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Altare sometimes gets in over his head.
He argues that’s far from being close to his limits. He’s fought many dangerous things! The bigger the challenge, the better the thrill. He likes it like that. If he’s not outmatched ten to one, there’s no fun to be had.
“You’re literally batshit insane,” Bettel tells him. He’s using a tone like he’s clinically diagnosing him. He’s also not typically battle oriented which is just fine with Bettel. While everyone else has weapons and explosions, Bettel is either a really good distraction or a really good hype man. Altare likes to call him the ace up Tempus’s sleeve. Whatever he does next will usually turn the tide in the favor of the guild.
This time it was pulling Altare out of a fight with a dagger in his gut. Altare can’t even feel it through the adrenaline. His armor will soak a lot of attacks. It’s super strong! It takes a lot to get him! But there are weak points. They’re hard to exploit. Unless it's the giant fist of a cave troll or the halberd from a death knight, he’s fine.
Technically, he’s fine now, but that has to do more with the battle jitters still in his arms.
“It’s just a flesh wound.” Altare jokes. Both of them watch a swell of blood spill down his leg. His voice is a tad higher octave when he says, “Ambulance?”
“Dude,” Bettel says.
“You’re right. Too expensive.”
“Alright, okay.” Bettel’s smirking. He’s got his hands hooked underneath Altare’s arms as he drags him further away from the battle. Distantly, Altare can hear Dez shrieking and a rumbling explosion. In between trees, there’s a flash of a banshee. Right after, a ripple of purple as Hakka gives chase.
“You think they’ll be okay?” Altare asks airily. There’s a coppery taste on his tongue.
Bettel looks down at him with wide eyes, “ Them? Do I need to make a sign and point it at the gushing wound in your torso?”
“It’s fine.”
“The kinda guy that just walks in, arms are gone, fungus growing outa his pores, hey guys, I’m, back!” Bettel snarks. “I’m gonna buy a taser and I’ll use it on you every time you-”
“No.” Altare protests. Laughing is starting to hurt.
“-and every time you say some shit like this, it’s over buckaroo, it’s fuckin’ over. It’s like training a dog. You’ll learn.”
“Bettel, I’m gonna bleed out if you keep making me laugh.”
“It’s literally my job! If you wanna live, get saved by someone else.” Bettel laughs. “Seriously though, we gotta get that out.”
The dagger doesn’t look special, but they had been hunting down a banshee. Altare eyes it. Every time Bettel reaches for it, he bats away his hand. He’s being squirrelly about it.
“Dude, that’s got to come out.”
“Hey, hey, it’ll like, unclog the wound or something it’s like-” Altare panics. “I’ll definitely die.”
“I have a healing potion, calm down.”
“Say that next time!”
“I’m freaking out too, ya know!”
Altare whines. This felt twice as worse as the idea of getting vaccination shots. With the adrenaline falling out of his system, he was more aware of the lead weight piercing his stomach. The pain was sending white-hot flashes into his head. He’s not quick enough to stop Bettel from reaching over and grabbing the hilt.
Altare hisses, grabbing the jester's wrist with both hands to keep him from taking it out. That’s gonna hurt so bad!
“Look, I’ll rip it off like a bandaid, easy.” Bettel coaxes.
“Do not say rip it out, ugh, I’m gonna-”
“Do not, I swear I’m gonna hurl.”
"That's my line!"
“Well, I don’t have a bucket,” Bettel says. He’s leaning back. “I can get a leaf or something.”
Altare relaxes, “Sure, that works go-”
Bettel yanks. Altare shrieks, startled by the sudden coldness in his abdomen. It didn’t hurt nearly as bad as he thought, not when Bettel almost immediately had a potion out on the wound. The jerk is laughing.
Altare hits his shoulder. Bettel keeps laughing.
“You suck.” Altare chokes out. He can feel blood on his lips. At the very least, the pain is fading. He’s glad about that.
“Yeah, yeah, tough love,” Bettel says. “You know what’s great about this? Free dagger.”
“You- you-” Altare fights for a comeback but ends up coughing. Little pinpricks of pain burn down his throat with every cough. The taste of blood is making him nauseous.
Bettel’s gloves are bloody. Without the fever of panic, Altare can see how pale his guildmate looks. Despite the utterly neutral expression, Bettel is fidgeting as he caps the empty healing potion. Altare thinks he’ll just end up passing out right there in the middle of the forest.
“Thanks.” Altare croaks. “I’m glad you got my back.”
“We all do.” Bettel sniffs. “And technically, I got your front. This would be much more awkward if this was your back.”
This time, when Altare laughs, it doesn’t hurt.
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If there’s one thing more embarrassing than being the only one injured from a quest, it’s being piggybacked all the way to the guild. He can walk perfectly fine, but the moment he’d started swaying Dez had gotten sweaty.
Thus, piggyback ride.
“Thanks, Shinri.” He mumbles.
The ronin glances over his shoulder at him. There’s an amused twitch to his smile, “Feeling okay?”
“I’m fine.” He’s drowsy but that was post-battle exhaustion. He can see it in the way Bettel and Magni walk leaning against each other. It looks pretty silly, but they’re trying to make it work. Hakka trails after them with a large smile.
“Sorry about the blood,” Altare adds sheepishly.
“No problem.” Shinri says.
“Speaking of blood,” Bettel yells, “I’m buying new gloves.”
“I can just make you some,” Dez says.
“Why?”
“What the hell do you mean why?”
“No, like-”
“Maglord!” Hakka cups his hands over his mouth to be louder, “Make me some too!”
“There we go! See, Hakka knows what’s up.”
Altare laughs softly. The trek lulls him to sleep. The voices of his guildmates make sparks in his dreams. Someone- white sleeves, dark feathers- Hakka pulls up the hood on his jacket. It blocks out the sun. Altare exhales peacefully.
“Think he’ll be awake for a quick pit stop to get food?” Shinri’s voice rumbles in his ear.
“Nah, let him sleep.” Altare can hear the smile in Hakka’s voice. “We can take some with us to go.”
“That sounds nice.”
It does, Altare thinks sleepily. It sounds wonderful.
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