01-15-2019, 01:22 AM
cRess
Cress works quickly; she always has. She knows, especially with this plague, how much time is of the essence and when she needs to utilize her abilities. When Dawn had come to her, pleading that she go to the land with no healer, how could she have said no? Dawn had mentioned that Rhaegor was sick, and this was the land he had chosen to reside in, and though the two may be on the outs, she still thinks of the boy she knows so much about as one of her own children – she had watched the two of them grow up together, she cannot help it.
She can see the golden stallion approaching, a small smile on his face as he slowly picks his way towards her. He is in no hurry but she doesn’t mind; this is his land, after all, and she is but a newcomer standing on the beach. Magnus, he introduces himself, and Cress smiles widely, dipping her head respectfully to the monarch.
“I’ve heard much about you,” she says, her own voice as smooth as silk. “My name is Cress; my daughter, Dawn, summoned me when she heard that you lacked in healers.” She is drawn to help the helpless, as always. “I live in the Resort, just across the sea, under Tiphon. We seem to have an overabundance of healers on our little island, and I thought it would be useful to lend you my strength.”
Her head turns as another stallion stumbles up to them, this one dark gold and white and blue. Rhaegor. She feels her heart tighten in her chest and has to swallow a mouthful of flames as she takes in his emaciated, bloodied form. Startled, she glances to Magnus before hurrying to the young stallion’s side, using her broad, powerful hip to prop him up and against her. No matter their quarrels, this is her daughter’s best friend; she would be devastated if he were to die.
“Rhaegor, can you hear me?” she asks him, reaching for her abilities as she speaks. “Rhaegor, I’m Cress; I’m going to help you.” Closing her eyes, she floods him with her healing, reaching deep within herself to pull forth every bit of her power. She cannot force meat onto his bones, but she can ease his cough to just a tickle in his throat. She can heal his bloodied lungs and scratchy throat, and return to him the appetite (hopefully) that he has lost. She cannot do everything, but she can – and will – help him to the best of her abilities.
After some time – she isn’t sure of quite how long – she opens her eyes, sighing as she relaxes the muscles she wasn’t even aware that she had tensed. She had poured most of her energy into him to try and repair the damage that the plague had caused, but she knows that she cannot heal him fully of the plague. That is beyond even her capabilities; she is no magician, but she has to help in any way she can.
“Can you stand?” she asks him, voice thick with emotion.
@[magnus] @[Rhaegor]
infected.