Kharon’s clothing was the only thing beside his name that he retained after the fall. Because of this, he was rather attached to his clothes, especially his coat. The red eyes made him feel connected to something, even if he didn’t know what that something was, and the silvers and purples of the rest of it reminded him of something else he could never really place. In truth, it was the only connection to his past he had, and for that reason it was incredibly precious.
Because he was able to attack foes from a distance, Kharon was usually able to avoid damage to himself and his clothes. The exception to this was when the enemy also had ranged attackers, but he was usually pretty lucky about avoiding their attention and ire. This allowed himself and his coat to remain relatively intact. In truth, he wasn’t sure what he would do if he had to give up his coat for whatever reason.
This lack of knowledge trapped him in a stand still when he was hit with a fireball that caught him on fire and burned large holes into his coat. He may be a tiefling, and therefore fire resistant, but his clothes were not. When the battle ended and they were able to walk away from their foes Kharon found himself stuck. His coat was in ruins. He didn’t even move as his companions started to leave, though they stopped when they saw him stuck.
Fineas and Gryida were the first to approach, and Fineas was the first to speak.
“Are you alright, Kharon?”
He didn’t respond, hugging himself, feeling the burned through patches of his clothing. It was ruined… The fireball ruined most of it, leaving the coat and even the shirt beneath it in tatters, with mild burns on the flesh that the flames reached. The rest of his teammates weren’t in any better shape, bleeding and battered, some far more than Kharon, but it wasn’t his own pain that rattled him.
He didn’t respond, not until Gryida put a hand on his shoulder and shook him gently to try and get his attention. “Kharon?”
In a jerk he lifted his head and looked up to her with glistening eyes as tears began to well. “I’m fine.” It was a blatant lie, but he was never very good about talking about his own pain, especially not so immediately after the damage was done.
“You don’t look fine,” Fineas opposed, easily seeing through Kharon’s flimsy facade.
“I just… I just want to go,” Kharon croaked out, stumbling toward the others in his group, pulling away from Gryida’s grasp. “I’ll talk about it later, promise…”
Fineas and Gryida watched him stagger away, before sharing a glance and following after him. They were definitely going to hold him to that promise.
