Enslaved to Duty (Helle/Anis)

It was common knowledge that the Sternritter Grandmaster was not one to mae simple requests of, particularly in day to day affairs. While he gave his best efforts to help those around him in the immediacy, the truth was that there was far too much for him to plan around for him to simply offer his assistance individually. It was because this knowledge was so widespread, however, that Cyrus immediately understood the gravity of the situation when the medical staff made a request of his assistance.

Rarely did the divine Quincy move with such extreme urgency that his body was strained by the exertion, but he did not wish to waste any time with mere mortal footsteps when the life of one of his children was so within his domain to save. With the words of his Avesta spoken, he simply appeared within the hospital, his own pain inconsequential compared to what he might prevent. His eyes still carried in them their usual gentleness, for his Aspect had not yet changed. Yet the holy fire which burned within him, which made him all that he was, was so apparent as to be nearly overwhelming to any others. He demanded the location of his dear child, impatience obvious in his tone, and once more simply spirited himself away toward her, unconcerned with his own well-being.

As he found her, it was perhaps for the best that his immoirtal visage was not one influenced by emotion, for surely the once-human heart beneath that godly veneer would have grimaced at the sight before him, and perhaps even shown the faintest bit of panic. But the divine did not feel such things, and they were cast into the whirlpool of annihilation which was his core. For now, his own humanity was wholly meaningless. There was a life to save. Countless divine words echoed through the air, spoken not only by Cyrus' own tongue, but from the very spiritual energy around him. It was not the full scope of his power, certainly, but it was very much more than he might normally have offered. He had, after all, gone to unfathomable lengths to save this woman's life once. He would very much be willing to do so again.

As the energy surrounding the divine Quincy bent wholly to his will, the world itself began to mend Anis' injuries. It was not a pleasant process, and he imagined that it was every bit as agonizing as the injuries had been in the first place. He could do many things, but even he could not simply return one to perfect health without effort. Still, the injuries were severe. He knew that they could not simply be repaired so easily as putting the bones back into place, for there was far more damage than he might ever have had the power to repair without becoming one with the divine.

In truth, he considered such an action, if only briefly. Such a thing was a threat to his very being, and even if it would save her life, Cyrus could not risk his aims for that. It would put so many billions more at risk. But- he would not allow her to be put at risk again. A compromise, then. A dangerous one, perhaps, but a measured one. There was no other recourse, he found.

The faintest sliver of the Grandmaster's divinity wormed its way from within his soul, and coursed for the briefest of moments through the world itself before surging into Anis. It was, he imagined, all the more unpleasant when placed atop the efforts he was still making to repair her uncountable internal injuries, but her immediate comfort was secondary, tertiary even, when there was a life to be saved. The divine energy he imparted upon her was neglibible; it was not enough to share even an Aspect. Yet, she had still certainly been marked by his Yazata now. It was not how he had intended to share these blessings, but it was not something he would regret.

More holy words echoed through the air for a while longer yet, until finally Cyrus took a single deep breath, and the Avesta spoke no more. He had done all that was in his power to do. Her wounds, in the most immediate, were healed. The mark of divinity imparted upon her would keep these fragmentations from occurring once more. Taking a seat in the nearest chair, Cyrus simply leaned back and took a moment to collect himself. He would speak if spoken to, but his aim here had been accomplished. For now, even a god needed a moment of rest.