nightmareofhope:
Artemis is thankful that she could still read her brother’s emotions like a book. She could read that he didn’t quite believe her despite the softened expression while he is in the right to do so. The keybearer wasn’t telling him the whole story and if he wasn’t going to try to coax it out of her, she never will. Artemis would continue to feed him the breadcrumbs, the small details, and never the whole picture until either a fatal consequence on her end or Jude has had enough of the breadcrumbs.
The keybearer follows Jude, albeit almost like the duckling she was years ago, and sits down on the chair, careful with her own hidden injuries. “Emi has provided me some potions,” answers Artemis, her own voice quiet as she mentions her Moogle summon and watches him leave to grab the first-aid kit. She wouldn’t argue against protective charms and knew how intricate the Jude could make them. She wouldn’t mind wearing a few charms as long he was the one who made them.
Slowly rolling up the sleeves of both of her arms, Artemis shows off a recent string of injuries she knew that were inflicted from the shadows. Claw marks across her arms, some which have almost healed but others, including some that seem too large to be from a mere Shadow Heartless, were handstitched together, likely by herself. “The sleeves were unsalvageable.” Artemis quips, quiet but trying to make light humor of the situation.
Jude frowned in confusion, head canting to the side. Emi? Was that a friend of hers? This was her first mention of them. “I could give you more. Never can have enough potions.” Not in his opinion, anyway. Besides, he trusted his own work more than a person he’d never met. Certainly a medical professional knew what was best?
He sighed, crouching to look at the clawed marks on her arms, jagged and red, luckily scabbing well. The stitches were not... particularly good, but for now they were holding, and uninfected. Irritated, maybe, but not infected. Without hesitation, he went for the antibiotic cream and antiseptic. “Considering how torn up your skin is, your sleeves wouldn’t fare better.” He grumbled, cleaning up crusted blood and replacing it with the soothing gel. “I can fix that. Even clothes can be enchanted.” They were harder, as accessories were made from scratch, and clothes were... complicated cloth, but he could figure that out. “Anything else? Besides the arms.”
