Break me down and build me up
'Cause I love the adrenaline in my veins
There was no assumption on her part that anyone knew who she was; just the opposite, she didn't figure many beside the kings of Day and Night had any idea of even her name. She hadn't traveled to any court aside from her own, too lost in their own visions that she didn't spare a moment for anything else. Perhaps that was a downfall, the Dusk queen knowing nothing save the whims of her own people, but eventually she would have to make claim to the lands surrounding Terrastella if she was to ever be successful for Vespera. There were matters of discussion to be held anyway, so it was likely the visits would be had not long after her encounter with Inkheart.
She was grateful to the injured girl for her easy cooperation, the main concern in the sovereign's breast helping her to feel better. Rann held the idea that though wounds were probably warranted, the lasting pain was not; the job done was over with, despite however much involvement they had, and to heal quickly meant moving on to the next job sooner. It was not for Rann to decide if punishment was necessary or not, or if what they had done was just--merely, she was there to aid in treatment alone. So as the winged mare gave herself over to the painted body, the acting-healer moved swiftly to apply all she could in terms of medicine and bandages.
Willingly, though regretfully, the pain management potion was swallowed and she spared no time to assess the feelings of the girl; she had warned that the taste would be unpleasant, so her concerns were beyond feelings. She might have given a small smirk at the reaction presented, but it quickly vanished when spoken to. She watched the pegasus sink onto the floor, wincing, speaking again. Her mind was drawn elsewhere and she disappeared into the walls of the tower they were upon the steps of. But moments passed when she arrived again with a wooden rod and another bundle of cloths. Finally, she took the time to speak through the working and a smile replaced her previously tightly drawn lips. "I am Rannveig, chosen leader of Dusk." Her voice, through the harshness of her accent, was soft and she looked to the newest addition of her items. With the girl's leg outstretched, Rann continued to use her minor telekinesis to place the wooden stick over the outer side of the broken forearm, wrapping various cloths around to hold it in place. It became a stint of sorts, a temporary treatment to allow the bones time to mend.
The immediate damage (so she viewed) was taken care of, and she gave some thought to what was said. "There is no intrusion for one who requires help," the smile again taking over the shape of her lips. And though the girl could have probably, and just as easily, found someone else to care for her she went there to the Dusk Court instead. A salve of white-ish cream was what Rann took next, applying it to areas of superficial cuts and scrapes. In it held numbing properties, and she hoped it would at least help with the rest of the pain.
"You are of Day." She had stopped with the fussing and application of medicines, simply standing beside the downed equine with sea-green eyes upon her. The necklace of the day's sun was what she based such a statement off of.
She was grateful to the injured girl for her easy cooperation, the main concern in the sovereign's breast helping her to feel better. Rann held the idea that though wounds were probably warranted, the lasting pain was not; the job done was over with, despite however much involvement they had, and to heal quickly meant moving on to the next job sooner. It was not for Rann to decide if punishment was necessary or not, or if what they had done was just--merely, she was there to aid in treatment alone. So as the winged mare gave herself over to the painted body, the acting-healer moved swiftly to apply all she could in terms of medicine and bandages.
Willingly, though regretfully, the pain management potion was swallowed and she spared no time to assess the feelings of the girl; she had warned that the taste would be unpleasant, so her concerns were beyond feelings. She might have given a small smirk at the reaction presented, but it quickly vanished when spoken to. She watched the pegasus sink onto the floor, wincing, speaking again. Her mind was drawn elsewhere and she disappeared into the walls of the tower they were upon the steps of. But moments passed when she arrived again with a wooden rod and another bundle of cloths. Finally, she took the time to speak through the working and a smile replaced her previously tightly drawn lips. "I am Rannveig, chosen leader of Dusk." Her voice, through the harshness of her accent, was soft and she looked to the newest addition of her items. With the girl's leg outstretched, Rann continued to use her minor telekinesis to place the wooden stick over the outer side of the broken forearm, wrapping various cloths around to hold it in place. It became a stint of sorts, a temporary treatment to allow the bones time to mend.
The immediate damage (so she viewed) was taken care of, and she gave some thought to what was said. "There is no intrusion for one who requires help," the smile again taking over the shape of her lips. And though the girl could have probably, and just as easily, found someone else to care for her she went there to the Dusk Court instead. A salve of white-ish cream was what Rann took next, applying it to areas of superficial cuts and scrapes. In it held numbing properties, and she hoped it would at least help with the rest of the pain.
"You are of Day." She had stopped with the fussing and application of medicines, simply standing beside the downed equine with sea-green eyes upon her. The necklace of the day's sun was what she based such a statement off of.
@inkheart
