Isuelt's jaw clenched and unclenched only to clench once more as she listened to Ebon. Indeed the name of lord Bhaal was once more on the citizens of Rhydin, and it stirred the rage inside of her. Her long legs closed the distance between them quite quickly as he disrobed of his cloak, Isuelt took immediate care in looking to Ebon's shoulder. Without asking, she began to lightly tug at the wrapping, she had unfortunately seen the work of a Bhaalite blade before and she certainly wanted to make sure that was not the case this time. While Isuelt's strong fingers were not rough, they were not versed in the gentle touch of a nursemaid and as she listened to the tale of the pale, blonde Bhaalite, her lips only pursed tighter in anger. She had even missed Ebon's joke of preferring blondes; his light-mannered demeanor, regrettably, was lost on the Scathachian.
Much to the displeasure of Ebon, as Isuelt reached the soft cotton pad atop the wound, he had gotten to the part of his story when he unmasked the Bhaalite's accomplice: Renna. There was so much potential hazard in this pairing that Isuelt felt as if she'd been slapped across the face. Two of the greatest foes she had faced in her lifetime"teaming up?" Her fingers stuttered in their motion and ripped away the last protection from the raw skin much more forcefully than she had wanted. Her sharp intake of breath was as much from her surprise at Ebon's confession as it was apology for what pain she had caused him. Isuelt's widened eyes studied her friend for a long while, tight-lipped and she said nothing after he had finished. She was simply too stunned.
In fact, it was Sheryl who broke the uneasy silence when she had hurriedly knocked and entered the salon with the triage kit that Isuelt had demanded earlier. "I'm sorry to disturb you. It took me longer to find the dried yarrow and dragon's blood in the pantry, and this time of the year, I gathered all I could from the garden of the?" Sheryl paused, sensing the distinct tension in the room, ?"wormwood." She quietly finished her thought and placed the small chest on the nearest table, quickly skittering out of the room and shutting the door behind her.
It wasn't until then, that Isuelt even moved. Throughout the short interruption, her dark eyes had remained locked onto Ebon. Though now, she exhaled slowly and looked from his face to his wound, her tongue still not uttering a word. His shoulder did not look the worse for wear, not like the injury that Sheryl had one time received while she and Sir Roland of St. Aldwin were attacked. Thankfully, Isuelt saw only that the edges of Ebon's wound looked angry. Her mind was going in different directions at once. She knew that the triage kit was in the room, she knew that Ebon was not in mortal danger from his injury and she knew that Renna was now partnered with Temple Bhaal. That last thought sent the room nearly spinning; for Isuelt, this was an absolute nightmare. She decided to focus on Ebon and his needs. Still without a single word uttered, she made her way to the chest that Sheryl had deposited and rummaged through it until she found the small jar of salve, which, when she opened it, had the distinct scent of geranium and marigold. The paste was dark green in color and sticky to the touch as Isuelt returned to Ebon and spread the ointment thickly around the edges of the wound. When she'd finished, she whispered her words to Ebon. "Leave that for a few moments. I'll cover it then." Only then, when she had closed the jar, did she back up and sink down onto one of the couches in the room, as if all of the air had left her sails. Ebon had delivered a death knell to the Scathachian Priestess.
