He hadn't expected the shake, but he returned it with a faintly bemused expression. The more she rubbed her head the more worried he became that she had something wrong with her besides the sanity-cracking shock of appearing in a completely new world. The revelation of a thunked head was less surprising after that and he nodded ruefully, leaving her clothing neatly folded as he rose to step behind her and examine the lump. "That sounds like a concussion," he murmured, feeling a pang of loss at the memory of his friend Isla, who had once taught him how to deal with concussions the more usual way, before magic had seeped back into his soul. "I'm going to use magic on you, if that's alright?" he double-checked, uncertain how she might react to that. Some Outlanders treated magic as if it were as common as clay and only to be expected. Others had a great deal of trouble wrapping their heads around it, while some treated it as some religious gift or miracle.
But then there were those who reviled magic, mistrusting or fearing it, and refusing its touch even when it could help them. Much as he wanted to be of assistance to Libbs, if she shied away from him he wouldn't force the power on her. But if she allowed it...
He reached out his hand again beside her. "If you're willing, rest your hand in mine, please. Hopefully this won't take too long." If she took his hand he would reach into his soul and pluck the strings of gold that represented his healing magic, drawing the power up and into his palm which warmed to the touch as energy flowed through it and into Libbs. She might feel the rush of warmth and hear a silent strain of music as the magic swirled to the source of what was broken and began to mend it, easing her pain and reducing the swelling as flesh and bone were soothed and renewed.
But then there were those who reviled magic, mistrusting or fearing it, and refusing its touch even when it could help them. Much as he wanted to be of assistance to Libbs, if she shied away from him he wouldn't force the power on her. But if she allowed it...
He reached out his hand again beside her. "If you're willing, rest your hand in mine, please. Hopefully this won't take too long." If she took his hand he would reach into his soul and pluck the strings of gold that represented his healing magic, drawing the power up and into his palm which warmed to the touch as energy flowed through it and into Libbs. She might feel the rush of warmth and hear a silent strain of music as the magic swirled to the source of what was broken and began to mend it, easing her pain and reducing the swelling as flesh and bone were soothed and renewed.
