@fonzeworth asked : What a mess. But.. the cart's cleaner, everyone's alive, and there's no screeching, crying wendigo following after them. It's a little cramped, but none worse for wear, aside from...
Right. Kairos. They're not looking too hot, and certainly the gash on their chest isn't much helpful. Elias stares at his hands for the moment, tar sticking to his gloves and weighing them down. They've yet to be treated with the prestidigitation, and after all of the obstacle yanking with these horned friends of his being just tall enough to be in the way of his spells, perhaps a modicum of forethought could do him well. Besides, Kairos did heal him.. he'd best repay the favor.
And looking to the tiefling once more, Elias peels off his gloves, pale hands exposed and yet unaffected by the wind chill. Once placed off to the side, Elias kind of.. wedges himself over, walking on his knees the short distance from one end of the cart to the other. Something within seemed to click, and the sorcery at his fingertips had one more avenue to express itself. If he concentrated hard enough, he should be able to repay the favor after all, right?
"Hey.. thanks for patching me up. Seriously," he starts, albeit awkwardly, very much aware of the irritation practically radiating off of them. "Sorry 'bout all of that." Okay, that was not going to really mean much—Kairos hardly looks like an artificer that's easy to please—but Elias then spots the wound, covered in entirety by their arm, and frowns a little. "May I...?"
( this is why you don't trust people. )
It takes is being far away enough from that accursed keep to no longer hear the screeching and smell the smoke with a clear route set for Kairos to at least start relaxing, back pressed against their corner of the creaking cart, shoulders slumping a little more, shaking hand against their bloodied side not quite holding as much pressure as it did while they were still trying to make it out of the skeleton horde's assault alive. It worked out, at the very least, even if they would've very much preferred the sensible, more cautious way of doing things, but— that is the risk that comes with people, isn't it? The risk they were no longer willing to take. ( and yet here they are now, still trapped here for the foreseeable future. )
It is most definitely the blood loss obfuscating clearer thoughts that nudges them into desperately wanting some shut eye for a little while, only a slight inconvenience in their role keeping guard at the back to pick off anything potentially trailing them— but someone intruding upon their field of vision tosses that thought out the back entirely, exhaustion steeling itself into open irritation, perhaps the most emotion they've outwardly shown so far, eyes narrowing into a glare, lips twisting into a scowl, tip of the tail once limply resting curled up at their side now flicking and thumping against the wooden plans beneath them. Suffice to say, they are not at all pleased with the outcome, and maybe less with the man mostly responsible for it.
And right now, tired and wounded as they are, the artificer is not particularly in the mood for words, either. Elias' words are met with something quiet between a groan and a growl, a hint of sharp fangs between slightly parted lips, the only answer they dare offer at the moment, more out of instinct than thought. Oh, they will certainly have words for him in a while—
The offer, at least, does give them pause, their glare moving from meeting Elias' eyes to finding his hands, maybe a second longer than it should've taken for the implied request to click— perhaps a sign on its own that they do, in fact, need some amount of assistance. Now, normally, Kairos would be very quick to shoot down anything along those lines, fully aware this is something they can handle on their own if they can just get their mind to work with their hands, the very idea of having to rely on someone else like this and owe them for it making their skin crawl. They don't need other people, they have to remember that, it's the only way to be sure they are safe on their own, keeping to themself, quiet and away from anyone that could get too close—
... Right now, however, Kairos is tired. Kairos is tired, still bleeding, still needing to conserve what energy they're still holding onto for any possible danger on the long road ahead of them... and honestly? They're still just pissed enough that having Elias do the healing instead after being the one to get them into this mess, taking a hit that should've still been directed at him in the necromancer's unbridled rage and still taking their chances and making sure he'd live through his own mistake— this feels like appropriate compensation, at the bare minimum. ( not quite as petty of an action as it is in their own head, but hey— they are the one currently dealing with blood loss, it's fine if their thoughts aren't quite straight right now! )
Finally, finally, Kairos gives in, eyes closed for a moment, a huff as their tail sort of settles down, and they dare let go of the open wound, arm lowered as the icy stare is fixated on Elias once again. He has the permission he needs, at least—
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