Grancrest oneshots

Silent

3rd pov

Very little can rattle the Lords and mages, but they have also never had a reason to so truthfully fear for their lives. Some enemy had made the mistake of going after both Lassic and Siluca, the Lord with a slice along his shoulder, while the girl is unconscious, having used almost all her power to block the attack aimed to kill her, Lassic having ducked out of the way of his in order to survive. Theo had been rather quiet ever since calling for a retreat, far too many men injured and needing healing for them to continue. The other Lords are concerned, sparing glances in the man's direction, where he's sitting, elbows on his knees, hands folded and his head ducked, between the beds holding the two.

He had barely moved in the last few hours and the only reason they know he's awake is because he shifts to get - more comfortable? A better view? Just out of habit? They're not sure but between that and the fact they can just barely make out his back moving, they know he's still alive and awake, but they're honestly not really certain where his head is right now, so the possibility of bothering him and having him break down, disturbs all of them, so for now they leave him alone.

It takes another few hours for the two to even start rousing, with Lassic being the first, a groan from him having Theo move for the first time in hours, falling to his knees beside the bed, watching Lassic and obviously prepared to push him back down onto the bed if he decides to try and move too much.

"Hey, Theo." The man huffs, but obviously he knows sitting up would be a bad idea, so he doesn't even bother, just catches his best friend's eyes in the hopes of calming him down before he does something he might regret. The anger and rage contained in those eyes, however, has him blinking in surprise, and then it's just concern, fondness and warmth, making Lassic wonder if he really saw the things he saw, but he's never honestly seen Theo pissed off, so he knows those emotions were real and he's shoving them aside for the moment. Moreno moves forward as well, sighing in fondness at his Lord.

"And what did we learn about going off to attack people without informing our mage?"

"That it's a rather poor choice because injury occurs?"

"Why is that a question?!?" Moreno sounds exasperated, immediately starting in on a lecture, Lassic complaining and huffing good naturedly any chance he has, Theo watching with soft eyes. He rises to his feet, settling back on the chair, but he's far more relaxed, one leg crossed over the knee of the other, his arms crossed against his chest and his head tipped back against the chair. He listens to the two argue, as well as the soft, even sound of Siluca breathing, a grin stretching across his face when the others join in on ribbing Lassic, the mages try to calm Moreno down before he starts throwing things at his Lord.

There's not much to be done for the moment besides wait, but he can only do so much of that, the rage, the wrath the pure anger inside him writhing about, trying to find a place to go but having nowhere to since he is not moving and refuses to do so until he sees Siluca awake with his own eyes. After that, he's going to lead the charge against the enemy himself, and will certainly cut down the mage and Lord that targeted his best friend and lover. No one gets to mess with his people, least of all those closest to him, and get away unscathed. He tempers the anger just the slightest, lets the warmth, amusement and knowledge that Lassic is fine soothe it, at least for the moment, since he knows that won't work after Siluca wakes up.

He falls asleep in the chair, the other Lords and mages unwilling to wake him even though he will certainly regret it, Lassic having fallen back asleep and Siluca never waking. Theo is sitting exactly the same, his head is slumped down against his chest the next morning when they walk in. Laura decides that waking him now would be for the best and gently rouses him, all of them muffling laughter and smiles as he stretches with several winces, standing only to have his knees buckle under him, a hand flailing and grabbing the back of the chair.