[center][h2][b][color=#d31c0a]Deo’Irah[/color][/b][/h2][/center]


Irah bustled past the giant of a man guarding the doorway the moment he permitted it, her mouth forming the shapes necessary to say [color=#d31c0a][b][i]“thank you”[/i][/b][/color], though no words came out. She caught the attention of the half-Palanter Madara very briefly, and the anticipation and tension within her eased significantly. The first thing she noticed was the sleeves: a colleague of hers, a barber-surgeon, was always meticulous about keeping his sleeves pristine, though the rest of his clothes often got to luxuriate in the rewards of his sanguinary work. He was more… elegant and refined, of course, being a true deigan–but there was something very sharp and striking about the figure of this apparent surgeon too that made the corner of her mouth wrinkle happily at the thought. She wasted no time indulging herself in these thoughts when there were those in need, however, and as she immediately directed her attention towards the one that Madara had pointed out to her. 

From the corner of her eye she saw a yet-hale Fadewatcher scrambling to put a pot of water on the fire, and with her free right hand she beckoned him to put the pot down and directed some small measure of her focus towards the water in it. She could almost feel the water within it, the placidity and stillness reminiscent of what it felt like to use her magic, and she instead pushed forth all of the urgency she could muster and released it from herself as pure energy (accompanied by a quick prayer in Fermian asking Arhoun for his blessing). It would take a few seconds, to be certain, but the water first began to bubble gently at the edges before giving way to a rolling boil. She settled the water again, leaving faint trails of steam to wisp up into the air, before nodding at Madara. [color=#d31c0a][b]“The water’s boiled--I have two healing potions with me, but could make more in… maybe an hour, all told.”[/b][/color] she spoke, her voice quick and calm.

[color=#d31c0a][i][b]"We’re not too late for these men–between myself and this surgeon, we should be able to administer Reina’s mercy without exposing them to the taint… He would expire from the taint before we could restore his fingers, but that head wound looks serious."[/b][/i][/color] she spoke internally, beckoning forth Kinder’s divine magic as she walked towards the bed and bent down ever-so-slightly to get a better look. Head wounds were rarely the sort of thing one wanted to leave to the surgeon’s knife if it could be helped: such a precious part of the body was easy to damage, and there was inevitably trauma when one delved into the innards of any mundane creature with a sharp blade. [color=#d31c0a][b]”Blessed Reina, mother of Mercy, may your light shine forth and banish the Wanderer’s spectre.”[/b][/color] she spoke, the prayer leaving her lips less as a conduit for the power she beckoned, and more to give the others the impression she was little more than one who wielded Reina’s favoured power. Truthfully, it was also a legitimate prayer: these were likely innocent men who had sought only to defend themselves and Deo’Irah’s heart fluttered at the thought of their noble sacrifice to protect what they had. Though she’d brought many back from the brink of death in her many, many years as a healer she never once questioned the motives of the people who received of Reina’s beneficence–but she did always prefer to heal those who were truly worthy of mercy.

She arched her hands delicately as she went to investigate the wound more closely, certain to heal only as much as could not be done through alchemical, internally magical, or physical means.