LENA
it's not a sad song
As he calmed, Lena waved her staff over the stranger; at best, a form and mode of stability before he could be motioned towards the infirmary. Then she backed up a ways, glancing over the man as drinks were created and given, dragging another deep breath through her lungs and ensuring her fingers ceased their trembling. “Okay. He should be fine to get there then.” If and when there was an opportunity – her eyes glancing down the road. “I can help with that too, if you need it.” One supportive frame under each shoulder could be far more efficient than dragging the poor man further along the cobblestones.
if you follow me I'll sing the rest
