Kit raises his eyebrows. There's definitely a story there, but he's going to have to wait to hear the details of it until another time, after he's had his leg dealt with--a task which will, it seems, need to be undertaken by a different mage. Kit exhales slowly, his expression a strange blend of both relief and disappointment; like hearing that a much needed but frightening surgery has been postponed for another day.
"It's all right," he's quick to say, and to offer up one of his rather trademark lopsided grins in an expression of reassurance. Already, he's waving off the last of Vandelin's apologies, chagrined for having approached him about the issue at all. "Really, it's--you know, it's not even that bad anymore, and I haven't needed to take any elfroot for the pain in days." That's a bit of a fib, but as far as white lies go, he thinks it's a tolerable one. Maybe it'll even be true in time for him to take up his axes and venture into the Kocari Wilds in a few weeks.
He starts to take a step back towards the end of the range. "Don't worry about it," he says again. "I'll catch up with you some other time, when you're not studying." Curious, he looks to the titles of the books that Vandelin is perusing, trying to glean some idea of just what his new friend is researching.
No, no, no. Vandelin's not about to let Kit get away with leaving his leg untended just because he can't be the one to do the tending--and he'd be even more adamant about getting it healed up better if he knew Kit had plans to set out again on a dangerous mission for which he can't afford to be at anything less than a hundred percent.
"You're still limping," he points out, not even raising the issue of the crutch, "and the studying can wait." The books are a hodgepodge of texts about the Veil, a slow attempt to catch up enough to make himself useful to the rift project, but that's certainly nothing as time-sensitive as all that.
Pausing just a moment, as long as he can persuade Kit not to hightail it just yet, he weighs his options. There's one other person here, just one, whom he'd trust to heal Kit and put him at ease while doing it--but it's best if he doesn't know where the referral's come from.
"My cousin dabbles more in healing than I do," he says. "Nothing with spirits, not that kind--just basic, restorative energy. The kind that makes plants grow." And grow, and grow. But let's not think too hard about the scary forest.
"He's a great guy. I promise you, you could trust him with your life. I'm not sure where you can usually find him; he's new here, but, ah, if you follow the locator glyphs he's left around..."
"...he's new here, but, ah, if you follow the locator glyphs he's left around..."
Kit breaks into a surprised smile. "Myr's your cousin?" he asks, clearly familiar with this mystery mage already. "Yeah, I know him--found him getting into some low key mischief in Lowtown, so helped him out of it. Seems like a nice guy." He shakes his head, marvelling a bit. "This city is smaller than it looks."
Smaller, and filled with unexpected mysteries, and kindnesses. He's taken aback by just how aware Vandelin is of his discomfort around magic, and takes a sudden interest in the book titles just beyond his friend's shoulder; in the Deep Roads, he had hoped that he had masked it better than this. When he looks back to find Vandelin looking at him so earnestly, the guilt in his gut gives a painful wrench.
"Well," he starts, searching for the right words--which normally come so easy to him--then puts on another disarming smile. "Well--if I follow the glyphs, I should be able to find him, no problem."
Something about that exhalation and its accompanying expression had struck a chord with Vandelin, reminding him of the way Kit had blanched the last time he was offered magical healing. It's a lifelong, well-practiced habit, quietly and carefully analyzing his conversation partners for any sign of discomfort or weakness. He'd just like to argue that it can be used to help as easily as harm.
"You've met him?" He sounds, at first, pleased about this unexpected development--and then, wondering when this meeting took place and what his cousin might potentially have said about him, slightly alarmed. Whether Vandelin can justify his own wartime actions or not, Myrobalan can paint a rather different picture of him than he wants a guy like Kit to see, and Van doesn't trust anymore that Myr won't do just that if given the chance.
"It can't hurt for me to tag along," he says, though in actuality, it very much could. "Not that I'm suggesting you can't follow a trail of glowing wall markers, but, you know. The more the merrier."
It's a complete misinterpretation of Vandelin's reasons for wanting to join Kit, but nevertheless, he finds himself smiling again, the expression warming his eyes. "Well, I don't mind the company," he replies. A little bold, holding his gaze like that for just half a second, before he clears his throat and shifts some of his weight back onto his crutch.
For all Vandelin's habit of reading all manner of deep and dire things into the slightest pause or glance, it does, at least, go both ways sometimes. He needs no encouragement to latch onto that lingering look, and a slow smile spreads over his face in return. Perhaps he'd been too quick after all to write off the potential for something.
He can (and will) worry about Myr's reaction once they meet up, but for now, there's no way he isn't coming with.
"Always happy to provide." He shuts his book with finality. "I'll see what I can do, then."
(It simultaneously starts to trigger the impulse in him to put a stop to this--what is he thinking, flirting like this, who does he think he is--but at least for the moment, he is able to wrangle that self-destructive thought into submission.)
"Lead the way, then," he invites, then follows in Vandelin's steps as they depart together.
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no subject
Kit raises his eyebrows. There's definitely a story there, but he's going to have to wait to hear the details of it until another time, after he's had his leg dealt with--a task which will, it seems, need to be undertaken by a different mage. Kit exhales slowly, his expression a strange blend of both relief and disappointment; like hearing that a much needed but frightening surgery has been postponed for another day.
"It's all right," he's quick to say, and to offer up one of his rather trademark lopsided grins in an expression of reassurance. Already, he's waving off the last of Vandelin's apologies, chagrined for having approached him about the issue at all. "Really, it's--you know, it's not even that bad anymore, and I haven't needed to take any elfroot for the pain in days." That's a bit of a fib, but as far as white lies go, he thinks it's a tolerable one. Maybe it'll even be true in time for him to take up his axes and venture into the Kocari Wilds in a few weeks.
He starts to take a step back towards the end of the range. "Don't worry about it," he says again. "I'll catch up with you some other time, when you're not studying." Curious, he looks to the titles of the books that Vandelin is perusing, trying to glean some idea of just what his new friend is researching.
no subject
"You're still limping," he points out, not even raising the issue of the crutch, "and the studying can wait." The books are a hodgepodge of texts about the Veil, a slow attempt to catch up enough to make himself useful to the rift project, but that's certainly nothing as time-sensitive as all that.
Pausing just a moment, as long as he can persuade Kit not to hightail it just yet, he weighs his options. There's one other person here, just one, whom he'd trust to heal Kit and put him at ease while doing it--but it's best if he doesn't know where the referral's come from.
"My cousin dabbles more in healing than I do," he says. "Nothing with spirits, not that kind--just basic, restorative energy. The kind that makes plants grow."
And grow, and grow. But let's not think too hard about the scary forest."He's a great guy. I promise you, you could trust him with your life. I'm not sure where you can usually find him; he's new here, but, ah, if you follow the locator glyphs he's left around..."
no subject
Kit breaks into a surprised smile. "Myr's your cousin?" he asks, clearly familiar with this mystery mage already. "Yeah, I know him--found him getting into some low key mischief in Lowtown, so helped him out of it. Seems like a nice guy." He shakes his head, marvelling a bit. "This city is smaller than it looks."
Smaller, and filled with unexpected mysteries, and kindnesses. He's taken aback by just how aware Vandelin is of his discomfort around magic, and takes a sudden interest in the book titles just beyond his friend's shoulder; in the Deep Roads, he had hoped that he had masked it better than this. When he looks back to find Vandelin looking at him so earnestly, the guilt in his gut gives a painful wrench.
"Well," he starts, searching for the right words--which normally come so easy to him--then puts on another disarming smile. "Well--if I follow the glyphs, I should be able to find him, no problem."
no subject
"You've met him?" He sounds, at first, pleased about this unexpected development--and then, wondering when this meeting took place and what his cousin might potentially have said about him, slightly alarmed. Whether Vandelin can justify his own wartime actions or not, Myrobalan can paint a rather different picture of him than he wants a guy like Kit to see, and Van doesn't trust anymore that Myr won't do just that if given the chance.
"It can't hurt for me to tag along," he says, though in actuality, it very much could. "Not that I'm suggesting you can't follow a trail of glowing wall markers, but, you know. The more the merrier."
no subject
It's a complete misinterpretation of Vandelin's reasons for wanting to join Kit, but nevertheless, he finds himself smiling again, the expression warming his eyes. "Well, I don't mind the company," he replies. A little bold, holding his gaze like that for just half a second, before he clears his throat and shifts some of his weight back onto his crutch.
no subject
He can (and will) worry about Myr's reaction once they meet up, but for now, there's no way he isn't coming with.
"Always happy to provide." He shuts his book with finality. "I'll see what I can do, then."
no subject
(It simultaneously starts to trigger the impulse in him to put a stop to this--what is he thinking, flirting like this, who does he think he is--but at least for the moment, he is able to wrangle that self-destructive thought into submission.)
"Lead the way, then," he invites, then follows in Vandelin's steps as they depart together.