The Guardian followed with studious eyes flickering about the vast interior of the castle. When dismissed, he instantly turned to enter with the female to tend to her wounds, before he was addressed by the Isk’Karra. Pausing briefly, the male looked to the being calmly and took his advice in stride, finding it perplexing that this creature somehow felt obligated to aid Kaden by requesting he tend himself also… as the warrior would have likely not.<br/><br/>After a stiff nod of acceptance, he entered the medical room, after sending a pointed look towards the strange woman that had appeared. “It is appreciated.” He offered politely, deep brogue carrying to her before he entered and the door was closed behind him. Strange enough that a deserted plane would become a marsh, a castle emerging from the earth… but a living creature… woman within? Upon the Godly planes Kaden had wisdom, understood much. Upon human lands, he felt naïve and foolish. Innocent as a new born babe when his sword had been bloodied countless times when guarding his artefact. Dismissing the perturbing thoughts, he finally permitted his broad shoulders to slacken in agony, and lay the girl upon the plush bedding. First matter, stripping his breastplate so that he would be flexible enough to tend her. Skilful fingers curled beneath the metal and his expression grew tense as he began to unclamp the tight metal which moulded to his muscles. It fell away and clattered to the ground, leaving his broad, blooded chest rising and falling heavily, his wounds from the lashings of the whips opening up once more and streaming him in crimson. The most severe of her wounds was upon her shoulder. Injured hand, a blow to her head had a smear of crimson on her face. Calm and collected, Kaden began to strip her chest plate, leaving her in a white shirt. His hands stilled…<br/><br/>Tilting his head a fraction, his fingertips skimmed down her jaw, curious as to the texture of her bluish skin. His eyes fluttered down her body and a muscle twitched in his jaw. The sense of adrenaline pumping through his blood was odd and distracting, though he managed to dismiss it barely as he kept his eyes from her lithe body and concentrated upon her fragile form and the wounds upon it. Her strange little weapon was set down beside her as he tore easily through her shirt to gain access fully to her shoulder. Finding his breath catching, the Guardian shook himself. What was going on with his body? A side effect of injury? It felt pleasant… yet torturing as he found his eyes on her chest, the soft mounds there. From then on he worked with deliberate precision, disinfecting her wounds, bandaging her, giving stitches where necessary. Then he sat on the edge of the bedding, reaching back as best he could to see to his own injuries. It was difficult. Rising to his feet, he steeled himself… and tipped disinfectant down his back, the alcohol like substance burning his injuries as he grit his teeth.<br/>