Oh, Isaac is here. That strikes her, vaguely, as significant... but she doesn't know why, and thinking about it just makes her head hurt, so she lets the spark pass. The disquiet she feels around him is less vague, even if the why of it is as fuzzy as everything else, and the closer he gets to her the further Ness shifts herself toward the edge of the bed. Unsurprisingly, she runs out of space before he does, and when he stops at her right side, she only frowns at him, unfocused.

The air around her is stale and smells of sweat. Her hair, limp and lank, sticks to her forehead in wet clumps. She's due a change of clothes, the plain shift she wears near sweat through and barely a shade lighter than her skin—save where inflammation peeks out from under the dressing on her residual limb, furious red and burning hot to the touch. As Isaac begins the process of unwrapping it, braced as he may be for her to recoil or scream from the pain, Ness...

doesn't even wince. She barely does more than frown, and a glance above the bandages reveals why: the anaesthetic cuff Stephen acquired in Tevinter wraps around the top of her bicep, rendering what remains of her arm below it wholly numb. Without the cuff, merely touching her infected limb would cause her excruciating pain; with it, she feels nothing at all.

Whatever energy she had for speech has left her. Ness only watches, dull and mute, while Isaac reveals the sickly wound that ends her arm.