[ From where he stands, he watches and waits as the magic passes from Aerith’s palm to Regis’ arm. Tissue, skin, and all else begins to repair itself under the guidance of her power, mending his wounds to appear almost as if he had never suffered the burns at all. When the magic settles with wisps of green light dissipating to the air, the lack of strain from pain is visible upon Regis’ face.
Somnus steps forward, attention sweeping from his appraisal of the healed arm to the woman sitting beside him. ]
Your talents are welcomed. We shall send for you another day.
[ There’s something dismissing about his words— a “that will be all” intonation, impersonal from his tenure as sovereign. Nevertheless, even if he speaks in a detached manner, his praise is sincere: Regis would not have recovered easily without her, and for that, she is due gratitude. ]
no subject
Somnus steps forward, attention sweeping from his appraisal of the healed arm to the woman sitting beside him. ]
Your talents are welcomed. We shall send for you another day.
[ There’s something dismissing about his words— a “that will be all” intonation, impersonal from his tenure as sovereign. Nevertheless, even if he speaks in a detached manner, his praise is sincere: Regis would not have recovered easily without her, and for that, she is due gratitude. ]