When will I see you again

Lia's little bit of personal humor helped lighten the mood, and even had Artorias chuckling beneath his breath. This was true, the Armada's grasslands was likely so covered with blood by now that it'd be nearly impossible to tell whose was whose. While Lia looked over his wound and assessed the damage, Artorias just watched her work in quiet reverence of the healer. It seemed her skills had improved during her time here. It was such a far cry from the first time he'd seen her, when she'd been demure to the point of almost not speaking unless spoken to, throwing herself to his every whim, even trying to... ah, service him during her massage. Artorias' cheeks flushed with warmth when he recalled that first night in the cave when he'd had to insist she no longer had to subjugate herself like that beyond her will. He meant every word he said. So long as she was his and under his care, Lia would never again be a sex object or a slave.

Artorias gave a soft hum and nodded when she thanked him as she prepared her materials. Lia then began to stitch up his injury just as Iolaire had done the night of the attack on the Hallows. He winced and flinched every time the needle passed through flesh and muscle, but for the most part Artorias remained still and steady for her to do her work. "Don't apologize. You're doing what needs to be done," he remarked in his smooth, more mature and masculine baritones now that he'd reached peak adulthood. "Besides, this hurts a hell of a lot less than when the fucker stabbed me in the first place." He gave a low, rumbling chuckle, hoping his own attempt at humor would lighten Lia's spirits as well. She seemed a little... withdrawn. "Is everything okay, Lia?" he asked after a few beats of silence, fire opal eyes seeking her rich amber gaze. He couldn't place his paw on it, but Lia seemed somehow more reserved than he recalled. Had someone in the Armada been bothering her?

"Artorias Carpathius"