W E S S E X
“It has?” Wessex asks, furrowing her brow in sudden concern. “I mean, I smell a lot of Wintergreen but that’s it.” She begins to check her visible skin as they head towards the infirmary - not quite alarmed, but definitely bewildered and concerned.
The infirmary itself is somewhat unfamiliar; when it had been Phoebe’s domain, the Ascended had carefully avoided it and its volatile keeper. And as an Ascended, there wasn’t much a traditional healer or doctor could have done for her. The cleanliness of the place makes her weirdly nervous - it wasn’t like the Remedy’s office - it was different. Wessex feels like she doesn’t belong here. Still, she plops her stuff down on a bed and then sits on the edge while rooting through one of her bags for a second, smaller bag, which she presents rather unceremoniously to Isla.
“These are for you. Nate tried to tell me he’d look better in them, but I told him he doesn’t have the neck for it.” There’s the flash of a crooked, amused smile (because no such quip had actually happened) and if Isla opens the drawstring pouch, she will find a pair of very dark blue sapphires circled by a fine, silver wire that dangles from a small earring hook. It isn’t the most elegant work, but there has clearly been some effort put into it.
Then, like it’s nothing, she starts to roll up her sleeve. “Search or check up first, Madame Doctor?”
The infirmary itself is somewhat unfamiliar; when it had been Phoebe’s domain, the Ascended had carefully avoided it and its volatile keeper. And as an Ascended, there wasn’t much a traditional healer or doctor could have done for her. The cleanliness of the place makes her weirdly nervous - it wasn’t like the Remedy’s office - it was different. Wessex feels like she doesn’t belong here. Still, she plops her stuff down on a bed and then sits on the edge while rooting through one of her bags for a second, smaller bag, which she presents rather unceremoniously to Isla.
“These are for you. Nate tried to tell me he’d look better in them, but I told him he doesn’t have the neck for it.” There’s the flash of a crooked, amused smile (because no such quip had actually happened) and if Isla opens the drawstring pouch, she will find a pair of very dark blue sapphires circled by a fine, silver wire that dangles from a small earring hook. It isn’t the most elegant work, but there has clearly been some effort put into it.
Then, like it’s nothing, she starts to roll up her sleeve. “Search or check up first, Madame Doctor?”
The Wraith
