Round 42

Seraphine’s fingers probe gently at Merrin’s scalp again, her touch clinical and precise as she checks for signs of more serious injury. The elf woman’s expression is one of concentration mixed with barely concealed worry. "You took quite a fall," She murmurs, running her fingers along Merrin’s scalp once more. "Any double vision? Nausea? Sharp pain when I do this?" She applies gentle pressure to the base of Merrin’s skull.

Merrin hisses at the sudden pressure but shakes her head—at least, as much as she can while lying sprawled across Seraphine’s lap. The world still spins lazily whenever she tries to sit up, so she remains still, focusing on the feel of Seraphine’s fingers in her hair and the steady rise and fall of the wizard’s breathing. "Just... just a bit dizzy," She manages, her voice sounding weak even to her own ears. "Everything’s spinning when I try to move. But my head doesn’t hurt too badly..." She trails off, wincing as Seraphine probes another sensitive spot.

The sound of impacts above echoes through the space again—a constant, insistent rhythm that makes the hair on the back of Merrin’s neck stand up. She cranes her neck slightly, trying to see past Seraphine’s legs and up into the darkness above. "What’s happening up there?" She asks, her voice tight with concern.