She was hurting and he was making it worse. Sure, it was so that in the long run she'd be better, but at the moment Tal just felt miserable as he did his best with what they had. A wounded dog couldn't tell him what hurt or help guide him through what needed doing, but at least he knew what to do with one. This...
He winced whenever Anju did, trying his best to be gentle but there was only so much that could be done without magic to speed things along. He gave a sharp nod to every answer she gave, letting her know he was listening even as a bead of sweat rolled down his face and dried before it reached his chin. One arm wrapped, he moved to the other as she asked him a question in return.
It was a good thing he was busy cutting the next strip of bandages instead of touching her, because his snort - part amused, part disdainful - might have jostled something painfully. "Inhospitable? Sure, if you're a Torcher," he scoffed, though it was a good-natured sort of rivalry with the toasty coast. "O' course we've got ice an' snow' an' more snow an' blizzards. But we've also got sunny days without a cloud in the sky an' the glare of the snow bright enough to blind any fool not wearin' goggles. There's the Sea of Glass that looks like it goes on like a dream o' forever sometimes, an' the Tundra with its rollin' hills that hide herds of reindeer an' moose an' luxere. There's the Fangs an' all their dangers and mysteries, but if y'don't like wild, wide open spaces an' bein' able t'see where you're goin'," - unlike the swamp or the jungle - "then the Citadel is blessed by Frey so it never gets too far below freezing anymore, an' it's a pretty big city, too!" Not as big as Stormbreak, sure, but nothing to sneeze at! Tal was clearly very proud of his home, his chest puffing out a little and his hands steadying as he talked, even while wrapping the bandage.
"Why'd y'come to a dismal, awful ol' desert like this t'pray when y'could have gone to one of the nice shrines there?" he asked curiously. Because what was tact?
He winced whenever Anju did, trying his best to be gentle but there was only so much that could be done without magic to speed things along. He gave a sharp nod to every answer she gave, letting her know he was listening even as a bead of sweat rolled down his face and dried before it reached his chin. One arm wrapped, he moved to the other as she asked him a question in return.
It was a good thing he was busy cutting the next strip of bandages instead of touching her, because his snort - part amused, part disdainful - might have jostled something painfully. "Inhospitable? Sure, if you're a Torcher," he scoffed, though it was a good-natured sort of rivalry with the toasty coast. "O' course we've got ice an' snow' an' more snow an' blizzards. But we've also got sunny days without a cloud in the sky an' the glare of the snow bright enough to blind any fool not wearin' goggles. There's the Sea of Glass that looks like it goes on like a dream o' forever sometimes, an' the Tundra with its rollin' hills that hide herds of reindeer an' moose an' luxere. There's the Fangs an' all their dangers and mysteries, but if y'don't like wild, wide open spaces an' bein' able t'see where you're goin'," - unlike the swamp or the jungle - "then the Citadel is blessed by Frey so it never gets too far below freezing anymore, an' it's a pretty big city, too!" Not as big as Stormbreak, sure, but nothing to sneeze at! Tal was clearly very proud of his home, his chest puffing out a little and his hands steadying as he talked, even while wrapping the bandage.
"Why'd y'come to a dismal, awful ol' desert like this t'pray when y'could have gone to one of the nice shrines there?" he asked curiously. Because what was tact?
