So much of what has happened - how this landscape is here, who those men were, why they had attacked Kieran - is over Ben's head. And so much of what is happening now still feels that way. He doesn't know what the hell a compound glyph is or why one would even be necessary. What he can understand is the way he can feel Kieran trembling, imagines what excruciating pain he is in. He understands the need to hurry.
Which is why he's a little annoyed that Carlisle, it seems to him, is stalling. He brushes off those words, warning him to be prepared for anything. What could he possibly need to be prepared for? Carlisle is going to heal Kieran, and it will hurt him, but then he will be fine, it will all be fine, and then Ben won't have to hate himself quite so much for showing up too late to stop this from happening in the first place.
Except that dismissive attitude vanishes as soon as that black line of decay shoots out across the grass, spiking up into the trees. Ben is focused mostly on holding Kieran still, but he watches with horror as the plants wither, like something out of a movie. He has never seen anything like it. It's wrong and the sudden smell of rot makes itself known over the tang of blood in the air.
When he sees - is that ink? black blood? - dripping from Carlisle's eye, Ben grasps something. This is hurting him - healing Kieran is hurting him. And he keeps doing it anyway. Ben is impressed and grateful and worried all at once. Maybe it's just a temporary effect. He knows all about those. It could be there's no danger of real injury to Carlisle at all...
But then he's putting distance between himself and Kieran, and Ben catches just a flash of his horrified expression, the way he throws himself far from them as he can manage. And there's no mistaking the way that the earth all around the mage is rotting, like it's spilling from his body, in the air all around him.
Ben doesn't stop to think. He doesn't rush forward to Carlisle's aid. He's grateful for the man's help, but no way in hell is he going to let anything else hurt Kieran. Not today. So he scrambles to his feet and starts hauling his friend away from where Carlisle is writhing on the ground. Away from that spreading pool of decay. In this case, he can't see a way to help both men, and so he chooses Kieran. Pratt can help his friend, if he wants to - he certainly knows more about magic and how he might do that than Ben does.
Belatedly Ben thinks to reassure, voice hushed and urgent: "I got you. I got you we're just - we're just backing up a bit, everything's fine. Everything's good."
Definitely that gargling and choking and coughing and the rustle of plants melting and withering away, the sound of thrashing as Carlisle moves on the ground, isn't really helping Ben to maintain this illusion.
no subject
Which is why he's a little annoyed that Carlisle, it seems to him, is stalling. He brushes off those words, warning him to be prepared for anything. What could he possibly need to be prepared for? Carlisle is going to heal Kieran, and it will hurt him, but then he will be fine, it will all be fine, and then Ben won't have to hate himself quite so much for showing up too late to stop this from happening in the first place.
Except that dismissive attitude vanishes as soon as that black line of decay shoots out across the grass, spiking up into the trees. Ben is focused mostly on holding Kieran still, but he watches with horror as the plants wither, like something out of a movie. He has never seen anything like it. It's wrong and the sudden smell of rot makes itself known over the tang of blood in the air.
When he sees - is that ink? black blood? - dripping from Carlisle's eye, Ben grasps something. This is hurting him - healing Kieran is hurting him. And he keeps doing it anyway. Ben is impressed and grateful and worried all at once. Maybe it's just a temporary effect. He knows all about those. It could be there's no danger of real injury to Carlisle at all...
But then he's putting distance between himself and Kieran, and Ben catches just a flash of his horrified expression, the way he throws himself far from them as he can manage. And there's no mistaking the way that the earth all around the mage is rotting, like it's spilling from his body, in the air all around him.
Ben doesn't stop to think. He doesn't rush forward to Carlisle's aid. He's grateful for the man's help, but no way in hell is he going to let anything else hurt Kieran. Not today. So he scrambles to his feet and starts hauling his friend away from where Carlisle is writhing on the ground. Away from that spreading pool of decay. In this case, he can't see a way to help both men, and so he chooses Kieran. Pratt can help his friend, if he wants to - he certainly knows more about magic and how he might do that than Ben does.
Belatedly Ben thinks to reassure, voice hushed and urgent: "I got you. I got you we're just - we're just backing up a bit, everything's fine. Everything's good."
Definitely that gargling and choking and coughing and the rustle of plants melting and withering away, the sound of thrashing as Carlisle moves on the ground, isn't really helping Ben to maintain this illusion.