Alkor Centaris
Son of Liberty
Alkor blinked incredulously. Was his attempt at humor... not humorous? Social conventions were just not his forte, it seemed. As [member="Scherezade deWinter"] seemed to become more upset, Alkor brought his lightsaber perilously close to his body. The residual heat alone was enough to induce agony, and was often employed in close combat to cause a glancing wound that proved more than enough to disable most opponents.
Still, he held the blade steady, eyes screwing shut as he endured the hellish pain that came with the blade boiling flesh and sinew together, certain that he focused his thoughts on drawing the heat inward and lancing the wound at the cellular level. It was hardly proper healing, but he would not bleed to death.
That was his only concern, really.
After several long moments, he exhaled loudly and disengaged the saber, and replaced it at his hip. "I thought I handled it well enough," he muttered, "I didn't put my lightsaber through you."
He watched the skyline as the woman worked her earthen magic, waiting for any sign of their ride out of that place.
Still, he held the blade steady, eyes screwing shut as he endured the hellish pain that came with the blade boiling flesh and sinew together, certain that he focused his thoughts on drawing the heat inward and lancing the wound at the cellular level. It was hardly proper healing, but he would not bleed to death.
That was his only concern, really.
After several long moments, he exhaled loudly and disengaged the saber, and replaced it at his hip. "I thought I handled it well enough," he muttered, "I didn't put my lightsaber through you."
He watched the skyline as the woman worked her earthen magic, waiting for any sign of their ride out of that place.