heorte: (123)
ellis ginsberg. ([personal profile] heorte) wrote 2022-11-26 09:12 pm (UTC)

Not a bruise.

But a frisson of tension meets it all the same, through no fault of Bastien's own.

An answer is held as Ellis relocates, taking all his new bruises and the small bop to his shin to occupy the space alongside Bastien. Not onto the table, because it was perhaps not built with the intention of bearing Ellis' bulk, but leant back against it as he observes Bastien, the cigarette lifted to his mouth.

"There is training, aye," comes slowly, attention downcast to his own hands. The skin is split over one knuckle, and Ellis applies the hem of his tunic there, staunching this minor blot of blood. "Not in the Deep Roads, but above ground, to be sure we can manage a sword without clipping our brother with it. More Senior Wardens would guide us through it after, so we have an idea of it before we descend."

A shrug, tunic hem released so Ellis might examine his knuckles once more.

"I'd thought it wouldn't be so different than how a templar would be trained to face a demon. All manner of preparation, but none of which could be judged until you've had to put it to work."

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