Silver Moraine deceiver says: you belong to me

she examined the failing bandage and the open wound beneath. there was medicine here, yes, but not enough. she did not dare ask for more, though — and there was no way she could leave to acquire more. 

she made do with what they had. fresh dressings wrapped tenderly around anselm’s head, she turned again to her captor in an effort to win his favor, to make up for the slight she had made earlier. your wrist, she says, motioning. want fix?