It is a very nervous woman that slips down into bar from the security office. She dares not lift her face for the shame of her actions, nor can even the brightness of her needlework lighten her mood. It matters not that others had fallen to such a dark curse, it is not an excuse, nor is it forgivable
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Unfortunatly, the fastest way to search is rather hampered by one hand wrapped carefully in bandages. Nothing too bad, but because the blood had been for helgisiðir, Svava would not heal them. So, she is heading for the paths nearest the bar, on foot.
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She has gone far without glancing back...
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And cold weather or not, the evening is still beautiful, and it is outdoors.
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A place that resonates with old magic...
And there she curled, panting, under a thin, worn stone arch. This was how she had arrived, and now it's presence was a solace.
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...but she did not run.
That single anction, staying, took more courage than any battle field.
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"Khemrys?"
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Nor did she expect a smile, and though her caution screams that this woman but leads a hunting pack perhaps...she still does not flee.
Instead, a single ear flicks in her direction.
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And perhaps it was she was used to people, no matter what the form, particularly when able to see the soul is the same, that has her walking over as if she had come across a human friend while out walking in the woods.
"I can certainly understand coming out here, after everything."
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A strange woman.
In answer to her words, Khemrys rolled slowly onto her side, stretching in the cold snow and snuffling a bit.
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Taking that as acceptance, Svava finds a relatively snow-free seat under the arch, next to the pard, sitting down with a happy sigh.
"With everything that happened, I didn't get much time to be out here." She folds her hands in her lap, fiddling with the bandages that cover the palm and fingertips of the left.
"But its all over now, thankfully."
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Finally would be another.
After a moment of adjusting to Svava's presence, she shifted her head onto the woman's leg, snow caught in her fur melting at the contact, but her goldly green eyes begged for...
...forgiveness...
Gentleness.
Then she sniffed the bandages gently.
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But the gentleness is there.
Svava's fingers curl inwards a bit, and she shrugs at the attention to the bandages.
"Helgisiðir. Rituals- one for healing Arithon after he had been shot, the other for blessing weapons to fight the Mist Wraith." Then her lips twitch.
"And also for me being silly and cutting my hands with my nails, by holding them too tight."
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But that's alright because Khemrys saves her the trouble. A silver mist and a warm wind, then Khemrys is kneeling in the snow and cradling Svava's hands in her own, peeling bandages away carefully.
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And the area around them gently warms.
Svava's other hand is healing, just that there had been quite a lot of incidents. The slice across her palm (matching previous scars of the same) was reopened by her finger nails, and there were small cuts across her first two fingers.
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It may seem strange to some that she lifted the bandages to her nose tosniff carefully, scenting the herbal mistures, if any, used on teh wounds...and then examined even teh smallest scrape upon her friends palm.
"Lady Svava...Some of teh nail marsk are growing infected...adn one of the scrapes. It is a wonder that the larger wound does not..." she warned as she tore a few small bandage strips out of her shift, unwilling to put old bandages on once more.
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