sacaenxdemon:

“Why?“ The Sword Demon asked the healer. His tone rangharsh, but there was a hint of curiosity to it. Karel couldn’t understand why this girl could care about a random stranger, especially himself. He wondered if she realized who caused the bandits who fled their injuries and terror. He shook his head at that thought– it didn’t matter.

“Why are you worried about someone whose name you don’t even know?” He re-stated his question, just to clarify what exactly he was asking. He knew why he should take care of his wound, infections weren’t fun. He just didn’t want it to be healed. Karel considered a healer’s aid cheating.

“Pfeh, I’ll bandage it up myself,” He told her, honestly just to get her to stop insisting that care comes to it. And, not that he’d openly admit it, the wound itself was rather uncomfortably placed. He’d take care of it as soon as he was finished here. Karel wasn’t sure what it was, but there was something stopping him from just turning and walking away from this strange girl.

Why? For a few moments, Maria simply blinked at the man, as if the question was strange to her. In truth, it likely was one of the least strange things about their situation-- the fields of slain bandits, the man who stood alone amongst the carnage, and the girl who would not cry. Surely, it was something that her siblings would scold her for, should they ever find out. Had the man before her been someone of lesser morals, she would surely have died the moment his blade swung to linger by her throat. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” It would have sounded cheeky in someone else’s voice, but there was a sincere curiosity in hers. “You exist, and you’re hurt. Isn’t that enough?” And there was a strength in her voice, gentle and warm but strong all the same (because she does care, she just does, and how can she put that into words?). 

18. Things they’ll never admit

(( he wishes he could be a little gentler. wishes he were more like father, wishes he were more like lugh, like elen, a little brighter, a little softer. he can’t change, of course, but he wishes he could be just as soothing instead of irritated, abrasive, intimidating, laughable, bitter, vengeful, but he’s been that way for so long that he doesn’t know how to- or if he can- change. its just- all of it is a part of him. would he still be himself if he did?

maybe he can’t change, others would insist he doesn’t need to, but he doubts, regardless.