Maeve
She's quiet as she works, brow furrowed in deep concentration as she gingerly pulls glass from his flesh, taking great care to get every single splinter she sees. Maeve flicks her eyes up to him, lips pressing into a thin line, "Don't think you'd have been able to go through the front from what I heard." She murmurs, voice soft and reassuring as if she's trying to soothe any guilt he might feel over having gotten hurt. That doesn't matter now. What matters is that he wasn't hurt worse because it could have been so much worse. A quiet sound of acknowledgement rises in her throat, "They put the fire out at the Slagveld. Well, maybe not them specifically, but a part of them." It doesn't really matter who put it out. Whatever reason for it of little consequence. While Maeve might have found herself aligning with Safrin, she wasn't one to think that the Voice and the Ascended were the enemy. It was complicated.
A few more moments of silence pass, Maeve's focus intent on taking care of his hands, making sure there isn't any lingering glass to cause further damage to his already ruined flesh. They're going to take time to heal. She can already tell. The scars will be deep. He's lucky that the glass didn't lacerate any tendons. Otherwise he might have lost the function of his hand. The question catches her off guard as she already planned on going with him. He isn't the only one hesitant to be apart. Maeve pauses, looking up at him with an understanding in her sea glass gaze as his confession is aired, nodding at his words. "I don't want to be away from you either." She murmurs, reaching up with her spare hand to cup his cheek, brushing her thumb over the skin there lightly before she's dropping it to return to the task at hand.
A few final pieces are pulled from the cuts and she lets out a breath, setting the tweezers back down in the little tin, "I'll bandage them when we get out. Come on... Let's get cleaned up." Maeve makes to stand, keeping a hold of his hands and leading him to the small bathroom, turning the water on to warm up as she strips out of her ruined clothes before helping him with his own. Soon she's pulling him under the spray, the water turning pink as it begins to wash away the blood from her skin.
A few more moments of silence pass, Maeve's focus intent on taking care of his hands, making sure there isn't any lingering glass to cause further damage to his already ruined flesh. They're going to take time to heal. She can already tell. The scars will be deep. He's lucky that the glass didn't lacerate any tendons. Otherwise he might have lost the function of his hand. The question catches her off guard as she already planned on going with him. He isn't the only one hesitant to be apart. Maeve pauses, looking up at him with an understanding in her sea glass gaze as his confession is aired, nodding at his words. "I don't want to be away from you either." She murmurs, reaching up with her spare hand to cup his cheek, brushing her thumb over the skin there lightly before she's dropping it to return to the task at hand.
A few final pieces are pulled from the cuts and she lets out a breath, setting the tweezers back down in the little tin, "I'll bandage them when we get out. Come on... Let's get cleaned up." Maeve makes to stand, keeping a hold of his hands and leading him to the small bathroom, turning the water on to warm up as she strips out of her ruined clothes before helping him with his own. Soon she's pulling him under the spray, the water turning pink as it begins to wash away the blood from her skin.
Fight so dirty, but your love's so sweet
Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth
Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth
