Study some tomes

You downed the glass of fresh milk, recoiling at the curious effect it had on your tender burns as it went down. A pair of tomes sat on the bedside table; probably from Nelacar's stock. No doubt the guards had forgotten to confiscate them in their haste to quench the blaze. One was The Exodus by Waughin Jarth- a novice restoration guide. The other was a battered, unnamed compilation of strange scrawls and diagrams.

You perused the restoration tome first. The simple gestures and incantations allowed you to practice regardless of your current state. Barely half an hour later, a faint golden aura surrounded you, dulling the **** that was your burn wounds. Satisfied, you returned to the tattered tome you'd first laid eyes on.

You don't know what you expected. After all, it was illegible the first time.

Stark Reality. Novice alteration. A small taste of chaos...

You blinked. Your vision was cloudy, probably from the medicinal herbs in the milk you drank. That would also explain the bitter aftertaste. Yet the tome might as well have been written in liquid magelight. Perhaps being drunk (or at least heavily medicated) was the only way to decipher it. The casting process was also rather basic, as expected from a novice spell, but with no listed effect, you were hesitant to test it.

***

After a short nap to restore your magicka, you began casting restoration in earnest. The golden aura almost lit up the entire room this time as it meticulously reknit your charred flesh, numbing the process.

Unfortunately, it had a rather bizarre side effect, one that left you nervously adjusting the sheets whenever you glanced at Haran out of the corner of your eye.

The redhead in question had returned to her seat atop the bedside table a while ago, slicing you some apples she insisted you needed to regain your strength.

You were fine; it was just your wounds that needed tending to, but you weren't about to turn her down. If she felt it would repay you for what you did, you'd indulge her. Speaking of which, you still don't know what possessed you to take that hit.

A lesser ward would have neutralized that bolt no problem...

You couldn't help but despair at the thought that you planned to enter the College with arcane knowledge that was beneath that of a Dunmer beggar.

"Ow! S'wit..." Haran's hiss of pain disrupted your pointless brooding. You turned to see her cradling her right index finger, from which blood had already begun to well up.

"You okay?" the stupid question fell from your lips before you could stop it.

Of course she wasn't, she'd just cut a finger open...

"I'll be fine...I guess it happens even to the most experienced cooks" she dismissed, sticking her finger in her mouth.

Pointedly ignoring the image so as not to imagine something else in her mouth, you beckon her over.

"Allow me"

Grasping her surprisingly soft hand around the flesh of her palm, you close your eyes and focus on the restoration incantation you'd finally memorized.

After all, you needed the practice.

A gasp met your ears, followed by a ragged exhale. That was to be expected; having a wound close and repair itself in mere seconds was a strange experience.