"That's right," Glacius agrees, watching Carlisle turn over with some trepidation--which worsens as he sees that unsettling coloration. Despite himself he can't help but reach out to place his hand on the clergyman, rubbing his back above the ugly bruising slowly and reassuringly. "You're doing very well. I'm almost done, actually... it looks like you managed to mend the wound completely, so I don't know if I need to do much but clean you up a bit."
Taking a moment longer just to sit with his friend as he continues to run a hand rhythmically and soothingly over his back, he then gently pats Carlisle's shoulder and then rises so he can get on that. Moving into the bathroom, he grabs up washcloths, some soap and a bowl of warm water... then some bandages as well, just in case he uncovers any other cuts as he washes away the blood and dirt. His eyes also linger on the painkillers sitting up in the cabinet, but he ultimately passes over them; the clergyman has said those things don't help him much. Very shortly it's going to be time to put his glyphcrafting practice to the test.
For now he returns to his friend's side and sits down right next right to him; he's tall enough that his upper body is easily level with the couch cushions the human is resting on. The otherworldly being sets out the various supplies he's brought before him, then--after taking a moment to focus-- extends his hands and closes his eyes, sucking in a breath as he retracts the opaque white ice from his fingertips all the way down to his wrists. The process is painful as ever, but if his skin was left intact he wouldn't be able to wet the washcloth without it freezing over, and moreover he suspects prolonged exposure to his natural armor would be unpleasant for the human. Now prepared, he soaks the first washcloth in soap and warm water, then begins scrubbing some of the blood and detritus that surrounds the mended wound and streaks down the clergyman's back.
"How does this feel?" Glacius murmurs gently. If Carlisle didn't notice him skinning himself before, he should certainly notice the complete lack of chill coming from the alien's hands as they press the warm, damp fabric to his body.
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Taking a moment longer just to sit with his friend as he continues to run a hand rhythmically and soothingly over his back, he then gently pats Carlisle's shoulder and then rises so he can get on that. Moving into the bathroom, he grabs up washcloths, some soap and a bowl of warm water... then some bandages as well, just in case he uncovers any other cuts as he washes away the blood and dirt. His eyes also linger on the painkillers sitting up in the cabinet, but he ultimately passes over them; the clergyman has said those things don't help him much. Very shortly it's going to be time to put his glyphcrafting practice to the test.
For now he returns to his friend's side and sits down right next right to him; he's tall enough that his upper body is easily level with the couch cushions the human is resting on. The otherworldly being sets out the various supplies he's brought before him, then--after taking a moment to focus-- extends his hands and closes his eyes, sucking in a breath as he retracts the opaque white ice from his fingertips all the way down to his wrists. The process is painful as ever, but if his skin was left intact he wouldn't be able to wet the washcloth without it freezing over, and moreover he suspects prolonged exposure to his natural armor would be unpleasant for the human. Now prepared, he soaks the first washcloth in soap and warm water, then begins scrubbing some of the blood and detritus that surrounds the mended wound and streaks down the clergyman's back.
"How does this feel?" Glacius murmurs gently. If Carlisle didn't notice him skinning himself before, he should certainly notice the complete lack of chill coming from the alien's hands as they press the warm, damp fabric to his body.