storm rolled in to our surprise; heartfire / ether

[woolf]

bitterness is thick like blood and cold as a wind sea breeze
if you must drink of me, take of me what you please

Their opinions of him mean little.

He has magic but he is not omniscient and although he would be able to feel if a family member truly passed through the veil, he cannot always feel if someone is close—especially if he is busy as he has been. Otherwise, with their far-reaching family, he would feel nothing but such close calls and encounters, especially with the buzz of the plague around them. Still, there is a part of him that wants to remind Heartfire that this was her deal—not his. She had never deigned to seek him out until she needed something from him and while he agreed, he was here to uphold his end of the bargain having asked nothing of her in return yet. To him, that is the closest to a brotherly affection that he can offer her.

But neither voice their opinions aloud and he doesn’t bother to rebut them, doesn’t have the energy or truly care enough to defend what he knows to be little honor. So instead he just watches her with a faint, amused glint in his eye. He studied her for a moment, a muscle jumping in his jaw slightly at her version of a greeting and giving her a tight smile. “Ether found me and I’m here.” Let that be enough.

He wasn’t some dog to be summoned.

Some well of magic to be called upon and commanded.

Still, although a wave of defiance rises up in him, a sharp edge of displeasure, he doesn’t turn his head and leave. He would think on why he remained later. Instead he just stands steadily, lips tight. He closes his eyes and slices open his shoulder, letting the blood of it run down the matted hide. He doesn’t bother to use their own blood. Doesn’t bother to touch it. Instead, he uses his own health, draws on it deeply.

Thin tendrils of purple light reach for them both, wrapping around them and then sinking into the flesh. They would feel a hint of warmth and—if he was successful, the loss of everything that ails them.

woolf

I am loathed to say it's the devil's taste

@[The Plague]

Woolf is attempting to heal @[Ether] and @[Heartfire] using his abilities as a blood mage.