Amalia
For my part, I know nothing with any certainty
Amalia makes her way to the small upstairs bathroom while Oliver settles in, gathering some bandages and a one of Evie's poultices to put on the wound. True, her staff should manage most of the damage, but she wants to be thorough. And she appreciates the extra time to compose herself, the adrenaline of rescuing (?) the gourd having worn off a little.When she returns downstairs he's sitting and talking, his voice carrying well through the small space. Shaking her head dismissively, the Shield places the bandage on the table and the staff back into her hand. "It's alright. They've been extra aggressive this year." Kneeling beside the boy, she gently places the staff above his wound, willing the healing magic to work. "Though after last year... well. It's not their fault. But there's no need to murder them... delicious as they may be. There."
The wound has knit together neatly, only a small scabbing remaining. Sitting back on her heels, Amalia reaches for a bandage to wrap around his ankle, coloring a little at the unexpected praise. "What kind of questions? It's... Oliver, right?"
but the sight of the stars makes me dream
