Chapter 8

The doctor had come back, with some unpleasant news. His verdict had come as a 'rapid deterioration of both physical and mental capabilities', and while neither of them were pleased with the news, it made complete, and terrible sense. With the supporting factor for the human's extended lifespan fading, his body was struggling to maintain itself under a sudden amount of intense stress. The point had been driven home when Artemis' legs had given out from under him, and his arms had followed suit when he'd tried to catch himself.

Jarlaxle delicately went over to his smarting companion on the floor, and slowly helped him over to his bed. He observed as his friend winced with any movement of either his arms or legs, and with care sat beside him.

"You're in pain, can I help?" The drow watched as a grimace of distaste washed over the now ex-assassin's face. "I know you don't like this situation, but I can't very well help if you don't let me."

The man sighed. "I..-" He stopped, seeming to struggle with sharing the source of his discomfort. His head bowed, and turned just slightly away, as though to shield sight of his face. "- they snapped."

"What snapped?" Jarlaxle tilted his head slightly to the side, and scanned his companion. The way he shielded his face, the bow of his head, his shoulders, arms –Ah, I see. He looked down towards Artemis's legs, and grimaced himself.

He pulled off his hat, rustling through it until he pulled out the healing orb. Setting his hat back upon his head, he held up the orb before pausing. "Which limb do you want me to heal first?" He was grateful he had a second healing orb in his hat, though he wondered now if it would be adequate. Did his calves break from simply holding his own weight, or from the impact of the fall? His arms would indicate the fall, but that wasn't a guarantee.

"Legs first." It came out muttered, but still somehow slightly polite. Jarlaxle imagined he might have heard a bit of a plea in there, but couldn't hold it against the man. He didn't envy the amount of pain he could only guess his partner was experiencing.

With a nod, he carefully moved himself off the bed and in front of Artemis' legs. Gingerly, he took hold of the left leg, pulling up the little of the pants that went below the knee over it. Hearing the nearly inaudible hiss of breath come from the man, he raised the healing orb and activated its healing magic. At first, he wasn't sure if the orb was doing anything, but then slowly, surely, he watched the calf begin knitting itself back together under the skin.

oOo


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It took nearly a half hour – much longer than it should have taken – to heal the one leg. In addition, the 'breaking' had almost seemed at war over his calf; both the shade infused skin and original skin seeming to fight for dominance at a much faster rate than usual. Jarlaxle drew a kerchief from his pocket and wiped it across his forehead. The strain was both unexpected and worrying.

He could feel the eyes of the human on the top of his head.

"I need to rest a bit before I can do your other leg, my friend. I'm sorry." Sorry? He had caught himself off guard with his apology, but in looking at the man, understood why he had uttered it. The man's face looked drawn from pain and exhaustion. Likely having to wait before his other leg could be healed and I haven't even gotten to his arms yet was one of the last things the ex-assassin wanted to hear.

Even so, Artemis simply nodded, before slowly leaning back and contracting his abdominal muscles to lower his torso onto the bed. It seemed the man intended to try and rest himself, despite his broken bones. With a frown, Jarlaxle waited until he could hear the barely audible snores before silently consuming a potion of invigoration.

Counting to three in his head, he started on Artemis' right leg. He decided it was going to be a long, long day.