A trusting guy and a bonafide pacifist. [ there's an amused quirk to tseng's mouth—he's teasing, a little. ] And a lover rather than a fighter, I'm guessing.
[ he nods his agreement with cy's words, then pauses to watch—to brace himself, as it were, for some weird shit.
if he's honest, tseng is not expecting a knife to be pulled out of some—strange, terrible pocket of space. tseng has seen magic enough to know that it's possible, but he's not expecting to see it here, and for that reason it does put him on his guard. immediately, though, it's clear that cy is handling it in a way intentionally meant to keep tseng's hackles down, keeping it visible, keeping it in his far hand. "don't surprise a dude who's worked in torture" is a good golden rule, and tseng appreciates the consideration.
he takes a long drag on his cigarette, watches cy lift the knife, and tracks its progress as it plunges straight through the meat of his hand. he doesn't flinch, but his brows do draw together briefly as cy reaches out and tells him to pull. a quick turn of his head away to exhale smoke, and then tseng reaches out to pull the knife free in one quick, efficient movement. the wound begins to close almost immediately, muscle and tendon and flesh knitting itself back together, flayed edges of skin disappearing without so much as a scar. ]
I see. [ tseng flips the knife and offers it back to cy, handle-first. ] You have a flair for showmanship.
[ for a moment tseng's gaze remains where it is, fixed on cy's hand, his mind running miles per minute. would that he had his notebook here, so he could keep these thoughts elsewhere than his own brain. then he glances back up to meet cy's gaze, considering. ]
I'm familiar with the concept of healing magic, although admittedly on Gaia it would require the use of materia to achieve. I take it you're showing me this so I understand why any injury I do to you will heal immediately? [ finally, tseng licks his fingertips, pinches out the end of his cigarette, and tucks the butt back into the pack. no littering. ] Is it inherent to you? Your magic.
no subject
[ he nods his agreement with cy's words, then pauses to watch—to brace himself, as it were, for some weird shit.
if he's honest, tseng is not expecting a knife to be pulled out of some—strange, terrible pocket of space. tseng has seen magic enough to know that it's possible, but he's not expecting to see it here, and for that reason it does put him on his guard. immediately, though, it's clear that cy is handling it in a way intentionally meant to keep tseng's hackles down, keeping it visible, keeping it in his far hand. "don't surprise a dude who's worked in torture" is a good golden rule, and tseng appreciates the consideration.
he takes a long drag on his cigarette, watches cy lift the knife, and tracks its progress as it plunges straight through the meat of his hand. he doesn't flinch, but his brows do draw together briefly as cy reaches out and tells him to pull. a quick turn of his head away to exhale smoke, and then tseng reaches out to pull the knife free in one quick, efficient movement. the wound begins to close almost immediately, muscle and tendon and flesh knitting itself back together, flayed edges of skin disappearing without so much as a scar. ]
I see. [ tseng flips the knife and offers it back to cy, handle-first. ] You have a flair for showmanship.
[ for a moment tseng's gaze remains where it is, fixed on cy's hand, his mind running miles per minute. would that he had his notebook here, so he could keep these thoughts elsewhere than his own brain. then he glances back up to meet cy's gaze, considering. ]
I'm familiar with the concept of healing magic, although admittedly on Gaia it would require the use of materia to achieve. I take it you're showing me this so I understand why any injury I do to you will heal immediately? [ finally, tseng licks his fingertips, pinches out the end of his cigarette, and tucks the butt back into the pack. no littering. ] Is it inherent to you? Your magic.