#dissidia verse.

“that clown — rubs me the wrong way, my dear.” you glance down at the magic user beside you. you were chosen by spiritus to fight against the heroes of light, but you enjoyed causing your own chaos. and yet, you were found by this pretty little magician. both of you had seen whom she called KEFKA skipping in the other direction.

their brief respite comes with squaring his shoulders against the rock laden surface at his back, easing against it while y’shtola sets about her work, insistent they set him straight before advancing on ahead. the residual of their battle looks worse than it feels and actually is, but somehow she'd been able to discern a certain extent of it through his leather jacket. even though he had said nothing to the effect of injury, nor had he given any inclination of being bothered by it, knowing well what he could and couldn’t manage.  she somehow knew, anyways. so his jacket is half-removed, exposing the arm she deems fit to mend. the grey-blue of his gaze observes the glowing aura of her healing magic that douses the deep ache of muscle and sinew, removing the visual evidence of bloody scrapes and bruises collected from more than just their most recent bout. her brand of magic removes any trace of his afflictions, but leaves behind all of the faint marks of long-since healed scars that existed before ever being summoned here. he accommodates where applicable and does his best to keep the muscle loose so that it doesn’t seize up with soreness later. keeping his fingers from curling into the fist they instinctively want to assume is a mental task, too.

up this close and without much else to do, it’s hard to not take in some of the more defining features that set y'shtola apart: the ears atop her head, the markings that reach inward of her expression—then her eyes, which haven’t once met his directly throughout this entire ordeal. subsequently, he looks back out at the mostly barren expanse stretched ahead of them before he can be perceived with intention he doesn’t actually carry ... the matter decidedly none of his business.