[say]"That didn't take long."[/say]
The Voice doesn't like this place either. The blood of all those killed in service of the heralds stains the pews and the walls, even though its long been washed away. She can still see it. Can still taste copper and feel the sticky slickness of lives being cut short. Even so, the Voice's blue stare is vibrant and fixed wholly on the medic before her.
[say]"I do not need to do a scan of your thoughts to know that there is something on your mind, Isla."[/say] The Voice notes pragmatically.
The Voice doesn't like this place either. The blood of all those killed in service of the heralds stains the pews and the walls, even though its long been washed away. She can still see it. Can still taste copper and feel the sticky slickness of lives being cut short. Even so, the Voice's blue stare is vibrant and fixed wholly on the medic before her.
[say]"I do not need to do a scan of your thoughts to know that there is something on your mind, Isla."[/say] The Voice notes pragmatically.