07-19-2023, 09:49 PM
He had previously padded closer to the pool, though unlike Thalia, he did not tempt those waters a second time. Every part of this journey left him unsettled, like the months he passed attempting to live the life of a fisherman at sea where the rocking of the ships underfoot were endlessly difficult to catch his balance. The Vatnavættir did not so much as look at him once the infant was released.
Instead, he crouched, retrieving the thing that the Vatnavættir left behind. He was turning it over in his hands. It seemed to emanate nothing but the scent of seawater and fish, but when he put it to his nose for a long, drawn in examination, frown lines drew around his mouth. There was something he could not quite put to words, but it crept under his skin like a warning. Tristan placed the object back where he found it and returned to the broken egg shells. They had the same scent about them. He disliked the coincidence, and now their task was through, was eager to leave. Amid the wafting smell of blood, Thalia smelled sad. He offered a hand to help her up. “Are you okay?”
Eyes piercing, he studied her face, tilting her chin side to side to study her injury for himself. In the isolation of the Westfjords, he certainly knew how to tend to his own scrapes and cuts. They only visited a doctor when bones were broken, but even the invisible wounds to the head could be the worst. He did not smell anything like that, but she was still bleeding. “We should leave. That needs binding and maybe a few stitches,” he was serious, but he did not want to frighten her.
"You really are clumsy you know."
Instead, he crouched, retrieving the thing that the Vatnavættir left behind. He was turning it over in his hands. It seemed to emanate nothing but the scent of seawater and fish, but when he put it to his nose for a long, drawn in examination, frown lines drew around his mouth. There was something he could not quite put to words, but it crept under his skin like a warning. Tristan placed the object back where he found it and returned to the broken egg shells. They had the same scent about them. He disliked the coincidence, and now their task was through, was eager to leave. Amid the wafting smell of blood, Thalia smelled sad. He offered a hand to help her up. “Are you okay?”
Eyes piercing, he studied her face, tilting her chin side to side to study her injury for himself. In the isolation of the Westfjords, he certainly knew how to tend to his own scrapes and cuts. They only visited a doctor when bones were broken, but even the invisible wounds to the head could be the worst. He did not smell anything like that, but she was still bleeding. “We should leave. That needs binding and maybe a few stitches,” he was serious, but he did not want to frighten her.
"You really are clumsy you know."