Working with the ill had its benefits. Not many benefits, now that she thought about it, but a few. Even after their emergence in Eorzea, after she could finally feel comfortable removing her glamour, people still had a tendency to stare at Viera from time to time. Some went further, for better or for worse. Mostly worse.
She had had people throw themselves at her feet, usually bards she had found, praising her beauty. When she prompted them to move on, she found them doing to same to others in a crowd. Others had choice words to say about their new long eared citizens, which were unkind. Those who were sympathetic made it clear this wasn't the first time that Eorzeans were distrustful. The Domans feeling their nation had encountered similar distrust, and Ishgardians had gone so far has to shut themselves away for years.
It went against the more open feeling of the nation, she found. In a time when the city states were forming a larger pact with each other, that they could still feel that sense of alien fear. That there was still that other from beyond. Perhaps it would permeate for some until the Viera had helped save Eorzea, she mused. That may be the true deciding factor.
The sick did not have such an issue, she found. Most of the time. Often enough they felt too weak to make any complaint on who was treating them, and those who clearly wished to either couldn't or wouldn't put up a fuss. In general there was just minimal talking when dealing with a patient. They didn't want to be there, and frankly neither did she, which meant both parties wanted any sort of appointment or checkup to be done as soon as possible.
She removed a small vial from the satchel slung around her shoulder, letting the liquid contents collect on into her palm. Making a fist, she allowed her gloved hand to get drenched, before reaching forward to slather the old man before her's forehead. He ground his teeth and grunted, trying to not complain of the stinging sensation that prickled across his skin. She stood, and removed her gloves.
Returning to the front room of the little hut, Kodiana sat next to the man's granddaughter. She removed another vial from her satchel, this one larger than the last, and set it in front of her.
"A drop of this in his drink every mornin' and every evenin'. After a week, if things haven't gotten better send word," she said.
The girl nodded, motioning to a pouch of gil, "Your payment."
It was with some reluctance that Kodiana took the money. Many families she helped couldn't afford what they were even giving, and she tried to be as reasonable as she could. But the unfortunate fact of the matter was that she had her own needs to watch out for as well. She offered the granddaughter a pat on the shoulder, and waited to see if there was anything more that needed to be said, before she opted to take her leave.
There wasn't.
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