26th of Fall, 510 AV
"Hold still," her quiet words seemed deafening as a shout to the ear in the otherwise silent room. She held a man's arm out, flexing it gently and slowly, feeling the muscles of his arm tighten and loosen beneath her grip. The same position hurt him every time, a one hundred and fifty degree angle. Every time this position was passed, the man winced in pain, and the muscles in his bicep seized up. Curious.
She motioned for him to lay down, and stretched out his arm. With careful blue eyes, she examined the man's arm. She could see no signs of physical trauma, nothing like a wound that could have torn into the muscle. He probably would have noticed if there had been-- considering it would be bleeding profusely and he would be crippled by the pain-- but you never knew with these people. All in all, this was nothing that Adalia could not handle. Her hands softly lowered onto his arm, and a few words were whispered in Kontinese as she closed her eyes.
She could heal this wound. She knew she could. She knew she would. The sigil on the back of her hand began to glow, but Adalia's eyes remained closed still. This was as familiar to her as eating was to a glutton... or, well, maybe slightly less familiar. Little by little, the muscle beneath her hands began to relax. Then, she knew she was done. The sigil dulled, and the Konti withdrew her hands, smiling slightly.
"Do not strain yourself so hard next time," was all she said. The man nodded and smiled, reaching into his satchel to withdraw mizas. He was attempting to pay her. The woman frowned, and shook her head. "I do not accept payment for the services that I provide in the name of my Mistress. Fair well, and may you always remain Healthy," the man nodded, and then retreated from the cramped room.
She was alone once more-- save for the ever-present Tempest. The Konti's bare, scaled feet brought her over to the corner of the room, where a small fire was boiling a kettle. As if on cue, the kettle whistled sharply, and the woman removed it from the small flame, pouring herself a small cup of the dark brown liquid. The kettle found its way to a wooden tray, whilst the cup found its way into her hand. Once more, she crossed the small room, and opened the door, settling down in a chair not too far from the door. Everyone was welcomed into the alcove. Every man, woman, and child was treated to the best of her abilities-- free of charge. Not many practitioners of the Medicinal Arts could make that claim.
Ah, footsteps! Someone was approaching. Busy day today indeed, she thought. Her blue eyes opened curiously, and she rose to her scaly feet, padding silently across the room to the door.