5 prayers answered
littlelogicaldragon | grimstalkertharja | the-last-taguel | tacticianaevus | thearchinarcher
A red sky hung overhead. The evening was young in the Shepherds' camp-- most had just retired to their quarters, their beds, after having experienced a day full of travel and battle.
At the moment, Libra was sitting at his cot and tending to his bruised and battered knees, reddened and worn from kneeling day in and day out. Their use showed; Libra's eyes stung as he applied a mild antiseptic with a measured breath, fingers working nimbly around the wounds. He might not have registered the other's entrance at all if not for the shuffle of feet behind him-- after all, the initial rustling of the tent's entrance had been imperceptible.
The rawness of his knees tingled as he made to turn around from his seated position to the source of the noise.
"Is there something you need?" Libra's response was stunted but polite, his mind clearly still focused on the unpleasant stinging of the medicine.
