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Ashur "The leg feels better," says Ashur, seated on a medical table. The skin grafts and salves have done their work; the laser burns that scorched skin have healed over. Oh, not without scar, no-- the behemoth will always have those marks of his injury, stories writ upon his flesh in knot and tissue and burn. His murder of the Paladin in the shadows of Roswell is but one chapter.

"And the other injuries have healed well, my Kumo. I sensed a remnant of weakness while killing those raiders-- but that might be in my head more than the limb."

He's come to see her for yet another check-up, and have her tend to whatever wounds he still bears.
Kurokumo Mibojin      Kurokumo hums in good humor, her hands working busily upon the behemoth. She's really happy about something, mor than just tending Ashur's wounds. "It is in your head. You're doing splendedly." Whether she believe it or not, her man needs a little encouraging from time to time. Even if he doesn't realize it.
Ashur "As I thought," he rumbles, giving his leg a firm smack and squeezing the steel muscles that bulge beneath the skin. Fact is, beneath the absolute gargantuan swell of his thighs, he can't actually see the laser wound-- not without some funky flexing. Taking the pretty woman's word for it is his safest bet. "I will have to thank that girl from the militia; she lent me the cane, and keeping my weight off it let it recover."

The former Legionnaire smiles, reaching out to cup Kumo's cheek as she hums. "Without you, though, I would still be wounded; it's been your constant attentions that have helped most. Thank you." The brute can be grateful, too.

"Other than a few lingering aches, and some sore spots from the many bullet holes.. my flesh is strong, and constitution recovered; I stand tall again."

He flexes his hand. Curls it into a fist.
Kurokumo Mibojin      Kurokumo exhales, watching as Ashur demonstrates his composure and optimism. There's a niggling doubt that murmurs he hasn't fully regained his strength, but not of his physical prowess. His demons still haunt him. "You have shown me something I never thought I could know." Her words stop, the sentiment not easily expressed in that medium, but the hand smoothing along his knee does. She smiles gently as she givens a sidelong stare.
Ashur The man pauses in his self-admiration, looking from that massive meat-hook he calls a fist to the Asian woman's delicate features. "Keep your eyes on me, my Kumo, and you will spend a lifetime amazed," he declares; he is not a man given often to vocal boasting, preferring his body to speak for him, but this is a special moment. After his near-death experience, he once again feels power flowing through him; sure, the pain lingers, but pain is comforting when coupled with strength. "Through me and my works, our home will be built; I will safeguard it, and you will never need run again. There will be a place you belong."

He stretches the leg, bends it again, testing the knee. It does feel mighty. He leans forward to kiss the top of the shorter girl's head. "Mm.. there was a numbing ointment the girl from the militia clinic used-- a dark, goopy fluid that, when spread across the leg, turned from cold to warm and eased the pain, accelerated healing. I would like to know what it was. Such a salve would do me well."
Kurokumo Mibojin      Kurkumo's hand stills, her gaze falling to the floor as he touches her cheek. Always tired of running... Was it always that obvious? "Hmmm?" Her expression brightens, a shadow banished as she contemplates the curious ointment. "Sounds like I will have to visit the Militia Clinic to get the recipe. Anything, for you." There's a hint of eager yearning, something subtle that she hasn't quite realized herself.
Ashur "Her name was.. Lilu," Ashur decides, settling on the name after a moment's recollection. "A tall woman, dark skinned, stout enough-- a farmer who works as a medic for the militia." Standing, he presses his right hand to his left shoulder, rotating it-- repeats the process in the other direction. His every movement is tectonic; that size shakes the ground, rattles small appliances, and makes his bones grind loudly. It's a Herculean state. "Yes, find it; I would be pleased."