neutral_omens | (no subject)

Time: July 27, 2000 -- after Mictain meets Uriel
Place: War's Room
Status: Private (Mictain, War) -- Complete
Summary: Sharing information.

Mictain knocked on War's door, wanting to share with someone just what he had discovered. He hadn't really believed Uriel would just use or cheat anybody like that -- no, she was too angelic to do that. Besides, she couldn't lie to save her life, so she couldn't have told Pestilence she cared about him if she didn't.

None of it made sense, though. It didn't seem probable Pestilence would leave her just like that, yet she claimed he had. After all that stuff about being ready to die for the angel, even. He suspected Uriel wasn't telling the exact truth. Or, rather, she was telling what she believed to be the truth, as she indeed couldn't lie, but there had to be more to it than just that. He suspected he'd have to know Pestilence's view on the matter also to understand the whole picture.

Two heads were usually better than one, though. Maybe sharing this new information with War would help.

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Mictain shrugged. "However you'd like it is fine with me," he replied. "It shouldn't take long, though, so I doubt you'll be cursing the discomfort of your seat during the healing even if you do not move."

In answer, War swung her legs over the end of the bed then settled herself crosslegged.

"This way, even if you do manage to make it sting or anything, I'm not going to fall off and make a fool of myself."

She put her hands on her knees then, looking up at him, said, "Ready when you are."

"Always so very optimistic, I see." Mictain smirked, then walked closer to her. Wiping a stray lock of red hair away, he then investigated the bruise. "Yes, this I should be able to handle."

Placing the fingertips of one hand on the bruise -- having actually remembered to withdraw his claws first -- he concentrated on healing it. There didn't seem to be much pain, just like she had said. Thus, he focused on repairing any damage he could find. He was far from being an expert in healing -- although he was still lightyears ahead of Uriel, of course -- but there wasn't anything he couldn't fix here. Of course, he couldn't do it as quickly as somebody more experienced with healing, but he could do it, which was the most important thing.

At last, he removed his fingers from her skin. "Better now?" he asked.

War sighed. "I've had a few bad experiences with healers over the years, so now I prefer to be seated on something solid, is all."

As he brushed the hair away - not really necessary, part of her mind pointed out - she felt his fingertips suddenly warm against her skin. They were warm again when he laid them against the bruise, and held them there. The healing felt.. odd. Not painful, not anything she could name. Different, somehow. She sat quietly, oddly content at having the demon's fingers pressed against her skin.

He spoke as he drew them away, and not quite registering what his words, she said, "Hm?" Then she realised, and rolled her head from side to side, then rotated her shoulder.

"It all seems to be fine," she said, looking up at him with her warm orange eyes. "Thank you."

Mictain chuckled in a not-really-amused tone. "Oh, I know all about bad experiences with bloody healers," he muttered.

He was satisfied to see that his healing had apparently worked. "You're welcome, I guess," he said. "Just try not to get yourself beat up too badly. As I said, I'm not too good at healing, so there's a definite limit to what I can do."

"You seem proficient enough to me. Besides, I'm not planning to get into many more fights any time soon."

War smirked. "Apart from our test match, of course - unless you're chickening out of that one?"

"So you mean I should first beat you and then heal you? Doesn't sound very sensible if you ask me." Mictain smirked. "If you get hurt in that match -- which I am not about to back out of -- you'll have to heal yourself. I do have some morals, after all. Never fix what you break or you won't ever get anything done."

War choked back a laugh at the image she'd suddenly got in her head. She didn't think Mictain would appreciate knowing that his words had just given her an image of him being the demonic embodiment of fight-burn-kill then rushing out with bandages afterwards.

"I wasn't planning to get hurt in that match - like I said, it's a test match, with practice swords. The aim is to finally figure out which of us is more skilful or stronger - better, essentially - not to beat the stuffing out of each other. Or that was the impression I had, anyway," she finished, giving him a half-teasing, half-quizzical look.

"I never said we were going to beat each other badly," Mictain said, laughing. "It's just that, if a human girls gets you bruised, in what condition will you be after fighting with me, practice or not?" He then smirked, raising his hands in a defensive gesture. "Okay, okay, I'll forget about that... for now."

The childish nature of the demon's teasing had made War feel childish too - so she stuck her tongue out at him.

"Another part of our test match will be that it's pre-arranged and we'll be focussed - something I definitely wasn't when I attacked her."

She stretched and stood up. "Unless you're particularly keen on hanging around my bedroom, how about we head down to the bar and find a drink, seeing as it seems we've had our dose of sleuthing for today?"

Mictain smirked and nodded. "Sounds like a plan," he said. Yes, he really could use a drink now.

"First one's on me," she said, as she walked over to the door and yanked it open, "As a thank you. But don't think I'm going to make a habit of it!"

She held the door open, waiting for him to cross the room so she could follow him down for that drink.

"Don't worry," Mictain replied, laughing. "I'm not quite that stupid yet."

With this, he headed out of the room, War following him.