Isabelle grimaces as he digs in deeper. She swears she can feel the poison being pulled out of her and it's maybe not as painful as being bitten in the first place had been, but it's not pleasant. Still, she's endured worse, so she grits her teeth and lets him work. Whatever he gave her to drink is numbing a good amount of it anyway, and when she looks at him she thinks it might even be affecting Magnus, more.
And then he asks her how she feels. She knows what he means, knows he wants to know whether the poison is gone, whether she'll recover the rest of the way on her own. She thinks she'll be fine, in truth. She'll slap another iratze on to do the rest of the job and she knows she'll be back on her feet quickly enough. Magnus's magic is more powerful than just about anything else she knows, and he's done a good job. He always does.
But he can't fix what's really wrong, how she feels. She has no intention of going to pieces in front of him but she also knows that they've gone through enough together that he'll know when she's lying. If he knows what's happened it's a stupid question besides, so Isabelle lifts her chin and figures she'll give him a stupid answer.
"Fine," she replies, her voice stiff. She's exhausted and in shock and she could blame it all o that, on what's happened, but the more conscious she becomes, the more she recognises the anger burning low in her stomach.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2017-01-22 07:09 am (UTC)And then he asks her how she feels. She knows what he means, knows he wants to know whether the poison is gone, whether she'll recover the rest of the way on her own. She thinks she'll be fine, in truth. She'll slap another iratze on to do the rest of the job and she knows she'll be back on her feet quickly enough. Magnus's magic is more powerful than just about anything else she knows, and he's done a good job. He always does.
But he can't fix what's really wrong, how she feels. She has no intention of going to pieces in front of him but she also knows that they've gone through enough together that he'll know when she's lying. If he knows what's happened it's a stupid question besides, so Isabelle lifts her chin and figures she'll give him a stupid answer.
"Fine," she replies, her voice stiff. She's exhausted and in shock and she could blame it all o that, on what's happened, but the more conscious she becomes, the more she recognises the anger burning low in her stomach.