Alexa could swear the room had turned into naught but a sea of whispers and endless eyes at some point, for all the nobility looked to her, gestured at her.

She really didn't have much else to observe on the matter. At some point between her decision to stay and the leave called upon them by Sister-Celestian Victorine, her mind decided it'd rather not remember the majority of the event, even though she was nonetheless conscious and somewhat functional. She could safely note, though, that of the nobles who had said anything at all about the resurrected girl, none had any useful, concrete information. Perhaps they ought to have left after all. Then again, they'd... she'd... almost certainly made the Order of the Transfixed Saint look pathetic. No, no, no, they'd never say that was so, not the nobles nor her fellow Sisters, but surely they'd believe they were weak, she was weak, by dint of her own flaws showing through.

She considered flogging herself for a while before falling to slumber. Instead, once she had all but torn the outfit given to her away and replaced it with her usual robes, only a minor alleviant of the tightness around her torso, her frantic mind dragged her to the dataslates of the local medical bay for some light reading.

Technically, it was the position of the Orders Famulous, the Thrice-Fold Tongue her own order's sister sect in that regard, to receive the teachings necessary both to maintain the faith of the nobility and monitor them for corruption - but it was also not unheard of for somebody to fall into the hands of a Hospitaller, only to fall into the custody (however short-lived) of the Sororitas when it was learned there was some subtle corruption in them. Records were kept of these events, signs to bear witness to, especially in those who seemed outwardly untouched by the ravages of Chaos, and Alexa forced herself to browse through them, slate by slate. Odd behaviour. Twitching or uncommon stillness. Tongues, of course. Naturally, what differences there were to non-Chaotic illnesses of the physiology. Internal mutations. Prayers under their breath, at times, in particular with no sign of the Aquila held or made. Even subtle things like too intense a glare or a glance pretended away from...

[hr]

Or perhaps she only dreamt of reading up on these symptoms, for she awoke the next morning face down on a table, distinctly recalling finding nothing of the sort in the civilian medbay. Yes, that was right. She'd only meant to look through the local logs for information on odd patients, using her own mind to reference the symptoms of corruption, and at some point, she'd clearly lost consciousness and imagined she was looking through such a secretive database.

...oh dear. She'd fallen asleep in a medical office. Apologising profusely to the head of staff for the inconvenience ("None whatsoever, I promise! I'd never deny a resting place to one of the Emperor's finest!" And yet, the matter concerned the Hospitaller long after the fact), she returned to her room, caught up on the flogging she'd proposed to herself last night for about fifteen minutes whilst praying vigorously for forgiveness, abluted herself of the aftermath, then- with servitor assistance, an unusual but reasonable enough affair- finally returned to wearing her power armour and all the associated gear, the constricting space a blessing that at last, paradoxically, allowed her heartrate to slow and her breathing to slow after most of a night of forcibly-repressed hyperventilation.

And the lack of decent rest chose then to strike her, as did the soreness from sleeping on her cheekbone with her back bent over. Not to mention the self-flagellation. Her morning meal consisted of a few of the various leftovers from last night's reverie, and a hefty dose of recaf that set her pulse racing in all the wrong ways again. At least it let her function somewhat normally. By the time she felt ready to present herself to the governor's emissary as instructed, helmet firmly on even with its faulty, aggressive vox, the average person almost couldn't tell she had been up half the night doing research.

And by contrast, Sister Dominica was exceptionally eager to meet the revived farmgirl. Would that Alexandra herself could be so optimistic; realistically, Sister Lisbeth was setting herself up for disappointment. But, optimism was hardly a bad thing under most circumstances. And if she was right, well... though nobody else would be able to see it, Alexa forced herself to smile. Yes, this was going to go well. She would believe it was going to go well. She had to believe it would.

[i]Emperor, may you show us the way. If this girl is truly one of yours, make it clear that she has received your divine blessing, or else let it be known that she is befouled by the taint of the Warp that we might purify that taint posthaste. In your name, we march ever onward.[/i]