A Blind Man's Faith Timestamp: 2nd Day of Spring, 512 AV The city was still in chaos. One half broken, the other waterlogged. People padded through the streets, some carrying the injured, others with planks of wood and tools, hoping to start mending roofs and walls. If one thing could be said of the Zeltivan people - it was that they could muster great reserves of strength in times of need. The community worked together, taking the first steps in the long road to recovery. Nira'lia had already spent a day in the infirmary, helping with the injured. Medicine was a very Konti disposition. Something about these ethereal women lent their skills to healing and supporting. Inside the infirmary - thankfully unscathed - Mistress Claira rushed about, guiding people, tending to the wounded, dealing with the queue. She had a triage system going, ensuring those at deaths door were seen too with godspeed. Nira'lia was tired. Very tired. Everyone was, but the kick of adrenaline seemed to keep them going. There was fear too. A tangible thing, that passed from person to person. Who knew what was going to happen next... another storm could break for all they knew. It was early in the morning. The sun refused to shine, blocked by grey skies, and even greyer hearts. Nira'lia had just finished with a patient when Mistress Claira approached her holding a small square of parchment. The elderly woman laid her hands on the Konti's shoulder and smiled faintly. "Thank you," she said quietely, "Thank you for all you have done. I have a task. The others are busy. I wondered if you would be up for it? It involves a home visit, Nira'lia. I warn you, it may not be pleasant." The medic looked at the Konti expectantly. They were eyes of trust. |