book 5: wounds

He doesn't lie to her. Jael can respect him more for that, at least. Her expression grim as it remained trained on the wound. She seizes the bottle as Gilgamesh sets it down, taking a long sip of her own. A little liquid courage to get her by. The weight of exactly what they'd been up to catching up with her... why can't she let him go. The man curled before her on the ground, Jael with her lingering touch as she carefully sews his wounds shut. The work is her very finest. That's what happens when you work with l--

No.

Don't even think it.

Though she wouldn't speak for her feelings this time, it gets harder to bite them back. Guilt weighing heavily on her chest. Jael has been selfish with him, but it won't stop. Doubling down while they are alone together here, fire roaring in the background. "I'm sorry." She isn't blameless. She knows he has a wife. But Jael is, touch tender as she ties off the sutures, clips the thread, does all the things she'd imagine a healer would do though she's unwilling to leave his side.

Satisfied he wouldn't bleed out now, she pushes the the healing supplies away. Jael would handle it later. Not touching him, but not sure what else to he needs... not wanting to walk away from him. Curling up on herself as she waits by his side... loyal like a dog. Gaze on his face. "What do you need?" A hoarse whisper. He was emotionally raw, and Jael was by extension.