Isla
to share the space with simple living things, infinitely suffering
"A gilded cage is still a cage," Isla says with a gentle shrug of her shoulders, smiling softly to him. Now that he's cleaned and stitched and out of pain, the Remedy is content to let him rest here in the clinic, and she moves away to put away the rest of her equipment and to empty the bowl of water. Glancing back at the butcher as he speaks again, she can only wrinkle her nose in apology, waiting until everything is back in its rightful place before she returns to his bedside.
"Unfortunately no, I don't think so," she says. "I think it's one of those things where you just have to experience the bad thing not happening enough that it becomes the norm." But the mind, alas, isn't Isla's expertise, so perhaps she isn't the best person to ask about it. She can heal his body though, at least, moving to draw the blankets over him a little more.
"I've got a lot of paperwork to get through," she lies says, "so I'll be around if you need me. Can I get you anything else for now, though?"
"Unfortunately no, I don't think so," she says. "I think it's one of those things where you just have to experience the bad thing not happening enough that it becomes the norm." But the mind, alas, isn't Isla's expertise, so perhaps she isn't the best person to ask about it. She can heal his body though, at least, moving to draw the blankets over him a little more.
"I've got a lot of paperwork to get through," she lies says, "so I'll be around if you need me. Can I get you anything else for now, though?"
fighting off like all creation, the absence of itself
