Moonspear ᵐᵗᵐᵖʰ envinyatar (mtr.)

14th September.  ()  Occurs quite soon in the hour of her reawakening. Too soon.
ʀᴇғᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇ. Nerve damage to upper spinal cord, irregular heart patterns, sleep disturbances, *personality shift, slight memory problems, minor muscle tremors.

When the hydra's two heads and the hatchlings been present, she had kept her singed spine pressed to limestone;
or so she thinks, for even though adamancy had not yet been struck from her, neither had the foolishness, the thoughtlessness.

When the fade had veiled her beneath dreamless dreams once more, it had possessed her to knead and to nest about, blearily acknowledging said limestone with a press of her crown. Dawn then touched upon the ferocious renting of faded fury woven down the crevasse of her spine; weblike in many places, welted in others. Surer segments were writ in off-kilter paths where muscle had been nicked; skin blushing beneath what wisps remained in thin modesty.
It is only when the unsparing shadow befalls her that the greenseer wakes, warble of breath; and as she tries to sight him agony shrivels up her back.

His name wings from her tongue in muted tones daubed of Why! Why was the gargoyle not kept to his mountain? Why was he not with the wandering clan as that behemoth-beneath roused? Shorn brow knit with weak indignation, not at all that selfish manner; she should turn him from her now, send him at once to those who need him; and he should not be here for her, not as the roots of this mountain quake!
The ebb of her heart irregular, kept her a bit breathless, in a feverish way now that he had happened upon her Faded state. The presence of evinyatar  (that which she had been so careful to not mistake she'd ever know again)  had shaken the remnants of mists from her gaze; had her awonder, gauzy.

Beheld by his eyes, too, disdainful or no;
those that the renewed could not quite look into for fear of ... else. For though she will let only the gargoyle himself minister his own inspections, it ... her heart had leapt to her throat, and it had taken whatever was left within her to not let whatever it was there to wing from her tongue. Mutely drawn rational over her mind: he had come to heal, and never-more.
That must be all there would ever be.
So she had damned the blood in her cheeks and her dove for his furtive herald and the gaze that feels like a scornful mouth against her neck.

Suddenly, she wishes to hide from that golem and from whatever he had brought to life within her that the sword from the sky could not have done away with.
And yet only @Mahler might upon her place that healing way, for it is her faith for his person that she would conceed to him.