( it could be the sort of thing one brings up in casual conversation; sylus would answer. he's not really shy talking about things like this. it's just boxing, after all. he's had many years to hone the craft and he's proud of himself, prouder still that he has the control to not fully harm someone if he doesn't intend to.
but, anyway.
there's almost a permanent smirk tugging at the corner of one side of his mouth as he watches her. he tips his head in silent thanks at his impressiveness, and the air about him seems to speak simply that he knows. it isn't arrogant, just knowledge. at the mention of his wounds, he, too, lets his gaze fall to inspect his hands. they're still there, sluggishly disappearing and he knows if he took the bracelet off he'd have no issues and they'd disappear easily.
however... )
It's nothing serious.
( his words are drawled, almost uncaring. yet, he still sits there, one hand spread on the table. his eyes upturn to her, amused. )
But, who am I to turn down my "benefactor's" request?
( afer all, it's been quite some time since he's had anyone tend wounds. )
[ the air of playfulness that clings to him like static puts manuela into considerable ease, making the upward turn of the corner of her lips feel second-nature. she tries not to get too swept up in it; while it helps calm the frayed nerves the general bloodthirstiness hanging thick in the air of this underground fight club, the last thing she needs to do is drop her guard completely.
after all, he had been kind enough to help her once. she never can tell when such kindness will end. ]
Next you'll be saying you've had much worse, right?
[ she takes his inaction as permission to inspect, reaching across the table to gently take one of his hands in hers. ]
Consider this repayment. I was the one who threw you into that lion's den. The least I can do is make sure you walk away from it in the best shape possible.
[ she turns his hand over in hers, letting her other hand come to rest its fingertips lightly against his palm. before she even tries anything, she looks up to meet his eyes, gauging his expression. ]
( of course he's had much worse. he'd say so, but what's the point? she saw how he fought, it stands to reason he had much worse before today. nevermind that he could say he's already died once, but who wants to bring that up? not sylus. so, he says nothing and just offers another coy little smile.
he's very conscious of her touch when she takes his hand, but he doesn't flinch or try to pull away. if she wants to help him, she can. he can take his bands off after and no one will be any wiser he can heal himself. and, truthfully, he's interested in seeing the powers other people have. he's learned things are different — that people even call powers like this magic, just like in the stories — from his own and the ones he's used to. and, well, sylus does like knowing things.
it takes a moment from him to look at her once again, his gaze having slipped down to watch her hand, curious what her power would look like. but, she gives him pause with that question, his expression just on the verge of curiosity. )
Not to my knowledge, no. But, I suppose we'll find out.
[ she can, at the very least, appreciate his willingness to experiment. whether that speaks to a lack of self-preservation, or an over-confidence in his ability to persevere, who can say. she supposes only time will tell, but hopefully not any time too soon. ]
We'll have to be discreet, [ she says, in a tone that almost borders on teasing. ] They don't seem to think too kindly of magic down here.
[ there is something provocative about it, isn't there? such is the case with anything "forbidden."
slowly, she traces the path of his life line down the center of his palm. leaning close, bowing her head as if to speak in softer tones to him, it might look like nothing more than any other couple sharing a quiet moment of intimacy. using the faint firelight from the tea candle placed in the center of the table as cover, manuela's hands begin to glow a faint white light — pure as snow — and from there sylus might feel the heat of a comforting hug travel down from his hand, crawling towards all the areas his body might ache. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
but, anyway.
there's almost a permanent smirk tugging at the corner of one side of his mouth as he watches her. he tips his head in silent thanks at his impressiveness, and the air about him seems to speak simply that he knows. it isn't arrogant, just knowledge. at the mention of his wounds, he, too, lets his gaze fall to inspect his hands. they're still there, sluggishly disappearing and he knows if he took the bracelet off he'd have no issues and they'd disappear easily.
however... )
It's nothing serious.
( his words are drawled, almost uncaring. yet, he still sits there, one hand spread on the table. his eyes upturn to her, amused. )
But, who am I to turn down my "benefactor's" request?
( afer all, it's been quite some time since he's had anyone tend wounds. )
no subject
after all, he had been kind enough to help her once. she never can tell when such kindness will end. ]
Next you'll be saying you've had much worse, right?
[ she takes his inaction as permission to inspect, reaching across the table to gently take one of his hands in hers. ]
Consider this repayment. I was the one who threw you into that lion's den. The least I can do is make sure you walk away from it in the best shape possible.
[ she turns his hand over in hers, letting her other hand come to rest its fingertips lightly against his palm. before she even tries anything, she looks up to meet his eyes, gauging his expression. ]
You aren't resistant to magic, are you?
[ she's asking with regards to both ways. ]
no subject
he's very conscious of her touch when she takes his hand, but he doesn't flinch or try to pull away. if she wants to help him, she can. he can take his bands off after and no one will be any wiser he can heal himself. and, truthfully, he's interested in seeing the powers other people have. he's learned things are different — that people even call powers like this magic, just like in the stories — from his own and the ones he's used to. and, well, sylus does like knowing things.
it takes a moment from him to look at her once again, his gaze having slipped down to watch her hand, curious what her power would look like. but, she gives him pause with that question, his expression just on the verge of curiosity. )
Not to my knowledge, no. But, I suppose we'll find out.
no subject
We'll have to be discreet, [ she says, in a tone that almost borders on teasing. ] They don't seem to think too kindly of magic down here.
[ there is something provocative about it, isn't there? such is the case with anything "forbidden."
slowly, she traces the path of his life line down the center of his palm. leaning close, bowing her head as if to speak in softer tones to him, it might look like nothing more than any other couple sharing a quiet moment of intimacy. using the faint firelight from the tea candle placed in the center of the table as cover, manuela's hands begin to glow a faint white light — pure as snow — and from there sylus might feel the heat of a comforting hug travel down from his hand, crawling towards all the areas his body might ache. ]