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freying[ While location may be everything in real estate, timing may just be everything when it comes to the Time Compression pulling people here. The young woman who found herself on the ground when she wasn't expecting it had little to actually complain about, too much at a loss of energy and blood from a wound dying the fabric of her beautiful, medieval gown a dull red-brown at her right side to much complain about what ground she was expiring on. Freya was aware she was dying, had known so almost immediately after being wounded, and if it was disorienting and jarring to have gone from being carried by Merlin to dropped on the not-so welcoming ground, well, at least he had been trying.
Having strangers find her should have been more upsetting, but outside of expediting her current process to its natural conclusion, she wasn't finding it in her to get heavily upset. There are two times to run into her on this bloody valentine evening: ]
1. [ As she's brought into the infirmary, still responsive to questions, but actively bleeding and incredibly pale; ]
2. [ Or after people have managed what Freya swears should have been impossible, and she's stable enough to be looking forward to more than a few hours left in existence. Still pale, still disorientated, and now a bit mystified by the explanations offered, a tired Freya is alert enough to be spoken with. Please don't stab her again she's at maximum daily quota! ]
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