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With a deceptively gentle ring, Hael's prison shattered ,spewing shards of precious crystal hurdling in all directions. Hael smiled to himself, it was about time. For the first time in eons, he could feel the kiss of starlight against his skin. The night illuminated every inch of his chiseled form, his clothing had worn out and disintegrated long ago. They had been mortal made, so it was to be expected. Reclining against the outside of the crystal cavern he turned his Icy blue eyes towards the mortal realms. He could see them moving below him, like tiny fragile ants. If they only knew what had just broken free. The though made him smile broadly as he ran his hair through his silvery blond hair. The night was young, there would have been plenty of time to stir up some mischief had he felt up to it. Truth be told, Hale was tired. Despite his seemingly endless imprisonment in that cavern in an enchanted slumber, his body had been unable to get the healthy rest it truly needed. The oily remnants of the spells that held him prisoner wrapped around his limp body and began to drip their poison throughout his body. Hael's eyes slid closed briefly, his breath evening out as his body responded to that all too familiar touch. His mind thrashed against the confines. He was so close to freedom, so very close, he could feel the wind against his skin, running cool fingers through his hair and kissing away the single tear that rolled down his face. The starlight shone tantalizingly through his eyelids and beckoned for him to come closer. He was lost, lost again in that cursed slumber. His struggles grew more and more feeble as time rolled past, his body felt as heavy as lead, if the spell was allowed to fully set, he could be trapped here for another decade or so, sleeping off this final trap laid by his most ancient enemies.

With a final pull of desperation, he threw every last ounce of strength and magic he had left at the alien magics. They parted, oh merciful heavens he was free! But time was short, within seconds his eyes began to droop. He scrambled to his knees and groped his was to the edge of the cliff. It was a long way down. Any other creature would be virtually liquified had they dared to throw themselves from such a height, even so, he would most likely sustain serious injuries from the fall. He glanced back at the clinging tendrils twining around his ankles, and flung himself from the cliff face. Aiming as best as he was able towards the large body of water near the base of his cliff.

The whistle of air as he fell tore the breath from his lungs and viciously battered his weak body. The water drew nearer, the impact would surely kill him. He had underestimated the height of the drop, vague impressions of color whipped past his vision making him feel sick as well as dizzy from lack of oxygen. The thunderous clap that sounded when he hit the water was deafening, water surged up around him on all sides, clawing its way down his throat and filling his lungs, his chest burned for air. His limbs were stiff as he desperately plowed his way towards air.

He broke the surface with a desperate gasp, feeling bruised and beaten from crown to toe. His long hair spread out in a fan of silver across the surface of the water. His feet churned in the water as his arms worked to keep him afloat. He felt nothing but a horrible exhaustion that threatened to overwhelm him and drag him underwater into an icy grave.

It took him about an hour to swim to shore, he aimed for the nearest light, and alternated between fast powerful strokes and desperate little paddles. When he first felt the sand beneath his toes, he felt he would die with relief. His steps were staggering as he made his was up to the beach and collapsed in an exhausted heap, his lower half still in the water. The last thing he saw before tumbling off into unconsciousness was the face of a pretty copper haired girl with very wide green eyes before slipping into oblivion.

The morning dawned cold and gray. Alura crawled out of her tent wrapped in a blanket and poked at the fire with a stick. Not even a hint of smoke, she glared at the black coals accusingly, the wind picking up as her temper flared. There was a sudden rush of heat and a hiss, the coals burst to life, dancing with sparkling black flames. Alura stared in shock, her powers had nothing to do with fire, she timidly looked down at her shaking hands and then back at the flames. There was no way...

A deep musical laugh sounded from her left, making her jump about a foot. She had forgotten about the stranger. His ribcage was crisscrossed with angry looking bruises, how had she missed those? There were definitely broken ribs. "Beautiful aren't they?" He murmured, running his fingers across his colorful skin. His accent was rich and strange, but the words were pronounced perfectly. He coughed thickly, his broad shoulders shaking with each spasm.

Alura turned without a word, and went back into the tent, she was limited on first aide supplies. There was a bit of canvas in the corner for rainy days, pulling a sharp knife out from her waist band, she sliced a wide bandage out of it and brought it back outside.

She knelt next to the man, "You have some pretty serious looking breaks there, would you mind holding your arms out for me?" He complied with a childlike obedience, always watching her out of the corner of his gorgeous blue eyes. She first felt around his torso with gentle fingers, pressing here and there to feel for jagged bone, hopefully they were merely cracked. She breathed a sigh of relief, no bone had pierced the flesh at least.
The canvas would chafe his skin if she put it on without padding, and she had only two blankets. With the nights steadily growing colder, ripping apart one was simply not an option. With a regretful sigh she began tearing a wide strip from her tunic.

The man was beautiful in a way that made her breath catch, and the way he watched her work made her heart pound like a drum. She was almost sure he could hear it from where he sat (In fact he could).
She finished her makeshift padding in short order and began to wrap it around his ribs, he hissed softly at the pressure against his wounds but remained otherwise silent.

The coughing began again as Alura began silently winding the canvas around his midsection for support. "Am I going to die?" He asked with interest. Alura glanced at him with shock, was his life so bad? He seemed almost... amused, "No, I don't think so, but we should find a real healer to take a look at these ribs..." He coughed again, his whole body shaking. The man lifted his hand and ran it through her hair gently, Alura jerked back into a defensive crouch, shivers running down her spine. How dare he?

He licked his lips thoughtfully, they were stained red with blood.
"Pity," he murmured quietly, before spitting up another mouthful of sticky blood.