swordpulled sent a courier,
down on one knee, darien felt he was towering over miraak with visible concern plastered on his tan features. lips drawn back, eyes squinting as they perused his body. it’s hard to tell where he might’ve been wounded, if at all. all he knew was the man couldn’t walk, which was very bad news indeed.
“you took a serious hit back there…” grave tones dressed his words, as he muttered them closely. almost as if he didn’t want to believe it. he made it clear how distressed he had been at first, to see miraak fall. that sort of thing just didn’t happen! to be the last one standing, witnessing the priest drop. the knight’s heart almost followed with it.
he knew how to pop a bone back into place, his training as a guard prepared him for that much. but this looked more shattered, if anything. blood was visible too, which made darien reach for the bandages in his bag, prepping the knee with a safe cover that it wouldn’t get infected. sighing loudly, darien’s eyes sparkled with relief that above all he’s at least still alive. he didn’t think he had to be afraid of that sort of thing until now.
“there’s a town a couple miles back…” no amount of words, or waiting was going to get them any closer to said location though. darien’s brows furrow, as he grows pensive. “look, you’re going to have to trust me, okay? i can’t just… leave you here like this!” obviously not.
darien moved himself to the man’s side, a hand scooped under miraak’s legs, being certain to touch carefully and with kindness. his gaze all the while focused between miraak’s face / mask , and body . the dip between torso and legs, as he securely grasped both sides and held miraak close to his chest. a good thing darien has carried plenty injured men, fully plated in armor before. despite being 6'6", he’s surprisingly… light? it was kind of cute…
green hues, and lush fluttered as he stood in silence, carrying him all the same with ease. it took him a moment to acknowledge this, before a smile twitched at his lips. “nice and comfortable?” a smile donned brightly on his pillowy lips, “fear not, my sweet princess, i’ll get us safely back… you’re quite easy to carry! so long as you don’t struggle… please don’t struggle.” with steps taken in ease, he was almost tempted to whistle. but miraak’s leg was injured, and if he managed to wriggle out of darien’s grasp and injure himself more… he wasn’t sure he’d forgive himself.
𝙿𝙰𝙸𝙽 𝙻𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴𝙳 𝚃𝙷𝚁𝙾𝚄𝙶𝙷 𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙻𝙴𝙶 𝙸𝙽 𝚂𝙷𝙾𝙲𝙺 𝚆𝙰𝚅𝙴𝚂, not unlike the lasting lightning that still scorched the nearby metal of the dwemer walls around them. he was no stranger to pain, but his breath came in quick and ragged wheezes in feeble attempts to keep himself from making any more noise. the automatons had set upon them, centurions and spheres and spiders alike ; enough to where even he had slipped up. the dull ache that usually throbbed from his stomach was like a second heartbeat, and today thrummed harder than most ; nothing he had mentioned to darien, of course. even if he thought it necessary, his own pride would never admit a moment of weakness.
but a moment of weakness was all it took. only one misstep. he had been knocked back by a shock wave sent to his back, straight into the centurion that had slammed one of its metal fists against his legs when he had lost his step. he’d managed to at least twist around as he fell, able to let his howl of agony come out in a Shout ; FO KRAH DIIN !
the next moment skipped forward like a break in time, blackness in the midst of the battle, and then to the visage of darien gautier looming over him. everything spun as he attempted to collect himself through the pain that burned through his leg like a wildfire, and he didn’t hear the first words the breton spoke to him.
instinct beggared a response ; a shaking hand lifted, and threads of golden light curled around his fingers before flickering out like a snuffed candle. he cursed, half out of frustration and half out of the agony he was casually attempting to suppress ; he should have known better. days the wound hermaeus mora left him haunted him, his magicka was always worse. he felt like a novice again, and briefly -- as he sat there, dazed from agony -- he was reminded of his days in training underneath the tyranny of the dovah. words from then plagued him ; sahlag, you mortals are always so weak.
“ What-- ” the priest began to mutter, bringing the still lifted hand to shield himself as darien crouched to his level. at first, it did not entirely register what he was doing. when it did, though, it was already too late. he reared backwards again, and it took every ounce of his self control not to send his elbow flying into the knight’s face. still, it didn’t stop a borderline feral hiss from leaving the dovahkiin, and he attempted to writhe backwards, only to immediately be met with another stab of pain from his leg. he seethed loudly, “ Nid! I do not need your help! ”
please don’t struggle.
a request he might have considered. might have, before hearing the playful words that came before; my sweet princess. his eye narrowed into a slit, his intense glower so powerful it wouldn’t have been surprising if darien felt the tension radiating from him.
miraak struggled.
