"I told you to dress warmly." And Benevenuta had mocked her concern. Lightly, gently, yes, but mocked none the less as one did with...friends. That is what one did with friends as far as Adelaide could recall- she'd had a few in the Spire. One dear, most now dead, and that but a bare year afterward she is so uncertain-
No.
One chides (gently), one teases (gently), and one offers relief. That is what has her hand, pooling blue light, stretching out over Benevenuta's head to offer her half of the deal. Something for her skull and her drunken foolishness. Soothing magic spills from her palm into her hair, easing the ache of a migraine in a wash not entirely unlike water. "Nevarra is never quite this cold, nor this muddy- at least of what my sister would write to me. I have not spoken with Dorian as of yet. Is he as unwell as you?"
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No.
One chides (gently), one teases (gently), and one offers relief. That is what has her hand, pooling blue light, stretching out over Benevenuta's head to offer her half of the deal. Something for her skull and her drunken foolishness. Soothing magic spills from her palm into her hair, easing the ache of a migraine in a wash not entirely unlike water. "Nevarra is never quite this cold, nor this muddy- at least of what my sister would write to me. I have not spoken with Dorian as of yet. Is he as unwell as you?"