middaeg | Don't fill your mouth with gluttony, for pride will surely swell [semi-open]

[ Though his wounds had been treated, Berserker was still tired. He's unused to having human limitations and fighting with that in mind was still an impossibility. The injuries he'd received were painful, though he fought through it to finish their mission. All that mattered was killing their target and nothing more. His recklessness had a side effect, though: Arthur pushed himself beyond what he should have and his injuries couldn't be treated by the Wilders.

This bothered him. Curious.

No matter. Now his only goal was to get his ally to safety where he could get treated properly. He's yet to use his wings and he doesn't want to risk injuring Arthur further, so he simply walks with him and supports him as they go back to the Coven. ]

You should know better than to try to match a Berserker...

[ The scolding is unnecessary, but he says it anyway. As Arthur didn't already know. ]

I can't believe you're the one who ended up worse off.

[ With Arthur taken care of for now, Berserker goes to tend to his own business. He can be found at various places around the city: near the Coven, picking up supplies from the apothecary, and in the residential district. He may also be found either at the home he shares with Ozymandias and Arthur or at apartment he shares with Diarmuid and Waver.

No matter where one runs into him, he's obviously exhausted with visible injuries. He also stands out because he's still carrying his spear and wearing his armor, not just plain clothing. ]

... Don't look at me like that, I'm fine.

[ He brushes off any concern just like that. ]

((OOC: For those who want a 3 person thread, feel free to drop a starter here!))

[ Once the caterpillars were disposed of, Arthur would like to say that he handled his injuries with the same strength and composure he always has possessed since picking up his first wooden sword as a child. Unfortunately, that simply wasn't the case this time, due to unforeseen circumstances. No, this time, Arthur was in a bad way and not even the sheer determination of his will that was well-known for surpassing that of other men could really do much to stave off the worst of the effects.

Lying now on a cot back in The Coven, Arthur is exhausted, yet doing his best to endure the pain from their foray into the Wilde. While the magic of the Wilders and the other Witches does its work on his new Cwlyd infection, some of the injuries he sustained from the caterpillars are... in a sensitive place. His shirt is open, revealing a wide swath of hideous bruising along his neck that stretches down to the top of his chest and crawls upwards along his jawline. Usually bright, gleaming scales have turned black in the area and Arthur sweats as the healing magic combats the infection. He was hoping to sleep, but... well, that doesn't seem likely to happen any time soon as his veins feel like they're on fire and his head throbs. ]

You should've... seen me earlier. I promise this is an improvement.

[ Although Arthur is thankful for the support, that doesn't stop him from scoffing at Berserker's chastising. He leans a bit more heavily on the larger dragon, but ultimately he still manages to walk with his own two feet, panting and wincing. His voice is tight from the exhaustion and the pain. ]

...I don't know how it is on your world... but on mine, Servants are ranked... by their power levels. I've always ranked first. Everyone... knows Mad Enhancement is a glass cannon.

[ It's not really a boast, because, well, obviously, he did end up worse off than the Berserker. At this rate, it's a small miracle that he's still managing to stay conscious. ]

Believe me-- neither can I.

[ It would be faster to carry him and test out his wings, but there's a part of him that feels that would wound Arthur's pride in a way. Pride is pointless in these matters and yet he still accounted for it. While he didn't really have pride as a warrior (not in this form, anyway), he knew the other dragon did. ]

I'm not completely senseless in battle like most Berserkers. [ Which was also true -- ruthless and brutal, yes, but it's a calculating sort of madness. Efficient and methodical, yet entirely lacking in self-preservation. ] ... Stop talking. I don't want to carry your dead weight all the way to the Coven.

[ Is that a hint of concern in his voice...? Strange. ]

[ month in and month out, amadeus has taken a box-seat position in the noble fight against the cwlyd.

safe off the ground and untouched by the hands of blackened danger — save for a few instances within the mirrorbound-shared dreamscape — the caster assumes here much the same role he did back in chaldea: as support, pure and simple. maybe a dash of decoration, and all gramophone.

a melodious outlet for those beyond the bright wall too unlucky or too gallant to escape infection. the fruits of his studies here are borne in the coven's outer city stations, where his music has become more than just a familiar, comforting thing. harmonies soothe wounds of the soul and psyche rather than the body, and rightly have a place as life-enriching entertainment — but amadeus has quickly become reliable for his painless ability to put beaten and battered patients to sleep. a touch of enchantment spells, of hypnosis magic, in a score will do wonders for injured folk with restless bodies.

it's for these spells that the witches refer the musician (debate, briefly, whether his mouth will annoy their knightly patient to the afterlife before the music penetrates) and his services, and his violin to arthur's situation. ]

It looks terrible. [ (nurses and witches onlooking, take your bets now.) ] Yet, just the same amount of sleep, I presume?

[And yet, despite Berserker's words, Ozymandias is somehow not discouraged from looking at him "like that" as he descends the stairs. By the time Berserker manages to make it back to Ozymandias and Arthur's home, word had already managed to reach Ozymandias about Berserker and Arthur's injuries. He's somewhat abandoned his plans for the day as a result, waiting about for at least one of them to return from the Coven first.]

You have a bed here. [He stops midway down the stairs.] Make use of it.

[He knows it goes against Berserker's nature, but he's not taking no for an answer.]

[ Half the reason he'd come back here first was to keep from worrying Diarmuid and avoid a scolding from Waver. It seems he hadn't accounted for Ozymandias being here. As tired as he is, now it's the principle of the thing that he won't rest. The petty nature of Cú Chulainn could not be erased by Medb's wish, it seems. ]

When I need to, I will. I still have other business to tend to.

[ He gives Ozymandias a pointed look, as if to say "try me". No one ever said he was smart -- stubborn, yes, but not smart. ]

[It's not easy. And well-it was really by chance that Caren had been come by. She had been coming by with a gift (most of which had already been taken) for her treatments during her last transformations. While her bonded had been able to take care of her in the end, she had needed more then a few potions for the pain.

She had spotted him by his hair, the feverish gleam by his eyes. And the black scales...that's not a good sign.

At least she had some things with her by her side still. She had meant to bring the food bribe to someone else but...

She moved to perch on the edge of the cot, before lightly putting the package she carried by his side.]

I'm sure it is.

But I won't ask. You don't need more stress then you already have.

[Ozymandias hums acknowledgment to what Arthur says, but that's all. Although his eyes are focused on Arthur's injuries, running up and down, down and up, the mm likely sounds distracted. He's heard what Arthur's said, but much like the way his eyes continue to go over and over every bruise, every sign of infection, his mind continues to turn over thought after thought. Other than the distracted little hum in response, the only sign of Ozymandias' agitation is the slight bounce of his foot in the air. Otherwise, he sits in the infirmary chair by Arthur's bedside -- a reverse of their positions form earlier -- as he would upon a throne, slouched slightly into a comfortable position, arms at their rests and his legs crossed.]

[Ozymandias doesn't know who to be angry with: Berserker, Arthur, or himself. He supposes there's reason to be angry with all three right now with the prime evidence sitting in front of him. Berserker should have pulled Arthur back when he was pushing himself too far, not allowed him to continue, and Arthur should have known better than to try and keep up. And Ozymandias? Well, he'd never held much interest in the healing arts, but he's already made the private decision to speak with Zelda during their next private lesson. It's unlikely he will become an expert due to that general lack of interest, but if Arthur is going to stay alive with no Master to sustain him...]

[He is relieved, too, however. That they both managed to make it back alive while making such stupid decisions as to rush in too far like that. And proud that they both fought so well. As much as he would rather that in the future both dragons be mindful of their limitations, that they continued to push themselves until the task is done is what he would expect and hope for. If they hadn't, well, he would have kicked them both back out there himself until they finished the job.]

[Ozymandias' foot stills for a moment before he uncrosses his legs and moves to exchange his seat next to the bed for the edge of it. He leans over to the bedside, wringing out the cloth of excess water before folding it and placing it on Arthur's forehead.]

[In the end, he can understand Arthur at least a little. The limitations they must contend with in this world are new and different. It's difficult to concede to the fact they exist, particularly when one is both a king and powerful Servant.]

See to it that you continue improving.

...seriously? Is this going to be a thing with you?

[ Waver's staring him down in the doorway (or staring up at him, as the case may be, considering he's puny...) and eyeing the injuries with a tired sort of acceptance. Is there even any point in scolding him? ]

Go on. Get in here. Go sit down.

What happened this time?

[ Berserker narrows his eyes just for a moment before he shoves a bag into Waver's hands. He moves past the smaller man, leaving his weapon near the door. Armor comes off in pieces as he makes his way to the nearest chair. By the time he's done removing his gear, he's only wearing tight, dark pants. The injuries have been tended to, though it was just enough to handle the infection. ]

I was going to take care of it myself. [ He points to the bag he handed over: it contains supplies from the apothecary. ] But I was out with the Wilders cleaning up some caterpillars. My partner ended up worse than I did.

[ And Berserker's not in the greatest shape, either. It seems location mattered more than amount. ]

But I told you I'm fine.

[Ozymandias remains unmoved and unfazed by the look. Berserker may be stubborn, but Ozymandias is very much the same.]

That was not a friendly word of advice, Berserker. Your other business can wait.

[ The irresistible force meets the immovable object. Berserker knows how stubborn the pharaoh can be, but he's not ready to rest yet -- and he's not about to give in because he was asked. ]

I don't need the rest right now. If you're going to worry about anyone, worry about Arthur.

[ Compared to him, Berserker got off easy, after all. ]

Hardly. [Ozymandias scoffs.] I don't doubt your strength or the severity of his injuries by comparison, but Arthur will do as he's instructed by those caring for him.

[Ozymandias also believes the witches in the infirmary will be more than capable of bringing Arthur back to good health.]

You, however, are being left to your own devices.

And I can take care of myself. Your concern is misplaced.

[ He's not used to people being concerned for his well-being -- Berserkers aren't exactly known for self-preservation. Him coming back injured and refusing help is normal, something he'd been scolded for here already. ]

The Wilders already took care of the infection. [ He reiterates: ] I'm fine.

[Ozymandias doesn't know about the other scolding, but it wouldn't surprise him. Still, his irritation with Berserker's predictable stubbornness builds.]

Do I appear a fool to you, Berserker? Do you question my judgment?

[His brow furrows as he resumes his descent on the stairs.]

I can see with my own eyes you are without infection and your injuries are minor. But you have been to battle and, I am assuming, did not leave Arthur solely in the hands of the Wilders.

If I can't handle being tired after a battle, even after carrying someone back, then I'm a worthless warrior, aren't I?

[ He is really not having any of this today. Though, really, if Ozymandias persists, he'll likely agree to it just to stop the annoyance. It's easier than fighting it. ]

[If it takes annoying Berserker then that's what it takes. Ozymandias isn't above it.]

If you had another battle immediately on the horizon then I would agree with you and would likely be among the first to send you back. But that isn't the case here, now is it?

[ Berserker's irritation only grows. This is now a petty challenge and he'll see how far he can challenge the Rider's authority. ]

Why does what I choose to do bother you so much? Why are you so concerned with me? I'm not your problem to worry about.

[It's a simple question, but the answer is far more complex. Ozymandias did not begin with much regard for Berserker one way or another upon leaving Chaldea and coming to this place. However, now that Berserker resides at least partially within Ozymandias' claimed home, Ozymandias cannot help but assume some form of responsibility for him. His titles mean nothing here to the natives, but he is still Pharaoh and within these walls acts as more or less his dominion. Ozymandias will not be negligent towards the well-being of those people who seek shelter within his home, not even Berserker with as abrasive and detached as he often is.]

[Then there is also the matter of Arthur. Ozymandias could not begin to explain why exactly it is that Arthur has such a soft spot for the other Servant, but it is apparent that he does. And when Ozymandias could not be there for the full moon, Berserker was and weathered Arthur's ferality.]

[But that challenge to his authority immediately needles at Ozymandias. Though he stands shorter than Berserker, he answers his challenge not by straightening his posture or puffing himself up in some other way. Instead, Ozymandias remains just as he is with the only sign of his irritation comes in the sharp huff of air of a well-practiced hmph before he speaks.]

I needn't explain myself to you. If you wish to not be my problem then do as I say and rest.

[If Berserker only rests for the sake of getting Ozymandias off his back about it, so be it. Ozymandias doesn't particularly care about his motivation, only that he obeys and takes the time to rest.]

[ And now comes the incredibly stubborn part of him. He will not back down from this. Unlike Ozymandias, he straightens up to his full height, with his wings spreading out just wider than his body. Posturing. ]

Make me.

[ Berserker. Please. ]

[It's not as though the temptation is not there. Berserker certainly baits Ozymandias' ego with his posturing and Ozymandias' jaw clenches in response. But he makes himself not rise to it. To be still as much as everything about Berserker pulls Ozymandias in the opposite direction.]

Oh, so I shall allow you to make me a hypocrite and beat you into caring for yourself? Is that it?

[And it's really only that which keeps Ozymandias still. The point of this is not to bring further harm, but the opposite.]

Oof--

[ Waver grunts, momentarily unbalanced by the weight of the bag suddenly being shoved at him. While Berserker goes to sit, he pulls it open to peer inside, scowling thoughtfully at the contents. ]

You're saying caterpillars did that? Like... bugs?

[ Waver looks back up, searching Berserker's face. ]

Hang on.

What partner?

[ Not Diarmuid, certainly. Waver would have felt something if that were the case, right? ]

Don't fill your mouth with gluttony, for pride will surely swell [semi-open]

For Arthur

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