The Ministry had still been unable to locate and handle the source of the magic-inhibiting fog, but for some god-forsaken reason they thought sending a bunch of debutantes into the fog was the way to handle that situation.

Or at least that's the conclusion she'd came to when the Irvingly Infirmary received it's first patient in the form of an injured debutante who she just assumed couldn't have gotten any more brain-damaged if she'd willingly entered the expedition in the first place. Dionisia, having been on her feet for nearly eighteen hours at that point with few breaks, had not been asked to participate in her subsequent handling.

Nearly half a day later, Dionisia was sound a sleep on one of the benches in the front room of the infirmary, having made the same bench her sleeping place over the last half a month. The sound of an inquiring voice snapped her out of a very deep sleep, prompting her to reluctantly seat herself upright and rub her eyes.

"What do you need me to do?" she yawned before blinking in an attempt to focus her vision.

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