The Sunspire he held my hands above my head and i commenced to pray

will it sting?

praimfaya is silent for a moment as she methodically chews the yarrow flowers into some sort of suitable paste. she doesn't remember if the yarrow or any of the other things stryx and sugar glider applied to her wounds stung; nearing the door of death itself as she was. she had come frighteningly close to yu gonplei ste odon; an embarrassment in hindsight to surviving the whole conclave of four wolves that had been trying to kill her without such severe injuries.

the reminder prickles beneath her skin; a reminder of why she was a blade of the saints at all.

i don't know. praimfaya admits after a soft sigh pushes itself from betwixt her lips. but it can't hurt any worse than it did receiving those wounds. if that was any consolation to him. it seemed a little funny, now, as she thinks about it, that he was worried about it stinging. and if it does sting then i'm going to assume that means its doing its job. she offers a lofty shrug of her shoulders.