"..." Well that probably explains the hand. Possibly. Adelaide hobbles to the nearest table to lean a hip against it and get weight off her bad leg, staff set aside for the moment. "Technically-"
And healers do thrive on such technicalities. "He is no longer an abomination. He is, however, under the jurisdiction of the Wardens as he is one of their conscripts. The Advisors deferred to Marian Hawke's previous judgement of him in leaving him alive- and the Wardens mind him."
None of that is terribly comforting- and none of that helps with the hand. She extends her own, lips twisted in sympathy. "We abide by the judgement of the Advisors. He is watched, he is kept from the young, and he does not live in Skyhold proper."
"He ain't watched very fuckin' closely, is he?" he asked, extending his arm with a wince. "Here, you sit down, I can stand," he said, standing up. It was his arm that was fucked, not his leg, and if Adelaide would move to sit, he'd perch himself on his desk so she could do whatever needed doing.
"I was trying to get food from the kitchens, right?" he explained. "So he comes along and says let's just go get the food they leave for us so we did and only then did he tell me who he bloody was. Did you know he ain't even sorry for what he did?"
"That is a fault of the Wardens, not ours. He is their problem. I mind him when he is in the healing tents of Skyhold, but I cannot watch him at all hours of the day." She has her own work to do and little enough time in which to see it done.
The offer of the chair is appreciated, she shifts to settle, straightening out her leg with a grimace. "I am aware of this, yes. It was foolish to think that in removing the spirit of Justice that possessed him he might see the wrong of what he'd done but- it felt worth trying."
Raylan gave a frustrated sigh, extending his injured arm again. "Little maggot's lucky this was the table, not his face," he said. He wasn't even going to give Anders the dignity of calling him a man. Even if he hadn't thought the circles ought to stand, Raylan was pretty sure he'd never condone killing hundreds of innocents.
"Whatever you can do for this hand, I'd appreciate it. Writing with the left sucks."
"Let me thank you for sparing us all the headache that would have caused." Touch light she cradles his arm in her palms, a faint blue glow growing where their skin meets and blooming in her eyes. A cooling wash of Rejuvenation for the pain- setting the bone will be uncomfortable even so but it must be done none the less.
"How long has it been-" She squints, probing the bruising. "...how long did you wait before contacting me?"
Raylan sighed as the pain receded, closing his eyes for a second. He didn't want to admit how much it had been hurting. "Thank you."
He was quiet for a minute, and at least had the grace to look a little ashamed. "A little while." He paused. "A while." Another pause. "What time is it now?" He'd punched the table mid-afternoon, and the sun had been down for a while.
"...manly stoicism. My favorite." It is very much not her favorite, honestly, as though her wry, dry tone were not proof enough. Her hands slide from arm to wrist, feeling for the break, nudging the bones back into alignment with firm presses of her thumbs. "This is going to be uncomfortable, but please hold still."
Raylan made himself breathe through the discomfort and did as he was told. He was glad, at least, that the discomfort never quite reached pain, with the spell Adelaide had put on him.
"So what happened to you?" he asked, once she'd completed that task. "I'll go ahead and assume you didn't kick a table in anger," he said with a little smirk.
"I took part in a ritual to remove a spirit from an abomination. The spirit did not wish to leave and became an irate demon. If I remember correctly it took me by the leg and threw me like a ragdoll." It had not been terribly fun. "It is also how I know Anders is no longer an abomination."
That was a lot of information to take in all at once. Raylan was going to need some time to chew on that, so he pushed most of it aside. "It ain't hardly worth that." Raylan honestly didn't understand how someone who'd committed such a crime was walking free, spirit or no.
"It was more about learning if it is possible to cure an abomination without walking through the fade to slay a demon or spirit in it's home turf and less about curing him in particular. He simply was the only abomination on hand for the testing." And therefore, worthwhile.
All Raylan really had for that was a vague harrumph. He couldn't deny that this was interesting information, even if he disagreed with the method. "Hope the leg gets better, then," he said, that being about the nicest thing he could muster.
"Given another month or so it should be mended. Your hand, now-" She flicks her fingers at him. "Will be stiff for a few days more and you will want to not overwork it, but before the week is out? You should be fine. If there is any lingering aches or twinges after that time has passed find me."
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And healers do thrive on such technicalities. "He is no longer an abomination. He is, however, under the jurisdiction of the Wardens as he is one of their conscripts. The Advisors deferred to Marian Hawke's previous judgement of him in leaving him alive- and the Wardens mind him."
None of that is terribly comforting- and none of that helps with the hand. She extends her own, lips twisted in sympathy. "We abide by the judgement of the Advisors. He is watched, he is kept from the young, and he does not live in Skyhold proper."
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"I was trying to get food from the kitchens, right?" he explained. "So he comes along and says let's just go get the food they leave for us so we did and only then did he tell me who he bloody was. Did you know he ain't even sorry for what he did?"
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The offer of the chair is appreciated, she shifts to settle, straightening out her leg with a grimace. "I am aware of this, yes. It was foolish to think that in removing the spirit of Justice that possessed him he might see the wrong of what he'd done but- it felt worth trying."
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"Whatever you can do for this hand, I'd appreciate it. Writing with the left sucks."
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"How long has it been-" She squints, probing the bruising. "...how long did you wait before contacting me?"
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He was quiet for a minute, and at least had the grace to look a little ashamed. "A little while." He paused. "A while." Another pause. "What time is it now?" He'd punched the table mid-afternoon, and the sun had been down for a while.
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"So what happened to you?" he asked, once she'd completed that task. "I'll go ahead and assume you didn't kick a table in anger," he said with a little smirk.
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She cured him. After a fashion.
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