(Post written by quizzicallyquixoticand Tiko)
It was pushing dusk by the time Adriaan's labored breathing grew stronger, and the sickly green coloration faded from his veins. Blinking bleary eyes, the avorian sat up with a wince. The wound on his hand had clotted, but sand and grit were embedded into the torn flesh. It would need to be cleaned, but he couldn't do much for the injury out here.
“Still here, huh?” he asked as he took note of Klo's watchful presence. He felt groggy, and somewhat lethargic. “Ugh, I feel like I slept in a den of vipers.” Laying back in the sand he threw an arm over his eyes.
Klo had not moved even a hair's length from where she had begun her watchful vigil. The violet darkness that flooded her eyes never strayed from the avorian's wounded form, ever watchful for the moment when his breathing might stop. A moment that never came. A delicately arched brow furrowed, then rose in surprise when he'd managed to sit up. His words were met only with a blank expression, and the fey gave him no vocal response. Nor.. did she close the distance between them. She wouldn't risk being touched again, it seemed.
The creature pushed herself to her feet and stared. It was late enough already, and they had made no progress through the day. Her own fault, really, but the way she looked at him and toward the horizon it was evident she wanted to be on her way.
Adriaan cast Klo a sidelong glance from beneath his arm, arching a brow at her seeming insistance to move on. Groaning he pushed himself back up. Women, they would be the death of him yet. “Alright, just give me a moment,” he mumbled.
His head throbbed dully as he stripped his sash from his waist and wound it about his injured hand. “At this rate, I'm not going to have any clothes left by the time we get to Volary...” he remarked with a low chuckle. Picking up one of his gauntlets, he shook them out, causing sand and a small scorpion to fall free. “Yeah, I think I've had quite enough of that for a day,” he muttered as the venomous arachnid crept off in search of a new hiding place. Replacing his gauntlets he dragged himself to his feet and shook the sand from his wings.
It might not have truly been possible for her to give him any flatter look than she'd already had. For the clothes comment, though, she most certainly tried. Her fingers lowered to pluck at the rags she wore, only to pinch them roughly between her thumb and index finger to shake the torn length of it in his direction. That movement alone set his prayer beads dancing on her chest where they hung and lowering her focus toward them, the fey offered up.. what might have been a smirk. She gave the beads a twirl around her index finger when next he looked, ignoring the movement of his wings.
There was a twinge of jealously that she did not bother to hide in the sudden darkness of her expression. It made her shoulder blades ache and her all the more aware of her wrong, weighty size. But no use crying, she supposed. Her tears had dried in the voyage over.
"
Volary." Her head shook. "
Maradar."
“I don't know where Maradar is. Volary is the closest place that's safe for you. Besides, we can't really go traipsing through the desert like this, eh?” he asked with a wry grin.
Klo looked very much like a child denied the prize she had wanted, and her cheeks puffed out in a breath before she released it and dropped her arms. She didn't need to say it. It was written all over her face:
Fine.
