Continued from Here \\ @jazzkiller
The clinging to his head told the Plant all he needed to know. Sensitive years so young it made sense, and the bruises were a small but mostly insignificant concern. The being hums, a soft sound as soft lights dance around his head, forming soft lines only to circle the boy, giving him a visual distraction, though he had no idea the ever so faint sounds Plants made was heard by the other as well.
He reached a hand up, the gentlest touch over the other's wrist, faint and barely more than a brush of skin. Pthalo's fingers glowed, blue filigree curling up his pale flesh toned arm as he focused on the other's wounds.
The soft song curled and twisted with the lights before the image fades and is hand drops, smiling. The bruises are gone, and as the soft sweet song fades, so too does the violent ringing of the other's ears.
"How do you feel? Better?" The Plant asks, sure to keep his voice low, not quite a whisper but certainly not a standard level.
