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Grace lay blacked out in the bed in triage. How many had she healed? She had lost count. She could count the mortal injuries... 4. And one resurrection. It had started with Grand Crusader of the Scarlet Hammer. She had to break from the battle when she heard he'd fallen. He was out on another bunk. He, she'd given the most care and attention because after that... there was no time for niceties. There was no time to rest. Until blackness came over her as she helped Sister Kinria with the resurrection.
And even then, she'd been roused only to find another mortal injury stumbling into the triage - Dame Goodsteel with her innards becoming her outtards. With the help of 2 other spent Sisters and one spent Brother - they'd managed to bandage her up... then miracle of miracles, a fresh priestess walked in. Grace handed Jarda and the whole ward over to her and collapsed on a bunk. She would not be stirring until morning.
In her dreams though, they kept pouring in. She tried to heal them all. One after another. Blood... even the walls were caked in the blood. Everyone around her was dying. She couldn't keep up. The Bishop woke briefly only to pass back out. Tomorrow - she would make sure all wounded were moved from Theramore. Her gut told her she had to.
Novella collapsed on the bed at the inn in Menethil Harbor. Jarda seemed to be okay still, only time would tell. Wystan had kept a very good eye on her in her Eminence's absence. In her mind swirled the evening's events. Each moment a lesson for her. Each moment a step closer to what the Light meant for her. She sighed softly and closed her eyes. Peace drifted over her and outward. A quiet, knowing smile graced her lips as she fell asleep.
Edited by Novellagrace on 8/27/2012 11:35 PM PDT
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