Everything has a place

Once Artorias had crewed up the bark she had given him and had confirmed she understood her direction by telling her he didn't want to sleep anyway, she allowed herself to settle again, laying near him and watching as he squinted out at the window. It was a pretty cloudy day by most accounts, only a pale light coming through the window from the snowy day outside, but that just spoke to how much the light was hurting him. At least it would be night pretty soon so there wouldn't be too much light to fuss over for much longer. Part of her still wondered if maybe she should go get Lúta just to triple check her work, but as she looked over the treatments she had put on his face and leg, she was proud of the work she had done. Was it the cleanest and neatest bandage wrapping or wound sealing ever? No, probably not. But it would do the job and she supposed that was all that really mattered.

She lifted her marbled gaze back up to his face when he spoke, listening as he questioned if he had done well or not and asking about their mothers being mad at him. She smiled softly and scooted closer so that she could lean over and gently bump her nose against his muzzle. "You fought a huge dire wolf by yourself and made it back here in mostly one piece. I'd say you did good." She had her own opinions on violence and fighting in general, but she could put all that aside for a moment to encourage her brother and make him feel better. She new logically that there would always be a need for someone like him to protect them - no matter how much she hated seeing him get hurt. It just gave her even more reason to hone her skills so that she could be here to patch him up afterwards. As for their mothers...

"I don't think Mom will be mad. If anything I think she'll be proud," she commented with a chuckle. "Momma though... I don't think she'll be mad, just... worried. And maybe just mad that you didn't call for help. But still kinda proud too." After all, both of their mothers were excellent fighters and she knew how much both of them had wanted their children to be fighters too. Neither of them had ever discouraged her passions for healing, but she always got the sense that Momma at least was worried over her not wanting to fight. "I don't think either of them can stay mad at you for long though. You're the favorite," she joked, though she also knew there was a bit of truth to that as well.

"Gwynevere" | "Eilwen"