BAHAMUT HALL → ridley/quen/merri
Quenten had volunteered as soon as the call for volunteers went out. She didn't know what she'd expected, but it wasn't to be shunted off to Bahamut Hall to cast Cure over and over. She'd had a few words on that subject with her brother, only to find out that Peony had passed responsibility for her off to Darius during this and any future battle. Dar fought dirty, too, coming out immediately with arguments like "I just want you to live to see your 19th birthday" and vague promises of participation in future battles. All Quen had was "You're not the boss of me" and "It's not fair." She had to get better material.
Even so, it was rather exciting meeting at Bahamut Hall with all of the fighters and older mages prior to the engagement. There was an energy in the air that Quen craved being part of. It was a fatalistic and reckless sort of energy, charged with adrenaline and fate and it appealed to her on a primal level. When the fighting parties broke off and headed out, though, they were left with the brisk and chaotic efficiency of a clinic. Quen knew that energy all too well.
She was pulled aside by an elderly white mage almost immediately. "Miss Delacreaux," the elderly mage said, grasping her upper arm with a shaky hand. The other white mages all knew who Quen was, even if she didn't know them personally. At least they didn't call her "Darius's sister" like the other scholars when she'd first entered the tower.
"You can help me over here," the elderly mage said, tugging her over to a workstation, and Quen immediately found her arms filled with various things. "Tear these bandages into strips 5 cm wide. Open these packets of gauze, soak half of them in this alcohol. There's a jar here. Half of them need to be dry, and you can put them into the other jar. Call me when you're done. My name is Mrs. Lang."
Clinic grunt work, Quen knew all too well. Still, she'd made up her mind to be cheerful. Sick and injured fighters didn't want to be nursed by a surly, petulant mage. Forcing a smile and a chipper attitude she did not feel, Quen said, "Yes, ma'am!" and immediately set to work sorting the armload of supplies and doing as she was told. It was too early in the battle for injured to be coming in, but they all had a lot to prepare in the meantime before the rush would begin.