The Great Nate Exchange

Four demigods and a field medic. Isla has the feeling that she'll be the one excluded from that particular tale in the history books, should the time come. She dismounts the pegasus with a murmur of thanks to Sunjata, straightening up and smoothing out her clothes. Flanked on all sides by battle hardened warriors, all scar tissue and muscles and mighty cosmic powers, Isla is positively dainty in comparison. Her eyes land only briefly upon Remi before they return to Ronin. She wants to ask what he's doing there, given that he is leader of the Greatwood and not a part of this. But he is a part of this, and the reminder she gives herself is stern, but quick. "A ceasefire," she says, sparing the greetings. "Between Stormbreak and the Hollowed Grounds. We cannot stop our people from fighting outside of our regions, but we do not let the conflict breach our borders." Just to make sure they're all on the same page and all that. "And Wessex's splashback upgrade, in exchange for Nate's return." So saying, she turns to the Wraith as she kneels - and it isn't a position she takes lightly. How lucky that I happen to have a healing upgrade, she quips, reaching out to begin the process. Her fingers become skilled scalpel blades, and though the Remedy certainly is talented at surgery, this particular upgrade does not come easily, even while making a show of it. A spray of fluid speckles her face and the front of her clothing (so much for dainty), and its with a fair amount of adjusting and repositioning that she finally frees it from Wessex's vertebrae. "And you can of course test it, to make sure that it is gone," she finishes, turning to hold it out for either Ronin or Remi to take in all its gruesome glory. ISLA pray for me pray to me