Marth's education raced through his head as he assessed the wound, and instantly he knew which supplies to look for. As he searched the room, he continued talking. "In Wyllmochvar, the gods are viewed as powerful magical beings, the top tier of mythical creatures. I'm not saying your ability wasn't godlike, Dalanesca - I'm just… I've been taught that these kinds of things are… Magic. Special magic." He grabbed some linen from a cupboard, a bottle of burnwine, and manages to find a needle and some suitable thread in a box of assorted tools and items - presumably a sort of 'lost and found' box. He soaked the thread in the burnwine to clean it, and knelt in front of the presumed diety, his expression completely zoned in on the job.

As he worked, he handled the wound like any other, embarassing location be damned. He figured Dalanesca would be able to deal with the pain, so he kept talking as he did each sting. "Speaking of academic teaching about the gods, something crossed my mind. If you're what you… appear to be, then you should have an ethereal plane of your own. A domain, or a… homeworld of sorts." He looked up at Dalanesca questioningly. "I can only assume that, given the massive nature of your epiphany and the strange behaviour time tends to have in these events… You'd already have it. Or at least, a sort of canvass on which to paint it." He went back to work. "I don't mean to grill you, but if that's the case… Maybe if you took me there, you could banish whatever reservations I have." He smiled apologetically. "Statistical improbability, you know."

He put the makeshift suture kit away, and looked up at her. "And from what I've learned… Gods can show mortals their temple realms any time they so desire. Could be misinformed - we Wyllmochvarians arn't big on religion - but… Yeah." He held up a hand, which began to burn. "Only one thing first. Cauterization, or risking the stitches to be undone?" His look was a little wicked. Clearly, the whole chain of events had excited him somewhat.

She watched Marth as he gathered the items he needed to attend to her wound, mildly impressed with the first aid knowledge he seemed to possess.  When he began to stitch, she could feel the sting of the needle but noticed it did not hurt her nearly as much as it once would have, and she could only assume that was due to her new divine nature.  She did draw in a sharp breath on one particular prick of the needle, though managed to stay still.  Miraculously, she felt no embarrassment at the area in which Marth was attending to her - she felt comfortable with him and a battle wound was a battle wound, no matter how private a location it fell in.

“I know what you speak of,” she said, her voice sounding as though she was gritting her teeth, because she was - divinity dulled the pain, but that did not mean she didn’t feel it.  “It’s there,” she said, attempting to focus her mind elsewhere.  “I can’t really explain it - but it’s there, and it was all there, and it felt like it had always been there,” she said.  She winced as Marth went back to stitching her skin, but held completely still nevertheless.  

“I can’t blame you for having reservations, Marth,” she said, searching his face with her eyes as he smiled.  She could not help but smile back.  She did not quite answer him - instead, she let him continue speaking as he finished up the stitches.  At his question of how she wanted the aid to be finished, she was quiet for a moment.  

“Cauterize,” she said, firmly.  “Don’t have enough time for shit like pulled stitches,” she said with a bit of a laugh, rolling her shoulders back and tilting her head to one side, so Marth could press his burning hand against her skin.  As he did, she bit down on her lower lip hard enough to draw blood, but it kept her from yelling.  She could feel the magic flame searing her chest, and could smell the charred scent as he pulled his hand away.  The pain dulled to a throb and the flame dulled from his hands, and she looked up at him, panting a bit from the pain, a bead of blood resting on her lip.  She wiped at it with the back of her hand.

“Right,” she said, breathlessly, and stood up.  “Thanks,” she said, and reached out and grabbed Marth’s hand quite unexpectedly.  She grasped it within her own, gave him a crooked smile, and spoke with an unusual tone to her voice.  “Come on, then,” she said, and the two were suddenly in a completely different place altogether.