what matters most is how you bring joy to life

[aparticularlyhollowlaugh]

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[albatrossomen]

Of course Jon wasn't, the mortals always forgot that part at those key moments when a Celestial's hands were most bound. Murmur was already bending the rules by offering at all, hell being there was teetering on the edge. He wasn't willing to risk Falling again on behalf of some stranger whose circumstances were wholly unknown to him. Granted, that did raise the question of what would he be willing to risk a Fall for?

Meeting Jon's incredulous gaze, he hesitated. There was one thing he could think of... though he wasn't certain Jon would much enjoy what became of that. He felt a knot twist, a sensation he was largely unfamiliar with... anxiety? Before he allowed himself to ruminate on it too long he moved, forgoing the reminder that a direct request was necessary.

"Of course. How silly of me."

The young man didn't have much time, and Jon wasn't in the mental state to handle arguing about celestial nonsense. Murmur didn't know what would come of this, all he knew was that he'd not actively defied his commands before. It terrified him.

Swiftly he knelt by the boy, feeling that knot grow into something cold and heavy that he ignored as he placed his hand on his chest, a warm healing light enveloping the young man. Murmur was not a skilled healer by any means, and it drained him rapidly to do so. Even still, it was better than letting him bleed to death. He could at least stabilize him before they returned to Navi, they would be much better suited to mend his injuries.

In the back of his mind he was dimly aware of a searing pain though his currently invisible wings. It wasn't like the Fall, which burned worse than death, but it wasn't terribly far off either.

He felt it would be best not to mention this to Jon.

[aparticularlyhollowlaugh]

The boy on the ground groans quietly as Murmur works his healing magic, but otherwise doesn’t stir or regain consciousness. The rise and fall of his chest settles into a more regular rhythm, a sign his breathing has stabilized. Jon sighs deeply, relief audible.

“Thank you,” he says, with a curtness of tone that also means finally, and he checks the boy’s pulse again, just to be sure. It seems better than before, but Jon still isn’t a medical professional. This boy isn’t completely healed, and he appears to have lost a lot of blood.

“We should get him back to the ship.”

[albatrossomen]

Murmur didn't much care for that tone, and didn't look Jon's way. He didn't understand, couldn't understand, perhaps. His wings burned, like fire ants chewing through his feathers.

He ignored it.

"Lead the way." Murmur muttered, moving to lift the boy. He was light, as all humans were to him, but long limbs still made him somewhat awkward to wrestle. Still, far easier for him to lift than for Jon who probably didn't spend much time hauling bodies around.