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“And why did you stick your arm in an ominous hole in the wall?” Shadowheart asked with more than a little hint of judgement as she channeled her healing magic into her companion’s shoulder and wrist. For as much explaining as the group had done when they rushed into camp, they had left that detail out. Honestly, she expected better from Midna. She could be reckless, but she wasn’t stupid… nightly feedings of the vampire aside.
“I was going to use a spell to get rid of that thing in the walls,” she explained. “But-”
“It struck first,” she finished for her. “Still rather stupid if you ask me. You should’ve just left it alone.”
The tiefling shot her an annoyed look for the remark that she had no real defense for. “If I had, then I wouldn’t have had a chance to speak with the Absolute.” She was still having a hard time wrapping her head around that. It was certainly vague, but now she knew the god the cult served wasn’t the actual leader. Someone else - Ketheric if she had to guess - had it chained to serve them.
“We might have learned a little, but we almost lost you to it in the process,” Karlach reminded as she observed the cleric’s work off to the side. “Don’t fool yourself into thinking your less valuable than a little bit of intel.”
“There,” Shadowheart severed her concentration and removed her hands from the damaged areas. They were far less discolored than when they started, but there was still evidence of an injury. Her whole shoulder was still a bit swollen and a slight purple-ish color, and light, tendril-like bruises wrapped around her wrist and halfway down her forearm. “I’ve done what I can, but they’re going to be tender. I’ll wrap your wrist and fix you a sling then we can check on them again in the morning.”
“Thank you,” she gave the cleric a grateful smile. “I think I can manage without those, though.”
Over at his own tent, Astarion paused in the middle of his book, a hint of staggered annoyance coming to his features. Shadowheart’s tent wasn’t so far that he couldn’t eavesdrop, and that’s what he’d been doing while the cleric mended her wounds. He only wanted to listen in to get an idea of how bad the injuries were and how long it might take for them to heal. He didn’t intend on jumping into the conversation himself - not until a moment ago, anyway. He swore if either of those two just let her walk away…
The half-elf’s face scrunched up with concern, the gauze already in hand. “I wouldn’t if I was you. You’d be surprised how much it can help.”
For just a second, he felt a bit of relief, glad that Shadowheart wasn’t allowing her to just waltz off like a damn fool. Perhaps the seasoned cleric could convince her with her expertise.
“It’s not too bad. I think it’ll be fine,” she insisted, scanning over the injury herself. Admittedly, it still looked nasty and it did ache, but not enough that she thought she needed a sling.
Her expression remained unchanged as she debated with herself. “Alright, if you’re sure,” she gave in with a sigh. It would slow the healing process, but not enough that she would fight with her over it. Besides, she was the one who would be feeling it over the next few days for not listening to her.
Astarion snapped his book closed and left it on his table before marching over to the cleric’s tent, none too happy with her answer. If Shadowheart and Karlach weren’t going to do anything, then he would… Gods, he had to do everything around here.
Midna moved to slide off the stool, but a hand grabbed her good shoulder before she could. “Darling, not using your brain is exactly what got you those injuries in the first place,” the vampire remarked with a frown as he forced her back down into the seat. “Let’s not repeat that mistake and make them worse.”
“I’m not going to-” her argument had hardly gotten started before it was cut short.
“Yes, you are,” he interrupted firmly. “Your wounds are getting dressed, whether you like it or not.” For a moment, Midna was taken aback, not just by his tone but his expression as well. She was expecting a slightly arrogant, taunting expression, the one he put on when he thought your intelligence was equal to that of a rock. But instead she found a frown with no traces of anything lighter. There weren’t glimmers of amusement or hints of playful teasing, just downturned lips and a furrowed brow.
Wordlessly, he held out his open hand to the cleric, who handed over the roll of gauze in spite of her surprise. Not that Astarion never showed concern, but she never thought she’d see him tending to injuries like this. Minding the bruises, he took the tiefling’s arm in hand and began gently wrapping her wrist. Still a bit shocked, she complied easily and held the wrapping in place with her thumb. “I’ve seen some impressive displays of stupidity on this journey of ours, but your little show today trumped them all.” He pulled the bandage taut, earning a wince from her, before clipping it into place. “And now you want to ignore the cleric’s advice on your injuries? Use your head, darling. It’s better for you,” he let out an irritated huff before snatching the clothe from Shadowheart’s table.
Midna sat silently on the stool, too stunned to take offense or even argue with him. Not that she had a good argument to give, anyway.
The silence from the others was suddenly shattered when Karlach snorted. What started as a few snickers quickly turned into a laughing fit, earning her confused looks from her companions. “Did you think of something funny, Karlach?” the half-elf ventured curiously.
“No, no,” she shook her head, her smile still wide as her fit wound down. “It’s just Astarion,” a few more chuckles followed when the vampire’s face twisted up with offense. “You can just tell her you’re worried. You don’t have to cover it up with insults.” She’d seen the look on his face back at the tower. He’d been just as concerned as she and Gale, maybe even more so.
And just like that, he felt as if he was made of glass and she’d seen right through him. This wasn’t the first time someone had been hurt, but it was the first time someone in camp had nearly died from sheer stupidity. It scared him that she was almost snatched away like that, and this hot streak of thoughtlessness was going to lead to a similar situation. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, his frustration with her wasn’t just because what she did was objectively moronic - it was also rooted in genuine concern for her wellbeing.
It took him a moment before he could pull himself out of his stunned state. He scoffed and rolled his eyes in an attempt at salvaging his mask, “Please. I’m just trying to make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid like that again.” The rogue began to fold the clothe and began to situate it around her arm, all while trying to avoid gazes. “We can’t afford to be that careless.”
As fair of a point as he had, the other two couldn’t help but find his denial amusing. It wasn’t a secret that they had a thing for each other. Gods, how could it? Sometimes they were so forward that Shadowheart considered asking Gale if he could make those two their own little dimension so she wouldn’t have to watch them. Point being: It was abundantly clear they liked each other, so his insistence that this was nothing deeper was almost comical.
Astarion tied the ends of the clothe into a sturdy knot, completing the makeshift sling. He took a moment to observe his work before he deemed it suitable. “Don’t expect me to play nurse next time you hurt yourself like this,” he said before returning to his own tent.
All three women watched him with amusement, each of them getting the sense that that was a lie.