Were this any other context, he might have chased down that topic a little longer — so Ness is elfblooded, like Gwenaëlle, who has her own complicated feelings about that very topic too — but her next words sweep it aside. So for now, the detail about the girl’s parentage is filed away, jotted down in that ever-growing mental dossier titled Ennaris Tavane.
(Some weeks from now, when he next reaches for that collection of studiously memorised details, it’ll be empty.)
But for now, Strange scoots his chair closer. The cuff’s still on, and active. The wound’s going to ache like hell once she removes it. “I’m going to prescribe you a potion, to heal that faster,” he says, first, nodding to the stained makeshift bandage and focusing on the most pressing logistics. And then —
“Can I see your hands?”
He won’t dismiss Ness’ fears right off the bat. All the rifters’ mutations had faded so much sooner, but the sample size of their group was small enough that it’s still worth verifying with his own eyes, just in case; he shares a bed with someone with faerie wings, after all.
no subject
(Some weeks from now, when he next reaches for that collection of studiously memorised details, it’ll be empty.)
But for now, Strange scoots his chair closer. The cuff’s still on, and active. The wound’s going to ache like hell once she removes it. “I’m going to prescribe you a potion, to heal that faster,” he says, first, nodding to the stained makeshift bandage and focusing on the most pressing logistics. And then —
“Can I see your hands?”
He won’t dismiss Ness’ fears right off the bat. All the rifters’ mutations had faded so much sooner, but the sample size of their group was small enough that it’s still worth verifying with his own eyes, just in case; he shares a bed with someone with faerie wings, after all.