Greta nods, a little bemused but mostly reassured: soap was part of the plan, anyway, so this just means she won't have to rummage around for anything extra. Once the washcloth is as rinsed as it's going to get, she gives it a brisk rub with the soap.
"This might sting a bit," she warns, probably needlessly, before she starts washing out the wound as gently as she can while still getting the job done. "And no, we're not." She glances up to his face, brow furrowed, before returning her focus to the job at hand. "You said they could follow you to your… resting place." Is there any way to say that phrase without making it sound like some inhuman thing's lair as opposed to the closest thing to a home he has? "I don't suppose there's anywhere you could go where they can't follow you."
Another rinse of the washcloth, another careful wipe-down to clear away the soap. That's as clean as the wound is likely to get. She hands the Balladeer another folded-up washcloth to press over the wound while she tears up a hand towel for more bandages. What options do they have? There was the memorial, and before that, the gallows, and before that, the Woods...
… Wait.
Greta freezes mid-tear, looking up at the Balladeer. There's some sort of important revelation hovering at the edge of her awareness. "How are we both in your world in the first place?" she asks. "I was… I was in the Woods before I met you at the gallows." Did the Rift bring her here? Why would it do that?
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"This might sting a bit," she warns, probably needlessly, before she starts washing out the wound as gently as she can while still getting the job done. "And no, we're not." She glances up to his face, brow furrowed, before returning her focus to the job at hand. "You said they could follow you to your… resting place." Is there any way to say that phrase without making it sound like some inhuman thing's lair as opposed to the closest thing to a home he has? "I don't suppose there's anywhere you could go where they can't follow you."
Another rinse of the washcloth, another careful wipe-down to clear away the soap. That's as clean as the wound is likely to get. She hands the Balladeer another folded-up washcloth to press over the wound while she tears up a hand towel for more bandages. What options do they have? There was the memorial, and before that, the gallows, and before that, the Woods...
… Wait.
Greta freezes mid-tear, looking up at the Balladeer. There's some sort of important revelation hovering at the edge of her awareness. "How are we both in your world in the first place?" she asks. "I was… I was in the Woods before I met you at the gallows." Did the Rift bring her here? Why would it do that?