Cauthrien
Warden-Constable of Ferelden
Staff member
Canon Character
Grey Warden
Post DAI Timeline
DAO/DA2 Timeline
- Posts
- 362
Like most healers of Cauthrien’s acquaintance, Sofia was a middling patient, at best, and didn’t always follow the advice that she dispensed. She did let the Warden Constable tend her injuries, at least, but rejected the notion of rest, though she looked very nearly as exhausted as Cauthrien felt.
“Andiamo,” she demurred, coming to her feet and extending a hand. “We must report this as soon as possible.” She was right. Cauthrien took her hand, but tried to use it only as balance while she pushed herself upright under her own power. Even without the bulk of her armor, she was heavier than Sofia, and the mage looked ready to tip over as it was.
Speaking of her armor - “This, we may have to leave and retrieve later,” Sofia remarked, glancing at the hauberk and pauldrons. “Not your sword.” Despite the pain, Cauthrien felt her lips twitch into a smile at the hasty qualifier. “But better to the gates in one piece, minus your armour, than not reach the gates at all because we stopped to pick up everything.”
Cauthrien nodded. The mere idea of having to bend over, heft the weight of the chain and plate, and secure it on Dragon, made the throbbing in her head intensify. Crouching, she retrieved the Summer Sword, returned it to the scabbard and settled the harness into place across her back, then moved to Dragon. The roan snorted and pawed at the snow as she approached, but did not shy away. The sweat on his hide was beginning to freeze, and was mixed with blood over the bloody gouges on his rump.
“Enough,” she chided him, catching his bridle and tugging his head down, feeling the warmth of his breath gusting against her face. “You did good, you ugly bastard,” she said with gruff affection, scratching along his neck and ears. “Just a little longer.” He snorted again and butted her chest with his nose - gently for him, but still nearly enough in her current condition to knock her off her feet. His wounds were ugly, but not deep; they could be tended once they were back at the compound. Taking a fortifying breath, she hauled herself up into the saddle, then shifted back and held a hand out to Sofia.
“You’ll have to guide him,” she admitted. Already, the relief afforded by the healing magic was beginning to fade, and the pain in her skull was beginning to thunder back towards a crescendo that promised to return to blinding intensity in a very short time. The only sure cure for these headaches was several days of rest in a dark and quiet room … and for that, they’d have to get back to Denerim.
“Andiamo,” she demurred, coming to her feet and extending a hand. “We must report this as soon as possible.” She was right. Cauthrien took her hand, but tried to use it only as balance while she pushed herself upright under her own power. Even without the bulk of her armor, she was heavier than Sofia, and the mage looked ready to tip over as it was.
Speaking of her armor - “This, we may have to leave and retrieve later,” Sofia remarked, glancing at the hauberk and pauldrons. “Not your sword.” Despite the pain, Cauthrien felt her lips twitch into a smile at the hasty qualifier. “But better to the gates in one piece, minus your armour, than not reach the gates at all because we stopped to pick up everything.”
Cauthrien nodded. The mere idea of having to bend over, heft the weight of the chain and plate, and secure it on Dragon, made the throbbing in her head intensify. Crouching, she retrieved the Summer Sword, returned it to the scabbard and settled the harness into place across her back, then moved to Dragon. The roan snorted and pawed at the snow as she approached, but did not shy away. The sweat on his hide was beginning to freeze, and was mixed with blood over the bloody gouges on his rump.
“Enough,” she chided him, catching his bridle and tugging his head down, feeling the warmth of his breath gusting against her face. “You did good, you ugly bastard,” she said with gruff affection, scratching along his neck and ears. “Just a little longer.” He snorted again and butted her chest with his nose - gently for him, but still nearly enough in her current condition to knock her off her feet. His wounds were ugly, but not deep; they could be tended once they were back at the compound. Taking a fortifying breath, she hauled herself up into the saddle, then shifted back and held a hand out to Sofia.
“You’ll have to guide him,” she admitted. Already, the relief afforded by the healing magic was beginning to fade, and the pain in her skull was beginning to thunder back towards a crescendo that promised to return to blinding intensity in a very short time. The only sure cure for these headaches was several days of rest in a dark and quiet room … and for that, they’d have to get back to Denerim.