Rough Night

“You’re an idiot, you know that?”

Azazel stayed silent as Sage rummaged through the various bins scattered around the small bedroom. She was right, of course, the stunt he pulled was incredibly stupid, and now he’s sitting here, blood dripping from the gash in his head, staining Sage’s bedsheets. He kept his gaze low, wishing that the floor would swallow him whole in that moment.

Sage sighed, seeming to have gathered all the supplies she needed, and headed back over to the cowering Azazel. She dragged a nearby stool over to the bed and sat down, hunching over, trying to peer into Azazel’s view. The boy only looked away, blood dripping off of his brow and hitting the stone floor below.

Sage raised her hand up, gently grabbing Azazel’s chin and lifting his head up. Her nails poking his skin a little, such a soft touch from a very dangerous woman. Reaching down, she grabs a washcloth and dabs the blood trails, biting the inside of her cheek a bit as she concentrates.

“Talk to me,” she avoids the gash, focusing on the areas around it instead, “What were you even thinking?”

Azazel is quiet, still keeping his gaze low, he tries to focus on anything but the woman in front of him.

“He was being mean…”

Sage pulls away for a moment, cleaning the cloth while glancing at him a few times. Azazel feels a cold shiver run down his spine at the loss of contact.

“He’s Zalveth, when is he NOT being mean?”

Azazel sighs, pushing some blood stained hair out of his eyes. Sage reaches back up, inspecting the wound before grabbing his face again.

“This might hurt a bit, try to stay still, okay?”

The damp rag made contact with the gash. His eyes opened wide as he went to flinch back but Sage’s grip was tight on his chin, her sharp nails digging in a bit, a small distraction from the dull throbbing going on on his forehead.

“Ngh- ow, stop, it hurts, hold on a second-”

Sage didn’t bat an eye, continuing her work, ignoring his complaints and aches.

“Why can’t you just use a- ow- healing spell?”

Sage stopped for a moment, making eye contact with him, the slightest hint of hesitance in her eyes.

“Zalveth can’t know I'm helping you out, you know that. He’d beat my ass if he saw your wound healed that quickly. Probably say something about a scar being a lesson or some shit.”

Sage went back to cleaning the wound, flipping her hair back to see a little better.

“I’m out of spell slots anyways.”

The two sat in silence as Sage worked to clean up the wound as best as she could. It required a few stitches, which Azazel wasn’t too happy about, but Sage assured him it most likely wouldn’t scar. After cleaning up the supplies and the blood, Azazel got up, yawning and making his way to the door.

“Thanks again, Sage.”

Sage smiled, holding her door only a foot open, Azazel in the hallway, sheepishly rubbing his neck.

“You better be smart next time, I can’t keep fixing you up every time, y’know.”

“Heh, yeah. Well, uh, I'm off to bed, then. See you in the morning?”

“Of course.”

Sage leans up, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before closing her door with a wink. Azazel’s hand brushes the spot gently, his face getting hot as he heads off to his room with a derpy smile on his face.

From down the hall, Occsilva stands, gripping her clipboard, having seen the interaction. Sighing, she grabs her pen and jots down a note before walking off, the click of her heels echoing off the stone walls.

“Azazel went to his room and dressed his wounds alone. No contact made.” ‘