A corner of Luthier’s lips quirked up in a slight, tired smile. “Thank you. I feel as though I may have exerted myself more than usual, experimenting with some spells. Usually, I’d wait for the other spell to end before casting the next one, but I wanted to see if I could get away with casting two at once.”
He sits down with a sigh. He placed a hand over this arm, his palm glowing with a gentle white light. Normally, self-healing spells could be complex, but one of the ancient rings he had on his person allowed him to heal himself to some extent. It was practically a lifesaver in the heat of battle when multiple enemies were charging straight at him. The spell did nothing for the actual pain itself, but it helped stop the bleeding enough so that he likely wouldn’t pass out later. Probably.
“I… thank you,“ Luthier’s initial reaction to Eliwood’s praise was hiding his face in a curtain of his hair. “My skills are nothing like my sister’s, however. She overshadows my skill by leagues.“
There wasn’t a bitter tone to his voice, but it sounded somewhere between pride in his sister’s capabilities and crestfallen at his lack thereof. He fidgets with the strap of his satchel, holding back a further remark about his own skills. It was something of a sore spot for him, though that went unsaid.
“Oh, I am glad that you are mostly unharmed.” He cringed at his sudden shift in topic and how he hadn’t said this earlier. “Sorry. I got caught up in explaining my ideas with spell-casting…”
Gingerly, Eliwood placed the glass bottle onto the ground before him, ensuring that the surface it was resting upon was flat and stable. With such a limited amount of supplies, he wanted to remain cautious, and not make the mistake of spilling one of his last remaining vulneraries. With a single hand, he released the clasp of his tunic, shrugging it off of his shoulders until his torn undershirt was exposed. The tear was towards the center of his stomach, neatly framing the small graze. He shifted his position to sit more comfortably–as comfortable as one could sit on a rock that is–and finally leaned forward to retrieve the bottle. He poured a small amount of the liquid onto a handkerchief, and massaged it into the wound. Its application stung, causing Eliwood to flinch slightly, but he didn’t utter a single sound of discontent.
“It is dangerous to compare yourself to others,” Eliwood replied upon hearing Luther’s response to his praise, though he smiled in empathy, “but, I suppose I would be a hypocrite if I claimed I followed that advice myself. It can be challenging not to measure your skill against those of your peers or family. Perhaps it is true that your sister as more aptitude than yourself, as you say, but that does not cause your own capability to be reduced. Truly, I am impressed.” Though he knew words could offer very little for such a struggle, he hoped that he had at the very least, reassured Luthier that his praise was sincere.
“Ah, you needn’t worry. It brings me joy when I see a fellow speaking so fondly of a subject they enjoy. Having a passion is a wonderful thing.” He said with a small chuckle.
“I must admit, I am a bit concerned with the amount of enemies we have faced since our travels began. Though bandits are oft frequent in travel, I feel as though every step we’ve turned has resulted in another battle. Do you think it may be possible that these attacks are being coordinated?” Eliwood asked as he continued to treat his wound.