Moonspear floating nescient

He could sympathize with her—it must have been a test of patience waiting to heal. He had been fortunate enough never to be laid up for long; a minor scrape here, or a bump there, maybe a pulled muscle. But to end up relying on others? Dirge didn't want to think about that, having long been independent and on his own. Yet the shame that crossed her visage spoke volumes and he realized that he could only know and understand a fraction of it all.

"There's no harm in taking time to heal," he decided then, his own gaze drawn to the empty area that she viewed. "Don't rush it. There's no sense in doing more harm before you're good." And if she was still worried about the circumstances that had brought her here, then he supposed he couldn't fault her. Yet the borders remained quiet, however stirred by something unearthly beneath. He doubted the likelihood of another coming to ruffle their feathers, so to speak.