"Archeval," Eleven breathes, kneeling swiftly next to him. He hadn't expected the man conscious, though there's a haze to his eyes that tells him that he isn't fully focused. Likely exhaustion, but he doesn't waste time pressing the backs of his fingers to the man's forehead to check for fever.
"Hey, are you with me?"
His fingers dampen immediately, worryingly cool, but it doesn't feel like infection and that's enough in the moment. More sinister is the aura that feels darker than he's used to, disquieting in its intensity, but there will be time enough to worry about that later.
Eleven instead catalogues the dried blood and stuck carnage painted down the man's front. Hones in on the familiar shine of wet blood, shifting aside Archeval's arm and some torn cloth to better reach it. The press of the wet cloth is cool, careful in its pursuit of washing out the blood around the injury itself.
"Arche," he prompts in a tone that almost demands his attention. But his voice softens just as soon as he has it, pressing a gold bracer into his hand. "Hold this for me."
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"Hey, are you with me?"
His fingers dampen immediately, worryingly cool, but it doesn't feel like infection and that's enough in the moment. More sinister is the aura that feels darker than he's used to, disquieting in its intensity, but there will be time enough to worry about that later.
Eleven instead catalogues the dried blood and stuck carnage painted down the man's front. Hones in on the familiar shine of wet blood, shifting aside Archeval's arm and some torn cloth to better reach it. The press of the wet cloth is cool, careful in its pursuit of washing out the blood around the injury itself.
"Arche," he prompts in a tone that almost demands his attention. But his voice softens just as soon as he has it, pressing a gold bracer into his hand. "Hold this for me."