#finalfullmoon

"You." The high performer. With a horse like that, Julius had actually taken note of him. He didn't appear to be as torn up as Julius was, and that forced a faint frown onto his lips. Tch.

"Did the crowd take to you?" After all... He had them chanting after appeals in the performance prior.

Abruptly, the name came to him, resting on his tongue. "Forde." Unremarkable. That's why he forgot.

“Julius.” Forde’s happy to see the man. Julius has an energy that Forde cannot place, but it is an energy that warms his soul and brightens his day.

“I don’t know how the audience reacted, we couldn’t actually see them from where we were.” He doesn’t know why the audience would enjoy that shoddy performance, he and Hilda were hardly energetic. But he got paid, at least.

"No miniature ballistas on your side? Drama almost had us killed," Crossing his arms over his chest, it was evident that his robes had been bloodied and torn up from their last battle. But his wounds had since closed over. Still, fresh pink sinew was not good enough.

"Look me over. You're a healer, aren't you?"

"Nothing of the sort, no." Ballistas? Mitama frowns. Why in the world would they have functioning ballistas stored away in a theatre? As a security precaution, it seemed a touch extreme, even if this was supposedly the former best show in Fodlan.

"We only had to contend with a few overzealous attendants who demanded we fetch keys for them, and a few racers dressed as horses for Dusk knows what reason." Her foot still hurt from getting trampled. She shifts her weight to roll it absently as they spoke.

His demand is not unexpected. She had assumed she would be receiving visitors requesting assistance the moment they gathered again. She had expected some humility from someone who had fared so badly they now came crawling to her for help, however.

She swallows down the usual sharp retorts she would have given to those she was more familiar with and fixes him with a flat, unimpressed look instead. "I am also not your servant, thank you. You should learn manners before your healers decide that leaving you to bleed out is a more rewarding use of their time."

Despite her irritation and his rudeness however, she cannot stop herself from instinctively doing exactly what he asked. There are obvious signs that he was worse off than he presently was. With an absent, thoughtful noise, she reaches out to tug and hold his sleeve in place so she can properly examine the healing skin through one of the many holes.

"Andrei!" He cued the bowman for healing. This damn contraption blitzed metal right into his flesh.

The sound of his name shaking him from the blinding shock of the enemy's attacks, Andrei pushes himself shakily off the ground, the sound of his own harsh breathing filling his ears, and staggers his way towards the red-haired man.

Right hand clamps down hard on Julius' shoulder, having to steady himself for a moment, but the motion of his left, held out to heal, is still gentle as it needs to be, ghosting carefully over the worst of the other's wounds as he focuses all he can into the warmth pouring from his fingertips.

ANDREI heals JULIUS with Recover [Roll: 8, +6HP] JULIUS 8/12HP.

He's not certain, this time, whether the twist in his gut comes from the still-wrong feeling of Julius' magic or his own blood spilling steadily onto the ground, but it hardly matters. They would have to cover one another in this fight, or they may well all be beyond saving.

"... ... ...Juli--" No. It isn't her. Whatever this thing was, it wasn't her. Clicking his tongue, he could tell from her energy that this thing was not even close to the threat born from the same womb as he. "...My apologies."

People liked when you apologized, didn't they?

"You remind me of someone."

The light of recognition in this stranger's eyes fades just as quickly as it arrives, dying out like a spark that had failed to start a fire.

"Juli...?" She repeats, cocking her head at the unfamiliar name. "Um, I'm sorry... I don't know... who that is."

Had she ever come across someone with a name like that in her limited interactions with others? No, she surely would remember someone that could reasonably be mistaken for herself. But perhaps she is also at fault for seeing a flash of red hair and halting in her tracks.

Even though they don't look the slightest bit similar beyond that one little detail.

"You." A pause. Julius hadn't caught his name, and with the blood streaming down his sides, there was a slight bite to the address. "Are you a healer?"

He winced, three masks slipped off at once. Which one was even worth wearing right now? "..."

“Yep! That’s me—YIKES!” Before even seeing who was speaking to him the mage was quick to reply with a cheerful voice. But even his cheer, bright as sunlight as it may be, was briefly interrupted by the sudden sight of blood. Though his smile recovered, there was an edge of concern reflected in his expression now. Noticing the way the man winced, Ewan was quick to move. “Good thing you found me. I’ll take care of this!”

Raising his staff up and concentrating as much healing power as he could, Julius was enveloped by a gentle golden glow that, while it didn’t wipe away the blood, closed his injuries. “And… there!” The young mage opened his eyes again, his earlier concentration fading. “How does that feel? Are you still hurting somewhere? If something else pops up, don’t hesitate to tell me, okay?”

He lingered a moment at Ephraim’s side, eyes hooded, voice carrying the same ease as though they were comrades in something less twisted than this charade.

"So this is where our paths split," he mused, scarlet eyes flashing faintly in the low light. "You’ve a soldier’s steadiness about you, Ephraim. It’s almost enough to make me believe you’ll be fine without me."

His smile sharpened just slightly, as though a blade’s edge lay beneath the curve. "Almost."

He dipped his head then, an elegant little bow that could be read as mocking or sincere—he left the choice to Ephraim.

"Don’t die before the curtain falls."

And with that, Julius turned, robes catching on the dim light as he vanished into the other path, swallowed whole by the backstage gloom.

Ephraim has never understood magic. The concepts escape him, there's too much studying, too many strange letters and incantations. The pen is mightier than the sword but he wonders if it would fare as well against the lance.

He remembers the searing heat from Julius's tome and the actor that disappeared. So much unexplained with no answers within reach, much like the man who speaks to him now and guards his secrets. They all have those.

"Perhaps, but that does not mean they won't converge again." A wash of teal meets his scarlet blaze. "I'll manage fine. I've fared just fine my entire life without you, but should we stand beside each other again you'll have my lance." He does not know who he says this to, but his promise of help is not spoken with falsehoods.

Julius departs as he came, a silent whisper into the ether, and with one final phrase that hangs.

"Don’t die before the curtain falls."

"Make good on your word, Andrei," Julius was asking nicely. Or demanding. If the light struck his face just right. It was laced with a sweet perfume, nonetheless. "Will you heal us?"

Still in place after the earlier attack, Andrei raises an eyebrow at Julius' voice, before nudging Buttermilk forward with a gentle gesture. Slow and steady.

"And here I was," he says as soon as he gets close, smirk plastered on his face, "Thinking I should refrain from wandering too much lest my steed attract undue attention."

Andrei's expression turns serious, though, as he surveys the two men's conditions. This is not something he can accomplish while jesting. Taking a deep breath, he reaches out his hand, first towards Ephraim, then Julius, and calls forth light, pouring energy into their wounds with the intent to mend, rather than destroy.

The air catches for a second as something stirs beneath his palm, like sharp claws ghosting against exposed skin, sending a shiver up his spine. Andrei doubles down, and the energy twists and gives, the full power of the Recover spell pulsing through each target in turn, erasing the signs of earlier wounds.

EPHRAIM and JULIUS healed +6 HP each by ANDREI. EPHRAIM 10/10HP & JULIUS 12/12HP.

"...There," he says when he finishes, all traces of amusement gone from his tone as he directs his steed a few steps away.