Her arms were piled with neatly folded clean sheets and a soft-woven cotton blanket. Atop the lavender-scented linens was a buoyant pillow. Most of the other Scathachians were cleaning out the rubble and charred debris from the Temple. Sheryl, however, was left in the Sanctuary to see to their latest guest. While there was a fortifying pride that came from the work done in the Temple, getting it ready for the rebuild, Sheryl was secretly thankful for the break. She was more than curious to see the knight that she had heard would be staying with them until winter once more came around. She had listened all afternoon to Janie, who apparently had seen him and would not stop talking for two minutes about his appearance. In truth, that was not the reason why Sheryl was so eager to see this stranger. She would not have cared were he a man or a woman. What baited this scholar was the notion that he worshiped one god. This, paired with the fact that his homeland was largely unknown to her, was enough to whet Sheryl's insatiable appetite for learning.
Her flushed cheeks reflected the glimmer of the light in the hallway in this section of the Sanctuary. It had been quite busy as of late, as all of the patients who chose to were relocated from the ruined Temple of Scathach to the next door Scathachian Sanctuary. However, this wing where Sir Roland was staying was not for the infirmed or sick. This wing was the adjoining hall between the Scathachian Sisters and the citizens who came to be treated by them.
Juggling the folded linens in her arms, Sheryl's knuckles rapped on Roland's door. Knock, knock-knock, knock. She could feel the stylus in her pocket against her thigh and knew that her small pad of notepaper was just on the other side of it. Her wide blue-gray eyes wandered over the hallway for a moment as she awaited a voice, or the door to open. She hoped she was not interrupting him. After all, she had more in mind than just handing off clean linens for his first night at the Sanctuary. She had a need to quench her curiosity. And like the proverbial cat, she often wandered where she wasn't meant to. She hoped that Sir Roland would forgive her.
Her flushed cheeks reflected the glimmer of the light in the hallway in this section of the Sanctuary. It had been quite busy as of late, as all of the patients who chose to were relocated from the ruined Temple of Scathach to the next door Scathachian Sanctuary. However, this wing where Sir Roland was staying was not for the infirmed or sick. This wing was the adjoining hall between the Scathachian Sisters and the citizens who came to be treated by them.
Juggling the folded linens in her arms, Sheryl's knuckles rapped on Roland's door. Knock, knock-knock, knock. She could feel the stylus in her pocket against her thigh and knew that her small pad of notepaper was just on the other side of it. Her wide blue-gray eyes wandered over the hallway for a moment as she awaited a voice, or the door to open. She hoped she was not interrupting him. After all, she had more in mind than just handing off clean linens for his first night at the Sanctuary. She had a need to quench her curiosity. And like the proverbial cat, she often wandered where she wasn't meant to. She hoped that Sir Roland would forgive her.