Garrett laid exhausted on the ground, panting. One of the spiders had overwhelmed him and his throat was raw from the cries of battle. "And here I thought you'd really bought it this time," came the voice from above. Carver was looking down at his older brother with a slight sneer, and Garrett returned his stare evenly, taking in the sharp features and a smirk just slightly tinged with anger. Carver always became like this when Garrett failed at something. He was always waiting for fresh blood before he attacked, circling him like a fresh kill.
Garret responded only with silence as he traced his hands over his wounded throat, and Carver yanked his sword out of the spider's body with a disgusted grunt.
"Are you well enough to walk… brother?"
Garrett hated the thick tones Carver coated the word with. There was always something about the way he said it: a mixture of anger, condescension, and always a touch of desperation. Longing for what exactly, Garrett wasn't sure, but there were times when Carver's eyes seemed to burn through him with this expression that sent chills down his spine. Unsteady, Garrett braced his staff against the ground and tried to prop himself up when Carver's hand suddenly appeared before him - somehow both sympathetic and indignant.
"Come on. We don't have all day."
Carver's voice was curt, and when Garrett studied his younger brother's face, he saw nothing unusual. The mage took the hand and was unceremoniously hauled to his feet. He began to let go, but found himself suddenly interrupted by Carver's grip tightening, with the heavy plate digging into Garrett's uncovered hand. He winced. For a moment, Carver's expression hinted at a dark grin as he traced his thumb across Garrett's palm.
"Carv... What-" Garrett's voice cracked and his free hand moved to his throat once more, finding his voice still had not recovered. Carver didn't seem to have any intention of letting go, even as Garrett attempted to wrench his arm out of that iron grasp. His futile attempt was only rewarded with increasing force, Carver gripping his hand ever tighter and pulling him in. They were close. Far too close for Garrett's comfort, and he could feel his brother's breath on his cheek. Not for the first time, he cursed his relative weakness. And Carver's eyes roamed over him, lingering in places Garrett didn't want to scrutinize before he was abruptly released.
"We should get going."
With that, Carver turned and continued towards their destination. With a small grimace, Garrett rubbed his bruised hand where Carver's gauntlets had dug in.
"We're on the run from your bloody Templars, after all."
