No Rest for the Wicked

[Nasira]

Nasira saw Edgar's face go from contentment to genuine surprise. "Yes," she agreed determinedly, doing her best to calm her breathing. "Follow me." She turned to go back the way she came, knowing Edgar would accompany her.

The walk back was a blur. Outside the room she had left Crow in, Nasira raked her long fingers through her hair, a common, anxious tic. "He's in there," the necromancer informed Edgar, gesturing to the door. She then stepped off to the side. Nasira had no intention of going back in. She knew she would be no help in there. She had done all she can for the vizier now. Well, except for one thing.

Nasira glanced at the door as if she expected to see Crow standing on the threshold. "I'd better go," she said awkwardly. The overseer nodded her thanks to Edgar before she forced herself to leave. She imagined Maleficent would want to know Crow's prognosis as well, but Nasira did not know how long it would take for Edgar to get to that point. The sooner she knew about Crow, the better, Nasira believed. She did not look forward to having that conversation.

[Edgar]

Edgar's step was quick and crisp as he followed after Nasira through the halls to where the vizier was reported to be waiting for assistance. With a quick 'thank you' Edgar pushed into the room and got a view of his patient. A creature that barely resembled the vizier. Edgar wasn't standing before the tall, spindly, well dressed visage of Crow. Instead a huge creature towered over him, black feathers crimped and loose, a faint wetness the only sign of blood on the black plumage.

"Oh dear" Edgar said simply, "Well, this was worse than I expected."

He pulled over a table and set down his tools, sorting through them quickly, "Tell me your injuries and symptoms. In order of most pressing to least, if you can."

[Crow]

  Crow heaved, his breathing labored. His head lifted wearily from where he had dropped- unceremoniously- onto the cot. It was irritating, how such a short walk from his room to the infirmary had drained him so. But upon seeing the blurry silhouette of a stranger he didn't recognize, a low warning rumble bubbled from deep within the giant corvid-like monster. Thankfully, after a moment, the figure of the chief surgeon became clear, and his voice cut through the daze.

"Well, this was worse than I expected."

  Ah, the growl was back again, the vizier tiredly glowering down at Edgar. Crow didn't feel up to theatrics or jokes anymore. Everything hurt, and he was prepared to tell him so.

  "Divine magic," he rasped, once the jerrah-bashi had set about his work. "The Rogues' pet angel had a more violent reaction than I was prepared for." Crow's gaze settled on some of the sharper implements on the table. He wasn't a stranger to pain, and he would be a good patient for whatever was necessary. But it didn't stop the twinge of uneasiness in the pit of his stomach.

  "I feel like I'm being eaten..." he continued at length. Perhaps a dramatic way to phrase it, but Crow struggled for an alternative. The angel's magic was light; Crow was a creature of darkness. And light, as far as he was concerned, eats the shadows. The wounds burned and chewed at him, magically inflicted from his direct connection to his birds, and his eyes squeezed shut until the new wave of pain subsided. Every new ache served to reinforce his slight against the Rogue angel.

  He'd pay her back for this.

[Nasira]

By force of habit, Nasira extended her dominant hand to take herself to the throne room. Then she remembered, painfully, that her energy had been expended on that form of hers. She sighed unhappily and lowered her left arm, feeling rather foolish. Nasira would not have made Crow walk if she could teleport. How much easier that would have been...It was almost embarrassing how dependent she was on magic. Being completely depleted of it was not something that happened to her often, but when it did, it made Nasira feel like a part of her was missing - like a limb or a sense. Of course, it was just a temporary state, and Nasira was not above walking like a normal person. It would not have bothered her as much if she did not have somewhere to be right this second. 

Nasira left the infirmary and made her way to the throne room, trying to not think too much about the discussion she was about to have. 

Immediately upon arrival, the colossal teal doors to the throne room flew open. The back of Nasira's neck tensed as she went in.

[Maleficent]

The sultana, the empress, of the legion stood with her hands raised. Green flames swirled around and floating there, as if on a board or wall, were images and scrawling words.

Maleficent was going over statistics and details. Occasionally her right hand would flick, like a conductor's baton, and writing would appear. She seemed to be taking notes.

The information wasnt particularly sensitive, otherwise she wouldn't be working here in such an open and careless manner. No, work that would threaten Blackblood intelligence, would be kept private amongst her overseers.

When the door opened unannounced, Maleficent merely tossed a cursory look over to the entrance. Upon seeing Nasira there, she smiled warmly. Her handd fell, but the image didnt dissapate.

"Ah, Nasira! You've returned. What news have you of the excusion to Australia? Has the territory been secured, hm?" the dark fae folded her hands and tilted her head expectantly.

[Nasira]

Nasira's gaze flitted to the provisional canvas of fire Maleficent was writing on, then did a double take. For a moment, she forgot everything else. Only Maleficent could take something as mundane as taking notes and turn it into something extravagant. 

But it was only for a moment. Maleficent looked up and smiled at her. Nasira nervously smiled back.

"Ah, Nasira! You've returned. What news have you of the excursion to Australia? Has the territory been secured, hm?"

Nasira felt the weight of Maleficent's eyes as she approached. "It has, Your Excellency," she replied evenly. Her reply was uncharacteristically concise. It felt almost wrong talking about Australia at a time like this, but there was no evading that question. "The rebels had lost their courage and fled." 

Nasira then looked at Maleficent for a moment silently, as if she were carefully choosing her words. Then she thought better of it. "There is something else," Nasira began solemnly as the shadow of regret shrouded her eyes. "It's Crow. B-before the Rogues retreated, those savages attacked him." 

[Maleficent]

"Oh?" Maleficent cocked her head, her passive expression unreadable. Carefully she turned back to the flames and with a few gestures extinguished the flames. They would be saved to be called upon at another time. The words and knowledge were bound to a book she owned. The flames and magic were just her ostentatious way of summoning them to work with. It helped her to think to see things on a grand scale, then on a little sheet of paper.

When Maleficent turned back to Nasira she was still the same calm nature, but her words were dangerously quiet, "Take me to him. Now."

It wasn't a secret that Crow was a valuable asset to Maleficent. But it wasn't well known what their relationship might have extended beyond that of professionalism. One would think that Maleficent's lack of reaction was cold-hearted. Further proof that even her second-in-command was beneath any emotional attachment.

They would be wrong.

[Edgar]

Edgar clucked his tongue like a chastising doctor when Crow growled at him but did not provoke him further. Instead, the surgeon started by putting on sterile gloves and delicately explored the giant's body. He tried to move as carefully as possible to not cause Crow any more pain than necessary, but he needed to try and actually see how Crow was injured to even begin to treat him.

He brushed back feathers to look at the skin underneath. He checked for blood, and actual burn wounds on the man-now-beast's flesh. Magic damage can be tricky. Especially with patient's Edgar didn't understand. The divine magic and the sensation of being eaten could be purely through essence. It may not be affecting Crows flesh and form at all. In that case typical healing such as bandages and salves would be useless.

Of course, even if Crow was physically burned, Edgar would still need to address Crow's very magical nature. He needed to learn what he was made of, so to speak, before he could mend it. Was he a form of devil or demon that Maleficent made a pact with? That would require eldritch magics with blood and sacrifice for strength. Was he fae like his mistress was? They were beings of the very earth. Their magic was tied to the land. The dark and the light of it. Those required arcane rituals that summoned the ether for strength.

And those were the options just off the top of Edgar's head. There was a myriad of creatures that can be damaged by divine magic and equally numerous ways to treat them.

"Is there a localized area that feels damaged more than others. Like a burn or a wound? Or is it a general over all ache of your body, Crow?"

[Crow]

  In a more human shape, the sound Crow would have made would probably have been closer to hissing through his teeth. As it stood, he had a beak, not teeth, so the unnatural sound that erupted from him when Edgar began to prod at his body was much more ghastly than it had been intended. Crow endured the examination, even shifting as best as he could for the doctor when needed. He was in pain, but he would be a good patient if it meant the relief came swifter.

"Is there a localized area that feels damaged more than others...?"

  A foreleg lifted, muscles spasming in protest. Do not expose. Do not make yourself vulnerable. Hide. Recover. Survive.

  You are not allowed to die here.

  Crow shook his head and endured it, and talons quickly raked across his broad feathered chest.  It was a poor attempt at nonverbal communication. He was clinging desperately onto his senses, preserving them by saving his speech in favor of body language. Crow hurt everywhere, but the pain felt greatest at his core: like a small sun was trying to replace his heart.  He grunted, eyes squeezing shut again.  He hoped it would be enough for the good doctor to understand.

[Nasira]

Nasira was not really sure what she expected or hoped for in this scenario. Maleficent had met the bad news with equanimity, but Nasira did not mistake her calm for apathy.

"Take me to him. Now."

The overseer nodded numbly, feeling disembodied. "Okay," Nasira heard herself yield.

So for the third time that day, Nasira made her way back. It took them no more than a minute to get to where they needed to go, but it felt a lot longer than that. Time seemed to slow as the gravity of the situation weighed it down. Nasira said nothing the whole way there, avoiding the urge to overcome her own discomfort by talking. There really was nothing for her to say right now, so she tried to focus on the task at hand. Maybe Maleficent could heal Crow. If anybody had that kind of power, it was definitely her.

They eventually reached the room Nasira had left Crow in. "He's in there," she affirmed, stepping back.