[Text] [filtered from Yusuke, Caedra, and Akira]

[vocarrah]

[Huh. Ianchus is using the texting function for once.]

Is somebodyy near the souhern cliffs of thE NOrthern island? I'm in need ofF some assistance. Thank You!

Comments

[vocarrah]

[Okay, he's a little relieved that he doesn't have to fiddle with the clasps anymore--why did he choose such secure clasps, anyways? It isn't as if he's the type obsessed with keeping his clothes on, after all. He does look up at Harlan curiously, though, with some amusement. Teleportation and healing without tools? It sounds fantastical. (And of course, summoning a blade out of thin air to stab and rot him is just as fantastical)]

I suppose I am.

[ghostlocked]

[Harlan is used to the reaction to his magic at this point. It's bizarre to him that this is such a mythical thing for everyone, meanwhile it's all he's ever known. He's had to live without his magic exactly twice, and he was a miserable mess both times. How do nonmagical people get by?

Anyway.]

Alright. Hold still.

[He touches his fingertips to Ianchus's arm. It'd be slightly easier if he was willing to get more handsy, but he isn't, so he puts a little more oomph into the spell than would otherwise be necessary.

He wasn't lying—the sensation isn't painful but it isn't pleasant, either. It feels a bit like a numb limb regaining blood flow, the skin around Ianchus's wound suddenly remembering itself and shaking off the decay. Harlan focuses the magic there, since it's the worst of the injuries and it's not something they'll be able to fix at the clinic.

After about a minute, Harlan pulls away, the spell having run its course. The wound isn't fully healed, but it's been stabilized, and the necrotic flesh is no longer dead.]

That should hold you over.

[vocarrah]

[He makes a soft noise, and the second time around Harlan would probably be able to tell it's a giggle--nervous, yes, and more a reflex than anything, but it's a giggle nonetheless. It's certainly an odd feeling, and he reaches up with aching fingers to feel the wound.]

Impressive. How much of my soul would it cost to fix the one on my stomach, as well?

[ghostlocked]

It's free. This is the magical equivalent of a band-aid. Don't get too excited.

[He lightly touches Ianchus's arm again, and the wound in his stomach begins to knit itself back together just like the first one. Harlan's analogy is accurate, though. Aside from the lack of necrotic tissue, the injury doesn't look much better when he pulls away.]

That's as much as I can do for you. Are you ready to head to the clinic?