“How long have you been like this?” Where Fahleon is n a mood and possibly physically hurt but Raya’s been spending so much time with Savill that she just didn’t notice (also he’s a dickbutt who would hide it) and now she’s noticed and has to make up for it. Cus I am also weak for hurt/comfort angst but the emotional side of it 😇
Fahleon hadn’t seen much of Raya lately, but he took his accustomed place at the window in the kitchens she worked in nonetheless. He didn’t miss her excitable chatting - that wasn’t the right word he’d use, at least. He was bored, maybe, without the antics he was usually caught in whenever she was around, but he didn’t miss the headache that came with it.
“Want me to make you one of your favorite pies?”
It was back in full force today, pounding behind his eyes in time with the dull, throbbing ache in his side.
Fahleon sent her a narrowed eyed look and tried not to move too suddenly when Raya shooed him from the windowsill to pull down the fruits hanging above it to dry. He winced and leaned heavily against a table, instead.
He wasn’t sure he could eat. He’d shoved a handful of elfroot down his throat to ease some of nausea and another handful was pressed against the wound in his side, maybe a broken rib. It was no replacement for true healing, But Fahleon had never liked them anyway. He’d never let a shem lay a hand on him. They always meant ill will whether they said they were only helping or not. Raya was barely tolerated - but only barely after the last time she’d tried to heal him. His hand went to the burn on his side and he flinched when he felt the new wound damp beneath his hand.
“Fae?”
He narrowed his eyes further when he caught Raya glancing, wide-eyed at the blooming color against his tunic. He’d worn a dark color on purpose - the damn thing had been bleeding for two days now - but the red showed up despite his efforts. Fahleon straightened as much as he could and grit his teeth. “’M fine.” He’d take his chances bleeding out.
“How long?” Creators. Fahleon rolled his eyes and tried to turn away. It made his muscles pull and he groaned out a short curse. He shoved Raya away when she took a step close. She stumbled but caught her footing. “How long have you been like this?” He looked away without answering and he only turned his head further when she stomped a foot. His hand itched where the anchor split open his skin as she reached for her magic.
“A day.” He rubbed his palm again his pants. “Maybe two.” Whenever the last time he’d gone to the hinterlands was. It was hard to think when his head hurt and his side burned and the magic of the anchor ached under his skin. He felt lightheaded and he pressed a hand to his head. Raya’s joined it, and when Fahleon glared up at her, he found himself halfway fallen out of his seat. She felt cool against him and he’d wondered when it had gotten so hot in the kitchens when the ovens weren’t even on.
“We’re taking you to a healer.”
“I’m fine,” he repeated. He tore himself from his grasp and only succeeded in falling further out of the bench. Raya helped him to sit upright again.
“Fine. I’ll bring one up here, then.”
