#adrian-arryn

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When the pair had originally collided in the corridor, he’d been insistent that he was fine, and for a moment she’d been inclined to believe him. But at the sight of blood and a skinned palm ( likely caused by the sharp slap of skin against the aging cobblestones as they both struggled to righten themselves ), she’d all but dragged him off in search of alcohol and fresh linens.

“Certainly isn’t the best of jobs.” She muttered, eyeing the hand she’d just finished wrapping. Though it would hold, it appeared sloppy - done by someone who lacked knowledge in medicine outside of the basics. Without thought, she brought the hand to her mouth - offering nothing more then a feather light kiss like her mother once might have before she realized exactly what she’d been doing. 

Flushing and releasing him, Daenys let out a nervous laugh. “Apologies Lord Arryn. My mother did something similar when I would return with bumps and bruises as a child. I had no intent on being so forward I just -  I must have gotten lost in a memory.”