doctor, doctor, will I die?

lily from what i’ve tasted of desire i hold with those who favor fire Watching Phoebe do the procedure on herself does alleviate Lily’s fears somewhat. She offers a wan, weak smile and then jerkily offers her arm back, sliding her sleeves up to reveal pale skin laced with blue veins. Whether or not she believes that she won’t die is another story, but there is evidence that this won’t be the cause of it. It is, however, the first time she’s encountered the term ‘blight,’ other than in whispers about the decaying Greatwood. How can the plants have the same thing she has? Waiting to see if her blood has the same black streaks (a fascinating thing, really - if she weren’t so tired, she would probably ask a hundred questions about looking at blood) as Phoebe’s, her mind drifts to what it must be like to be a healer. “How long have you had it?” she aks quietly, no accusation in her voice. Phoebe couldn’t have been the one to give it to her, she’s barely around the midwife. “And… how did you get it?” It had to have been someone else.