[ the bite of a clawed hand into his shoulder is an afterthought; for now, the state Estinien is in is far more concerning a worry, and Abel gives a light noise of protest as the elezen wobbles, nearly loses his footing beside him. the priest is quick to sling an arm around Estinien's back, goading the taller man to lean into him for whatever equilibrium he might need to keep himself upright.
...it feels-- terrible. it feels genuinely terrible to think about leaving CielElesia in such a state, to think of departing without tending to her obviously grievous injuries, but-- when Abel casts a glance over his shoulder, preparing to call out for assistance from one of her allies...
he's met with the sight of CielElesia sat upright, a cold flame burning bright in her eyes despite the haze of blood loss and pain. she is, without a doubt, clinging to her life despite the wound that should - for all intents and purposes - be fatal. Abel does not know how, but in this moment, in this predicament they're in--
he will consider it a blessing, as cruel as that might be. if she truly possesses a life that cannot end, then... perhaps such a 'gift' might be considered a 'curse' by one who wields its power. all the same...
--it's enough, for now. he forces himself to swallow his uneasiness and concern for her; he has a feeling she would find those sentiments useless, regardless. she will live, even if he cannot explain the method of her vitality-- now, he has to give his attentions to the man whose wounds are rapidly threatening to steal his consciousness from him. so, with a gritting of his jaw... Abel makes the painful choice to leave her behind.
Estinien needs help. now.
he turns without any further hesitation, guiding the bloodied man toward the ritual circle and the hum of energies reaching their pinnacle, quietly imploring the dragoon to hold on. just a bit longer-- and this dark, miserable cavern will hopefully be long behind them.
and if there is a quiet shiver, some brief, momentary impression only one of his legacy might perceive - something grateful, some firm if harried plea to be alright, then... suppose that is all he can offer in farewell. ]
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...it feels-- terrible. it feels genuinely terrible to think about leaving
CielElesia in such a state, to think of departing without tending to her obviously grievous injuries, but-- when Abel casts a glance over his shoulder, preparing to call out for assistance from one of her allies...he's met with the sight of
CielElesia sat upright, a cold flame burning bright in her eyes despite the haze of blood loss and pain. she is, without a doubt, clinging to her life despite the wound that should - for all intents and purposes - be fatal. Abel does not know how, but in this moment, in this predicament they're in--he will consider it a blessing, as cruel as that might be. if she truly possesses a life that cannot end, then... perhaps such a 'gift' might be considered a 'curse' by one who wields its power. all the same...
--it's enough, for now. he forces himself to swallow his uneasiness and concern for her; he has a feeling she would find those sentiments useless, regardless. she will live, even if he cannot explain the method of her vitality-- now, he has to give his attentions to the man whose wounds are rapidly threatening to steal his consciousness from him. so, with a gritting of his jaw... Abel makes the painful choice to leave her behind.
Estinien needs help. now.
he turns without any further hesitation, guiding the bloodied man toward the ritual circle and the hum of energies reaching their pinnacle, quietly imploring the dragoon to hold on. just a bit longer-- and this dark, miserable cavern will hopefully be long behind them.
and if there is a quiet shiver, some brief, momentary impression only one of his legacy might perceive - something grateful, some firm if harried plea to be alright, then... suppose that is all he can offer in farewell. ]