[i]He soon sensed her aura of dislike and hatred, feeling the waves of emotions hitting him like gusts of wind, but didn't give it much attention. A Dragonslayer... he'd come across many, but some only bore the name for intimidation purposes. But here, this woman actually was one. He could feel it pulsing off of her; the aura that made his blood crawl. Alon drew a short bronze stick, flicking it forward sharply as it extended to about a metre long. At it's end was a glowing orb; it's surface a pearly white, the soothing light it gave off calming the tension in the air if only for a moment. It was set in three pillars of bronze just like the rest of the shaft, the weathered metal giving off a brushed look. Old, yet still functional. He closed his eyes in concentration, bowing down to both knees beside the child. As he lowered the staff, the orb glowed with strength, a pulsing light sending waves of mystical illusions through the air. The waves met the child's body, running over him like the ocean's tide. His wounds and cuts and bruises brought the light to them like a magnet, the glowing staff sending more waves as the glittering pulses filled the cuts like liquid. With one final wave, the staff shot light outwards with force; the wave moved through the Dragonslayer as if she wasn't there, unnerving her. Like it was a gust of wind, the pulse blew away all the light encasing the boy's body, revealing him whole and void of any wounds, no scars or bruises left at all. The mage quietly put the staff away, allowing himself a smile before his face hardened once again, remembering the Dragonslayer was watching. As she had witnessed him perform the miracle, she'd seen many a people from the doors of the Dojo look on and point at the mage; a gesture of recognition. He realized she was still a person, but he loathed her presence. Reaching forward to pick up the boy, he muttered a few words to her.[/i] He needs rest. I'll take him inside. [i]Picking him up, he started to walk away before stopping.[/i] You can come if you want. He is your responsibility, I'm assuming. [i]The last couple sentences were forced, obviously through gritted teeth. He spoke without turning around, his steps a little sluggish from the miracle; whatever he had done had taken a toll on him, and as much as the boy needed rest, so did he, it seemed.[/i]