Ian- Loom, The Academy- Midday

Ian’s shock at Reates’ transition was immediately manifest in Ian’s response. Adrenaline pounding through Ian’s veins he rolled onto his shoulders and kicked his legs launching himself from the ground to his feet. Fidrieon reacted to Ian’s fear by shifting the keys of the flute so they sat between Ian’s fingers giving the flute a grip of sorts which made Fidrieon easier to use as a weapon. 

As he came to his feet his surprise response stalled as the rest of Reates statements got through to him. “My apologies, your magic startled me.” Ian wiped his lip and looked at his hand as it came away covered in blood from where Fidrieon had split his lower lip. He could taste the copper as he worked his mouth and tongue making sure that none of the teeth and been chipped by the fall. “I’m fine honestly but if you really feel the need to fix this I wouldn't mind. It’s been a long few days and one less injury would be greatly appreciated.” His legs and forearms were beginning to bruise from his earlier work out on the dummy and his knuckles had just been starting to scab over and heal from an earlier workout in the week. Punching the dummy had opened them up yet again. 

Ian pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut wrinkling his upper lip and turning up the edges of his nose. His eyes felt gritty from the lack of sleep which was just annoying at this point, in comparison, as the adrenaline had worn off and the energy he had felt earlier was slowly ebbing away from him. Ian’s arms and legs felt like lead and his lower back was starting to pain him. Realistically the only thing that kept Ian on his feet at this point was a will of iron and long years of learning to separate himself from pain. He’d spent the summer chasing a particularly nasty Angel through the Himalayas on behalf of the academy. The final fight had torn out his left shoulder and he’d barely staggered out of the mountains before frostbite had started to set in. His training was the only thing that allowed him to come out alive from the fight and then again when he was trying to make it out of the mountains fighting against freezing winds, lethal falls and more snow than Ian ever wanted to see again. 

His digits and shoulder hand been restored via magic but whenever he was tired it always seemed like the shoulder started to act up even if the doctors had assured him that all of the damage was gone. Ian didn't believe them but then again the shoulder seemed to function just as well most of the time so he didn't ever bother to pursue the issue. 

The whisper caused him to whip his head back up and his eyes to go wide, before he did something rather unusual. Ian pulled out a deck of cards and shuffled through the deck with a look of concern on his face. After he counted out all of the cards he frowned and put the deck back in his pocket. Seeing the butterfly he blinked. “Sir, there is a butterfly on your shoulder….” Ian sort of trailed off after that as though he were trying to figure out what exactly was going on as a look of mild confusion crept a cross his face. This prompted him to check the deck of cards a second time but getting the same result as before he frowned and replaced it in his pocket for the second time. 

[i]Ian….sleep calls, come play with me.[/i] Ian shook his head. “Apologies, I’m rather tired right now and I think it may finally be catching up to me. This was punctuated by a yawn and Ian finally slid Fidrieon back into its holster at his hip. Blood still crusted the head joint of the flute from where it had smashed his lip. Ian inhaled slowly trying to separate the pain and survive this conversation with a mage. Just his luck.