Linhardt glances over his shoulder at The Iron Bull. One of the soldiers acting as his escort to the ancient ruins mentioned that the Qunari was in a foul mood and seemed to be favoring one of his ankles. An injury, most likely, but the looks Bull gives them when they consider saying something has kept their mouths shut.
A practiced healer's discerning eye picks up on the issue far easier than any of the others.
While Linhardt wasn't asked to act as a healer for the Inquisition when he joined, that hasn't stopped him from aiding the injured when possible. His primary task is to research and locate power ancient artifacts and help retrieve them before their enemies have the opportunity, but if his sorcery is better suited to caring for a patient than another healer's, he won't object to lending a hand.
For this particular journey, Linhardt happens to be the only skilled healer on hand. He's fully prepared to aid the soldiers protecting him should any sustain injuries while keeping him safe.
Bull, however... well, he doesn't seem too keen on asking for assistance. Linhardt doesn't know if he's one of those people who hate the idea of healing through magic, or if he's just plain stubborn. Ordinarily he wouldn't bother getting involved. But if the others are concerned enough to tell him, and it is fairly obvious there is an issue, he can't just continue on without doing something.
The others might find Bull's stares intimidating. Linhardt is used to glares and stubborn soldiers who think they know best about their health, so those looks don't phase him. He falls back until he's walking by the Qunari's side and tries his best to keep up with the bigger man's much longer stride. It's fortunate that he's gotten used to long treks lately, or he'd have been winded far too easily.
"Ah, Bull? It's almost sunset, and I want to see you privately after we make camp. Your injury will only worsen without proper attention." No, he isn't offering a suggestion. And while Linhardt isn't Bull's commander, when it comes to issues of health, he tends to speak with a certain authority. Few ever reject him when he makes these demands, if only because they're surprised he has it in him.
no subject
A practiced healer's discerning eye picks up on the issue far easier than any of the others.
While Linhardt wasn't asked to act as a healer for the Inquisition when he joined, that hasn't stopped him from aiding the injured when possible. His primary task is to research and locate power ancient artifacts and help retrieve them before their enemies have the opportunity, but if his sorcery is better suited to caring for a patient than another healer's, he won't object to lending a hand.
For this particular journey, Linhardt happens to be the only skilled healer on hand. He's fully prepared to aid the soldiers protecting him should any sustain injuries while keeping him safe.
Bull, however... well, he doesn't seem too keen on asking for assistance. Linhardt doesn't know if he's one of those people who hate the idea of healing through magic, or if he's just plain stubborn. Ordinarily he wouldn't bother getting involved. But if the others are concerned enough to tell him, and it is fairly obvious there is an issue, he can't just continue on without doing something.
The others might find Bull's stares intimidating. Linhardt is used to glares and stubborn soldiers who think they know best about their health, so those looks don't phase him. He falls back until he's walking by the Qunari's side and tries his best to keep up with the bigger man's much longer stride. It's fortunate that he's gotten used to long treks lately, or he'd have been winded far too easily.
"Ah, Bull? It's almost sunset, and I want to see you privately after we make camp. Your injury will only worsen without proper attention." No, he isn't offering a suggestion. And while Linhardt isn't Bull's commander, when it comes to issues of health, he tends to speak with a certain authority. Few ever reject him when he makes these demands, if only because they're surprised he has it in him.