Even Lorielle blushed at the playful smack, just seeing it was enough to make her turn her head and pretend she had seen nothing of it. Â The chore she was given wasn't so much a chore as something she had been waiting to finish. Â She began to approach Tobias again when the two started fighting again. Â If a punch was thrown this time, Lorielle would have had a hand in it.
However, the driver just turned and walked away, leaving Tobias be. Â He approached Lorielle, telling her where to find him. Â Before he could take a single full step away from her, she grabbed his arm firmly. Â "I tire of chasing you around," she said matter-of-factly, her voice a peculiar mix of humor and serious concern. Â "I tend to your wound. Now."
Before he could object, not that she thought he would, she took his hand and gently but rather swiftly moved it away from the wound. Â She cringed at what she saw, moving her hand back involuntarily in shock. She looked back at the wound, the blood dried, and the stitching enough to make her stomach churn. Â She looked up into Tobias's dark eyes with sincere disbelief and worry.
"Tobias," she muttered, lowering her head and shaking it slightly. Â "Why didn't you come to me." Â Her brows bowed with overwhelming sadness as she softly and somewhat absent-mindedly touched near the stitching. Â "We have to fix this right away," she said, more to herself than to Tobias.
She withdrew her hand, grabbing her staff from over her shoulder. Â "You might want to find a comfortable place to sit for a while," she said. Â "I'm not letting you move around very much until you heal." Â The thought of the driver flashed through her mind for just a brief moment. Â If he ordered him to do something, she would stuff the head of her staff between his teeth.
However, the driver just turned and walked away, leaving Tobias be. Â He approached Lorielle, telling her where to find him. Â Before he could take a single full step away from her, she grabbed his arm firmly. Â "I tire of chasing you around," she said matter-of-factly, her voice a peculiar mix of humor and serious concern. Â "I tend to your wound. Now."
Before he could object, not that she thought he would, she took his hand and gently but rather swiftly moved it away from the wound. Â She cringed at what she saw, moving her hand back involuntarily in shock. She looked back at the wound, the blood dried, and the stitching enough to make her stomach churn. Â She looked up into Tobias's dark eyes with sincere disbelief and worry.
"Tobias," she muttered, lowering her head and shaking it slightly. Â "Why didn't you come to me." Â Her brows bowed with overwhelming sadness as she softly and somewhat absent-mindedly touched near the stitching. Â "We have to fix this right away," she said, more to herself than to Tobias.
She withdrew her hand, grabbing her staff from over her shoulder. Â "You might want to find a comfortable place to sit for a while," she said. Â "I'm not letting you move around very much until you heal." Â The thought of the driver flashed through her mind for just a brief moment. Â If he ordered him to do something, she would stuff the head of her staff between his teeth.
