[ Adra has been frail since birth. His bones break easily; his skin bruises with just a little pressure; he fatigues quickly. As a child, he was given to fevers that boiled hot enough to sear a nurse's skin. His constitution has improved somewhat in Enprise, given training, but he is not destined to become a great warrior, charging fearlessly into battle.
Yet, he has never thought of himself as weak. As a healer, his hands see the most blood: his own, and that of the people he cares for. As a man, he understands his own limitations, and he presses on regardless. He is not fearless, but he is relentless. He pushes past his own frailty, and he suffers, but he persists. Is it strength to never a take a hit? Or is it strength to fall and fall and fall, and still get up every single time?
Adrasteius burns himself to ashes willingly, gladly. And then--he rises. Just like so many of his people have done. Just like he will continue to do, for so long as he's able.
He doesn't resist Gilgamesh's care. In fact, he lists forward, sighing, grateful. He is not often looked after, and to be sure he never expects it. But this gentleness, this meticulous concern ... he likes it. There's something fortifying in it, beyond what magic alone can do. A feeling that he hopes he offers to others through his own work, a feeling that he rarely experiences himself.
He murmurs another word of thanks, and then reaches for Saber, worried. He would have gone to her, but his own healing is still working its way through his body, and he knows he wouldn't have made it far. Once she's close, he'll extend his long, slender fingers; he'll brush gently against her wrist. ]
The Light will provide.
[ It's his simplest chant yet, but the result is significantly more complex. Chakra patterns appear on the floor beneath them, drawing themselves into shimmering, golden focus. The perfect, concentric circles hum like a choir as they form, as Adra shuts his eyes in concentration. Healing energy flows from the chakras, as sure and rushing as the waterfalls around them, surrounding all three of them. The warm, purifying magic seeps into their bodies, deep into their bones and blood, spurring regeneration and filling them with fresh strength. It is a spell of total recovery, and though it taxes his mana to do it, it requires nothing more than the most direct, earnest statement of belief. Such is the unbreakable nature of his faith. ]
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Yet, he has never thought of himself as weak. As a healer, his hands see the most blood: his own, and that of the people he cares for. As a man, he understands his own limitations, and he presses on regardless. He is not fearless, but he is relentless. He pushes past his own frailty, and he suffers, but he persists. Is it strength to never a take a hit? Or is it strength to fall and fall and fall, and still get up every single time?
Adrasteius burns himself to ashes willingly, gladly. And then--he rises. Just like so many of his people have done. Just like he will continue to do, for so long as he's able.
He doesn't resist Gilgamesh's care. In fact, he lists forward, sighing, grateful. He is not often looked after, and to be sure he never expects it. But this gentleness, this meticulous concern ... he likes it. There's something fortifying in it, beyond what magic alone can do. A feeling that he hopes he offers to others through his own work, a feeling that he rarely experiences himself.
He murmurs another word of thanks, and then reaches for Saber, worried. He would have gone to her, but his own healing is still working its way through his body, and he knows he wouldn't have made it far. Once she's close, he'll extend his long, slender fingers; he'll brush gently against her wrist. ]
The Light will provide.
[ It's his simplest chant yet, but the result is significantly more complex. Chakra patterns appear on the floor beneath them, drawing themselves into shimmering, golden focus. The perfect, concentric circles hum like a choir as they form, as Adra shuts his eyes in concentration. Healing energy flows from the chakras, as sure and rushing as the waterfalls around them, surrounding all three of them. The warm, purifying magic seeps into their bodies, deep into their bones and blood, spurring regeneration and filling them with fresh strength. It is a spell of total recovery, and though it taxes his mana to do it, it requires nothing more than the most direct, earnest statement of belief. Such is the unbreakable nature of his faith. ]