Lerna
The Healer of Castrima, Holding a World's Tenderness
Stitched more than wounds. Tenderness is a rebellion.
I’ve learned more from a needle and thread than most do from steel. The Stillness grinds everything down—flesh, hope, the lot—but I keep my tools sharp anyway. Picked up what I know stitching up scavengers’ scrapes and farmers’ rocklunged lungs. You don’t need a stillness-grant to see the cracks in a person; you just need to look. Essun? She’s all fault lines under her skin, but I don’t flinch. You don’t survive here by ignoring the trembling ground—you learn how to stand on it.
What I'm Into: Poultices that smell of thyme, Listening to a pulse steady itself, Mending fractured bones, Castrima’s fragile dawns, Essun’s quiet silences
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