"Oh." Maybe Araceli should have known that or she just-- Herian's all honour and nobility, maybe there's some unfair expectation lurking in what she's not saying as she tips the waitress. That it'd come up. But no, it hasn't, so some other part gets to feel relieved because how does it come up really? It doesn't.

(That's the problem. You have to actually do it. You have to lance the wound, dig out the shrapnel. Necessary but painful even for the onlooker.)

It's a bad time to be raising her glass, almost dropped out of her hand with all her easy grace forgotten at that question. "I-- what? No I saw healers, I had to make sure my leg would let me climb and run properly but it happened. I mean I told people I was taken. Me and others but I didn't name them because some of them are so foolish, they think they can do as they please and the world will just shrug it all off. It's not like that." Araceli uncomfortable with magical healing enough that she won't even drink a potion squirms, tapping out a staccato beat against the table. "I thought the plague was that at first. That it was back."