Arsen
"Who-whata?" Arsen obviously doesn't have a clue who Sunjata is, or indeed that the word the other man has just said is a name and not some slang term. The only thing keeping him patient and still is the fact that the guy has promised to take a look at the wound on his backside, Arsen still trying to crane over his shoulder to see what's going on. It won't make the healing any easier, but it's better than swearing and kicking sand. "Never heard of no Attuned that can heal before," he mutters.
There's not time to question it further, though, because then the magic is happening (ooooh). And he does almost instantly feel better, though the flight feathers will have to grow back naturally. "Neat trick," he rumbles, shimmying the leather pants back up over his ass, not that they leave much to the imagination anyway. "You're alright," he informs his saviour, bending over to grab the jacket he's discarded. "Owe you one."
There's not time to question it further, though, because then the magic is happening (ooooh). And he does almost instantly feel better, though the flight feathers will have to grow back naturally. "Neat trick," he rumbles, shimmying the leather pants back up over his ass, not that they leave much to the imagination anyway. "You're alright," he informs his saviour, bending over to grab the jacket he's discarded. "Owe you one."
you ask if i'll grow to be a wise man
well i ask if i'll grow old
well i ask if i'll grow old
