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The veil descended, a shimmering curtain turning the stars to milky pools of light, translucent to his eyes but solid and firm in a way he couldn't yet quantify to these new senses he was still developing. Years spent living as a human with suppressed magic hadn't exactly taught him to know how to feel the shape of the cloud in the sky like Nova had, how to describe the arc of a gust of wind or to precisely catalog every kind of precipitation.
He was learning, though.
"We are concealed." It was a good sign that she felt able to speak to him out loud. It meant nobody was close enough to present an immediate threat. They'd holed up in a small dry cave, and were using some glowing fungus to see the shadowed shape of the walls. Rowan had found a nice flat perch to sit on and was feeling rather cheerful, all things considered.
"The others?" He asked, knowing that if anything serious was happening she wouldn't be sitting down next to him. She'd be summoning lightning bolts or making an ice sword or turning into some kind of manifestation of the unyielding wrath of the divine storm. Instead, she sighed and shrugged, an oddly human gesture to see from her muscular frame. She must have picked it up from him. The thought made his cheeks glow rosy red, not that she would be able to see them in the gloom.
"Away. They believed there might be a path, so I sent them to scout ahead quietly. They will flare a burst of magic thrice if they are in need of any assistance."
She rubbed the back of her neck, then along the ridge of her right shoulder. Still sore and smarting, the mended cloak covered a nasty-looking wound that had been healing quickly, at least compared to the wounds Rowan was used to seeing. Most of the wounds he'd seen in his life were mundane in origin. Nothing about Nova could ever be mundane.
Nova was a half-dragon, however, and he had zero experience treating one of those. But ignorance of the details could not overcome a yearning desire to help and a keening in his still-unfurling soul: to bring life , to use his gifts . "Let me help, Nova. Maybe I can do something to ease your wounds?" He faltered a little, realizing again that he had no potions, nor the ingredients to make any. No spices, no berries, no herbs, no magic they could safely use.
She expressed her doubts, thinking along the same lines. "Your efforts to regrow the world are help enough, friend Rowan. I take all needed solace and strength from my clan, from my mission, and from you. I do not believe it would be wise to draw any attention, even hidden as we are."
He smiled. It felt nice, smiling. He liked doing it anyway, and he especially liked the little goofy grin Nova sometimes sent his way in return. She was a monolith learning to crack. He loved to see it. And suddenly he knew how to help.
"I don't need to use my magic to help you. Now that we actually have some place to rest, I can take the time to help you relax with just my hands."
She didn't react the way he would have expected a human to react; to react anything like the manner in which his heart was racing internally at the incredibly stupid faux pas. His embarrassment could have fueled a dozen Archmages casting myriads of spells. But Nova didn't see it that way.
"You are trained in healing magics beyond your potions, then? I still do not know all of your learning, Rowan Spicer. You continue to astound me." She said this last part teasingly, relaxing as she rested her weary frame on the smooth stone.
He chuckled, relieved. "Yeah, I know as much as most folk. Probably more, actually. I read anything I could find about human anatomy and physiology at the library, but most of the drawings weren't really good at helping me visualize the internal organs and things. A lot of them were sketches, really. I wanted to be aware of how our potions actually affect each part of the body they interact with."
She nodded. "And what do you think you can do here?"
Rowan interlocked his fingers in front of himself, then rotated his elbows and flexed his wrists out, forcing his fingers back against one another in a lattice. A series of sharp cracks sounded, followed by two more as he pulled on each of his thumbs in turn. He released a sigh as the joints in his fingers released the tension they'd been carrying. "I can rub your back."
She sat, patiently listening as he explained that loosening tension in the muscles was important for getting rest and recovering one's strength. She knew this, of course, but it was pleasing to hear him speak so passionately about something near and dear to him. He still sounded like he expected to be a potion maker and healer for a village someday. Nova knew his destiny was far beyond those, but hoped he never lost sight of the humility and kindness that embodied his spirit.
Instead, he'd be required to heal a wound far larger and deeper than any mere blade or shaft could ever deal.
Rowan the healer spoke with calm authority. "I am going to remove your cloak, and I want you to sit here in front of me. Lean forward slightly, and I'll sit behind you. Here." He indicated the spot, a short depression where she would sit lower down than he, but the slope would equalize them at the shoulders. It made for better leverage, she supposed, acquiescing. He gently folded the torn cloak as if it was precious silk.
"Deep breath in. Hold for 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. Out. Again, hold for 5, out." She counted silently. Each breath was a small spike of agony in her shoulder. He noticed, naturally. He always noticed.
"Nova. I want you to raise your shoulders up, unless it hurts. Raise them up as you inhale, and then when you exhale, just let them go limp and drop down."
She did not like the idea of going limp. She tried anyway. Not enough, for the healer reproached her. "Like this." He got up, walked slowly around in front of her and knelt, then gently reached out to grab her own hands. Her palms came to rest on his scrawny shoulders, and she felt him inhale, and then she felt more than saw his shoulders drop as he deflated. Rowan let her arms fall back to her side, and then returned to his position behind her. She heard his knees and his booted feet scape on the stone and she closed her eyes.
Nova tried again. She took a breath. She scrunched up as Rowan had, and then let go. She let go of her pain. Her worry. The little itch under her scales that let her know she was healing. The smells of the cave.
It all fell away. Only hands, gently probing her back. Her taut shoulder, minute winces under small fingers betraying her suffering, finally relented. The rest of her followed suit and she slumped.
Nova the Tempest opened her eyes. She was not entirely aware of where she was for a moment, which was not worrying. She often rested in itinerant places, rarely known in advance and rarely returned to. She noticed that her wings had manifested themselves, and they were wrapped around Rowan Spicer, who was awake.
She measured the passage of time differently than humans did, especially at night. She sensed magic and the slow accumulation of it in a place as her kind and others lingered. Rowan's magic was so vivid, so unique, it smelled so flagrantly fragrant that she could estimate how long she had been asleep just by tracking the intensity. Small patches of moss and creeping lines of the glowing fungus on the walls were arranged about him, softening the stone and creating a glowing outline of his silhouette. Her wings had enveloped him some time recently, as they were not covered in the growth his presence prompted. Only the leading edges were suffused with a dim green glow.
He hadn't noticed she was awake yet, and she could not tell if his eyes were open or closed without opening her own. Nova decided this did not matter.
"Why did you stop, Rowan?" she whispered. He startled anyway, jostling her wings, until he relaxed back down into her draconic embrace. He felt warm against her. It was pleasant. He fit in her arms nicely when being carried, and she enjoyed the fact that her wings could cocoon him to keep him safe during sleep. He deserved to be safe and warm.
"Oh! Nova. You fell asleep and then you kind of grabbed me and yanked me over and then your wings came out and it was just really nice." His soft voice told of many nights he had wished to be so comfortable. His belly aching, his mother and grandpa quietly muttering worries and whispering of days past when everything was right with the world.
"Shhh. Go to sleep, Rowan Spicer. I will keep you safe. But if you cannot sleep, please continue this massage you began. It was very nice."
"How can you keep me safe if you fall asleep at the drop of a hat?" She frowned. It was a valid point.
"Sleep now, massage later." Nova decided. She had endured worse than waiting to feel his hands on her shoulder again.
Nova the Tempest kept watch until their companions returned. Rowan seemed rested, which was good. He had been carrying his own invisible burdens, and according to the small Viridian healer she helped him feel better. She would do anything for this hope that he brought, and if that meant delaying the next massage until their next camp then she could wait. She did hope she would be able to enjoy more of it before she fell asleep.