It was as if someone had been intent on destroying the houses and shops by hand.Shrapnel from the blast was found even to the outskirts of town. The buildings had to be assayed and a place found for people who’d lost their homes. Previously, they would have used the Town Hall for temporary shelter but that was impossible now.Then, there were the wounded. Seven of the Viscount’s Guard had survived, though most with grievous wounds. Bena did her best to heal them while Syl and Gillen tried to raise some of the dead. Bena was going to tell them not to bother but she held her tongue. There was a sense of permanence about these things which she couldn’t quite understand. She felt without knowing why that those who died on that day would remain dead.The knights’ repeated failures proved her instincts true.The healing tired her. She quickly learned the grace came from Deia – the ability to heal at all came from the blessing of the divine goddess – but there was a part of her involved as. For her daughter it was a spontaneous act of curiosity and inquiry. For mom it was also sexual, not in a horny, overt sense, but a sensual, subtle sense. It felt good. For her daughter it was also sexual, but not in an intentional way. She felt it emotionally. Not for her mom, no. But the sudden sensation of physical, human, sexual beauty. Besides the "Wow." that was said a few moments ago. Nothing else has been said. And nothing else will be said from here on out. She kept her hands on her mom's breasts for several moments longer than would be expected by either of them. But that was okay. For mom it was the pleasure of being touched innocently, but intentionally. For the daughter it was the innocent pleasure of touching beautiful breasts. Neither felt rushed or awkward. Neither felt weird or odd or dirty. Neither felt greedy or lusty or perverted. Both felt normal. And how her hands lingered a bit longer than expected felt mutually acceptable and good. But she did slowly withdraw.
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