"Another day, another broken body." Giles talks softly to himself as he sponges down his brother's battered body. He had done a more thorough assessment earlier in the day and now was just making sure that William was resting comfortably.
It was not uncommon for injuries to worsen out of nowhere and while Giles had always chafed against being the second son, he did not wish his brother ill.
D8 EA Chirurgery on Will de Braose 15: 1d20 8
[D8 LE] Bedside Vigil
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Giles de Braose
- Posts: 288
- Joined: Mon Aug 23, 2021 7:06 am
[D8 LE] Bedside Vigil
d'Aubigny Vassal * Man of the cloth * Glory: 192 * Romantic * Legend of Mercy * Well read *
Distinctive Features: Dep baritone singing voice, long slender fingers
Carries: Satchel of tomes, writing equipment, first aid kit
French, Breton, Latin, Occitane, Welsh
Distinctive Features: Dep baritone singing voice, long slender fingers
Carries: Satchel of tomes, writing equipment, first aid kit
French, Breton, Latin, Occitane, Welsh
Re: [D8 LE] Bedside Vigil
+10 Glory for Chirurgery use
Gm * Man of Angles * Sionnach * Scealai *
Every phrase and every sentence is an end and a beginning,/Every poem an epitaph. And any action/Is a step to the block, to the fire, down the sea's throat/Or to an illegible stone: and that is where we start.
We die with the dying:/See, they depart, and we go with them./We are born with the dead:/See, they return, and bring us with them./The moment of the rose and the moment of the yew-tree/Are of equal duration. A people without history/Is not redeemed from time, for history is a pattern/Of timeless moments. So, while the light fails/On a winter's afternoon, in a secluded chapel/History is now and England --Eliot, Little Gidding
Every phrase and every sentence is an end and a beginning,/Every poem an epitaph. And any action/Is a step to the block, to the fire, down the sea's throat/Or to an illegible stone: and that is where we start.
We die with the dying:/See, they depart, and we go with them./We are born with the dead:/See, they return, and bring us with them./The moment of the rose and the moment of the yew-tree/Are of equal duration. A people without history/Is not redeemed from time, for history is a pattern/Of timeless moments. So, while the light fails/On a winter's afternoon, in a secluded chapel/History is now and England --Eliot, Little Gidding