Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-31049256-20170816034817/@comment-28358106-20170825180710

(Hound) Thomas looks over his shoulder at Marcus' hands as he lays Martha down on a nearby bench. His eyes widen.

"Good grief, Marcus, what the hell did you do, juggle axes?"

Lucida leans forward and peers at them, but then recoils. "Nngh! Jeez, uncle Marcus!  Doesn't that hurt??" She makes a face.

"Let's not berate the patient, Lu," Thomas says, folding Martha's arms over her chest so she doesn't flop around. He then turns and holds Marcus' arm, looking at his hand. "I'm sure whatever Marcus was doing was a worthwhile endeavor and not at all alcohol related."

He lets Marcus' arm go and rolls up his sleeves. "All right, hold still for a minute." He holds both hands above Marcus' palm, his fingers splayed. Dim coils of pale blue arcanum roll down his arms and thread through his hands, flowing through his hands and out of his fingertips. The glowing blue strands slowly lace back and forth, threading from one side to the other of the cuts on the palm, the skin and flesh mending as if the injury were happening in reverse.