Fisk jumped up a little, surprised as more people had flocked to the Request Board. He didn't know Elijah very well, a fact that Fisk scolded himself over, but he did know Christina, to some degree. He'd met a few of her celestial spirits, but he didn't really know her. There was always something hiding behind those confident eyes of hers. He slapped Tim on the back at the mention of leaving now, a childish smile on his face.
"There we go! That's the attitude you need, kid...!" He cackled. Fisk turned his head to Christina, giving her a nod. She's right, they should get going, and quickly. He turned and started walking to Armin, mentioning to their party that he'd only need a moment. His friend was not faring any better, and looked like he was about to pass out from fatigue. Fisk heaved his friend up, slinging him over his shoulder gently. “You’ve been out too long, buddy…” He grunted, trying to keep his friend upright. “…We’re leaving soon, too. You’ll feel better in a few minutes.”
As though on cue, a magic circle appeared over Fisk and Armin’s heads, quickly lowering itself over their bodies. In a short moment, the magic circle disappeared, and all that remained was Fisk. His eyes became split between his natural green and a familiar but foreign orange, with Armin nowhere to be seen.
The event was over quickly and quietly, and a soft breath of air wafted from the now fused friends. Fisk took a deep breath, put his hand over his mouth, and gagged.
“Urk! Y-you weren’t kidding about being sick, Armin…” He lamented as he lurched back to his friends. It’s true that when they’re fused, they can share their stamina to heal faster, but that also means they feel each other’s sickness. He returned to the congregation around the Request Board, a little more green under the gills (do you get it hahaha oh god I slay myself).
“Sorry about that, just bringing a friend along,” Fisk managed a smile, and stood himself straight. It’s a good thing he didn’t experience all of his other half’s maladies or he’d be draped over a table right now. “I’ll have to take things a little slow for a while, but we’re good to go.” Bowing in as graceful a manner as he could manage, he pretended to present the exit for his friends, resisting the sudden urge to throw up. “…Shall we?”
"There we go! That's the attitude you need, kid...!" He cackled. Fisk turned his head to Christina, giving her a nod. She's right, they should get going, and quickly. He turned and started walking to Armin, mentioning to their party that he'd only need a moment. His friend was not faring any better, and looked like he was about to pass out from fatigue. Fisk heaved his friend up, slinging him over his shoulder gently. “You’ve been out too long, buddy…” He grunted, trying to keep his friend upright. “…We’re leaving soon, too. You’ll feel better in a few minutes.”
As though on cue, a magic circle appeared over Fisk and Armin’s heads, quickly lowering itself over their bodies. In a short moment, the magic circle disappeared, and all that remained was Fisk. His eyes became split between his natural green and a familiar but foreign orange, with Armin nowhere to be seen.
The event was over quickly and quietly, and a soft breath of air wafted from the now fused friends. Fisk took a deep breath, put his hand over his mouth, and gagged.
“Urk! Y-you weren’t kidding about being sick, Armin…” He lamented as he lurched back to his friends. It’s true that when they’re fused, they can share their stamina to heal faster, but that also means they feel each other’s sickness. He returned to the congregation around the Request Board, a little more green under the gills (do you get it hahaha oh god I slay myself).
“Sorry about that, just bringing a friend along,” Fisk managed a smile, and stood himself straight. It’s a good thing he didn’t experience all of his other half’s maladies or he’d be draped over a table right now. “I’ll have to take things a little slow for a while, but we’re good to go.” Bowing in as graceful a manner as he could manage, he pretended to present the exit for his friends, resisting the sudden urge to throw up. “…Shall we?”