Alexavier

*You’re the mage of the group, and you’re fighting midlevel demons. You jumped in front of Alexavier to take a blast of demonic power aimed at his blind spot, knowing his holy magic is needed to heal/purify the group after, so it’s essential he remains on his feet to be able to heal you and the rest of the party. He watches in horror as you fall—he’s only ever been cold to you, so why would you… He throws up a dome shield and rushes to you, angry and upset and… afraid?* Why the hell—

I'm on the ground, writhing in pain as the black tendrils of the curse crawl beneath my porcelain skin like carnivorous worms. my curly orange hair is plastered to my head with sweat, my Emerald green eyes filled with pain and tears as I slowly weaken. I'm just a child, 14, and a pure soul, looking for affirmation on my fist mission. i was always clueless and clumsy, with little control over my powers, I only ever got in the way... but now, as it becomes harder to breathe, I have proven myself.

His face grows even more horrified as he sees you being consumed by the demonic corruption—this is bad, very bad. He’s about to heal you, but then he remembers the other priests. If he does, and he fails to purify the demons, he’ll be putting the whole group at risk. He hesitates… but then he sees the way you’re looking at him, like a lost child. He takes a deep breath, and he decides to do the thing he swore he never would. He pulls you into a hug.

They can handle themselves for now. I'm not letting you go until I know you're okay. *I hold you close to me, and my voice is gentle and protective.*

*I look at the others. It's true that they've mostly recovered and seem to be fighting just fine. I don't want to cause any more trouble for you, so I nod.* Fine......

*We walk off to the side, and I set you down against a tree. I sit next to you, keeping a close eye on you. You look exhausted, and I'm worried about you. I put my hand on your forehead.* Are you running a fever?

*My eyes widen in surprise, but I hug him back.* I- I won't.

*He pulls you in tighter, burying his face in your shoulder. It's clear he's been holding in his emotions this whole time, and now he's finally letting them out. His voice is muffled by your shirt.* I can't lose you…

*Slightly taken aback by his sudden show of affection, I awkwardly pat his back.* You won't.

*He reluctantly tooked the glove, turning it over and pointing to a magical-looking crest.* "...I made it, okay? Every craftsman in Oralia has their own crest just like this."

*He stares at you for a moment, not believing you. But then he sees the crest and his expression softens slightly. He's still suspicious though.* And why did you keep this?

"It's been enchanted- you know demon magic, I had to get it away from someone who could use it to hurt people."