[All in all, the scuffle turns out to be blessedly short. Dorothea can still feel her heart pounding in her chest as she watches the limp form of Misa in the following moments, startling when Syrlya addresses her. He seems no worse for wear and—perhaps more importantly—still doesn’t appear to wish her any harm. Nonetheless, she can’t quite fully banish her apprehension after that display.]
I— [She takes a breath, gaze drifting down to her hand. Careful not to drop the amulet, she wiggles her fingers a bit in experimentation.] Yes, I think I’m alright.
[Her attention drifts back to the girl, brows knit with worry.]
Is she…? [Dead? Stunned? She hopes for the latter, but recalling that these two are supposedly at war, she doesn’t know how much of a place mercy has here.]
no subject
I— [She takes a breath, gaze drifting down to her hand. Careful not to drop the amulet, she wiggles her fingers a bit in experimentation.] Yes, I think I’m alright.
[Her attention drifts back to the girl, brows knit with worry.]
Is she…? [Dead? Stunned? She hopes for the latter, but recalling that these two are supposedly at war, she doesn’t know how much of a place mercy has here.]