[Cursed Crone] Injury

"You're bleeding."

Arianwyn wheeled around at the sound of the voice, though instantly regretted it as her vision lurched and a wave of nausea struck her. She would have fallen back over had an arm not grabbed her shoulder to steady her; though she flinched away at the touch, the hand gripped her firmly, holding her upright. She found her own hand reaching to grab the arm before she knew what she was doing, balancing herself on the offered support. Alright, maybe her fainting spell had been worse than she thought. Normally, she dealt with some post-unconsciousness dizziness and a throbbing headache but managed to stay on her feet once she was upright, but this time, even searching for the face of whoever was bracing her was enough to make her woozy.

After a moment to blink away the spinning world, her gaze settled on the face of an older woman creased with worry, and on pale blue eyes clouded with concern. Bleeding? The words were only beginning to actually enter her awareness, and it took her a moment to realize what had been said. She didn't recall injuring herself, how could she be bleeding? "Keep still," the woman chided, pressing a wound cloth to the back of Arianwyn's head. The silverweaver hissed at the sudden sting. Okay, maybe she had managed to hurt herself.

"The monster—" Arianwyn found herself beginning to speak, though her own words sounded distant, as though they were spoken by someone else. "I need to go after it, to stop it. I don't give a fuck if I'm bleeding while I kick its ass." Even she winced slightly at her own biting words in a rare moment of self-awareness, suddenly aware that she had cursed in front of someone's grandmother, and that she sounded like a crazy person. She might have fallen if this older woman released her grip, and yet she was claiming she would singlehandedly fight off a corrupted mage? Even Arianwyn knew she sounded insane.

The older woman tutted her disapproval, though Arianwyn couldn't tell if it was a comment on her language or her general demeanor. "No, you need to sit down let me patch your wound. You'll do no good in a fight if you can't even stand. I have supplies. Let me help you." she replied, though it was clear she meant her words as a command, not a suggestion.

Now it was Arianwyn's turn to be caught off guard by the absurdity of the situation. The grandmother holding pressure to her wound was in torn clothing, buffeted by the scraps of paper and fabric tossed in the wind. They stood on the edge of the ruined village, the woman's village. Her home, crushed to splinters under the claws of a behemoth. There was little left of this town to rebuild, and countless dead or missing under what was once dwellings. The monster that did this was escaping. And yet, here this woman was, offering what little supplies she had left to care for Arianwyn, a stranger.

Wyn's throat felt thick as she swallowed, ashamed in that moment that she accepted any help from one with so little. A bit steadier now, she carefully pulled away from the woman's touch, removing the cloth pressed against her wound. "I can't accept your supplies. I'll be okay. Save what you have for your neighbors and yourself." It was a plead, an insistence. She was a mage of the Order; trained and hardened for the field of battle. She could not accept the help of a commoner, especially when there were doubtless others around in greater need than herself. No, it was her role to help and protect them. Whether it was a moment of ego or a desperate wish to help someone so kind who had so little, Arianwyn stepped away and stood firm. "I am a trained battle mage of the Order, and it is my job to fight on your behalf. Find somewhere safe to hide and I will protect you and your people."

She could tell her words were hallow, an awful lofty promise coming from someone who had been, until a minute ago, passed out on the ground from overexertion. Still, her conviction was true: she was an Order Mage. She was trained for situations like these. Her purpose was to fight off the forces of corruption and keep Namarast safe and, by god, she was going to do it. Her jaw set and her shoulders straightened as she met the woman's gaze with her own, waiting for an argument, though none came.

Instead, the older woman's face was one of resignation. "Take care, young one," was all the reply she got before the woman squeezed her shoulder once more and turned away, leaving her alone. Arianwyn swore to herself that her words would be true. She had been offered a kindness and, though she could not accept it, she was determined to return the favor and avenge the destruction of this town. She found herself turning back to the path of the Cursed Crone.