the magician.

‘Yes and no.’ Is he gonna elaborate? Fuck no. 

    drifter shakily stood back up, wiping away the blood from their mouth. they really weren’t concerned with themselves at the moment, even though they should be. instead, they turned to link, checking him for any major wounds. 

Hard nodding in agreement.

    drifter sighs. his hands shake as he signs.

     ....

    the drifter may have been ill-- but they were much more than defenseless. with their sword in hand, and their pistol hidden underneath their cloak, they stood like a cornered cat with their back against the wall. at least in this case-- they sort of were. 

    the drifter up to this point had hidden their sickness from the small magician. they had no real way of discussing it with him-- and drifter felt that it might have been best to hide their weakness. the sickness had mostly left them be until now, only a few small coughs escaping the drifter. there may have been the taste of blood now and then, but as long as they could keep going-- they did. 

   however-- as the pair walked on that day, drifter felt weaker and weaker by the passing minute-- a pain in their chest rising until it was unbearable. they collapsed onto their hands and knees, one hand clutching their chest, their body trembling. then finally-- they started to cough up blood, only barely able to breathe between each fit. this lasted for a while, drifter only just noticing the paper bird fly away for help. it wasn’t going to do much if they didn’t know what they were dealing with. 

    eventually, drifter musters the strength to start writing on the ground. as morbid as it was-- they wrote in their own blood, as the ground wasn’t very good writing material. they would manage to spell out the letters ‘s-i-c-k’ in the grass before giving up. 

      HE CAN’T BELIEVE HE’S TAKING AFTER HIS OWN MOTHER at this point … ( actually, he’s quite all right with that. ) “ You’re bleeding. AT LEAST sit down. ” So he can bandage them.

    oh. they didn’t even realize they were bleeding. sure enough, there was a long scratch across their stomach. pain wasn’t new to the drifter-- in fact that was pretty much a daily occurrence, and they were used to just patching themselves up.

    well-- they weren’t exactly expecting to be called out like this. they simply stared up at the magician, pointing at their own throat as to indicate that they could not speak. they did however, raise their hands and sign a few words, questioning the elder man if they knew how to sign too.