This was going to be one of [i]those[/i] days.

A single bead of blood seeped out of her left index finger, hazel eyes staring intently, as if daring the blood to drip down. It hadn't moved at all since she pricked it, though admittedly, she was more concerned that it happened at all. For years she had honed her sewing skills and enjoyed it personally as a hobby, so when she spotted the smallest of tears in her veil, she figured she figured it would be the easiest fix. She had taken a seat on her cot, veil laid out on her lap, needle in hand. As soon as she had plucked through the material with the thin needle, she felt the prick almost immediately. What irony that a holy garment would be indirectly responsible for drawing blood.

Rubbing her index finger and thumb together, Margaret let out a small sigh. She could hear people shuffling around outside the tent, and was tempted to leave her veil behind. No, that wouldn't do, her irritation needed to be put to the side. Still, she was suspicious; anytime she managed to fumble a menial task, it meant bad news. The likely cause was the worsening of the captain's condition, although she had left him stable when she went to bed last night. As she stitched together the tear, she couldn't help but wonder just how much longer he would last. There was a chance his condition would pass, but that was an optimistic hope. A bad feeling formed in the pit of her stomach, and she found herself sewing faster. It wasn't often that she let some negative thoughts influence her, but for now she would prepare for the worst and hope for the best.

Her thoughts interrupted, Margaret nearly leapt out of her skin as an unfamiliar sound soared through the tent. Her eyes were wide as it took her a moment to realize that it was likely pipes, and her surprise was quickly replaced with annoyance. Of all the things to be heard, who in the world thought that would be a good idea? Suppressing several unpleasant thoughts of maiming whoever was responsible, she shook her head, quickly braiding her hair as she decided it was about time she finished up. 

Oh yes, this was going to be one of [i]those[/i] days. Deciding to play the optimist for once, Margaret let out a sigh, though the song playing through the camp was admittedly distracting. "What a dreadful sound," She murmured, finding the sound difficult to ignore.