Delindra (prime)/The Inquisitor's Handiwork

The trembling figure at Delindra’s feet stared upward with blank, milky eyes. No words escaped from the Erithian woman’s lips, only faint groans. Delindra knelt, setting her satchel beside her with the sound of clinking vials. She surveyed the glass cylinders, each one carefully labeled. That one formulated with rose marrow and holy oil. This one combined with purified water, acantha, and tkaro root. Three of them had X’s inked through their labels. The rest, more than she wished to count, remained untested. She selected the next one and pulled it free of the small leather loop that held it in place. It would take more than the simple tinctures Delindra could make. She knew that, but she tried anyway. There was no sense skipping the basics, though, if they might help even a little bit. With gentle hands, she raised the Erithian woman up just enough that she could tilt the vial to the woman’s lips without choking her with the herb-tinged water. The woman drank reflexively, but then turned her head away at the bitter taste, her already contorted features forming a disgusted cringe. Delindra persisted, firm but careful. She managed to get just over half the vial down the woman’s throat before restraining her became impossible. Then, she released her hold, gently easing the thrashing figure back to the ground, her hand cushioning her head before she shifted back, watching with silent hope. The trembling continued as the Erithian woman slipped back into her stupor. Delindra watched, breath held, hoping for any sign of change. But no. It would be the same as the others. The shaking ceased. The eyes cleared of their milky hue. But what remained was not clarity. Terror, panic. And then the screaming, the wild dash until she was out of sight once more. Delindra had tried to follow them, at least to see where they fled to. But it was in vain; their panic-induced flight was more than she could keep up with. All she could do was watch, and hope that they would emerge again, that her efforts would not be in vain. She stood, slinging the satchel back over her shoulder. She smoothed her hands over her robes, took a deep breath, and moved on to the next.