11-11-2017, 09:38 PM
When the pair well-experienced in the arts of healing and generally trusted in Putting Shit Back Together Again had arrived to find reality raw both in how it felt in compatibility with the world, and in the sense of the scene before them. Will was wide-eyed with a pulse, but otherwise gone to the world. Ned was coughing and drooling blood prone on the floor, and Margot was propped weakly in a chair with weak red trails where the bloody water of her wet hair had dripped over her face and neck. Her expression was miserable, hating the state in which her home and Cabal had been left. Eyes hopped over to Kiara and Doc when they entered the room, and followed Doc over to Ned to watch anxiously as he plunked out the familiar old chemistry set and set to work.
This delayed her recognition of Kiara in front of her, so she appeared slightly alarmed to feel the hand pass across her brow. This made the air around her flex and cringe and seethe, but the elder Verbena didn't hesitate and still mended the bruises and cracks to her body and took the ache from her breathing once more. The little witch with the wild whipping aura of ancient-feeling Magick (ancient as the Goddess, primordial) lifted her head from her hand, but slowly, and blinked a few times. Stared at Kiara, but didn't seem to have any words in her to offer the thanks that echoed in her eyes. She was distracted, reasonably, by her own state, the events that had just transpired, Will's state on the floor (her eyes had passed to check on him twice while she was being healed), and by the outcome of Doc's jabbing Ned mercilessly in the face with a needle.
Relief relaxed her brow when Ned was sitting upright and no more struggling for breath, grappling for full consciousness. The appearance of impressive cake selections hardly seemed to register initially, and when Ned asked if she was the one that was alright her lower lip tucked and trembled like she was going to start crying (surprise to actually no one), but before she could answer the bickering broke out.
Stresses and tension ran high and Margot looked between the two as the argument unfurled. Partway through she tucked her head into her hands once more and rubbed her fingers into her scalp and temples-- internally, the Goddess of Victory supped the potential for violence that mingled with the unhinged nature to the atmosphere, but Margot was exhausted somewhere deeper than her bones alone. Many other nights she would have interrupted (read: joined in on) the fighting with her own voice, but tonight she was slow and tired.
Thankfully there was Kiara, and she put an end to the argument in one of the more memorable ways that she'd likely see. Following that, she made a point, recalling their attention to William on the floor. Margot peeked through her fingers first toward William (unchanged, unmoved, slow-blinking and still on the floor), then toward Doc and Ned (to diagnose the consequences of evoking Kiara's irritation), and finally, at long last, toward the science-born desserts.
One hand pushed the arm of the chair to help guide her to her feet, and she looked toward the other Verbena's back as she walked toward the door. Next she looked between Doc and Ned and frowned, a look of mute disapproval and sadness making its way through the exhaustion and lingering daze. At a loss for what to do for Will, what to do with either of them, she walked to the array of sweets, bent to pick up a cupcake of chocolate and peanut-butter, and made for the door; if unstopped, she'd go straight and slow to her bedroom, close the door behind her, and climb deep under the covers of her bed.
This delayed her recognition of Kiara in front of her, so she appeared slightly alarmed to feel the hand pass across her brow. This made the air around her flex and cringe and seethe, but the elder Verbena didn't hesitate and still mended the bruises and cracks to her body and took the ache from her breathing once more. The little witch with the wild whipping aura of ancient-feeling Magick (ancient as the Goddess, primordial) lifted her head from her hand, but slowly, and blinked a few times. Stared at Kiara, but didn't seem to have any words in her to offer the thanks that echoed in her eyes. She was distracted, reasonably, by her own state, the events that had just transpired, Will's state on the floor (her eyes had passed to check on him twice while she was being healed), and by the outcome of Doc's jabbing Ned mercilessly in the face with a needle.
Relief relaxed her brow when Ned was sitting upright and no more struggling for breath, grappling for full consciousness. The appearance of impressive cake selections hardly seemed to register initially, and when Ned asked if she was the one that was alright her lower lip tucked and trembled like she was going to start crying (surprise to actually no one), but before she could answer the bickering broke out.
Stresses and tension ran high and Margot looked between the two as the argument unfurled. Partway through she tucked her head into her hands once more and rubbed her fingers into her scalp and temples-- internally, the Goddess of Victory supped the potential for violence that mingled with the unhinged nature to the atmosphere, but Margot was exhausted somewhere deeper than her bones alone. Many other nights she would have interrupted (read: joined in on) the fighting with her own voice, but tonight she was slow and tired.
Thankfully there was Kiara, and she put an end to the argument in one of the more memorable ways that she'd likely see. Following that, she made a point, recalling their attention to William on the floor. Margot peeked through her fingers first toward William (unchanged, unmoved, slow-blinking and still on the floor), then toward Doc and Ned (to diagnose the consequences of evoking Kiara's irritation), and finally, at long last, toward the science-born desserts.
One hand pushed the arm of the chair to help guide her to her feet, and she looked toward the other Verbena's back as she walked toward the door. Next she looked between Doc and Ned and frowned, a look of mute disapproval and sadness making its way through the exhaustion and lingering daze. At a loss for what to do for Will, what to do with either of them, she walked to the array of sweets, bent to pick up a cupcake of chocolate and peanut-butter, and made for the door; if unstopped, she'd go straight and slow to her bedroom, close the door behind her, and climb deep under the covers of her bed.