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paixaorpg2008-01-18 05:10 pm
magick-mog.livejournal.com) wrote in paixaorpg2008-01-18 05:10 pm
Entry tags:
Accelerated recuperation [Active]
Character(s): Montblanc, Zidane, Braska
Content: "Saving Private Tribal" continues.
Setting: A house in the M5 area
Time: Morning, after this
Warnings: Don't drive onto the offramp.
The house he'd found was small, and the couple who owned it were gone for now, having to be at work. But they'd kindly agreed to let Montblanc and his injured friend stay a little longer while they were out, and even helped clean the boy up until they'd had to leave. He would have to send them something by way of appreciation for this when he got the chance.
For now, the moogle sat in a high-backed chair that, while criminally comfy, did a good job of dwarfing him. He occasionally looked over at the couch for any sign of change in his companion, although there wasn't much. Montblanc's magick had done what he thought was a decent job of patching him up, but the kid had been through a lot, and probably needed rest in any case, whether or not he was sleeping naturally. And if he wasn't, well, the healer he'd called could help with that, when he arrived.
In the meantime, he'd taken his small (by hume standards; from his own point of view it was a perfectly reasonable size), well-worn clan primer out from his pocket and was flipping through its pages. He'd been right the first time, though, there didn't seem to be anything quite like the lumens he'd seen in here. Different world, different wildlife, kupo, he reminded himself. It was only natural.
There were still a good number of blank pages in here, though. Plenty of room to write down whatever he learned about these creatures, and there was plenty he wanted to know. It went beyond personal interest; they'd piqued his curiosity as a hunter. Now it was professional.
Content: "Saving Private Tribal" continues.
Setting: A house in the M5 area
Time: Morning, after this
Warnings: Don't drive onto the offramp.
The house he'd found was small, and the couple who owned it were gone for now, having to be at work. But they'd kindly agreed to let Montblanc and his injured friend stay a little longer while they were out, and even helped clean the boy up until they'd had to leave. He would have to send them something by way of appreciation for this when he got the chance.
For now, the moogle sat in a high-backed chair that, while criminally comfy, did a good job of dwarfing him. He occasionally looked over at the couch for any sign of change in his companion, although there wasn't much. Montblanc's magick had done what he thought was a decent job of patching him up, but the kid had been through a lot, and probably needed rest in any case, whether or not he was sleeping naturally. And if he wasn't, well, the healer he'd called could help with that, when he arrived.
In the meantime, he'd taken his small (by hume standards; from his own point of view it was a perfectly reasonable size), well-worn clan primer out from his pocket and was flipping through its pages. He'd been right the first time, though, there didn't seem to be anything quite like the lumens he'd seen in here. Different world, different wildlife, kupo, he reminded himself. It was only natural.
There were still a good number of blank pages in here, though. Plenty of room to write down whatever he learned about these creatures, and there was plenty he wanted to know. It went beyond personal interest; they'd piqued his curiosity as a hunter. Now it was professional.
no subject
But it was impolite to stare. Instead Braska turned his gaze to his patient, walking over next to him and looking him over closely. It seemed whatever wounds the young man had received had healed over some. The moogle must have used some curative magic before Braska had gotten there.
Hm... that wouldn't do. He couldn't just refer to him as "the moogle," it was rude. Turning back towards his... employer? he gave a short, respectful bow. "I should introduce myself. My name is Braska. I am..." he paused in thought. He wasn't a summoner anymore, that was for certain. That job passed after death. He hadn't been a priest in a long time. "Just a healer now, I suppose," it was what he was quickly becoming, anyway, "Yourself?"
no subject
He gave a little bow in return, with a smile, after Braska introduced himself. "Montblanc, head of Clan Centurio, at your service, kupo," he replied, then turned to the couch. "Afraid I can't tell you what his name is yet, kupo. Poor fella was half delirious when I found him."