@tiidecalling | continued from here
Sona pursed her lips as her fingers hovered cautiously near the wound. She looked down at the expensive dress Lestara had bought for her with a moment of hesitation before ripping off a strip of fabrc with difficulty. As part of a Demacian noble family, the woman had access to the highest quality gowns, but they weren’t exactly made for treating wounds. This would do none the less.
She nodded sadly at the seemingly vastayan woman in reponse to her question. “Civil war. Food shortage,” Sona signed. The musician gently touched the other’s hand that covered the injury, motioning with the scrap of fabric. “Can I?”
◦ Nami thought briefly of using her magic to heal the wound. It ached horribly however, and she was tired. Using the energy to do so would be unpleasant, and likely more difficult than she was willing to deal with. Rest would be better right now, then she could tend to it once she was more alert and better rested. For now, however, the young marai lowered her reddened hand to allow the maven access to the angry, jagged wound. Their weapons had not been well cared-for. Dull blades caused messy damage, even if it wasn’t generally very lethal. ❝ Civil war ?❞ Her brow creased as she mulled the words over. She had not heard that term before. It seemed like nonsense. ❝ How can war be civil ?❞ she asked, earnest confusion showing on her discolored features. War was a barbaric necessity at absolute best. At worst it was the darkest aspect of civilization.
