[ MEND ] for one muse to treat the other’s wounds they got from protecting them. ( from Bal )
"I told you, Bal, it doesn't matter what he said--" The words are grumbled through a bloodied mouth, lower lip split and painting his chin with a line of crimson. The same crimson speckles his knuckles as long fingers flex in his lap, the memory of bones cracking as his fist made contact with that sneering, freckled face still stark in his mind.
"I warned him that if he opened his mouth one more time, he'd regret it. And he did."
Punishment from higher up be damned, Ambrosius would do it again. Even despite the long, jagged laceration down his forearm. Pulling a dagger in a fistfight was just unsportsmanlike, but looking back, he shouldn't have put it past Todd. Apparently, fighting with honor was beneath him.
