RP: Evelea, Cullen (cullen_fadewalk), Open

[meredith_fadewalk]

The infirmary stank of elfroot and embrium. It was unsurprising, since that seemed to be a commonality of anywhere the ill were aided in being brought back to health. For Meredith, it sparked memories she would rather her mind had lost to time. Unfortunate that they lingered, but it was of no matter in the moment.

Instead, she focused on the rough hay of the mattress she sat upon, the cool stone of the wall against her bare back, the formed leather of the grip of her Knight-Captain’s sword. The Enchanter had tried to insist that her spells would be enough to defend them if need be. Meredith hadn’t scoffed aloud, though only by the barest of margins. As though she could leave defense of her and hers to an unknown mage, trustworthy or no, sightless or no.

She had dragged the cot she'd claimed next to the door as soon as the Enchanter and the unknown healer had settled her Knight-Captain. The healer had left, giving the excuse of being needed for some other business. Perhaps he was part of one of their laughable trials, muttering of justice as he went, or some such thing.

Meredith sat - broken ankle on her cot, good foot on the floor and her hand trembling against the sword grip - listening for anything at all from outside. She did not trust that her circumstances could so turn for the better without something to try and foil it.

Comments

[evelea_fadewalk]

Evelea didn't have the supplies and the support she needed to deal with Meredith's leg right away. Not when it was complete madness to suggest that Anders go anywhere near the woman. A rebreak and reset was tricky and other than magical healers, there weren't any skilled surgeons in Skyhold that she knew of.

But she'd somehow opened an injured-Templar-infirmary and found herself watching over not just Meredith, but Cullen as well. She carried the tray down the hall toward the room she'd left her patients in. She had water and broth for Cullen, if she could get him to swallow, and a covered bowl of porridge for Meredith.

Her life had definitely taken an even stranger turn.

She tapped on the door before opening it and and announcing herself in a clear, calm voice, before entering. No sense in getting brained by the Knight-Commander for startling her.

[meredith_fadewalk]

Meredith sheathed her Knight-Captain’s sword when the Enchanter identified herself and sat back down as the door opened. A scent - rich and delicious - preceded the Enchanter into the infirmary, and Meredith had to close her eyes against dizziness. She tried to remember the last time she’d eaten. It must have been before she’d been abducted to this Maker-forsaken place.

“All has been quiet.” Meredith informed the Enchanter, swallowing hard to try and hide how her mouth was watering. “The Knight-Captain continues to rest quietly, and I heard no one approach.”

[evelea_fadewalk]

"I have porridge for you, if you're feeling up to something in your stomach, Knight-Commander." Evelea settled the tray with a clink and a rattle on the sideboard and picked up the bowl that she'd prepared for Meredith. "I wasn't sure how you liked it, but there are few luxuries left among the stores, so, it didn't end up mattering much." She huffed a soft laugh at herself and brought the bowl nearer.

"Would you like it now?" She stayed just out of arms reach, not close enough to loom or threaten.

[meredith_fadewalk]

Meredith swallowed hard, taking the time to keep from looking desperate. “That would be appreciated, Enchanter.”

She set her Knight-Captain’s sword to lean against the cot next to her hip and held out her hands for the bowl. Her fingers, bandaged and still recovering from being shredded nearly to the bone, almost failed her. Meredith lowered the bowl swiftly into her lap before it could spill, and blew on her fingers as though it were the heat that had bothered her. Not a subtle ploy, she was aware.

“You encountered no trouble on the way I trust?” Meredith asked. The Enchanter did not have any lingering excess of mana as she would have, had she needed to cast any powerful spells.

Meredith carefully bent her fingers around the spoon and lifted it slowly. Partly because she did not want to appear overeager, and a great part because she did not want to fumble a single mouthful. Her fingers did not betray her, and she needed to swallow again before she opened her mouth. Simple porridge had never smelled so good. The spoon bumped into her cheek, not her mouth, and a little porridge spilled onto her front. Meredith exhaled hard, resisting the urge to throw the spoon in fury and mortification.