Fic: Truth and Consequences - LOTS - PG
Title: Truth and Consequences
Rating: PG
Summary: Right side THIGH INJURY!
A/N: I BLAME virkatjol and virkatjol FOR THIS so it's for them. DO I GET DAY 2 NOW? Good grief. ALSO TY to paperscout and pickgems for the beta and morgenwrites again for fixing that one really horrible runon!
She's been struggling all day. The baneling's sword had cut deeper into her thigh than she'd let on, not wanting to slow them down. When they finally stop for the night, she uses the excuse of taking a bath to check the damage.
The pain throbs harder now, causing her to lean awkwardly on a nearby tree. She curses him silently. How many times when they've sparred has he told her she leaves her right side unprotected? She undresses the wound, shaking her head, sure that he'll be angry with her for lying about the severity. She hears someone approaching. Of course he would come. She half expects him to laugh at her carelessness and pride.
But he doesn't laugh at her as she thought; just comes and kneels before her. This she is used to: men kneeling at her feet, yet having the Seeker there makes her uneasy. The Mother Confessor, she thinks, should not be so unnerved by a man. Still, here she is trying to hide a smile at the fact that he has come after her even when she'd said she was bathing.
Before looking at her wound, he holds her gaze, quiet and calm. She can see in his eyes the silent admonition, and while he hasn't said a word, she still feels her cheeks burn with shame. His fingers move aside the fabric of her skirt, brush along her inner thigh, run along a previous scar - another time she was careless. He wasn't there with her then and she is thankful he has followed her now. His jaw clenches, trying to hide an emotion she thinks might be pain. She knows then what is to come, glad that he has thought to bring the necessary supplies when she has not.
The needle bites into her skin and she hopes fleetingly that she will pass out from the pain. She has withstood greater from an agiel for far longer than it takes him now, his fingers deftly working the needle. Her head swims and she tries to concentrate on other things: his warm hand holding her thigh steady as he stitches, his body tucked between her legs where she's only imagined him before.
He finishes quickly, inspecting his work. His hand lingering on her skin a moment longer than needed; thumb rubbing in small circles. She watches as his eyes travel up her thigh until he remembers himself and stands abruptly. She wishes he'd forget and stay.
She realizes he’s staring to make sure she’s okay and she starts to reply that she’s fine before catching herself ending in a mumbled answer.
A small smirk tugs the corner of his mouth shaking his head as he turns back to camp
“You really are very bad at lying."
Rating: PG
Summary: Right side THIGH INJURY!
A/N: I BLAME virkatjol and virkatjol FOR THIS so it's for them. DO I GET DAY 2 NOW? Good grief. ALSO TY to paperscout and pickgems for the beta and morgenwrites again for fixing that one really horrible runon!
She's been struggling all day. The baneling's sword had cut deeper into her thigh than she'd let on, not wanting to slow them down. When they finally stop for the night, she uses the excuse of taking a bath to check the damage.
The pain throbs harder now, causing her to lean awkwardly on a nearby tree. She curses him silently. How many times when they've sparred has he told her she leaves her right side unprotected? She undresses the wound, shaking her head, sure that he'll be angry with her for lying about the severity. She hears someone approaching. Of course he would come. She half expects him to laugh at her carelessness and pride.
But he doesn't laugh at her as she thought; just comes and kneels before her. This she is used to: men kneeling at her feet, yet having the Seeker there makes her uneasy. The Mother Confessor, she thinks, should not be so unnerved by a man. Still, here she is trying to hide a smile at the fact that he has come after her even when she'd said she was bathing.
Before looking at her wound, he holds her gaze, quiet and calm. She can see in his eyes the silent admonition, and while he hasn't said a word, she still feels her cheeks burn with shame. His fingers move aside the fabric of her skirt, brush along her inner thigh, run along a previous scar - another time she was careless. He wasn't there with her then and she is thankful he has followed her now. His jaw clenches, trying to hide an emotion she thinks might be pain. She knows then what is to come, glad that he has thought to bring the necessary supplies when she has not.
The needle bites into her skin and she hopes fleetingly that she will pass out from the pain. She has withstood greater from an agiel for far longer than it takes him now, his fingers deftly working the needle. Her head swims and she tries to concentrate on other things: his warm hand holding her thigh steady as he stitches, his body tucked between her legs where she's only imagined him before.
He finishes quickly, inspecting his work. His hand lingering on her skin a moment longer than needed; thumb rubbing in small circles. She watches as his eyes travel up her thigh until he remembers himself and stands abruptly. She wishes he'd forget and stay.
She realizes he’s staring to make sure she’s okay and she starts to reply that she’s fine before catching herself ending in a mumbled answer.
A small smirk tugs the corner of his mouth shaking his head as he turns back to camp
“You really are very bad at lying."