http://magick-mog.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
magick-mog.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
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
His body jerked from the magic, the war of light and darkness disturbed. Still out of it, Zidane's mouth opened to release a cry of pain; neither substances felt like leaving and he could feel them bury deeper, a small fragment connecting to him as the rest shriveled away with the spell.
His arms and tail wrapped around his body and he almost rolled off the couch, trembling again. He remembered his passing out, despite how delirious he had been - oh if Garnet had really been there - but her magic had a different feel to it, and this wasn't it.
Zidane's eyes did at last open, slow slivers, sad blues staring at the floor. He wasn't sure who was in the room, but he found himself unable to look at them. Everyone else had left him, they would soon, once they realized.