It looks pretty substantiated to me. That came from the Chancellor back there? Just by touching you?
[Voice little more than a rumble, he's already moving closer for a better look before she can ask, despite instinct telling him to get away from the dark discoloration. It's the same battle instinct that sends a soldier ducking just as a daemon's jaws close around the space above their head.
Were this any other context, and she any other woman, a good-looking girl taking her clothes off would be cause for a much different set of emotions than the unease creasing the area around his mouth with frown lines. But the only thing he's feeling is a cold horror, melting somewhat under the heat of a kindling anger that someone's in this much agony under his watch. He's supposed to be guarding these people. He's supposed to be guarding her.]
The only thing I've seen come close to this are injuries in daemon attacks.
[If he squinted, the black marks might look like a tattoo design--but that's no ink. Even as Nyx speaks, even as disbelief twists his words, he has a sinking feeling he already knows what she means by "corruption."
His gaze flicks up, noting the evidence of her pain slip through and dampen a trail down her cheek. Frown hardening, he breaks eye contact. It takes all of his will not to pivot around and drag Ardyn out of the hotel by the ends of his gaudy scarf. In contrast to the roughness of his hands from years of battle, his touch in reattaching her dress is gentle.]
I can get the king. You need a healer.
[Maybe it's a stupid thing to say to the Oracle, who's supposed to be the best healer in the world, but he forgets all the hats she wears. Right now she doesn't look like an Oracle, or a princess. She looks like a girl, afraid and fighting back tears.]
no subject
[Voice little more than a rumble, he's already moving closer for a better look before she can ask, despite instinct telling him to get away from the dark discoloration. It's the same battle instinct that sends a soldier ducking just as a daemon's jaws close around the space above their head.
Were this any other context, and she any other woman, a good-looking girl taking her clothes off would be cause for a much different set of emotions than the unease creasing the area around his mouth with frown lines. But the only thing he's feeling is a cold horror, melting somewhat under the heat of a kindling anger that someone's in this much agony under his watch. He's supposed to be guarding these people. He's supposed to be guarding her.]
The only thing I've seen come close to this are injuries in daemon attacks.
[If he squinted, the black marks might look like a tattoo design--but that's no ink. Even as Nyx speaks, even as disbelief twists his words, he has a sinking feeling he already knows what she means by "corruption."
His gaze flicks up, noting the evidence of her pain slip through and dampen a trail down her cheek. Frown hardening, he breaks eye contact. It takes all of his will not to pivot around and drag Ardyn out of the hotel by the ends of his gaudy scarf. In contrast to the roughness of his hands from years of battle, his touch in reattaching her dress is gentle.]
I can get the king. You need a healer.
[Maybe it's a stupid thing to say to the Oracle, who's supposed to be the best healer in the world, but he forgets all the hats she wears. Right now she doesn't look like an Oracle, or a princess. She looks like a girl, afraid and fighting back tears.]