It was funny really, how quickly things could change in an instant.
This morning he had awoken peacefully in western Novus, surrounded by lilacs and baby’s breath, the sun warm and gentle. Hours later he had fought a smiling she-wolf by the name of Liesel in the Bellum Steppe, tending to both she and himself after. Now he was surrounded by the carnage of a Solterran raid, walking past the bodies stacked unceremoniously by the city walls. Aion was no stranger to the darker side of life, to betrayal and drugs and fighting. His best friends had been of that scene once upon a time. But this—nothing came close to this. He had never experienced war firsthand—hoof?—before, and it shocked him to his core. Not that he would show it. His blue eyes were as guarded as always, almost appearing bored—his blackened lips turned downwards in an ever-present scowl. To anyone who didn’t know him—and that number was many—it might look as if he resented the Davke simply because it gave him more patients to attend to: ’How dare they make more work for me…’ But in actuality, this was far from the truth. He didn’t care whether he treated Davke or Solterran. A patient was a patient was a patient, and in his eyes they were all equally wretched and worth saving. He was, after all, the worst of them: and still he had been saved, given a new name and a new purpose, strengthened by new life. He would be repaying this debt forever. ’Starting with this poor soul.’ A spear rose out of the side of a horse sprawled upon the ground. They were covered in sand, the dust clinging to their sweat-soaked body, fresh blood running in streams away from the wound, carving tracks through the sand. Aion crept closer, dropping to his knees beside them. Pain-filled eyes rolled back to look at him, breath coming in gasps and gurgles. “You’re lucky,” Aion began, surveying the damage. Of course, he doubted this fellow agreed with him. “The spear missed your heart. Otherwise you would be dead already.” He grasped the shaft carefully with his telekinesis—not to pull, but to stabilize. “Of course, this is still going to hurt.” At least no one could fault him for being honest. @Cyrene in case you want to pop her in! But open to anyone to jump in ;u; ”are you still talking?” |
rhiann art
