don't know what we're doing

WC: 339

The symptoms of her condition were getting better with each passing day beneath the sun, its warmth melting away the mushrooms that clung to Ophie's form. If she'd been a better healer she would have at least attempted to try and find a cure by now but...Better late than never? So at the very least they'd be a little more prepared if this-whatever it was- returned some day. But she couldn't help but worry , if the Armada's more talented healers hadn't been able to fix it, how would she? Like she was simply just wasting her time, going through the motions to just feel useful. Classic Ophie stuff. Actually nope, no thanks. There was no harm in trying, it was better to try and fail then not bother at all, right? Right?

And so, Ophie lingered by the Sunset Falls and used a stick to gently poke at the ooze drooling from her shoulder, where a budding mushroom used to grow. From what she could tell the viscous fluid was probably harmless, nothing like the stinky and sticky ooze that seemed to drain every one of their energy and sense of mind. It seemed...thinner, diluted and watery as it rolled down the line of Ophie's twig. Like with each passing day it was crawling toward something good and natural, something that wasn't ashamed to be seen in the light of day.

With a thoughtful hum, she put down the twig and stood up straight with shoulders square. She breathed in real deep and held it for several counts, before exhaling slowly. If she'd tried to do this whilst sick she would have no doubt fallen into a fit of wracking coughs, but now she simply felt a little itch in the back of her throat. Further, proof she was indeed getting better, but why? Had the sun been the cure all along? What could the sun do that medicine and herbs could not? It didn't make a lick of sense to Ophie, but that wouldn't stop her from trying.