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[hyanaimne]

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[hyanaimne]

The hell I don't. [she may not like the idea of being rescued, but she won't let that go without her paying Sev back]

. . . how are you to blame?

[miscreant]

I have an obligation, aside from the fact that we are familiar, to prevent Koltira from harming other transports.

[An obligation she is squandering but...]

Just as he would do. He has been rather...focused on that. I suspect he has not been tending to himself in the process.

[hyanaimne]

Then he is at fault as well, is he not?

[she frowns, regarding Sev for a moment]

Should you go to him, then?

[miscreant]

I suppose.

[Her lips purse for just a moment before her expression falls neutral.]

No. He is far enough out for the majority of the population.

[And she is no longer interested in easing his suffering at the present.]

[hyanaimne]

[she tilts her head, the nods; it really is none of her business, and a part of her doesn't want Sev getting hurt - even if she would do far better than most]

Alright.

[miscreant]

If it becomes a problem, then I will consider it.

[She opens and closes her hands. If she had her armor, she might have stood a chance, bit without it...

Koltira was simply stronger than her.]

[hyanaimne]

[the darkening marks on her neck and wrists says it's a a problem, but she won't argue]

Mmm.

[miscreant]

Are you certain you do not want to see a healer?

[She closed her hands and let them fall.]

Holy magic often counteracts our own.

[hyanaimne]

[with a wry noise, Tempest lifts her right hand and wiggles her fingers - only four, because one is missing]

If that worked, I would have all my fingers.

[miscreant]

[Seviilia observes quietly. Her tone is quite deadpan.]

You could always opt into undeath. Quite easy to reattach limbs in that state of being.

[She wiggles her own fingers, the normally glowing blue runes etched in them inactive and black.]

[hyanaimne]

While that is a kind offer, I think I will have to pass on it.

[miscreant]

Good.

[She likes you as you are. She almost says it, but...then she doesn't.]

[hyanaimne]

[it's sweet that you thought it, at least, Sev]

Mm. Will you be escorting me home, then?

[miscreant]

[Distracted by her own thoughts, the question seems to catch her off guard -- like she can't tell if she's being asked or being volunteered.

The awkward silence hangs for a second before she comes back with:]

That depends. Am I meant to carry you there?

[hyanaimne]

Do I look like a damsel in distress?

[miscreant]

[All she answers with is a smirk, thought light, and a very slow full-body appraisal.]

[hyanaimne]

[Tempest's response to that is something very, very rude in Elvish]

[miscreant]

[One slender eyebrow raises. Even with the different dialect, she gets the idea, and purses her lips.

If that is the game she is going to play then:]

Well, I wasn't going to say anything, but I have carried heavier and much less shapely damsels around than you in the past.

[hyanaimne]

I am not shapely—

[wait a goddamn minute here.

She cuts off with a sputter, because WHAT]

[miscreant]

[Calmly, with a slight flick of her ears:]

I think I am meant to be the judge of that.

[hyanaimne]

[where has this conversation gone]

I—oh, shut up.

[miscreant]

Of course, as the lady wishes. Shall I return you to your quarters, then?

[She offers a hand, but that smirk doesn't go away. Too easy.]

[hyanaimne]

No, no, I think I can manage by myself, thank you.

[there's no real bite to her words, despite the expression]

[miscreant]

[She makes a show of curling her fingers palm to her palm before letting her hand fall.]

You really are too much.

[hyanaimne]

Oh, piss off.

[you can thank Charlie for that one. She shifts her weight a bit, just to make sure she really can make it on her own before turning to walk away]