Jesse is used to multitasking under stress like this. He’d done it plenty during the Blight, chaos all around while he tried his best to do one thing to help. Sometimes it was killing something. Sometimes it was keeping someone from being killed.
Perhaps this should feel familiar then, somehow, but no. This is still a singularly terrible experience, the Inquisitor’s life in his hands. Sen’s life.
“Handsome, huh?” Despite it all, he feels a rush of warmth at the compliment. Probably it’s the blood loss. Or maybe not, but now isn’t the time to try and speculate about it. He can use that train of thought to keep Sen talking at least.
“And you’ll laugh, but you know Dorian? Gave me some fancy oil for the beard, said it was ‘a crime against the Maker’ leavin’ it the way it was when I showed up. Granted, keeping my beard neat hasn’t been a priority this whole time, with all the y’know.” He spares a hand to wave it towards the area from which they fell, indicating the rift all the related unpleasantness.
As he speaks, he works the elfroot into a thick paste between the two stones. Then he’s back over to Sen, not even asking before tearing off a bit of his robes. He needs clean, dry cloth for this, and mages have enough to spare.
“Suppose it was worth it, if you like it well enough.”
At least the conversation was helping him keep focused on something, keeping his senses alert as he held the wound for dear life. Talking about such trivial things though, at least it helps or at least he feels it does. He keeps focus on Jesse as he speaks and can't help but smile at what he says.
"He would say that. The man is all about appearances. He and Vivienne were going on about how they intended on tossing my entire wardrobe out and replacing it all. Something more befit a leader?" He says it with a bit of a laugh. It seems so stupid to get so hung up over clothes when he felt like he was dying. But, even while he hurts so much there is a question that does come to mind.
"If we're so busy dealing with all of this...why do you do use that oil he gives you?"
But, the thought is all but interuptted when he hears the tearing of cloth as it comes free of his robes. Another small laugh escapes his throat. "Vivienne is going to kill you for that..." Either way he cants his head to them. "I really do like it honestly...not for the reasons Dorian says though..."
If there’s one thing Jesse can do come hell or high water, it’s talk. That it’s a benefit to this situation is a bonus.
“Those two working together sound like a force to be reckoned with,” he muses as he coats the fabric in elfroot paste. “And I’m sure when Vivienne hears this was to help you, she’ll only hit me with a little bit of lightning.”
The question gives him pause, but it doesn’t stop his work, as if his hands are working entirely on autopilot. He moves back to Sen’s side, gently moving his hand away from the wound before quickly replacing the bloodied scarf with the makeshift medicinal bandage, doing everything he can to keep it from being more painful than it has to be.
He’d suffered a grievous injury once on the field. He remembers how it had felt, bleeding out from the spot where his arm used to be, alone and terrified. He’ll spare Sen however much of that he can.
“Sometimes when everything is going to hell, you’ve got to focus on those little things. My beard doesn’t need to be a certain way for me to survive, but it’s… nice. Doing something for myself. Makes you feel a little more human, and a little less…” He hesitates, then pushes past the barrier of his own pride. “Scared. It grounds you. I’d forgotten that.”
As he presses the bandage down, he flashes a roguish smile down at Sen. “And maybe I was hopin’ the Inquisitor would notice.”
"I'll be sure she doesn't. Things would get very boring quickly if you died," Sen says with another small laugh. Not that he'd want to see the guy die either that's the last thing anyone needed. More death in the Inquisition and Sen did not want to start seeing his Inner Circle dying next.
He can't help let out a wince of pain when he feels the bandage pressed against the open wound. A sharp breath before he lets out a shuddering sigh as he already feels the elf root paste begin to alleviate some of the pain. The pain still is enough to keep him in the moment and his focus back on Jesse.
He listens quietly and is able to even ignore the fact that Jesse was already pressing the makeshift bandage on his wounded side. It was hard to imagine Jesse of all people being afraid, since he seemed to take everything so lightly. But, it's something to see him vulnerable in this moment.
But, there it is. That smile along with those words of his. "It's hard not to notice you...this may be the blood loss talking but...I've always had my eye one you," Sen says quietly. But, he looks to where Jesse holds the wound and moves his hand over theirs to keep it pressed down.
"But, right now...I think we should get back to base camp before I continue flirting. Cassandra would kill me if she found out I died flirting."
We can skip to them at camp from here if you want!
Jesse wishes he could have heard those words two hours ago, before they set out into the Hinterlands and everything went sideways. If he’d heard it then, he might have believed it, propriety be damned. Because Sen is the Inquisitor, savior of Thedas and Herald of Andraste and whatever other flowery title he’d been bestowed with. Jesse would be mad to even think of seriously propositioning him. But even that might not stop him if…
But Sen is right, he is speaking from a place of exhaustion and blood loss. Jesse has heard weirder things from the injured on the battlefield, so he packs up his feelings and sets them aside, already knowing it’ll keep him up that night.
“We’ll… we’ll revisit that when you’ve had a chance to get those head wounds looked at, yeah? C’mon now—” He slips an arm around behind Sen and eases him up into a sitting position. He’s starting to become aware of his own aches and pains, the shallow cuts and bruises. Thank the Maker he hadn’t been hurt worse, or they’d both be doomed here.
“Flirting would be a good way to go out in my opinion, but let’s not make today that day.”
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no subject
Perhaps this should feel familiar then, somehow, but no. This is still a singularly terrible experience, the Inquisitor’s life in his hands. Sen’s life.
“Handsome, huh?” Despite it all, he feels a rush of warmth at the compliment. Probably it’s the blood loss. Or maybe not, but now isn’t the time to try and speculate about it. He can use that train of thought to keep Sen talking at least.
“And you’ll laugh, but you know Dorian? Gave me some fancy oil for the beard, said it was ‘a crime against the Maker’ leavin’ it the way it was when I showed up. Granted, keeping my beard neat hasn’t been a priority this whole time, with all the y’know.” He spares a hand to wave it towards the area from which they fell, indicating the rift all the related unpleasantness.
As he speaks, he works the elfroot into a thick paste between the two stones. Then he’s back over to Sen, not even asking before tearing off a bit of his robes. He needs clean, dry cloth for this, and mages have enough to spare.
“Suppose it was worth it, if you like it well enough.”
no subject
"He would say that. The man is all about appearances. He and Vivienne were going on about how they intended on tossing my entire wardrobe out and replacing it all. Something more befit a leader?" He says it with a bit of a laugh. It seems so stupid to get so hung up over clothes when he felt like he was dying. But, even while he hurts so much there is a question that does come to mind.
"If we're so busy dealing with all of this...why do you do use that oil he gives you?"
But, the thought is all but interuptted when he hears the tearing of cloth as it comes free of his robes. Another small laugh escapes his throat. "Vivienne is going to kill you for that..." Either way he cants his head to them. "I really do like it honestly...not for the reasons Dorian says though..."
no subject
“Those two working together sound like a force to be reckoned with,” he muses as he coats the fabric in elfroot paste. “And I’m sure when Vivienne hears this was to help you, she’ll only hit me with a little bit of lightning.”
The question gives him pause, but it doesn’t stop his work, as if his hands are working entirely on autopilot. He moves back to Sen’s side, gently moving his hand away from the wound before quickly replacing the bloodied scarf with the makeshift medicinal bandage, doing everything he can to keep it from being more painful than it has to be.
He’d suffered a grievous injury once on the field. He remembers how it had felt, bleeding out from the spot where his arm used to be, alone and terrified. He’ll spare Sen however much of that he can.
“Sometimes when everything is going to hell, you’ve got to focus on those little things. My beard doesn’t need to be a certain way for me to survive, but it’s… nice. Doing something for myself. Makes you feel a little more human, and a little less…” He hesitates, then pushes past the barrier of his own pride. “Scared. It grounds you. I’d forgotten that.”
As he presses the bandage down, he flashes a roguish smile down at Sen. “And maybe I was hopin’ the Inquisitor would notice.”
no subject
He can't help let out a wince of pain when he feels the bandage pressed against the open wound. A sharp breath before he lets out a shuddering sigh as he already feels the elf root paste begin to alleviate some of the pain. The pain still is enough to keep him in the moment and his focus back on Jesse.
He listens quietly and is able to even ignore the fact that Jesse was already pressing the makeshift bandage on his wounded side. It was hard to imagine Jesse of all people being afraid, since he seemed to take everything so lightly. But, it's something to see him vulnerable in this moment.
But, there it is. That smile along with those words of his. "It's hard not to notice you...this may be the blood loss talking but...I've always had my eye one you," Sen says quietly. But, he looks to where Jesse holds the wound and moves his hand over theirs to keep it pressed down.
"But, right now...I think we should get back to base camp before I continue flirting. Cassandra would kill me if she found out I died flirting."
We can skip to them at camp from here if you want!
But Sen is right, he is speaking from a place of exhaustion and blood loss. Jesse has heard weirder things from the injured on the battlefield, so he packs up his feelings and sets them aside, already knowing it’ll keep him up that night.
“We’ll… we’ll revisit that when you’ve had a chance to get those head wounds looked at, yeah? C’mon now—” He slips an arm around behind Sen and eases him up into a sitting position. He’s starting to become aware of his own aches and pains, the shallow cuts and bruises. Thank the Maker he hadn’t been hurt worse, or they’d both be doomed here.
“Flirting would be a good way to go out in my opinion, but let’s not make today that day.”