Haurchefant Greystone (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
soutien) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thefeywood2020-11-23 05:40 pm
soutien) wrote in thefeywood2020-11-23 05:40 pm
Entry tags:
the vault: the good end (that squeenix denies us all)
Haurchefant Greystone is not the worst patient that has ever been admitted to the infirmary at the Congregation--that honor would doubtlessly go to each and every instance that Ser Estinien was forced upon them--but he is also far from the best. While he is not against a little rest and relaxation and time off of his feet, he is also the first to want to jump to the aid of his friends. Of course one may say that taking what was meant to be a killing blow for the Warrior of Light far exceeds the call of duty, Haurchefant would not have had it any other way.
It smarts, though. That he was very literally cut through with a spear of pure aether makes his survival miraculous, or so the chirurgeons keep telling him. His recovery is slow but proceeds apace, which leaves him woefully bedridden. To jump to the call of action is something he's considered more times than he has been allowed to admit in his father's presence, but the fact that his wound literally knocks of him off his feet at each attempt keeps him under the proper attention and care.
It is after one such attempt to see how far he could waddle down the hall that finds Haurchefant sitting up in his bed. He rubs his abdomen gingerly where his body is yet repairing itself, pain lightly dulled by the regular doses of medicine and healing magicks. He sighs as he looks wistfully out of the window from his bed, unable to see the square from this angle, just other windows and rooftops of Ishgard. No one to wave at--or, the one time he did they were understandably confused.
When he hears a knock at the door, he instantly perks up. (Were he a Miqo'te, his ears would doubtlessly follow suit.)
"Come in!"
It smarts, though. That he was very literally cut through with a spear of pure aether makes his survival miraculous, or so the chirurgeons keep telling him. His recovery is slow but proceeds apace, which leaves him woefully bedridden. To jump to the call of action is something he's considered more times than he has been allowed to admit in his father's presence, but the fact that his wound literally knocks of him off his feet at each attempt keeps him under the proper attention and care.
It is after one such attempt to see how far he could waddle down the hall that finds Haurchefant sitting up in his bed. He rubs his abdomen gingerly where his body is yet repairing itself, pain lightly dulled by the regular doses of medicine and healing magicks. He sighs as he looks wistfully out of the window from his bed, unable to see the square from this angle, just other windows and rooftops of Ishgard. No one to wave at--or, the one time he did they were understandably confused.
When he hears a knock at the door, he instantly perks up. (Were he a Miqo'te, his ears would doubtlessly follow suit.)
"Come in!"