I can't imagine your voice being that bad, at all.
[He rather liked Regis' voice. Rich and deep and he can't even wrap his head around how he could really be that bad of a singer. He knows that the acquiescence costs Regis a great deal though so it's not something he's going to question or push. He smirks briefly, shrugs and then turns his gaze towards the cabins as well. It's not a far distance, not exactly, but in the condition they're both in it's a lot. Too much.
But then his gaze flicks down to the bloodied fabric bound around Regis' hand, the paleness of his skin with blood loss, the glassy haze he'd last seen in those green eyes coming to mind and he nods, gritting his teeth. His hands come up to unfasten one of the braids that drape over his chest, blade slicing it free. Then he's reaching for his King's hand, gently lifting it, pushing his sleeve up a little so he can wind the braided fabric around it.]
Sorry, sir.
[Soft and gentle where his hands are firm, cinching the cord tight around his wrist. Tying it off, hoping against hope that it will be enough to slow the bleeding. Maybe too little too late.
That done, he shifts, grunting as he pulls himself not to his feet but to his knees. The right one he can't put weight on and is forced to shift his stance to only one knee down.]
C'mon. [He reaches back, cupping his hands behind him and waggling his fingers, clearly meaning for Regis to settle against his back if he can.] I've got you.
no subject
[He rather liked Regis' voice. Rich and deep and he can't even wrap his head around how he could really be that bad of a singer. He knows that the acquiescence costs Regis a great deal though so it's not something he's going to question or push. He smirks briefly, shrugs and then turns his gaze towards the cabins as well. It's not a far distance, not exactly, but in the condition they're both in it's a lot. Too much.
But then his gaze flicks down to the bloodied fabric bound around Regis' hand, the paleness of his skin with blood loss, the glassy haze he'd last seen in those green eyes coming to mind and he nods, gritting his teeth. His hands come up to unfasten one of the braids that drape over his chest, blade slicing it free. Then he's reaching for his King's hand, gently lifting it, pushing his sleeve up a little so he can wind the braided fabric around it.]
Sorry, sir.
[Soft and gentle where his hands are firm, cinching the cord tight around his wrist. Tying it off, hoping against hope that it will be enough to slow the bleeding. Maybe too little too late.
That done, he shifts, grunting as he pulls himself not to his feet but to his knees. The right one he can't put weight on and is forced to shift his stance to only one knee down.]
C'mon. [He reaches back, cupping his hands behind him and waggling his fingers, clearly meaning for Regis to settle against his back if he can.] I've got you.