for his own sake isn't built into him.
he shakes his head, wry. the follow-up to that sentence probably doesn't need to be said. some days, it's enough; other days, it's apparently like this. ]
[ Holden takes his hand back. Silas eases his hold to let it pass easily through his fingers.
His once-over inspection is as talon-scraping-bone close as it is removed, judgment wry through the lines carved in sharp around his mouth for whatever he sees. What a mook. But also: same. ]
Sapient beasts need more than purpose.
[ Speaking from experience. He’s comfortable enough to pat and squeeze at Holden’s shoulder, reassuring -- if nothing else -- in his bedrock certainty. ]
We’re all vulnerable to the void gnawing beneath it.
[ purpose has served him, though; or maybe he's served purpose; or maybe it doesn't make a difference.
it was easier when he didn't think he could have anything else, couldn't imagine what a fuller life here in thedas would look like. what's been harder to grapple with is having a glimpse of it, and knowing he can't have it. though — his disquiet runs deeper than losing naomi, reverberates back from her, from the dreams, from ostwick, from arriving here.
any of which he could articulate, in the face of what is unquestionably kindness, with the grounding weight at his shoulder.
or, as he sets his palms on the desk's surface, ]
Well, I can promise you I'm not planning on burning anything else, void or no.
[ hands or books. first breaking a coffeemaker and now this, eesh. he has, at least, the good grace to look rueful as he says it. ]
[ Disengage clocked and acknowledged with a dip of his chin, Silas curls his talons gently in before he releases his hold. The delay between realization and movement is fleeting, barely there. He was called here to contend with an injury. The repairs are complete. ]
See that you don’t.
[ He can see himself out as he saw himself in, casual in retreat, though he does pause to look back once he’s near enough the door to flip the lock. ]
I’m told some healers here charge for their services.
[ That look lingers, skeptical, and Silas sighs before hitching the door open to depart. He closes it as quietly behind him now as he did upon entry, leaving neighbors none the wiser. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2021-06-13 03:37 pm (UTC)Would you do me a favor?
no subject
Date: 2021-06-13 04:06 pm (UTC)Of course.
no subject
Date: 2021-06-13 04:26 pm (UTC)I could use a little healing.
[ he remembers the miniature nug soothed by silas's magic, hopes he hasn't misjudged. he'd rather this, truthfully, to asking derrica or adrasteia right now.
for the record — he sounds closer to embarrassed than in peril, more i feel like a fucking idiot than bleeding out somewhere, or something. ]
no subject
Date: 2021-06-13 07:33 pm (UTC)He knows there are other healers here. ]
Where are you?
no subject
Date: 2021-06-13 11:45 pm (UTC)My room. The door's unlocked.
[ and richard will find it is. he will also find a few other things of note, if or when he lets himself in. for one thing, despite the heat, there's a fire burning in the fireplace at one end of the room, though it's clearly begun to dwindle. at least part of the kindling appears to have been a book, pages all dark and crumbling. jim's seated at a desk not far away, a hand over his face, though he looks up when he hears the door open. the trouble is easy enough to spot; his other hand is gingerly balanced on the desk, fingers and palm all new-burn reddened and irritated.
it's probably not a hard guess where the burn came from, at least. ]
no subject
Date: 2021-06-14 12:11 am (UTC)Also: looking sharp in his vest. All dressed up and only here to go.
There’s a touch of liquor on him at his approach stinging on his breath when he holds a hand out in silent request for a look at the damage. ]
no subject
Date: 2021-06-14 12:26 am (UTC)[ is equal parts mouthiness about the clothes — and here he is, all plain, loose tunic and trousers, barefoot — and genuine concern about disturbing silas's plans with an abrupt request. but he holds out his hand; and, mostly, what's visible is the kind of scorching one might expect from brief exposure to heat before pulling their hand the fuck back, all forgetting why it's a bad idea to, say, touch a hot stove. ]
no subject
Date: 2021-06-14 12:47 am (UTC)[ He utilizes his inspection to veil a long look down past it to what remains of the book in the fire, his bony face serious in the castoff light. Hm, and his right hand comes up to close around Jim’s wrist. Warm, at least.
Warmer, when he starts his muttering. ]
no subject
Date: 2021-06-14 01:04 am (UTC)if he were in the roci, this would be a moment he'd go for the med bay, let the autodoc do its thing, and not have to trouble anyone. calling silas now is equal parts because his hand stings like a bitch as not wanting to answer questions about it later. or, ideally, now.
on closer inspection, the book seems less book than something else; a surviving scrap of a page, or two, is handwritten. which isn't unusual, of course, in thedas; but surely silas knows what holden's handwriting looks like after all these months. ]
no subject
Date: 2021-06-14 01:21 am (UTC)It only takes a few seconds; Silas sniffs when he’s finished, turning Holden’s hand like a piece of toast to be sure it’s evenly done. ]
Would you like to talk about it?
no subject
Date: 2021-06-15 01:54 pm (UTC)a flicker of thought, as he glances back to the smoldering fire: she would never have seen them anyway. or he could say something flippant, easily; or some platitude, or pleasantry; or he could say no, because isn't that why he called silas instead of anyone else?
isn't it?
he says, ]
Most days, [ weighted, weary, almost enough to break, ] it's enough to try to help these people, and fight this war.
[ enough to have some purpose, some good to be doing, some reason to justify how he's survived, again and again, where so many haven't. to even imply that the cause sometimes isn't feels unforgivably selfish; there's the saying about old habits, and this is his oldest. the farm, his crew, this place: there's always something he feels he needs to save.
petrana had her counterpoint, the reminder that they owe it to themselves, too, to win the war. but the notion of fighting for his own sake isn't built into him.
he shakes his head, wry. the follow-up to that sentence probably doesn't need to be said. some days, it's enough; other days, it's apparently like this. ]
no subject
Date: 2021-06-15 06:54 pm (UTC)His once-over inspection is as talon-scraping-bone close as it is removed, judgment wry through the lines carved in sharp around his mouth for whatever he sees. What a mook. But also: same. ]
Sapient beasts need more than purpose.
[ Speaking from experience. He’s comfortable enough to pat and squeeze at Holden’s shoulder, reassuring -- if nothing else -- in his bedrock certainty. ]
We’re all vulnerable to the void gnawing beneath it.
no subject
Date: 2021-06-19 04:32 am (UTC)it was easier when he didn't think he could have anything else, couldn't imagine what a fuller life here in thedas would look like. what's been harder to grapple with is having a glimpse of it, and knowing he can't have it. though — his disquiet runs deeper than losing naomi, reverberates back from her, from the dreams, from ostwick, from arriving here.
any of which he could articulate, in the face of what is unquestionably kindness, with the grounding weight at his shoulder.
or, as he sets his palms on the desk's surface, ]
Well, I can promise you I'm not planning on burning anything else, void or no.
[ hands or books. first breaking a coffeemaker and now this, eesh. he has, at least, the good grace to look rueful as he says it. ]
no subject
Date: 2021-06-20 11:22 pm (UTC)See that you don’t.
[ He can see himself out as he saw himself in, casual in retreat, though he does pause to look back once he’s near enough the door to flip the lock. ]
I’m told some healers here charge for their services.
[ He is not serious. Probably. ]
no subject
Date: 2021-06-21 12:16 am (UTC)truthfully, ]
I'm losing track of how many I owe you, now.
[ which is not, actually, disagreement. ]
no subject
Date: 2021-06-21 12:31 am (UTC)