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The rain had finally somewhat cleared up, but the ground in Crestwoodsquelched underfoot if you were anywhere flat, and the air was humid enough that the rocks and grass wasn’t drying quickly, which meant that if you were anywhere not flat, there was a tendency to slip rather easily.
It could have been worse, of course: the Storm Coast would still have been actively raining with even slipperier rocks, and the Fallow Mire would have been squelchier with more undead. Crestwood was almost a vacation after the rift beneath the lake was sealed other than the wyvern den they’d just cleared.
But despite that difficult bit of pest control, things were going well- until a misstep while trying to dodge a red Templar’s shield bash shortly afterward sent Yvad skidding and tumbling down the slope.
The wind was knocked out of him, and there was quite a bit of pain, though nothing serious- or so he thought. When Yvad tried scrambling back up, however, there was a very sharp jolt of pain from his right ankle and knee.
It was enough to make him buckle and wind up on his ass again, and defending himself and helping finish the fight was rather tricky. Fortunately, even though Cassandra hadn’t quite managed to get every enemy’s attention, and Bull could only yank one back to him with his hooked chain, there was Adaar, who could get down the slope almost as fast as the lightning that crackled around him in order to knife the remaining menace in the back with an ice-coated blade and enough force to shatter it, before the creature could recover from the lightning Yvad had called down.
With the fight over, Yvad was able to drop back down and sit on a rock, wincing. It didn’t seem like anything was broken, or even dislocated as such, but he’d definitely twisted things up and it looked like the ankle was actually sprained. From the aches and pains he felt in general, he’d also gotten quite bruised. It was the sort of thing a healing potion could’ve taken easily care of, if of course they’d not had that trouble with the wyverns. And minor healing spells would certainly help too.
Sethras was already crouching by him, “Need some of the worst healing magic in Thedas?”
Yvad laughed, and winced, “Anything to get your hands on me,” he joked, though at the same time, it was very nice to have seen the concern on the Vashoth’s face, “And better a slow heal than nothing until we reach camp.”
Sethras chuckled, but didn’t respond beyond that to the flirting joke, and warmth spread from where he had his large hands first over Yvad’s knee and then ankle, immediately soothing the worst of the pain and slowly spreading, other bruises and aches being eased already as well.
“At least we’re not far from where the next camp should be getting set up by the scouts- or we could head back to the Keep easily enough.” Sethras noted as he rose, offering Yvad a hand up as well. His spells hadn’t quite sunk in or done their work to where standing or walking would clearly be an option, though, and without a word, the helping hand became him actually hefting Yvad up entirely into his arms when the Inquisitor winced and staggered.
It was unexpected, especially since Sethras hadn’t even asked first if Yvad wanted to be picked up, and he was usually almost overly cautious about how he treated the Inquisitor out in the field, even while the flirting back in taverns or around Skyhold had gotten a little beyond just words- or maybe especially since then. But Sethras just smiled a bit and shrugged at the startled look.
“Do you want to sit around on a wet rock waiting on a slow heal?” Sethras asked.
Yvad chuckled, “Not compared to the alternative that’s come up,” and he settled in, wrapping his arms around the Vashoth’s bronze neck, and leaned his head against Sethras’ chest. Not as comfortable as it might have been if he hadn’t been wearing full armor-
Behind them and a bit to the side, Bull grinned, “The path back to the Keep’s probably still clear, and they’ve got more supplies. And real beds.”
“Now why would you point that out about the beds?” Sethras asked with a dry, pretended innocence, and Cassandra made a noise that might have been disgust or amusement. Or both.