[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/181205/c7cf20dae40f22b5021b3131d6ad097d.png[/img][/center][hr]If there was a single word that could describe the personality of the girl before Ar'oa, it would probably be brazen. From the unfiltered expression of her emotions to her willingness to befriend even someone as strange as an anubis, Ar´oa was at a loss for words. Stephanie, as she had called herself, had no qualms with revealing the origin of her grief and explaining her artifacts to someone who was practically a stranger. He thought about asking Asri to confirm if humans were usually this honest, but didn't think it would be a wise idea. 

He approached Stephanie and enveloped her hand with one of his own, kneeling to reach it. The healing process would be faster if they were performing direct physical contact. That, and, he wanted to avoid the flashy appearance of his long distance magic when in front of those he didn't know very well. His hand looked gargantuan compared to hers, with fine black fur and gleaming canine nails that looked like polished marble. In less than a day he had gone from being one of the slimmest members of his clan to a giant among men.  

[color=d4d691]"This will require no effort on your behalf. Maintain a physical connection until I finish."[/color]

Ar'oa was a member of a clan talented in emotional healing, and while his gift of physical healing had certainly been an indispensable tool for living in such hostile lands, he saw it as the cruder art of the two. Physical healing could only alleviate pain and wounds in their most simple and primal forms. Emotional healing could lift burdens, erase grudges, spring forth joy and happiness. It could fill oneself with a calm that could turn the hearts of beasts into men. If physical healers were medics that mended things together, then the emotional thaumaturges of his clan were masters of unspooling the fabrics of the soul, threading and weaving to create something whole. He healed the effect, they healed the cause. He pruned the weeds, they uprooted them entirely.

Gazing upon the pained and tear-stained face of the girl filled him with an inner grief at the futility of his actions. He could never make her forget the things that the woman she had mentioned, her own mother, had inflicted upon her. He could only make the light bruises from collapsing disappear. And so he did, once again confining the theatrics of his heart to the inside.

[color=d4d691]"I am sorry that you have suffered. I have healed what I can."[/color]

He stood up, unsatisfied at his limitations.