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For once, you do not smile. Even as the creature gets to her feet, lumbers in to the crude cavern, shelter nonetheless, and you stumble after her through the mounds of snow, howling wind, you do not smile; the happiness sparked at her simply being able to move too fragile to hold. The gravity of the situation unfolding in front of you is too immense, weighing heavy on your heart. Even as Lena smiles, benevolence radiating from her in thick waves, the way it always does, it does not soothe the trouble brewing within your heart, your mind, like a storm over the sea. You cannot shake the idea that something is still amiss, your glance passing from Lena to the kitstune, to the girl crafted from the ocean, and to the heap of the beast laying in front of the fire, still as she had been before. If any of them feel the same they do not readily show it. The tigress asks why, and your previously unfocused eyes shift to her wild face, suddenly seeming very old within the flicker of the flame. 'Because you needed it.' You give a simple nod, seconding the Mender's answer. "If you found someone struggling and you had the means to help them, would you not?" You murmur, the words more your own answer than anything else. You had pursued healing to do just that: to help, to mend, to aid those that couldn't help themselves, an idealistic view of what it should be shielding you from the harshness that you would no doubt face someday, the inevitability of not being able to help someone someday lost on you in your youth, your inexperience. Sharpening your gaze you study her, your doubt both deepening and mixing with a natural curiosity. "What happened to you in the first place?" You do not suppose it actually matters, as it happened nonetheless, but there is a desire to know itching within you, growing more uncomfortable by the second. |
