They began moving again, and Lunette bit down on the inside of her cheek at the movement, she could feel the cool night air against her skin, cold and wet with her blood. It was unsettling. Her entire situation was unsettling. Rescued by a strange man from a swift death, a man she shouldn't feel so compelled to trust. Yet she couldn't help herself. As they reached the pond, and he lowered her to the gentle grass, his demeanor shifted. Shoulders rolling the tension away, the set to his brows easing back, and dare she say he was rather handsome.
Another dry noise of pain was drawn from her as his arm settled her legs to the grass, and she was reluctant to even look at what ahd become of her leg. What if there was some sort if irreparable damage done? If it was useless? It didn't feel broken, fractured perhaps, but not broken. She didn't dare put any weight on it, but she found she had no strength left in it to move it much on her own. She gripped the soft fabric of her dress, and moved the torn fabric out of the way, and dared a peek over her knee, only to draw back with a distasteful hiss, her eyes closing. It was worse than she had thought - her pale skin looked ghastly against the blood, the edges of the wound flushing a deep blue-and-red, blood still seeping free from the deep and thick slices in her skin, she could feel the steady trickle. Her stomach gave a violent heave, and she had to swallow down the bile that rose.
The sound of shredding material caught her attention, and she looked to the strange man instead - a welcome distraction. She would protest - opened her mouth to - but he'd already torn it. It was his cloak, and the action takes her aback. She watches him move, now free of the burden of her weight - and he is strange. Oddly quiet, like a rough diamond, his movements were all with that same effortless ease - no, he was definitely not human. He was back at her side, then, dripping fabric in hand, and she listened to his voice, looking away from him as she caught herself staring (what was he?).
"The right thing?" She echoed, peering up at him, there was a moment of silence, save for the gentle trickling water, and Lunette pushed herself upright, straightened her leg with a gasp and wince, before settling back in, fingers threading through the grass, she exhaled - lips going pale, the flush from her cheeks long gone, leaving her looking gaunt and tired, her head was spinning. But she managed to focus her gaze upon his face;
"I have... nothing to give to you." She speaks softly, quietly informing him that if it's magic or power that he wishes to take from her, she's an unlikely and unfortunate target. Yet, still - she cannot help but think this may not be the case with this man, "...what do they call you?" Her voice still comes strained, speaking carefully to this man of few words, but still - anything was difficult with the agony still pounding through her, her entire leg was beginning to tingle.