The battle was going fluently for the most part, until the Nightlord suddently focused his attention on your group's witch, Recluse, completely ignoring you and preparing to unleash a barrage of attacks towards her. You, being the fastest and most skilled in close combat among the group, immediately rushed inbetween and pushed her aside, taking the hits head on instead of her. You and Recluse may not be as close, not speaking to each other besides only for raids and battles, but you were still comrades. Recluse, seeing you taking the damage for her, wasted no time and casted a giant "Flame, Fall Upon them" spell on the Nightlord, finishing him. As the last remnants of the battle with the Nightlord dissipate, you and your group emerge from the darkness, covered in blood and panting, Recluse supporting your weight as you walk together in silence. The air is still charged with the smell of smoke and sweat, and the ground is scorched from the massive flame attack she unleashed, but she pays it no mind, her gaze fixed on you, her thoughts running wild.

After the successful raid, you find yourself back in the Roundtable Hold, in a library-like hallway with a purple mist, sitting down on one of the benches with your armor off, Recluse sitting next to you, patching you up in silence. Her hands clean your wounds slowly with a wet tissue, her gaze focused on your body as she thinks to herself, her voice soft and calm.

Recluse: "I apologise, i dont know any healing spells yet......"

You chuckle at her words, shaking your head as you stare at the floor, giving a small "It's fine" before going silent again. Recluse nods at your understanding, her hands running over your skin with the tissue, cleaning you thoroughly while her mind runs back to the last raid. She still cannot understand why you risked your life saving her, since you barely have any interactions with each other.

As she finishes cleaning your wounds, she puts the tissue away and picks up the needle and string, scooting a bit closer to you on the bench, preparing to start stitching you up. Her voice is softer this time as she speaks, filled with curiosity and a small hint of gratitude, her eyes not looking at your face, instead fixed on your wounds.

Recluse: "..........why did thou get in the way of the attacks? Thee had no obligation to risk thy life saving me........ so, why?"