The feeling of the cold, wet cloth on Stella's forehead was a brief reprieve. Though the everwinter was rarely a forgiving environment, the heat of so many bodies permeated the inside of the infirmary, and that combined with the stress of caring for so many wounded had left the chirurgeon sweating more than usual. Once again, she'd lost track of how many bells she had been awake or how many bells she'd spent in the infirmary.
"It'll take you at least a full moon to recover," the Hyur said sternly as she finished a suture in a knight's thigh. "Don't expect to walk during that time; if you have to move, use crutches or ask your fellows for help." The wyvern attack had shaken Ishgard, but the number of wounded were thankfully few. The chirurgeon sighed and the latch to her surgery kit made a soft click. At least this one would live. Stella enjoyed a secret moment of victory, basking in a brief mental image of her standing in defiance of the Fury. Halone would claim one less soul today. Perhaps it was time to rest.
Stella's discrete elation was interrupted by a gauntleted hand tapping her on the shoulder. She fully expected there to be another knight looking for something or other, and that was an annoyance she could have happily gone without.
The chirurgeon turned and to her mild surprise, recognised the knight that deigned to bother her. Though his uniform was the same as all others, he had solid, handsome features, and a mane of sandy blonde hair complemented his amber eyes. The easygoing and apologetic smile on his face drained some of the tension out of her somewhat. It was...odd. This was only the second or third time she had interacted with him, and yet something about his presence felt almost relieving.
"Ser...Ashur," Stella said politely, fumbling slightly to recall his name. The exhaustion was beginning to set into her bones and despite her reluctance to return to the empty house, a comfortable bed would not go without gratitude. Yet, she couldn't find it within herself to rebuff whatever it is Ashur may have had in mind. "Is there something I can help you with?"
Ashur cleared his throat, as if unsure of what to say, a gesture that immediately sparked some of Stella's ire; she'd highly prefer if he didn't waste her time.
"The Lady Traidelle is here and heard that you were the chirurgeon helping her brother." Ashur coughed into his gauntlet, as if embarrassed of the nature of the request he was making...or as if he wasn't certain how Stella would react. "Though Ser Traidelle--ah, the Elezen I carried in--though he has passed, she wanted to speak with you before he is taken for interment."
It took all of Stella's willpower to resist groaning aloud, though she did afford running an exasperated hand through her bangs of chestnut-coloured hair. This was likely a purely ceremonial function, and a pointless one at that. Ser Traidelle was dead, and nothing anyone dead would reverse that. Halone had claimed him, and the Fury was nothing if not a stingy and jealous patron.
It was a habit of noble patrons to speak to the chirurgeons who had been treating their dead or soon-to-be-dead family members to thank them and offer prayers and for the chirurgeons in question to offer condolences and platitudes, a habit that Stella found wholly tiresome and completely unwelcome. She'd suffered through such weepy affairs before, and though she was quick to give Eaufault's name in order to escape previous occasions, to her misfortune this seemed to be the one occasion where Eaufault was nowhere to be found. Not to mention that Ashur was there when this Ser Traidelle died, and if he was as infuriatingly honest as the other Temple Knights, he'd have given her name regardless.
Ashur paused, and Stella suddenly felt uncomfortable beneath his scrutinizing gaze. She suddenly felt irritatingly self-conscious underneath his amber gaze. Were the bags under her eyes showing again? Hands trembling from weariness
"I can tell the Lady Traidelle that you had retired already, or that I could not locate you if you prefer," the knight said abruptly.
That sudden proposal startled her. Such a courtesy was uncharacteristic of most Temple Knights that Stella had dealt with before. Most of them, while polite, were still stubborn unmoving zealots; they'd beat the Dravanians to death with copies of the Enchiridion if they could. When Ashur had brought the subject up, Stella was fully expecting him to politely but firmly insist that she help minister a rite of passage, despite her not being remotely related to the Church in function or status.
Still, while Ashur's considerate suggestion was tempting, it put Stella in another predicament. For one, her pride would never allow Ashur to lie in her place--though she was tired, she was not so waifish that she would pass out if she didn't head home immediately--and for two, the fact that he was considerate to begin with made her feel somewhat guilty for leaving him with the duty of comforting the likely hysterical Lady Traidelle.
"That won't be necessary," Stella said. Now it was her turn to clear her throat. "I will see her."
Ashur gave a curt nod, leading Stella over to the cot where the Elezen knight had died. Ashur had carefully folded the dead knight's hands over his chest, his eyes closed. Again, Stella felt a twinge of annoyance at the meaningless gesture. This knight had died in pain from a wyvern clawing open his intestines; prettying up that fact this way was ultimately meaningless.
Standing beside the dead knight's cot was a noble Wildwood lady, dressed in black. Stella noted with some mild disdain that despite the news that her brother was dead, the Lady Traidelle had apparently still taken the time to apply blush and other frivolous makeup, with an immaculate silk handkerchief to keep the tears from smudging her eyeshadow. The whole spectacle nearly caused Stella's eyes to roll straight out of their head.
What a farce this all was.
Lady Traidelle clasped Stella's hands in her own. "Halone bless you for your efforts, Madam Chirurgeon." The Elezen placed a hand on the dead knight's cheek. Was this how all nobles acted, or was this particular Lady simple overacting? Stella would never know.
"Your...brother was very brave," Stella said awkwardly, folding her hands behind her back and doing her best to sweep the blood-stained ends of her robe behind her shins. "He faced the Fury with dignity." A somewhat sadistic part of Stella felt the slight temptation to reveal that Ser Traidelle had died in groaning agony; death was never a pretty affair, and it was about time certain people learned that.
Still, she wasn't that malicious, though she glanced at Ashur to see his reaction. To her ire, his eyes were closed and his hands clasped together in solemn prayer, his lips moving to some unknown hymn or litany. This was why she hated such superfluous functions. The ceremony did nothing to change the circumstances.
"My condolences for your loss," Stella affirmed stiffly, wishing the whole thing could be over as soon as possible. She'd have thanked Halone for splitting open the infirmary with one of her spears right about now.
"No, no, he is with Fury now. Her grace and Her radiance will keep him safe, now and forever," Lady Traidelle sniffed.
With his prayer presumably complete, Ashur gently placed a hand on the small of Stella's back, as if to ferry her away. The chirurgeon needed no further encouragement, and it took most of her will to prevent from sprinting away, lest any other enterprising nobles ask for her presence so they could weep in public.
"It'll take you at least a full moon to recover," the Hyur said sternly as she finished a suture in a knight's thigh. "Don't expect to walk during that time; if you have to move, use crutches or ask your fellows for help." The wyvern attack had shaken Ishgard, but the number of wounded were thankfully few. The chirurgeon sighed and the latch to her surgery kit made a soft click. At least this one would live. Stella enjoyed a secret moment of victory, basking in a brief mental image of her standing in defiance of the Fury. Halone would claim one less soul today. Perhaps it was time to rest.
Stella's discrete elation was interrupted by a gauntleted hand tapping her on the shoulder. She fully expected there to be another knight looking for something or other, and that was an annoyance she could have happily gone without.
The chirurgeon turned and to her mild surprise, recognised the knight that deigned to bother her. Though his uniform was the same as all others, he had solid, handsome features, and a mane of sandy blonde hair complemented his amber eyes. The easygoing and apologetic smile on his face drained some of the tension out of her somewhat. It was...odd. This was only the second or third time she had interacted with him, and yet something about his presence felt almost relieving.
"Ser...Ashur," Stella said politely, fumbling slightly to recall his name. The exhaustion was beginning to set into her bones and despite her reluctance to return to the empty house, a comfortable bed would not go without gratitude. Yet, she couldn't find it within herself to rebuff whatever it is Ashur may have had in mind. "Is there something I can help you with?"
Ashur cleared his throat, as if unsure of what to say, a gesture that immediately sparked some of Stella's ire; she'd highly prefer if he didn't waste her time.
"The Lady Traidelle is here and heard that you were the chirurgeon helping her brother." Ashur coughed into his gauntlet, as if embarrassed of the nature of the request he was making...or as if he wasn't certain how Stella would react. "Though Ser Traidelle--ah, the Elezen I carried in--though he has passed, she wanted to speak with you before he is taken for interment."
It took all of Stella's willpower to resist groaning aloud, though she did afford running an exasperated hand through her bangs of chestnut-coloured hair. This was likely a purely ceremonial function, and a pointless one at that. Ser Traidelle was dead, and nothing anyone dead would reverse that. Halone had claimed him, and the Fury was nothing if not a stingy and jealous patron.
It was a habit of noble patrons to speak to the chirurgeons who had been treating their dead or soon-to-be-dead family members to thank them and offer prayers and for the chirurgeons in question to offer condolences and platitudes, a habit that Stella found wholly tiresome and completely unwelcome. She'd suffered through such weepy affairs before, and though she was quick to give Eaufault's name in order to escape previous occasions, to her misfortune this seemed to be the one occasion where Eaufault was nowhere to be found. Not to mention that Ashur was there when this Ser Traidelle died, and if he was as infuriatingly honest as the other Temple Knights, he'd have given her name regardless.
Ashur paused, and Stella suddenly felt uncomfortable beneath his scrutinizing gaze. She suddenly felt irritatingly self-conscious underneath his amber gaze. Were the bags under her eyes showing again? Hands trembling from weariness
"I can tell the Lady Traidelle that you had retired already, or that I could not locate you if you prefer," the knight said abruptly.
That sudden proposal startled her. Such a courtesy was uncharacteristic of most Temple Knights that Stella had dealt with before. Most of them, while polite, were still stubborn unmoving zealots; they'd beat the Dravanians to death with copies of the Enchiridion if they could. When Ashur had brought the subject up, Stella was fully expecting him to politely but firmly insist that she help minister a rite of passage, despite her not being remotely related to the Church in function or status.
Still, while Ashur's considerate suggestion was tempting, it put Stella in another predicament. For one, her pride would never allow Ashur to lie in her place--though she was tired, she was not so waifish that she would pass out if she didn't head home immediately--and for two, the fact that he was considerate to begin with made her feel somewhat guilty for leaving him with the duty of comforting the likely hysterical Lady Traidelle.
"That won't be necessary," Stella said. Now it was her turn to clear her throat. "I will see her."
Ashur gave a curt nod, leading Stella over to the cot where the Elezen knight had died. Ashur had carefully folded the dead knight's hands over his chest, his eyes closed. Again, Stella felt a twinge of annoyance at the meaningless gesture. This knight had died in pain from a wyvern clawing open his intestines; prettying up that fact this way was ultimately meaningless.
Standing beside the dead knight's cot was a noble Wildwood lady, dressed in black. Stella noted with some mild disdain that despite the news that her brother was dead, the Lady Traidelle had apparently still taken the time to apply blush and other frivolous makeup, with an immaculate silk handkerchief to keep the tears from smudging her eyeshadow. The whole spectacle nearly caused Stella's eyes to roll straight out of their head.
What a farce this all was.
Lady Traidelle clasped Stella's hands in her own. "Halone bless you for your efforts, Madam Chirurgeon." The Elezen placed a hand on the dead knight's cheek. Was this how all nobles acted, or was this particular Lady simple overacting? Stella would never know.
"Your...brother was very brave," Stella said awkwardly, folding her hands behind her back and doing her best to sweep the blood-stained ends of her robe behind her shins. "He faced the Fury with dignity." A somewhat sadistic part of Stella felt the slight temptation to reveal that Ser Traidelle had died in groaning agony; death was never a pretty affair, and it was about time certain people learned that.
Still, she wasn't that malicious, though she glanced at Ashur to see his reaction. To her ire, his eyes were closed and his hands clasped together in solemn prayer, his lips moving to some unknown hymn or litany. This was why she hated such superfluous functions. The ceremony did nothing to change the circumstances.
"My condolences for your loss," Stella affirmed stiffly, wishing the whole thing could be over as soon as possible. She'd have thanked Halone for splitting open the infirmary with one of her spears right about now.
"No, no, he is with Fury now. Her grace and Her radiance will keep him safe, now and forever," Lady Traidelle sniffed.
With his prayer presumably complete, Ashur gently placed a hand on the small of Stella's back, as if to ferry her away. The chirurgeon needed no further encouragement, and it took most of her will to prevent from sprinting away, lest any other enterprising nobles ask for her presence so they could weep in public.
