VOICE // someone find me a really deep quote pls

[dashing]

FORM: aw yeah nah mate let’s have some mad crystal bants
SENDER: Herian
RECIPIENT: everyone
NOTES: totally cool for infirmary related folks to have assumed cr, also this is just a handy way for folks to not have known icly about her being back because 🎶I’ve been 🎶so disorgan🎶ised🎶

Good evening, this is Herian Amsel. ( No reference to Knight-Enchanter. ) For those joined the last year or two, I had previously served as Ambassador, prior to the departure from the Inquisition and establishment as a separate body. I have been returned a few weeks hence, but injuries and a— tendency for brooding and the dramatic rendered me disinclined to making my return broadly known.

( Look, look she can do a self-roast now. How far she’s come. When can she expect a medal. )

I think there are times when it is easy to lose sight of the reasons that bind us to a cause. The path we are set upon could wind far from the destination we had embarked upon, and we might not realise it until we are too far advanced on that divergence.

If you would indulge me... what drew you here, and what keeps you hence? What do you see us being able to achieve here that other bodies would neglect or falter in? Those who know me well are likely much fatigued by my own contemplations on honour and duty, but I would am most eager to hear your understanding and thoughts of such matters, as well.

And— ah, it seems my companion has undertaken the task of pilfering as many socks as he can from across the Gallows. If you have found yourself lacking in essentials you know to have been in your possession, I may be able to assist in their location.

( corgis, man. )

Comments

[dashing]

( Ah, her age-old dilemma. Whether it is more polite to continue to use a more formal address, or oblige the request for something that suggested a closer acquaintance than seemed right, in her mind.

A problem for future-Herian to deal with, instead moving to the cot and stiffly sitting, swallowing the sound of pain that came with approximately seventy percent of her body complaining from the effort.

Franklin, not to be dissuaded, shuffles closer and sits again. )

I apologise for him, he has a tenacity that borders on the absurd. Tea would be much appreciated.

sorry I missed the notif for this, whoops

[kantikoy]

It's quite alright.

[ Adrasteia notices the stiffness and doesn't point it out, opting instead to reheat the kettle elsewhere in the room with a touch. Once the water inside is steaming, she pours two cups of a raspberry-mint-smelling tea and offers one of the dainty teacups to Herian. ]

How is the range of motion in your arm?

[ Let's start there, shall we? ]

no worries, I was wrestling my internet a bit!

[dashing]

My thanks.

( She accepts the tea - with the arm with the wrapped wrist, rather than the one with the injured shoulder, which might be telling when that is her dominant arm. Rather than immediately answering the question, she takes a blissful moment to inhale the fragrance from the tea.

Alas, she can't avoid it forever. )

More than a little limited. ( The gash across it had been unpleasant, and when that boulder had her pinned against the rock face— she almost grimaces at the memory. ) I cannot lift it much at all.

<3

[kantikoy]

Of course.

[ There's a small step stool; Adrasteia pulls it close enough for her to sit and reach Herian easily where she sits on the cot but not so close that she's suffocating the woman, hopefully. On her way over she gives Franklin a little pat on the head. A note to self - dried meats for small dogs should be stocked along with tea. ]

All right. Do you mind if I take a look?

[ She wants to try actively healing it while Herian has it lifted as high as she can, to see if she can do anything to help speed its passive healing along. ]

[dashing]

( As she sits, Franklin helpfully rests his head on the stranger's knee. He can't help but notice that she is not petting him, and that seems like something that surely wouldn't have been overlooked on purpose.

Herian shakes her head at her wayward child, the suggestion of a smile present as she sets down the tea, and begins pulling off the loose shirt she had been wearing, to allow the warden to see the wound properly. It's relatively quick for the one arm to be slipped loose, and then brought over her head, but the whole shirt is slid down her arm as the final effort to remove it, rather than her trying to simply lift her arm to remove it. The skin is fully knitted together, but where the wound had been remains a livid red and inflamed - if anything, it looks worse than when last it was inspected, and Herian sighs. )

I have attempted to ease it with ice magics.

( Is that a bad excuse? It sounds a bit like a bad excuse for not bringing it to someone's attention directly. )

[kantikoy]

[ Adrasteia gives Frankin another double pat on the head as Herian disrobes. Sorry, sweet dog, but the Grey Warden needs to focus on the needs of Herian first, and then probably petting. ]

Not the worst idea. Ice magics will help with the pain, but not with the muscle stiffness, or this swelling. [ She reaches out to touch, carefully, mindful of the redness. Her fingers are warm to the touch; benefits of being mostly a fire and spirit mage she reasons and helpful in situations like this. ] I'm worried that this may be infected, actually.

[ She presses on where it's reddest. ] What does that feel like?

[dashing]

( She shared a similar concern, and thus in her wisdom, chose to avoid dealing with it. The longer it took to have such a thought confirmed meant it would take longer for it to be a problem, surely?

When Adrasteia presses on it, there comes a spike of pain so immense that it brings a wave of nausea with it, and Herian can't fully swallow the strangled sound of pain. It wasn't a hard, brutal press, and yet. )

Not pleasant. ( And then she has to exhale slowly, because that sucked. )

[kantikoy]

[ Definitely not. Adrasteia is worried that the infection could have spread to the blood, which is bad for this woman in particular; she's already healing from so much, there could be other complications if that were true.

Fortunately, she's already somewhat prepared the supplies and herself for that risk. ]

We'll need to open it up again, I'm sorry.

[ But this time she plans on applying a strong potion directly to the wound, once open, and clear the wound and the blood of infection that way. It'll be fast, but it'll probably feel terrible.

Healing potions usually do, in her experience. ]

But once we're finished with it, it should be fine. You'll need to take it easy for a little while, and tell me if it hurts again at any point afterward.

Do you want something stronger than tea? I have whiskey.

[dashing]

( Herian grimaces, and nods her understanding. Before answering the warden, she looks to the small dog. )

Franklin. ( He looks up, and she nods to the door. ) Go to Cosima.

( The dog looks for a moment, hesitate, and after another nod from Herian, he turns and scurries away. His willingness to comply with his training is sometimes doubtful, but there has been a lack of treats here, and if he is being instructed to go to Cosima, he can profit on her reliability with treats.

Herian looks to Adrasteia. ) He is very good natured, but has been known to come to my aid when more-- dramatic medical intervention is necessary.

( He bit a medic in the Inquisition once. The medic was fine, their boot was unsalvageable. )

I will take the whiskey, though.

[kantikoy]

I thank you for the consideration.

[ She'd have hated to be bitten by any dog agitated that its person was being hurt, even if it was for her own benefit. Especially a dog as cute as Franklin, if she's being completely honest.

Either way, there's a turn toward a small cabinet and procurement of one bottle of whiskey, along with another teacup. ] Sorry, these are all I have here.

[ Once it's poured she hands that off to Herian before seeing to knives. She has a set of very small, very thin, very sharp ones that are just for this kind of precise and albeit a little dangerous work; they've already been cleaned, at least. she only wants to cut into the skin enough to see the level of infection, not cut through anything that has healed beyond that. ]

Ready?

[ With a steady hand, once Herian has finished her drink, Adrasteia slices open the wound where it's reddest. She then uncorks a potion bottle and pours its contents directly into the open and inflamed skin, covering it with a bandage while it soaks in so none gets wasted. ]

[dashing]

( There's a huff of laughter at the apology, and she shakes her head - it's no bother. To think of how the whiskey is to be presented being a source of concern, in such circumstances as these, is a little funny.

The whiskey is thrown back - she makes a face at the taste, moreso from being unused to drinking spirits outside an Infirmary than as a commentary on the quality - and Herian exhales slowly, nodding to confirm that she's ready.

She covers her mouth with her hand to muffle the sound of pain, this time, teeth gritting hard as that wave of nausea and lightheadedness washes over her again. Her next exhale is shaky, and she reminds herself to keep breathing as Adrasteia sees to the wound. )

Please tell me that is not an experience needing to be repeated.

[kantikoy]

[ Adrasteia lifts half the bandage to watch the potion burn through infected skin and blood alike. It isn't pretty; the blood bubbles and froths very angrily for a moment, but after the count of ten or so it's done. There was enough infection present that the potion didn't restitch the skin together which makes Adrasteia glad she was insistent that the Knight Enchanter come to see her.

Who knows how much longer it would have taken the infection to reach beyond her shoulder. ]

Definitely not; I think we've cleared the infection. I'm going to have to stitch this closed, and then I'll give you another potion to take tomorrow, which should finish off what's remaining here. After that I want you to exercise it every day, even if it's just to stretch your arm over your head for the count of ten. If it begins to hurt again as it did before now, let me know, okay?

[ She smiles at Herian. ]

How is your thigh?