illusional | 8th l o s t s o u l ~ [Voice]

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8th l o s t s o u l ~ [Voice]

[Even in tense situations, Cheyenne was generally a very calm person. But the voice coming through the journals right now sounds very strained. There's a small cut on her cheek and a bit of blood on the other. She's trying to keep her voice steady, succeeding for the most part. But oddly enough, it doesn't sound like she's in pain. The way she's breathing and the manner she seems to be holding herself almost gives the impression that she's afraid of something.]

[But this was Cheyenne. That couldn't be it, right?]

I don't suppose... there are any healers in town willing to make house calls?

[[ooc: If your character has anything strange about them that Cheyenne might notice by looking at their soul (since that's the way she sees everything) please take a look over at her Permission Post! Also, don't worry about breaking time-space here. |D]]

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[Words of affirmation, then he closes the journal and hurries to Cheyenne's place as memory serves him. He's there as fast as he's able, and he lets himself in, albeit with some hesitance. It's odd to enter without someone telling him to come in ( . . . how odd), not to mention it's her place.

Still.]

Cheyenne?

I'm over here, Alf. [She's sitting on the couch in the front room and makes no effort to get up to greet him.]

[The small table in the center of the room as been hastily pulled closer and there are quite a few shards of some kind of glass scattered across it. With a closer look, they seem to be piece of a mirror. And they're all covered in blood.]

[Cheyenne herself is still trying to keep a smile on her face as she turns to face Alf. Both of her arms are lined with small, negligible cuts, but her right wrist is wrapped up in a bloody towel.]

I do hope you'll forgive my appearance. I... imagine I must look rather messy.

[Alf purses his lips when he glances at the cuts and the towel. Blood. Quite a bit of it, too. Shaking his head, he quietly makes his way to Cheyenne, eying what seem to be shards of mirrors as he goes around the table.

Poor girl.]

It's nothing to apologize for. You must be hurting terribly . . .

It is nothing I am not capable of tolerating... though I cannot say I have ever tolerated such pain for such a long time. I would not have asked for assistance were I capable of concentrating enough to walk to the nearest clinic.

[Not without potentially tripping and making things worse. Not to mention she wasn't really aware just how messy she might look. She just had a good idea.]

The spells you know... is it necessary to touch me for them to work?

[That makes it sound all the worse. Though, all of that doesn't beat the sinking feeling he gets when Cheyenne asks him that question. For some reason or another, it's upsetting that she should have to ask that.]

No, I can cast them at a short distance. Where would you be most comfortable with me being?

Anywhere is fine, so long as you aren't touching me. I would hate to cause you discomfort when you are the one assisting me.

[She's trying her best to stay quiet, but as she unwraps the towel, it's hard not to let out the occasional whimper. Physical pain isn't an emotion, after all, and she's not exempt from it. The cuts increase in severity from her wrist onward, and she's likely broken quite a few bones in her hand.]

[However, given the worst damage is around her knuckles and her hand is still tightened into a fist, it almost looks as though she had intentionally punched something.]

You wouldn't be. Don't worry about it.

[He's actually not sure that she wouldn't, but the words are out before he can stop them. And he doesn't regret saying them, though he does regret that Cheyenne had to deal with such severe cuts and the kind of injury her fist seems to have sustained.

A fist . . .

He doesn't question it. Rather, he simply comes on over and seats himself next to her. Not too close, but still at her side regardless. There's that odd chill -- the one he's felt a couple of times -- but he ignores it. He's more determined to help her than be busy with the almost frightening feeling.]

Have you used filial magic before, Cheyenne?

[More out of habit, she'll still do her best to shrink at least an inch or two away from Alf when he sits beside her. The negative feelings goes away the moment they aren't touching. He may have told her not to worry about it, but seeing other creatures in pain because of a power she can't control didn't sit right with her. And somehow, when that person was Alf, it actually made her feel a little...]

[Well, she wasn't sure. Sad, perhaps?]

I have used it briefly in the past, yes. I would have used it on myself in an attempt to heal, but I found myself rather... unable to concentrate.

[He maintains a straight face when Cheyenne shrinks away that short bit of distance, though he can't help the slight twitch from the urge to just look sadly. It's a constant barrier she has to deal with -- keeping a distance. But back on track.]

All right. Since you're more familiar with that type of magic, I'll be using it.

[He reaches out, both hands hovering just above Cheyenne's. And he stops there, in case she feels more distance may be necessary. They're not touching, but if she's uncomfortable . . . ]

[Cheyenne just nods, keeping her hand steady when Alf moves his over hers. She trusts Alf. He won't touch her when she clearly doesn't want him to. As close as they are to making contact right now, so long as that slight distance is kept, it will be all right.]

[And of course, even though she isn't aware of it, if their hands were to touch right now chances are Alf wouldn't feel any of those negative effects anyway.]

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8th l o s t s o u l ~ [Voice]

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