Here is the template:
Name:
Race:
Age:
Gender:
Appearance:
Personality:
Other Attributes:
Magic and/or talents specific to their race (If any):
Background:
Extras:
Which would you rather be? The God or the Human Type Person?
I'm not really all that picky–it's your rp idea, so you can have first dibs. If you want to be the god, though, I can take the human no problem.
Hmm. I think I will take the God in this instance. It will be easier to guide the RP along.
Would you mind a hetero type relationship or something else?
I'm alright with basically anything, although I'm not great at roleplaying girls, so unless you want to roleplay a guy, hetero will work
Excellent I will be a female God then. :) Perfect, because that was what I was planning on anyway.
Awesome, I'll work on posting him soon. He'll probably be an altered version of a character I created earlier today for a different rp, if that's alright.
I don't mind at all. :) Your character is up to you
Name: Thealios "Thea"
Race: God (War and Valor)
Age: Very Old.
Gender: Female
Appearance: Surprisingly she looks completely different from what most people would think a War God looks like. She's incredibly tall and lithe, but still has enough curve to turn heads of both males and females. Long, long golden blonde hair with streaks of black (like dirt) and red (like blood) blended in, crowns her head in relaxed loose waves. Her features are sharp, almost too sharp, cheek bones are high and her jaw line could slice anyone in half, yet she has full curvy lips that disguise a mouth full of fangs and brilliantly violet colored eyes that are tilted up at the corners and fringed with thick lashes that give her a girlish and mischievous demeanor. She looks equally wild and beautiful, but the most war like thing about her is the war paint across her eyes and temples into her hair which is black as pitch as well as the tattoos of swords on her body. One on either forearm and one going from the base of her hairline all the way down her spine to the top of her butt. She generally wears clothes made of thick leather (amazonian-esque), but in the human realm she tries to dress more modern.
Personality: ENFJ - A bit stoic and brutal, Thea thinks the best way to solve a problem is to fight her way through it. She is used to getting her way, but can also be fair and understanding when she knows others may be more adept in certain situations. Although that doesn't stop her from being pouty and stubborn, since she has such a strong will. She can be extraordinarily kind, out going and supportive despite her warlike ways. Intensely loyal to those who prove themselves to her, but she can also hold a mean grudge to those who get on her bad side. Thea is also incredibly intelligent, although her brashness can get in the way of that.
Other Attributes: Strategy, bravery, competition/games, and strength fall under her jurisdiction as well.
Magic and/or talents specific to their race (If any): Thea is a god so all those godly powers? She's got them. Although her main abilities are linked to her 'war god' classification, ie: strength, speed, can summon any weapon etc.
Background: She and the Big Bad™ were going at it in the heavens (for reasons to be revealed later on) and she accidentally got smacked down to the Earthly Realm and now she appears to be stuck.
Extras: She talks in an extremely formal manner. Slang is completely beyond her understanding.
(Sorry I haven't responded yet—senior year is already proving to be really busy for me. Also, I decided on creating a new character for this rp, so I may take a bit longer. I should be able to start on him in the next few minutes, though, so ideally he'll be finished by tonight. Thanks for your patience!)
(Hey no worries! I completely understand. :D Life gets in the way. Although I'm not in high school anymore, I do remember how ridiculous senior year could be. Take your time. This gal just has way too much time on her hands. lol)
Name: Archie Realder
Race: Part fey, part human
Age: Seventeen
Gender: Male
Appearance: Archie has a childlike appearance, likely due to the innate roundness of his face and the numerous freckles scattered across his cheeks and beneath his grayish-blue eyes. He's of an average height, around 5'9 in total, with startling silver hair. Many presumed it's been dyed to look like that, mainly because of the dark gray that shows at his roots, but his hair color is entirely natural. It hangs slightly over his forehead, becoming longer towards the edges of his face. He's thin, contributing to the illusion that he's taller than he really is, although his features are still relatively soft for his age. His ears are just slightly pointed, although this is easily hidden behind his hair and, occasionally, his hoodie. His hoodie is a dark gray that matches his hair, a button-up, and much softer on the inside than on the outside (Archie is in a committed relationship with his hoodie and everyone knows about it). Under his hoodie is usually a white t-shirt with a pocket on the left that he sues to store small spells so he doesn't forget. He typically wears black joggers with a silver chain hanging out from the pocket, and combat boots that make him around two inches taller.
Personality: Archie is timid—probably too much so for a half-fey. The reputations of other 'fair folk' have preceded him, leading to the instant mistrust of pretty much anyone who's ever heard of him, in spite of the fact that his magic is so weak that he couldn't severely harm anyone even if he wanted to. As a result of this mistrust, he was shunned for most of his life. He's riddled with insecurity and self-confidence issues, tending to stutter when faced with the prospect of talking to authority or someone else he finds intimidating. All that nonsense about having a good heart doesn't seem to apply to him, as he can be very closed off and hostile if a person has mistreated him in the past. He fits the profile of a bystander rather than a victim or instigator, preferring to float under the radar if he sees someone else getting mistreated. He views the world as "kill, be killed, or don't die", and he thinks the best way to solve problems is by ignoring them. When his anxiety isn't totally crushing his ability to speak, Archie can be quite sarcastic, inwardly celebrating every perfectly-executed quip. When he's excited about something, he speaks animatedly and with his hands, his eyes taking on a strange light that immediately dims if he's easily dismissed or disappointed by a reaction.
Other Attributes: He's not strong, like, at all, but he's nimble enough to avoid most physical attacks thrown at him. He's an analyst, very rarely taking action before thinking through every possible turnout. Archie is not afraid to do anything that would ensure his survival, whether that be throwing away his pride and begging, or defending himself against attacks as best he can.
Magic and/or talents specific to their race (If any): Archie has enhanced senses, to the point where he can pick up conversation pretty much anywhere in a hundred-foot radius if he focuses enough. On the flip side, loud noises give him awful headaches—borderline migraines—and it's not uncommon for him to have sound-cancelling headphones on with no music playing. He can also see better in the dark, his eyes taking on a reflective appearance, similar to a cats. Bright lights, however, hurt his eyes more than the typical human, and, as he refuses to wear sunglasses unless absolutely necessary, is nearly constantly squinting. He can control plant growth to a very limited extent—we're talking major green thumb and the occasional vine springing out to trip someone. He also has very limited psychic ability as in rolling pencils or throwing small stones, sensing nearby objects, etc. Forest animals tend to follow him around until they get bored, although none have ever actively tred to protect him if he was in danger of being hurt. Then again, Archie is safest in the woods, so the theory is still untested.
Background: He was low-key emotionally bullied by the large majority of his classmates until high school started, in which they began entirely ignoring him. The only people that would consistently talk to Archie were his teachers and parents, giving other people the impression that he was a teacher's pet. Which he totally was. His parents try and be supportive, but it's difficult when almost no one is home thanks to their work. Archie can't help but think that whatever gods were out there were cruel for giving him two workaholic parents.
Extras: His favorite subject is ASL because the teacher makes people talk to him—however silently—for practice. He also enjoys band, but he struggles with even the flute (he can't read sheet music for crap). His favorite color is purple, and his favorite shade is white, although he feels most comfortable wearing black clothes. His favorite animals are deer and squirrels and small birds—essentially anything that lives in the woods out behind his house. He has a cat named "Trouble" who, in his opinion, is way more trouble than she's worth (but he loves her anyway). Archie's middle name is "Valen". Modern slang is his second favorite, er, extracurricular subject, stemming from one of the ways in which he tried to be relatable enough for people to want to talk to him.
(Thanks for understanding! I will do my best to keep up on this. But for now… I'm gonna crash because it's Friday and it's been a long week… Lol. Also it's like 10:30pm, which is late for me. I'll check up on this is the morning if I can!)
(Oh good lord I adore him. This is going to be quite a humorous experience. I can already tell. I have quite the schedule this weekend, but I will try to get a starter up before monday!)
(I'm glad! I'm excited to begin! And same here, so your timing works well for me!)
Battling had always gotten Thealios' blood burning, her lips turned up in a manic smile that did more for frightening her enemies than her godly skills with weaponry. This battle should have been no different. Fel creatures should have been falling before her bloodied sword, their cries of anguish guiding Thea and her loyal troops into a feverish victory.
Except it wasn't.
Thea was losing.
She had called for a retreat twice now. Commanding her troops to safety, rather than further into battle. Something was terribly wrong, Thea could feel it in her gut. Moren, her greatest enemy, had grown unbelievably strong, twisting his fate in such a way that overwhelmed Thea's once proud army. But how? What had changed? What evil had been unleashed upon the Heavens this day?
For the first time in her long, long life, Thea was uncertain of her fate and future. The tang of fear coated her tongue so thickly that she wanted to weep, but she held firm, eye's blazing with power as she unleashed another assault on the creatures Moren commanded, standing on her own so her troops could go free. She hoped in her heart that it would be enough.
He came out of no where, her ancient enemy, standing before her very eyes so suddenly that Thea took an unconscious step backward, her twin swords coming up a second too late to block his tremendous blow. Pain seared through her chest, but it was the sensation of Moren's fel magic pulsating around her body that caused her to scream. Thea's own magic attempted to thwart whatever Moren had done to her, but she was too tired, too spent and he too strong in whatever it was that allowed him to finally defeat her. Dread flooded Thea's heart as she fell.
And fell.
And fell.
Through the Heavens and down, down, down. Everything she had ever fought for passing through her fingertips with no sign of stopping. Screams of devastation ripped through her throat as she fought with everything she had left. To no avail. The Heavens faded from her sight, and there was a note of finality to the bright lights vanishing before her, as if the fates themselves had turned their backs on the God of War and her reaching desperate hand. Thea was alone, and falling.
A massive boom shuddered through the air of the earthly realm, heard from all corners of this world along with the mighty quakes that followed the crashed landing of the once undefeated God of War. If anyone had been looking up in the sky in the moments before, they would have seen the white fireball descending at a frightening speed towards the earth and more than likely wondered if that was the end prophets always went on and on about…
Fortunately, it wasn't the end of the earthly realm. At least not yet.
The God of War groaned in pain, flipping over to her back so she could breathe a bit easier. Her body protested as she sat up, the ground swaying under her as she attempted to focus. Despite blinking rapidly and pressing her hands to her temples, the world swam around her, colors blurred and Thea couldn't blink away the spots in her vision.
Thea flopped back down, throwing a arm over her eyes.
"Shit."
There were times throughout Archie's life in which he would've considered himself crazy. Anxiety does things to the mind, after all—makes it paranoid. Sometimes, the part fey couldn't discern whether all the eyes in the room were watching him, if that shadowy silhouette was really following him, or if he was simply being overly suspicious again. His mother would tell him he was being silly, and his father would tell him to pay it no mind. Over time, he learned to ignore the paranoia, substituting it with casual dismissal and the focusing of his thoughts on something more trivial. But for the love of God, how was he supposed to distract himself from the fact that a freaking person (?) just fell from the sky straight into his backyard? Scratch that, how was he going to explain the massive crater to his parents? Maybe they wouldn't notice…
Archie stood in his kitchen, clutching the sink in front of the window so tightly that his fingers were white. His eyes were as wide as saucers, and he was pretty sure his mouth was agape. Either way, he didn't have time to check before the figure rolled onto its—her—back, and proceeded to (very unsteadily) stand up. Archie's hand flew to his mouth and he dropped into a crouch, hiding behind the cabinets and muttering 'What the hell what the hell what the hell just happened—is she actually alive?—what the hell what the hell,' until he heard the faint sound of someone cursing, then something dropping to the ground. After a couple seconds of silence, he slowly peered over the kitchen sink and back out the window, noting that the girl had fallen again.
Should I call the police? An ambulance? Both? Neither? came his panicked thoughts. In the end, he settled with edging towards the pantry, grabbing a makeshift "weapon", and slowly opening the back door. He crept up on the girl, then lightly prodded her arm with the handle of the broom he was holding.
Tears. Hot and wet on her cheeks. But–but gods do not weep. They were too strong, too proud to let anything bring forth such a show of weakness. At least, that is what Thea had been taught by her father many, many eons ago. Despite the tears, Thea did not feel weak, only frustrated, confused, alone…and cold. Oh so very cold. Her teeth began to chatter but all she could think about was her current flight. Her thoughts swirling around her brain like a desperate storm. Why did this happen? How in all the magics in the world did she get banished from the Heavens? Was she–was she no longer worthy of her title?
A shiver passed through her entire form with such force she thought she would shatter into a million tiny pieces. No. No way. It could not be. She was Thealios, born from the rage of her father to be his God of War. She had fought for eons, why now would the fates take her from her home? Thea moved her arm away from her eyes, staring up at the unforgiving stars. the face of the heavens now so cold towards her. Why was she so cold? Cold enough that her chattering teeth disguised the approaching steps to her left until they were right on top of her and something hard was prodding her arm.
Another curse slide out between her clenched teeth as Thea moved faster than the eye could see. Vanishing and reappearing behind the figure standing over her. She jerked him into a hold, his back to her front and with a flick of her wrist she had a small dagger to the throat of the figure–a boy, no a young man– and his weapon tossed far away. She flinched slightly as the 'weapon' in question sank deeply into the wall of what looked like a dwelling of some sort with a wooden thunk. "What the hell–? Where am I?" She swayed, the ground rolling beneath her feet, but Thea managed to stay upright thanks to the young man's surprising stability. "Who are you?" She rasped quietly, unable to hide the soft desperation in her voice.
Achie barely had time to shriek in surprise before there was a knife to his throat and a very unpredictable, very nonhuman entity rendering him motionless. "What do you mean 'What the hell?'" he demanded, sheer panic raising the pitch of his voice by several octaves. His now free hands clutched at the arm holding the blade, trying to create room for him to breathe, or hopefully even escape. Five minutes ago he was washing all the dishes he'd let pile up over the course of the week, and now he was being threatened in his own backyard? Nuh uh. He was not having it. Or maybe he was, because regardless of the situation he was currently in, she hadn't killed him…yet.
Archie took a few shaky breaths, then replied as steadily as he could–which wasn't very—"You're in my backyard. I'm—I'm Archie Realder. And can you please get rid of the knife oh my God I'm going to die." He shut his eyes, expecting the worst.
Thea blinked, the young man's words sifting slowly through the mess that was currently her brain and emotions. Backyard? Archie? Labored breaths seared her throat and ignited a fire of agony on her left side, but Thea ignored it as she looked around. Thankfully the young man–uh, Archie– remained completely still, although the furious beating of his heart was as loud as a drum between her ears.
The backyard, as he called it, was empty of everything except lush grass, a few trees, and what looked like a small garden. Not a single threat in sight. In fact, it was almost peaceful. Quiet. This is a home. Thea thought in a daze. Carefully, she lowered her dagger from Archie's throat, but kept it up between them, it's point glistening in the moonlight. She moved back to stand before him, her free hand pressed hard against her left side to staunch whatever pain was coming from there. She couldn't spare a moment to look. "You are not going to die. I need a moment–my bearings–Earthly realm?" Thea whispered, swaying dangerously.
Blinking furiously against the haze that was coming over her eyes, Thea took a second to glance down at the hand against her side. Blood. Warm and flowing with vigor out of her side, its molten golden color, leeched by the moonlight. Looking back up at Archie before her, who looked so pale he might as well have been the moon himself, it was odd how beautiful he was–shining, glowing…like starlight. Was she talking to a star? Thea blinked, dropping her dagger as she swayed again. "Your garden is pretty…" She whispered thickly, losing consciousness completely as she dropped to the ground once more.
The part fey's eyes remained wide as the point of the dagger left his neck, but he stayed perfectly still until he could fully see the girl in front of him. Or rather, the enormous patch of blood soaked fabric at her side. He didn't have time to dwell on the fact that her blood was most definitely not red before the knife slipped out of her grasp and she fell limp. As panicked and confused as he was, his first instinct was not to catch her, but rather take as many steps back as he could. Which turned out to be not many, as he promptly tripped over his feet and landed on his butt.
Unthinkingly, Archie scrambled back to his feet and darted for the back door, as if the unconscious girl was right on his heels and about to absolutely slaughter him. A totally likely possibility considering the inhuman speeds at which she moved, along with the terrifying strength she possessed, based on the sight of his broom sticking halfway out of his wall. Not that he was totally human, but come on. Super strength and speed and who knows what the hell else—that can't be fair. Besides, he didn't exactly trust the words of a person who fell from the sky and held a knife to his throat the second he tried to help. He continued all the way up until his hand brushed the doorknob, only pausing to glance at her once again still figure.
His hand trembled slightly as he clutched the metal, his survival instinct fighting both his moral and logical sides at once. After a full thirty seconds of internal debate, he cautiously sidestepped back over to the girl, keeping his steps slow and deliberate until he could confirm she was truly out of it. "Okay, okay—this girl crash lands in your backyard, threatens you, mentions something about an earthly realm and how she likes your garden, then passes out from–what, blood loss–What do you do? No need to worry, this is totally normal," he vented quietly and quickly, waving his hands around like a madman. "Is she really bad at flying? I don't know. 'Earthly realm?' Hah, maybe she's God," he continued sarcastically.
He kneeled beside her and put two shaking fingers to her neck for a pulse. When he couldn't find one, he reluctantly moved his hand to beneath her nose, checking for any sign of breath. This time he was successful, and he didn't know whether to celebrate or go with his initial idea of calling the freaking police. Somehow, though, he was under the impression that this girl would not want to go to a hospital—if she even knew what one was. He exhaled a few times, the lightly tapped her cheek. "Are you going to wake up? No? Okay fine—fine, it's not like your life is in my hands or whatever."
He glanced around as if expecting someone to be watching the spectacle so late at night, but upon seeing no one, he began to try and lift her by the armpits. He dragged her a few feet, before quickly realizing that would only further aggravate her wounds. Next he tried positioning her arm over his shoulder, inwardly and outwardly cringing as her—is that gold?—blood seeped into his own clothes. This time he made it all the way back to the back door, twisting it open and resting her on the kitchen floor so her back was against the closed door.
"Uh… Damn, I do not have the time to look up a YouTube tutorial on how to stitch up wounds, so you're going to have to wake up now and maybe help me out," Archie stated, the edge of panic never leaving his voice as he stared directly at the girl. Seeing no response, he looked around until his gaze landed on the kitchen sink. Quickly, he turned the faucet on and flicked several drops of cold water at her.
Silence. Darkness. This was something Thea wasn't entirely used to, as the Heavens were constantly teeming with life. Mostly with festivals and celebrations of the Gods themselves. Her very own portion of the Heavens rang with the clash of swords, the crash of shields, and the occasional curse from who had ever lost the most recent challenge. So silence, complete silence, and a darkness to match it, was shocking to say the least. Silence could be just as deafening as screams and Thea certainly didn't like it. She didn't know if she could even open her mouth to scream, for as silent as it was she was equally as numb. Consciousness stayed just out of her reach. No matter how much she struggled, the darkness, numbness, the silence, stayed with her.
That is until… Cold. Shockingly cold on her face and chest. By the fates it felt like ice fire on her skin! Enough even to rouse the dead. The stunning nature of it had Thea gasping back to full alertness, well, almost full alertness. Thea was certainly awake, but functional? Far from it. She groaned as her wound protested the sudden movement and slumped back onto the wall. Wall? Hadn't she been outside? Why the hell was she still wounded in the first place? Her powers should have healed her by now.
Moving cloth away from her injury, she got a good look at it. "Ugh." This time out loud. The wound extended from the ribs just under her breast diagonally towards her navel where it stopped just shy of her belly button. No wonder she was feeling dizzy. That was a lot of blood.
Raising a hand to her pounding head, Thea groaned again. She rubbed harshly at her forehead, smearing blood into her skin, trying to think. This was an unfortunate situation, but she needed to pull herself together, before–Wait. Hadn't there been a man she had threatened? Her eyes flashed open, gazing around the room–a kitchen– to once again meet the grey-blue gaze of the man from outside. Archie. Oh Fates, she hoped she hadn't hurt him. It looks like she was inside because of him, but he was now standing as from her as he could, gazing at her with a look that conveyed panic, concern, and disbelief all in one. She didn't blame him. Shifting just slightly, she reached for him in a weak wave. "Uh, hello…" Thea wasn't sure what to say honestly, but she needed assistance before she lost consciousness again.
Archie stayed quiet, watching with his other hand still on the handle of the faucet, until she seemed to notice his presence. He blinked, taken aback by her simple, ordinary greeting (as if she wasn't currently in the process of bleeding out all over his kitchen floor), before his expression morphed into one of strong relief. He rushed to shut the faucet off and glanced at her exposed wound, pausing to fight back another surge of panic at the golden mess of it. At least he didn't have to deal with it entirely by himself anymore.
"Thank God you're awake—Okay, uh, is there any chance you know how to stitch wounds because this severely not in my knowledge department and I have no clue what I'm doing," he rambled breathlessly, rifling through the cupboard beneath the sink for a clean dish towel to toss in her direction. "I think I read something about dissolvable stitches but I don't think I have anything like that. I do believe we have some bandages? I don't know why I made that a question—you obviously need them. I'll be right back," he promised, holding his palms towards her in a hasty attempt to convey his sincerity. Without giving her any chance to reply, he was off.
There was the sound of heavy footsteps thumping above the girl as Archie bolted up the stairs across the hallway. The sounds continued until he reached his destination—assumedly the bathroom—before beginning to make their way back down. There was the sound of a shriek and an even louder thump at the bottom of the stairs, and then a shout. "I'm okay—probably!" Approximately forty seconds from his time of departure, he returned, looking significantly more disheveled and banged up and, more importantly, holding a first aid kit. He hesitated, then stepped closer the injured girl and laid the kit at her feet.
Quite the nervous talker, wasn't he? Thea had opened her mouth several times to get a word in–perhaps to answer one of his many questions–but Archie hadn't seemed to notice, accidentally steam rolling over her completely. It made the war god mildly annoyed, but she really didn't have the energy to snap him to attention. So she had let him bustle while she attempted to hold her blood inside her body with the towel that he had thrown at her. Although by the time he had disappeared up the stairs, there was a tiny smile on Thea's face.
Her violet eyes had followed the thumps as they moved upstairs and back down again, but all traces of amusement disappeared at the sound of a crash and fall. When the boy rounded the corner, looking more discombobulated than before, Thea's eyes shown with concern. "Are you alright?" She asked, her voice naturally a low ethereal rasp, but now sounding strained and tired. The war god released a hiss as she reached for the white box, not exactly sure what it was, but Archie had acted like it was the most important object he had ever retrieved. Opening it, Thea's eyes flicked up to the young man again –by the Fates, he still looked anxious– and back down again. Healers supplies. She made a soft sound of relief, the tension in her body relaxing the tiniest bit.
Archie simply waved off the girl's concern, saying, "You're a lot less alright than me, so just focus on… Here, I don't think bandages will be enough to stop the bleeding—it looks pretty deep," he responded after taking a deep breath, lifting the bandages from their spot in the kit and showing her. He unconsciously maneuvered his bottom lip between his teeth as he pondered different solutions. None of them were really "solutions," per say, but if he remembered correctly, his mom kept a box full of needles (plural, because she kept losing them) and thread in the living room. The more he thought about it, however, the less likely it seemed he would be able efficiently stitch the wound before she bled out, especially considering his painful lack of experience.
"Okay, here's the—the plan? Yeah, um, plan. Just keep holding the towel to the injury and I'm going to skim some articles on how to stop bleeding really quick because I don't know what else to do," he explained, jumping to his feet and grabbing his previously forgotten phone from the counter by the sink. As quickly as he could, muttering "Come on, come on," the entire time, he pulled up some results for 'How to stop bleeding from torso wounds'. He scrolled through the first article at a lightning pace, skimming over the words with the skill of a student who too often procrastinates doing any assigned reading for school.
"This says to lay down—it'll slow the blood flow or something, um—yeah. Also, apply pressure—we're doing that—and use sterile gloves. I don't think we have any…Oh! I'm an idiot—yes we do," he corrected himself, kneeling again to the first aid kit and unearthing the gloves hidden beneath more gauze and creams he didn't know the names of. Archie continued awkwardly scrolling with his elbow as he pulled the gloves onto his hands, freezing when he read one of the 'exceptions to calling an ambulance.' The thought of going through with it made him cringe more than the thought of a needle and thread, but if it saved the girl's life…
"Scratch that—I found an alternative, but it's not going to be fun for either of us, specifically you," he stated reluctantly, turning to face the still heavily bleeding girl. "It's called, I think, cauterizing?" he attempted to say, butchering the pronunciation but plowing through his confusion of the term. "Basically you're supposed to heat up a blade—" he had to physically bite his tongue to avoid including 'You know, like the one you almost slit my throat with?' "—and press the flat side along the wound to kind of…burn it closed." Realizing how awful that sounded and the fact that she had no real reason to trust him (other than the fact that he'd dragged her there in the first place to try and help), he unhelpfully added, "It's that or stitching it closed, and there's no way you want me near you with a needle right now."
"Archie–" Thea rasped, blinking wearily at him, that tiny smile curling her lips again. She had to calm him down before he talked himself into a mental breakdown. The poor man was shaking like a leaf and staring at her with big silvery eyes, despite wearing gloves and preparing to dive head first into her wound. "You talk– a lot. Believe it when I say that this is not the first time that I have carried a wound this large," Thea peeled back the cloth, heavily stained gold now, to take another look at the wound. It didn't look as horrid as before, but it certainly hurt like the fires of the Hell realm. "Although," She continued, pushing a breath out between clenched teeth. "I have never had one that did not heal almost immediately. This is quite painful actually. I am not sure how mortals put up with this…" Thea was rambling now, her body slowly going into shock, but she was mostly doing it for Archie's benefit. As he seemed to calm slightly the more she spoke.
Clearly the young man needed direction and as much as cauterizing her wound may have been the fastest and easiest way to 'fix her up', Thea would rather remain conscious. And as far away from fire as humanly (and godly) possible. "It's already healing, albeit slowly," She muttered. "But a few stitches should help it along. No need for fire." Please no fire. Anything but that. Thea reached out to gently grasp on of Archie's hands, bringing his full attention to her face instead of her wound. He had stopped shaking and even through the glove he had put on, she could feel the warmth coming from his skin. Was she really still so cold? Not good. "A needle and thread. Please." Thea paused, clearing her throat softly, embarrassed at her own vulnerability. "And if you could–perhaps– linger whilst I stitch myself up? I would greatly appreciate the distraction."
She had no right to be asking this of him, considering that she had held a blade to his throat with the intention of killing him should he have proved himself to be–less than good–, but something deep within her recognized his good heart. He had helped her so far hadn't he? Besides, once she was better she would be out of his hair. The more he helped, the sooner he would never have to see her again. She squeezed his hand once, and then twice, in reassurance. Almost as if to say 'I am not going to kill you. Trust me.'