Javert was wont to call it magic, even as he lived and breathed an excess of magic the moment he stepped off the parapet and followed Thirteen into the Folkmore abyss. Some things would take him time to process and understand to the fullest; magic, fairy-tales made real, his own transfigurations ranked among them. For now, he merely accepted what he observed in front of him.
Which was why the thought of prejudice never crossed his mind, and the glibness and fidgeting translated merely as un-ease, as the mark of a dishonest man. Though if Fjord were to ever discuss his own experiences, he might be surprised to discover that strange old Inspector Javert had more common ground in his background than he might have expected.
He traced his thumb along the gold lines, feeling the fissures in the flesh with a deepening frown.
"We might mend them, with some thread and a needle," he muttered thoughtfully, a hum that more closely resembled a rumbling growl than human speech. "I am no physician, but I've enough experience with rudimentary stitching to make do."
Lord above knew, he sewed up his own knife-wounds from street scuffles often enough. Doctors were not cheap, and he never wanted to waste more time than necessary with tinctures and rest times when he could easily wrap himself with a draught of alcohol, an iodine dip, and a quick self stitching job.
"Do you have any about you? Or spot any around this place."
no subject
Javert was wont to call it magic, even as he lived and breathed an excess of magic the moment he stepped off the parapet and followed Thirteen into the Folkmore abyss. Some things would take him time to process and understand to the fullest; magic, fairy-tales made real, his own transfigurations ranked among them. For now, he merely accepted what he observed in front of him.
Which was why the thought of prejudice never crossed his mind, and the glibness and fidgeting translated merely as un-ease, as the mark of a dishonest man. Though if Fjord were to ever discuss his own experiences, he might be surprised to discover that strange old Inspector Javert had more common ground in his background than he might have expected.
He traced his thumb along the gold lines, feeling the fissures in the flesh with a deepening frown.
"We might mend them, with some thread and a needle," he muttered thoughtfully, a hum that more closely resembled a rumbling growl than human speech. "I am no physician, but I've enough experience with rudimentary stitching to make do."
Lord above knew, he sewed up his own knife-wounds from street scuffles often enough. Doctors were not cheap, and he never wanted to waste more time than necessary with tinctures and rest times when he could easily wrap himself with a draught of alcohol, an iodine dip, and a quick self stitching job.
"Do you have any about you? Or spot any around this place."