That Lass Over There
Constant Panic
Fingers twitched, and then only seconds after her dim consciousness made an attempt to lift her arms, stopping after she felt the difficulty with which the action was attempted. Good. Someone stopped Feray before she could try to heal me. It had been one of Cecilia's primary concerns collapsing just outside the novice nun's room - even the most unskilled could attempt to pray to the Father and heal, but doing so could often exact prices on the unprepared. Sister Feray, barely able to invoke the Father's Grace with prayer and with no background as a mage, would simply be transferring Cecilia's own conditions onto herself if she unwisely tried out of some misplaced feeling of debt.
The second thing she thought to do was open her eyes to judge the time based on the light coming through the window, but when she did she found herself looking to the corner absent of an inquisitor sitting silently. No surprise there, even if Cecilia was disappointed. Well, at least she would get to preach to her junior with some life wisdom and play the part of wizened old woman? She'd certainly spent much of her woozy time traveling between the clinics thinking up all sorts of enlightened nothing-burgers to drop on the inquisitor so she might actually buzz off and let her enjoy the sights next time.
... Well, maybe teach her some actual life lessons about patience and not rushing life as a result. Certainly, wanting to enjoy her own limited time is only a side benefit, yes.
Looking to the open-air window after her distraction, she estimated herself to have only been out twenty to thirty minutes - the light coming through hadn't changed much for how late in the evening it was. She didn't look for too long, the strong light causing distortions in her addled vision and plainly hurting a bit.
She had toughed it through this far, but the dehydration she had accrued from healing so much heat stroke and other dehydration cases through the day was certainly near the top of her 'least favorite ailments' list. Compounded by the blood she had taken from herself due to a lack of donors endemic to clinics that typically don't work with clergy to heal the wounded, she was tempted to wave her hand and cure herself magical traces be damned. Especially since that plus one of hers is probably out starting her work on making this entire case a sloppily handled mess that could only be cleaned up with traditional inquisition methods, something the Cardinal wanted to avoid at all costs but was willing to stoop to as an agent of the Choir.
... So, she was pleasantly surprised when the room's door cracked open not to reveal Feray or one of the children, but the very inquisitor she had just been spending so much time thinking about. After a few moments of surprise, her dry lips parted, offering a rather flat "Oh." It was a pleasant surprise, but far from what she had expected given the attitude of the inquisitor today - especially a Daemon Hunter who had caught scent of a Daemon. "I had expected... you to run off, when I fell." She chose not to dwell on the thoughts of possibilities she was considering if the woman had run off.
Instead, she struggled to look at the inquisitor's hands, a difficult angle without raising her head, and questioned, "Did you brew tea?"
The second thing she thought to do was open her eyes to judge the time based on the light coming through the window, but when she did she found herself looking to the corner absent of an inquisitor sitting silently. No surprise there, even if Cecilia was disappointed. Well, at least she would get to preach to her junior with some life wisdom and play the part of wizened old woman? She'd certainly spent much of her woozy time traveling between the clinics thinking up all sorts of enlightened nothing-burgers to drop on the inquisitor so she might actually buzz off and let her enjoy the sights next time.
... Well, maybe teach her some actual life lessons about patience and not rushing life as a result. Certainly, wanting to enjoy her own limited time is only a side benefit, yes.
Looking to the open-air window after her distraction, she estimated herself to have only been out twenty to thirty minutes - the light coming through hadn't changed much for how late in the evening it was. She didn't look for too long, the strong light causing distortions in her addled vision and plainly hurting a bit.
She had toughed it through this far, but the dehydration she had accrued from healing so much heat stroke and other dehydration cases through the day was certainly near the top of her 'least favorite ailments' list. Compounded by the blood she had taken from herself due to a lack of donors endemic to clinics that typically don't work with clergy to heal the wounded, she was tempted to wave her hand and cure herself magical traces be damned. Especially since that plus one of hers is probably out starting her work on making this entire case a sloppily handled mess that could only be cleaned up with traditional inquisition methods, something the Cardinal wanted to avoid at all costs but was willing to stoop to as an agent of the Choir.
... So, she was pleasantly surprised when the room's door cracked open not to reveal Feray or one of the children, but the very inquisitor she had just been spending so much time thinking about. After a few moments of surprise, her dry lips parted, offering a rather flat "Oh." It was a pleasant surprise, but far from what she had expected given the attitude of the inquisitor today - especially a Daemon Hunter who had caught scent of a Daemon. "I had expected... you to run off, when I fell." She chose not to dwell on the thoughts of possibilities she was considering if the woman had run off.
Instead, she struggled to look at the inquisitor's hands, a difficult angle without raising her head, and questioned, "Did you brew tea?"
