Despite her power, Amitie still worries about injuries Sig receives during their battles to protect Primp Town. Requested by a tumblr anon who requested "where does it hurt?" from a question ask prompt list.

After the Battle

The wizard's body writhed on the ground. She groaned, her eyes rolling in her head. She felt the sand underneath her fingers when she twitched her hands. The sun beat down on her, blurring her vision. She raised her arm, her muscles aching with the gesture, to block the rays, but she dropped it when the figure leered down at her, her throat suddenly parched.

Amitie tightened her grip on her staff. She slowly brought it down to the wizard's chest. The sharp edge nudged the wizard's bare clavicle, her armor cracked across her torso and chest. They steadied their glares, rare hatred bubbling within Amitie, the blood red sun crowning her expression in dark shadows.

The wizard broke, unable to perceive her radiance. Amitie pulled her staff away, allowing her opponent to struggle to her feet, her siege on Primp Town forgotten. The wizard vowed revenge and summoned a portal, stars twirling within it as she hobbled through, but as it closed, the anger on Amitie's face melted into relief.

She heaved the deepest sigh of her life. Her knees buckled, but she dug her staff into the dirt and remained strong. As the guardian of Primp Town, it was her duty to protect everyone from monsters or madmen, and the invading wizard had been no different from her other enemies.

But the battle had been arduous. The wizard was more powerful than she anticipated. Several elemental spells had been blasted towards each other, and one particular moment in the fight replayed in her mind, rewinding like a video.

Sig had been blown backwards by the wizard's lightning bolt. He had cried out, wispy shadows jutting off his shoulders as if expelling the pain. And then, he had collapsed on his back, motionless while Amitie gawked, the wizard's laughter more cacophonous than a raging storm.

Amitie quickly pivoted on her heels and abandoned her anger. She hurried past the slabs of marble and kicked sand up behind her, the background of the ruins forgotten. Crouching next to Sig, she looped her arm around his shoulder, his eyelids twitching as he pried them apart upon feeling her touch.

"Where does it hurt?" she cried, her voice shrill.

Sig's lips parted to tell her, but a harsh gasp escaped him. He managed to raise his black, clawed hand, Amitie watching it closely. He aimed his sharp, curving fingernail at his left knee, Amitie flinching at the rustic liquid seeping through his pants and down his leg. She immediately set her mittened hands over his wound, gulping thickly as Sig closed his eyes, digging his fingers through the sand, feeling the grains sink into his cuticles.

Warmth spread from her chest to her hands. She closed her eyes, concentrating the magic to her palms and let them hover over Sig's knee. "Healing," she murmured, a pulse of yellow light flowing forth and encapsulating the wound.

Sig flinched, his body jerking upwards. Heat filled his skin, the intensity reminiscent of a sunspot. He set his claws to his forehead, distress seeping into his belly, but his skin knit back together, the blood coagulating and vanishing as if the wound had never happened, the sensations replaced with pure heat.

Amitie caressed his cheek with her free hand, saying, "You're doing well. Almost done."

He managed a smile. If there was anything which reassured him, then it was Amitie's voice.

She pulled her other hand away from the wound. While there was a hole in his pants, his deep blue skin was immaculate. There was a faint coarseness to it, reminding her of a callous. Other than that, it was normal, and she grinned at him, slipping her hands to her lap as Sig sat up.

"Feeling better?" she asked, collecting her staff and setting it to her shoulder.

"Much better," he croaked out, rubbing his head. He picked at his ear, procuring a ladybug which had taken refuge behind his earlobe. "This little guy's okay, too."

"Waaah! You had him in your hair this whole time?" she exclaimed, breaking into a smile and throwing her arms out.

"Always do." He chuckled, her exuberance more than welcomed after the battle.

"You gotta remember to take care of yourself, too, Sig," she said, hoping she did not sound like a nag. "I get that you were protecting the ladybug, but that injury could've been way, way worse."

He nodded, his lips creasing into a thin frown. "Sorry. I will." He cupped her hand, massaging her knuckles through the thick fabric of her mitten. "You don't gotta worry about me."

"Aw, Sig." She tilted her head, her tufts of blonde hair swaying in the wind. Squeezing his hand, she giggled, the setting sun topping her head like a blinding halo. "I might not be a worrywart, but I'll always do my best to take care of you!"